Right away, the title of this novel, The Day of the Locust, conjures Biblical imagery. Perhaps this imagery is most effective on someone brought up in a fairly religious environment as I was, but the reference to the plague of locusts that God sires in the Bible immediately made me expect that this book would at least be dark, if not apocalyptic. Sure enough, the horrific violence sometimes visible in Todd Hackett's mind, as well as the gruesome cockfight, reflect a setting for the novel in which morality is questionable at best. This may be a typically teenage thing for me to pick up on as well, but the main character's name, Homer Simpson, kept creating strange connections in my mind, comparing the book's protagonist's occasionally shady judgment with the cartoon character's. Whether this novel was the origin of Homer Simpson's name in the show, I don't know, but nonetheless at times it seems a strangely apt comparison.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Asterios Polyp (Reaction)
As was discussed in the class, Asterios Polyp is rather noteworthy, even ignoring the story entirely, in that it seems to be exclusively a graphic novel. Even without words, it is abundantly clear that this story could be told in no other medium; the subtleties in the book aren't just afterthoughts, such as the differing fonts for each character's speech, or characters breaking down into their most reflective art styles during arguments. They are integral to the plot of the story; the characters' personalities could not be displayed in an equally detailed fashion in any other medium without drastic alteration of the story. As for the story itself, Asterios Polyp manages to tell a tale which is simultaneously convoluted yet simple; it is the story of a man struggling with his own dual nature, often reflected in his "twin brother." Yet, the dialogue is so dense, the characters' philosophies so complicated yet each so meaningful, that this is a book which demands multiple reads to fully comprehend the scale of the characters' motivations, as well as the innumerable subtleties in the chameleonic art style.
Oryx and Crake (Reaction)
I've always had something of a soft spot for dystopian novels, though I could never put a finger on why. Maybe it's that the cynic in me wants the horrible future portrayed in works like Oryx and Crake to come true, or maybe it's simply cathartic release by comparison, as I thank my lucky stars that the world isn't that bad just yet. Either way, Oryx and Crake scratched my dystopian itch rather nicely; it displays a future gone on technological overload, a populace which has simultaneously grown so perverse in its tastes--the two protagonists' habitual viewing of child pornography comes to mind--while growing excessively conservative in certain other aspects, such as Crake's eventual project as a bioengineer, the Crakers, which would eliminate all aspects of "wrongdoing" which Crake perceives in the human race. As a whole the novel reflects a society that has gone insane with oversaturation of media. Morals have disappeared, and the story as a whole is rather alarming.
Pattern Recognition (Reaction)
Just a simple plot summary reveals Pattern Recognition to be a fairly original concept; the idea that a character could be simultaneously repulsed by, yet supernaturally gifted at a task so arbitrary as advertising is intriguing. The novel takes this concept even farther; it serves as an overall reflection of our society's tendency to dispatch our heroes as quickly as we create new ones, or perhaps even faster. Cayce Pollard's responsibilities for spotting phenomena before they occur serve as a fascinating backdrop for the main story, which is a bizarrely anarchic and well-constructed commentary on the lightning speed of today's pop culture.
The Wizard of Oz (Reaction)
L. Frank Baum's classic children's novel has been dragged through so many interpretations, so many reimaginings and remakes of those adaptations, that it is refreshing in a way to read the original novel. As a person who watched numerous versions of the story as a child, most bizarrely a TV-only anime version, the story is so familiar and engrained into my psyche that even talking about it is something of a difficult task. Whether or not it functions as an allegory for capitalism, or whether the character's flaws are more reflective of societal problems as a whole, seems irrelevant to debate. My own perspective on it is simplistic, the way I viewed it as a kid; perhaps this is a cheap, uneducated way to go about it, but certain arguments which propose The Wizard of Oz's inherent anti-capitalist intent read so convoluted that it seems you could reinterpret any work of literature to similar purpose. To me, The Wizard of Oz is an unforgettable story, no strings attached. Whether it was envisioned that way is doubtable, but also entirely unimportant.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Casino Royale (revision)
Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel published by Ian Fleming in 1953, is highly reflective of the environment in which it was released. The character of James Bond, 007 was, to a certain degree, autobiographical—Ian Fleming himself shared many of Bond’s tendencies, especially his womanizing—and Bond’s history with British Naval Intelligence Fleming’s own. As for the novel itself, Casino Royale’s origins are important in that they reflected the post-World War II environment, as well as established a character that would be, far and away, the most recognizable in their genre.
The basic backstory is certainly influenced by the ever-rising tide of the Cold War; the primary antagonist, Le Chiffre, has a background with Soviet Russia. As a whole, the story seems to encapsulate the kind of paranoia that the Cold War engendered, albeit in a different context; in this book the uncertainty took place in a card game, where in real life it took place through the mutual distrust of nations.
In addition, gender roles are easily observed to be indicative of the times. James Bond views women as interference, minor distractions to his job; he only indulges them on purely physical levels. Even when playing the role of the knight in shining armor rescuing Vesper, her assigned sidekick, it comes across as more self-serving than anything; his chivalry is purely incidental, and secondary to constantly establishing his own manhood. The torture scene bears elements of this as well; to any male reader the damage done to Bond's genitals is truly horrifying. Despite his unwavering refusal to meet Le Chiffre's demands, he also is quite concerned about his ability to perform sexually. This is just about Vesper's biggest role in the story; sexual temptation and getting kidnapped. The damsel in distress is by no means an obsolete concept these days, but it has certainly become trite by now and to many in the potential audience, it is alienating.
In addition, gender roles are easily observed to be indicative of the times. James Bond views women as interference, minor distractions to his job; he only indulges them on purely physical levels. Even when playing the role of the knight in shining armor rescuing Vesper, her assigned sidekick, it comes across as more self-serving than anything; his chivalry is purely incidental, and secondary to constantly establishing his own manhood. The torture scene bears elements of this as well; to any male reader the damage done to Bond's genitals is truly horrifying. Despite his unwavering refusal to meet Le Chiffre's demands, he also is quite concerned about his ability to perform sexually. This is just about Vesper's biggest role in the story; sexual temptation and getting kidnapped. The damsel in distress is by no means an obsolete concept these days, but it has certainly become trite by now and to many in the potential audience, it is alienating.
In addition, the idealized setting in the novel is markedly indicative of the 50’s; dress is constantly formal, and cigarettes and alcohol are highly pervasive in the culture. A common stereotype of the period was the bizarre prevalence of business suits and dresses; an image which, if Casino Royale is anything to go by, is hardly unfounded. While these idealistic elements are certainly present today—the added “coolness” of a cigarette most prominently—the overall atmosphere seems a bit like a college campus with a strict formal dress code.
Casino Royale held up the original novel beautifully as a movie, but it was also changed somewhat; Bond's reluctance in the original novel about his organization is less prevalent in the movie. Additionally, while James Bond has always been something of a misogynistic prick in the movies, the movie tones him down considerably from his version in the novels, which is only natural given the changing times.
Final Fantasy IX
Final Fantasy IX is an RPG, released for the PlayStation in 2000. On the heels of Final Fantasy VII and VIII, Final Fantasy IX saw less commercial success due to the advent of the PlayStation 2, and the game's difficulty to market; IX represented something of a return to form for Final Fantasy, a revisiting of the more medieval and fantastical settings of the earlier games which the series had been drifting away from for some time now. Yet, despite the bright colors and adorable characters, the story was in many ways deeper and darker than anything that had preceded it.
The leading character is Zidane, a thief who is a member of a performing theater troupe called Tantalus. Tantalus is given the assignment to kidnap Princess Garnet of Alexandria--why they have been given this task is initially unclear, but it is eventually revealed that Garnet's uncle Cid was concerned about Garnet's safety amidst her mother Queen Brahne's increasingly erratic and violent behavior, and so he ordered the kidnapping, although Garnet had been devising a way to escape for some time. Along the way back to Cid's kingdom of Lindblum, they meet Vivi, who is a small, young Black Mage; he is very compassionate and wise beyond his years, but also shy, worrisome, and frequently full of self-doubt. The rest of the plot is essentially the group's journey to discover what was behind Brahne's sudden violent streak, which turns out to be a maniacal plot conceived by characters named Kuja and Garland which involves the destruction of Gaia, the home planet of all the main characters.
At its core, the game is about self-discovery and finding a place to call home. Each of the three most primary characters--Zidane, Garnet, and Vivi--has a mysterious past, and they frequently struggle with their own identities. Zidane, despite his happy-go-lucky, joking demeanor, is eventually revealed to be a genetic weapon created by Garland to destroy all life on Gaia. Vivi, meanwhile, is one of many Black Mages created as Alexandria's makeshift army with which they conquer many sovereign nations, a plan he never subscribes to. Garnet was born into a summoners' tribe, but her true mother died at a very early age, and so she was raised under Queen Brahne. Each of the three struggle with their pasts throughout the entire game; Zidane can remember no childhood or family beyond his friends in Tantalus, and despite his best efforts to live in the moment, this uncertainty tears away at him from inside. The same could be said for Vivi; in the aftermath of Alexandria's Black Mage killing sprees, almost every town the group goes to sees the kind and innocent Vivi as a monster, and he is only left to wonder why. Zidane acts as a big brother figure to Vivi, helping him sort through his worries and self-confidence issues. This is eerily reflective of their roles as soldiers; Zidane, destroyer of worlds is instructing Vivi, a mindless soldier. Vivi's mortality is an issue he struggles with frequently, as it is revealed that all Black Mage soldiers die after a predetermined period of time. However, Vivi is a prototype, meaning his life span is uncertain; overall the plot is full of this ambiguity and uncertainty.
This comes to a head at the very end of the game; Kuja and Garland have been defeated, but it seems that the main group has been annihilated as well; however, the absolute final boss of the game is Necron. He comes from absolutely nowhere, has no prior mention in the storyline, and is bar none the hardest of the primary bosses. However, the game hints that this is not a literal fight, but a struggle within the characters to hang on to their will to live, despite the fact that they have every reason to be frustrated and fed up with their horrible backgrounds. This is why this fight is the hardest; it represents Zidane's struggle to live normally with the knowledge that he was created to be an angel of death, Vivi's struggle to maintain a positive attitude despite his own impending death, and Garnet's struggle to hold on to those she loves even while forced into a royal agenda.
The epilogue is where the story comes to a head; it is a speech delivered by an unseen narrator, thanking his friends for everything they have taught him. However, the fact that the scenes which play under the speech exclude one character, as well as the kindly nature of the words leave only one conclusion: Vivi has died. The game leaves you feeling inspired to live your life while treasuring every friend you have; it has a fantastic narrative quality and, for me playing it as a kid, it had a profound effect.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Small Rant About Sexy Villains
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Federico Fellini: Auteur Theory
Critics of the auteur theory, in short, believe that the filmmaking process is inherently so large and spread out over so many people, that to narrow down the entire work to one person’s “vision” is both inaccurate and likely inconsiderate to the dozens upon dozens of people who worked on it. Despite this, however, the theory still holds water, and it does seem that certain directors have recurring themes in their work which leave their films wholly and uniquely “theirs;” Federico Fellini is one such director. Many points could be made towards this argument, such as the frequently autobiographical nature of his films, his tendency to appear in his films, and his incredibly involved role in making his films beyond simply directing. However, perhaps the most important element to discuss is the construction of his films, and how they are frequently very open and often episodic in nature.
Over time, Fellini began to develop this technique; characters would frequently experience long flashbacks or dreams, as in 8 ½, the films would be comprised of self-contained “episodes,” as in La Dolce Vita, or into more cohesive “acts,” as in Nights of Cabiria. As John Coldwell Stubbs puts it, this non-holistic approach helps distinguish him by “pushing against the grain of conventional filmmaking,” an approach dubbed the “open form(1).” However, what makes this approach so distinctly his is how effectively it is implemented; a story told with a disjointed method has all the potential in the world to be incomprehensible, jarring, and pointless. However, when Fellini opens La Dolce Vita by portraying a helicopter carrying a statue of an open-armed Christ over a corrupted and shallow Rome, he is setting the mood for what will follow over the course of the movie, as well as establishing the subtle religious undertones that become more apparent in certain “chapters” of the movie.
In addition, his films’ endings show closure in a unique way to complement the episodic nature of what preceded them. Sometimes this comes via a deliberate triggering of déjà vu; for instance, in Nights of Cabiria, the film ends with Cabiria in exactly the same situation she was in at the beginning of the film. A lover has deceived and robbed her, and virtually left her for dead. However, the theft at the end is far more drastic; Cabiria is left homeless and destitute. In spite of this, however, the film ends with a long shot of Cabiria smiling, a makeshift parade of joyful people around her. The movie could be said to have two episodes, which are virtually identical, except one portrays her attitude before her adventures in the movie, the other one portraying her afterwards. It is this reflection of character development, this simple yet highly effective technique that marks Fellini as truly distinctive.
In short, many of the arguments that are held against the auteur theory seem to fall short when applied to Federico Fellini. Even if one discards the obvious points, such as the blatantly autobiographical story of a filmmaker with writer’s block in 8 ½, Fellini’s style still shines through as being markedly his. Though the auteur theory still demands unfair generalization and the attribution of massive endeavors to one person, in this case it holds more water than most.
(1)Stubbs, John C.. Federico Fellini as Auteur: Seven Aspects of His Films. 1st ed. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2006. Print.
Over time, Fellini began to develop this technique; characters would frequently experience long flashbacks or dreams, as in 8 ½, the films would be comprised of self-contained “episodes,” as in La Dolce Vita, or into more cohesive “acts,” as in Nights of Cabiria. As John Coldwell Stubbs puts it, this non-holistic approach helps distinguish him by “pushing against the grain of conventional filmmaking,” an approach dubbed the “open form(1).” However, what makes this approach so distinctly his is how effectively it is implemented; a story told with a disjointed method has all the potential in the world to be incomprehensible, jarring, and pointless. However, when Fellini opens La Dolce Vita by portraying a helicopter carrying a statue of an open-armed Christ over a corrupted and shallow Rome, he is setting the mood for what will follow over the course of the movie, as well as establishing the subtle religious undertones that become more apparent in certain “chapters” of the movie.
In addition, his films’ endings show closure in a unique way to complement the episodic nature of what preceded them. Sometimes this comes via a deliberate triggering of déjà vu; for instance, in Nights of Cabiria, the film ends with Cabiria in exactly the same situation she was in at the beginning of the film. A lover has deceived and robbed her, and virtually left her for dead. However, the theft at the end is far more drastic; Cabiria is left homeless and destitute. In spite of this, however, the film ends with a long shot of Cabiria smiling, a makeshift parade of joyful people around her. The movie could be said to have two episodes, which are virtually identical, except one portrays her attitude before her adventures in the movie, the other one portraying her afterwards. It is this reflection of character development, this simple yet highly effective technique that marks Fellini as truly distinctive.
In short, many of the arguments that are held against the auteur theory seem to fall short when applied to Federico Fellini. Even if one discards the obvious points, such as the blatantly autobiographical story of a filmmaker with writer’s block in 8 ½, Fellini’s style still shines through as being markedly his. Though the auteur theory still demands unfair generalization and the attribution of massive endeavors to one person, in this case it holds more water than most.
(1)Stubbs, John C.. Federico Fellini as Auteur: Seven Aspects of His Films. 1st ed. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2006. Print.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: Director's Notes
FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS- DIRECTOR’S NOTES
He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.
-The title quote is, in essence, the movie completely encapsulated in one sentence. Las Vegas is portrayed in the story as essentially a microcosm of the ugly America. Harsh, overpowering, and full of shallow, manipulative people, the city should represent in the film a dark reality. Gonzo and Duke deal with this reality by avoiding it as much as possible, anesthetizing themselves with any substance they can.
THEMES:
-Incoherence. The essential plot to the story is that Gonzo and Duke are covering the motorcycle race. However, this only serves as a backdrop for the overarching chaos that is the movie. This movie, in essence, portrays nothing more or less than a drug-addled journey through Las Vegas. Exposition is minimal, and for the most part the characters overcome nothing and learn nothing. Some mistakes should be welcomed; by no means is this script a rigidly complex jigsaw puzzle.
This feeling of incoherence should also transfer over to the dialogue; lines should be delivered in a way which helps communicate a state of inebriation. In other words, loud, obnoxious, and frequently with an edge to them that suggests that the character’s train of thought is constantly derailing.
-Urgency. Throughout the movie, there should be a harsh sense of panic and anxiety. Duke and Gonzo are never comfortably cruising anywhere; every one of their objectives is met in a rush. Much like a student who procrastinates, they inevitably underestimate how long they need to complete any given task, let alone when that task is accompanied by hard drugs.
-Zeitgeist. In essence, the movie portrays a counter-culture in its death throes, slowly but surely fading out of relevancy. Duke and Gonzo are symbolically the last vestiges of the drug-addled hippie movement, simultaneously garnering the honor of being the last of a species while displaying the worst attributes of that species which led to its extinction. To be more specific, their constant drug use may make their trip more interesting, but ultimately they have accomplished very little. Imagery and set design in the movie should reflect the ambience of an era fading away; elements of the 60’s should be present, but never prominent.
Note about Gonzo- Gonzo is at all times unhinged. At any given moment he should have the look of someone who is just about to snap—because he usually is. “Gonzo journalism” is by nature relentlessly spontaneous, unpredictable, and scattershot. Transfer this to the character.
Overall, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a psychedelic nightmare. It is a reflection of the paranoia and ultimate futility of relying on chemicals as a mechanism to cope with an often unfavorable world. However, the movie itself, much like an actual high, only becomes unpleasant after the fact. The audience should be taken on a ride, and left at the end to consider the implications of what they just saw.
He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.
-The title quote is, in essence, the movie completely encapsulated in one sentence. Las Vegas is portrayed in the story as essentially a microcosm of the ugly America. Harsh, overpowering, and full of shallow, manipulative people, the city should represent in the film a dark reality. Gonzo and Duke deal with this reality by avoiding it as much as possible, anesthetizing themselves with any substance they can.
THEMES:
-Incoherence. The essential plot to the story is that Gonzo and Duke are covering the motorcycle race. However, this only serves as a backdrop for the overarching chaos that is the movie. This movie, in essence, portrays nothing more or less than a drug-addled journey through Las Vegas. Exposition is minimal, and for the most part the characters overcome nothing and learn nothing. Some mistakes should be welcomed; by no means is this script a rigidly complex jigsaw puzzle.
This feeling of incoherence should also transfer over to the dialogue; lines should be delivered in a way which helps communicate a state of inebriation. In other words, loud, obnoxious, and frequently with an edge to them that suggests that the character’s train of thought is constantly derailing.
-Urgency. Throughout the movie, there should be a harsh sense of panic and anxiety. Duke and Gonzo are never comfortably cruising anywhere; every one of their objectives is met in a rush. Much like a student who procrastinates, they inevitably underestimate how long they need to complete any given task, let alone when that task is accompanied by hard drugs.
-Zeitgeist. In essence, the movie portrays a counter-culture in its death throes, slowly but surely fading out of relevancy. Duke and Gonzo are symbolically the last vestiges of the drug-addled hippie movement, simultaneously garnering the honor of being the last of a species while displaying the worst attributes of that species which led to its extinction. To be more specific, their constant drug use may make their trip more interesting, but ultimately they have accomplished very little. Imagery and set design in the movie should reflect the ambience of an era fading away; elements of the 60’s should be present, but never prominent.
Note about Gonzo- Gonzo is at all times unhinged. At any given moment he should have the look of someone who is just about to snap—because he usually is. “Gonzo journalism” is by nature relentlessly spontaneous, unpredictable, and scattershot. Transfer this to the character.
Overall, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a psychedelic nightmare. It is a reflection of the paranoia and ultimate futility of relying on chemicals as a mechanism to cope with an often unfavorable world. However, the movie itself, much like an actual high, only becomes unpleasant after the fact. The audience should be taken on a ride, and left at the end to consider the implications of what they just saw.
Morality In Lolita
Vladimir Nabokov raised a lot of questions when he released Lolita, questions which to most are at best uncomfortable and at worst horrifying. Lolita struck a nerve amongst its audience; the true morality of the story is murky to say the least. There are so many variables and conflicting ideas that there are virtually no definite lessons to be learned.
For starters, there is the question of Humbert Humbert’s reliability as a narrator. It is undeniable that his account, which serves as a testimony before the court, has been embellished, at least to some extent. However, the degree to which Humbert stretches the truth and to what effect is uncertain. In chapter 1, he says, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style” [1, 8]. Over the course of the novel, this phrase only comes back to haunt the reader; it always seems that when Humbert pins the fault of his sexual advances on his victim, he does so with beautiful prose in order to seduce the reader. However, in this passage he seems to confess outright exactly what he is doing. This raises the question of whether or not he even believes himself, if he feels the need to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek about his own literary manipulation. He also says in chapter 8, “Oh, my Lolita, I have only words to play with!” This seems to be a fairly accurate representation of Humbert in general.
Humbert’s prose seems chameleonic in nature, able to appear a down-to-earth humble man in one thought, an erudite snob who looks down on Americans the next, or even an intensely romantic lover the next. This makes him a difficult target; his sexual desire for underage children is undeniably wrong; he is forcing his basest, most vile desires upon children, effectively stunting their growth. However, were the object of his affection closer to his age, his prose suddenly becomes beautiful and poetic rather than manipulative. Despite almost always being the aggressor in these situations, Humbert has an uncanny ability to paint himself as a victim of circumstance; in chapter 4 he says, “All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other; hopelessly, I should add, because that frenzy of mutual possession might have been assuaged only by our actually imbibing and assimilating every particle of each other's soul and flesh; but there we were, unable even to mate as slum children would have so easily found an opportunity to do” [3, 11]. Virtually every point of that statement is to some degree debatable; for instance, Humbert seems to assume that his own frenzied passion for Lolita is reciprocated, but since we only see things from Humbert’s point of view, that could be debated.
Overall the morality in Lolita is certainly open to interpretation. It is hard to argue that Humbert is more villain than victim, but even still, in a twisted way he is somewhat admirable in his ability to find poetry and beauty in such a terrible and disturbing concept as pedophilia. Nonetheless, there does not seem to be any definite moral given by the end of the story; it is up to the audience to figure out for themselves whether a character who can eloquently defend his more twisted side is deserving of any more sympathy than one who cannot.
For starters, there is the question of Humbert Humbert’s reliability as a narrator. It is undeniable that his account, which serves as a testimony before the court, has been embellished, at least to some extent. However, the degree to which Humbert stretches the truth and to what effect is uncertain. In chapter 1, he says, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style” [1, 8]. Over the course of the novel, this phrase only comes back to haunt the reader; it always seems that when Humbert pins the fault of his sexual advances on his victim, he does so with beautiful prose in order to seduce the reader. However, in this passage he seems to confess outright exactly what he is doing. This raises the question of whether or not he even believes himself, if he feels the need to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek about his own literary manipulation. He also says in chapter 8, “Oh, my Lolita, I have only words to play with!” This seems to be a fairly accurate representation of Humbert in general.
Humbert’s prose seems chameleonic in nature, able to appear a down-to-earth humble man in one thought, an erudite snob who looks down on Americans the next, or even an intensely romantic lover the next. This makes him a difficult target; his sexual desire for underage children is undeniably wrong; he is forcing his basest, most vile desires upon children, effectively stunting their growth. However, were the object of his affection closer to his age, his prose suddenly becomes beautiful and poetic rather than manipulative. Despite almost always being the aggressor in these situations, Humbert has an uncanny ability to paint himself as a victim of circumstance; in chapter 4 he says, “All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other; hopelessly, I should add, because that frenzy of mutual possession might have been assuaged only by our actually imbibing and assimilating every particle of each other's soul and flesh; but there we were, unable even to mate as slum children would have so easily found an opportunity to do” [3, 11]. Virtually every point of that statement is to some degree debatable; for instance, Humbert seems to assume that his own frenzied passion for Lolita is reciprocated, but since we only see things from Humbert’s point of view, that could be debated.
Overall the morality in Lolita is certainly open to interpretation. It is hard to argue that Humbert is more villain than victim, but even still, in a twisted way he is somewhat admirable in his ability to find poetry and beauty in such a terrible and disturbing concept as pedophilia. Nonetheless, there does not seem to be any definite moral given by the end of the story; it is up to the audience to figure out for themselves whether a character who can eloquently defend his more twisted side is deserving of any more sympathy than one who cannot.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Casino Royale
Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel published by Ian Fleming in 1953, is highly reflective of the environment in which it was released. The character of James Bond, 007 was, to a certain degree, autobiographical—Ian Fleming himself shared many of Bond’s tendencies, especially his womanizing—and Bond’s history with British Naval Intelligence Fleming’s own. As for the novel itself, Casino Royale’s origins are important in that they reflected the post-World War II environment, as well as established a character who would be, far and away, the most recognizable in their genre. The basic backstory is certainly influenced by the ever-rising tide of the Cold War; the primary antagonist, Le Chiffre, has a background with Soviet Russia. As a whole, the story seems to encapsulate the kind of paranoia which the Cold War engendered, albeit in a different context; in this book the uncertainty took place in a card game, where in real life it took place through the mutual distrust of nations.
In addition, gender roles are easily observed to be indicative of the times. James Bond views women as interference, minor distractions to his job; he only indulges them on purely physical levels. This was reflective of the 50’s as well; overall the novel seems well situated in its time.
In addition, gender roles are easily observed to be indicative of the times. James Bond views women as interference, minor distractions to his job; he only indulges them on purely physical levels. This was reflective of the 50’s as well; overall the novel seems well situated in its time.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Fairy Tale: Sarah and the Shadow
Sarah rubbed her eyes and stared at the ceiling for about twenty minutes. She hated getting up; she didn’t really know why, but in the morning she never wanted to leave her bed. Maybe it was because she knew that every day she would be doing the same things she did the day before. Maybe she preferred her dreams, where she was blown in random directions like a leaf in the wind. Or maybe it was because her bed was so comfortable. She thought about it for a while, and then slowly dragged herself onto the floor.
Today was the day where, at school, the kids would present their plants they had grown. They were given three coins, and very long instructions about how to bury the coins in dirt, and how you needed to mix certain liquids with the dirt depending on what kind of plant you wanted. Sarah had chosen several liquids, and as the plant came to fruition, she was sure that this would be the most beautiful plant the teacher had ever seen. The branches and leaves all shone a bright shade of silver, and the berries were every color imaginable. After showering and eating, she looked at this plant like she usually did, and finally made her way to school.
Sarah was anxious. She truly hoped that her plant would make a big impact; she had always had trouble making friends. Her blue hair stood out like a sore thumb against the brown hair of the other children, and she seemed to have problems talking to people. She always knew what she wanted to say, but for some reason she never could. However, always ambitious and optimistic, Sarah managed to find beauty in her uniqueness, and hoped that one day she could convince others to see it as well.
On the way to school Sarah passed, as she always did, a large black gate. Behind that gate there was a swirling green fog. She had always been told that this gate was dangerous; that was where the ones who couldn’t do their jobs ended up. That was where the failures and the lazy ones went. Where they went there was nothing to work for; they were animals. Sarah was curious, though: what did that place look like? How big was it? How many people have gone there?
As with every other day, these thoughts left as quick as they came; Sarah was never one to dwell for too long on any one topic. Her mind went straight back to her plant, and all the impressed glances the others would give her. She continued to walk the path she walked every day, half in a trance; the city was simply too noisy to listen to. All the strange whirling and grinding machines and factories made horrible sounds that quickly became very annoying and wore you out. So Sarah instead focused on how awestruck the other students would be.
But Sarah’s day went terribly. The other students had followed their instructions to a tee, and they all came in with plants which all looked alike; dark gray plants with berries that looked like diamonds. Fairly pretty, but Sarah found them very boring compared to hers. But the teacher told her she had done it wrong, and after that, everything he said to her blended together. Her beautiful work of art was “wrong.”
Sarah slowly walked home, head hung low. The world turned dripping shades of brown and gray, and she was overcome with the emptiest of feelings. However, when she walked back by the gate, she noticed that the green fog seemed far more vivid against the dull surroundings than usual. The fog seemed to form into a womanly shape. It stared at her invitingly, and at this moment Sarah could no longer deny it. For once, she decided to think about something for a very long time. She looked at the one colorful thing in her world right now, and tried to figure out what she would do next.
It was too much. Sarah had always been able to convince herself that this life was meant for her… she desperately tried to summon those feelings again, but nothing happened. No matter what she told herself, no matter what lessons from school she tried to recall, all of her thoughts shrank away, leaving one simple fact: in this world she would be a servant, a faceless worker constantly making the same gray plant. She would always receive instruction from somewhere, no matter how important she got. In defiance or perhaps in foolishness, she became certain she didn’t want to live like that… she didn’t want to rule the world, but she wanted to rule her own life.
“If I’m making a mistake… at least I made a choice,” Sarah thought to herself.
She took the hand of the shadow and, in a flash of blinding light, appeared on the other side of the gate. She found herself in a field, which appeared to be in the midst of a forest. She checked her surroundings to see if anyone else was here, but she saw nothing. Nothing but the gently swaying trees. What she saw before her was unlike anything she had seen before; it seemed that everything was green. Even the sky, which she had previously known to be gray—or, sometimes, bluish-gray—seemed rather green. The grass reached her knees, and it felt extremely soft.
There was nothing but the soft westward-blowing breeze in that place. Sarah was fighting numerous feelings in her mind, trying her best to find one that was right. The silence around her was entirely foreign, yet welcoming. However, she was uncertain whether to take the quiet as simple pleasantness, or as a warning that something terrible would happen. Everything she had been taught informed her that this place was dangerous, but she could not for the life of her understand why. She lay down in the grass, just to see if she could make sense of anything.
She wasn’t there for too long before she thought that she should leave.
Today was the day where, at school, the kids would present their plants they had grown. They were given three coins, and very long instructions about how to bury the coins in dirt, and how you needed to mix certain liquids with the dirt depending on what kind of plant you wanted. Sarah had chosen several liquids, and as the plant came to fruition, she was sure that this would be the most beautiful plant the teacher had ever seen. The branches and leaves all shone a bright shade of silver, and the berries were every color imaginable. After showering and eating, she looked at this plant like she usually did, and finally made her way to school.
Sarah was anxious. She truly hoped that her plant would make a big impact; she had always had trouble making friends. Her blue hair stood out like a sore thumb against the brown hair of the other children, and she seemed to have problems talking to people. She always knew what she wanted to say, but for some reason she never could. However, always ambitious and optimistic, Sarah managed to find beauty in her uniqueness, and hoped that one day she could convince others to see it as well.
On the way to school Sarah passed, as she always did, a large black gate. Behind that gate there was a swirling green fog. She had always been told that this gate was dangerous; that was where the ones who couldn’t do their jobs ended up. That was where the failures and the lazy ones went. Where they went there was nothing to work for; they were animals. Sarah was curious, though: what did that place look like? How big was it? How many people have gone there?
As with every other day, these thoughts left as quick as they came; Sarah was never one to dwell for too long on any one topic. Her mind went straight back to her plant, and all the impressed glances the others would give her. She continued to walk the path she walked every day, half in a trance; the city was simply too noisy to listen to. All the strange whirling and grinding machines and factories made horrible sounds that quickly became very annoying and wore you out. So Sarah instead focused on how awestruck the other students would be.
But Sarah’s day went terribly. The other students had followed their instructions to a tee, and they all came in with plants which all looked alike; dark gray plants with berries that looked like diamonds. Fairly pretty, but Sarah found them very boring compared to hers. But the teacher told her she had done it wrong, and after that, everything he said to her blended together. Her beautiful work of art was “wrong.”
Sarah slowly walked home, head hung low. The world turned dripping shades of brown and gray, and she was overcome with the emptiest of feelings. However, when she walked back by the gate, she noticed that the green fog seemed far more vivid against the dull surroundings than usual. The fog seemed to form into a womanly shape. It stared at her invitingly, and at this moment Sarah could no longer deny it. For once, she decided to think about something for a very long time. She looked at the one colorful thing in her world right now, and tried to figure out what she would do next.
It was too much. Sarah had always been able to convince herself that this life was meant for her… she desperately tried to summon those feelings again, but nothing happened. No matter what she told herself, no matter what lessons from school she tried to recall, all of her thoughts shrank away, leaving one simple fact: in this world she would be a servant, a faceless worker constantly making the same gray plant. She would always receive instruction from somewhere, no matter how important she got. In defiance or perhaps in foolishness, she became certain she didn’t want to live like that… she didn’t want to rule the world, but she wanted to rule her own life.
“If I’m making a mistake… at least I made a choice,” Sarah thought to herself.
She took the hand of the shadow and, in a flash of blinding light, appeared on the other side of the gate. She found herself in a field, which appeared to be in the midst of a forest. She checked her surroundings to see if anyone else was here, but she saw nothing. Nothing but the gently swaying trees. What she saw before her was unlike anything she had seen before; it seemed that everything was green. Even the sky, which she had previously known to be gray—or, sometimes, bluish-gray—seemed rather green. The grass reached her knees, and it felt extremely soft.
There was nothing but the soft westward-blowing breeze in that place. Sarah was fighting numerous feelings in her mind, trying her best to find one that was right. The silence around her was entirely foreign, yet welcoming. However, she was uncertain whether to take the quiet as simple pleasantness, or as a warning that something terrible would happen. Everything she had been taught informed her that this place was dangerous, but she could not for the life of her understand why. She lay down in the grass, just to see if she could make sense of anything.
She wasn’t there for too long before she thought that she should leave.
Media Dialogue
In the Supernatural Design Committee (an organization staffed by those souls who in their bland lives deserved neither heaven nor hell, and are instead given jobs as a form of community service before a more accurate judgment can be passed. This organization plants inspiration in the minds of certain human beings to keep the human race in steady progress).
Young optimistic designer for the communications department Walter prepares to run a proposal by his supervisor, Eugene.
Walter: I’ve come up with a BRILLIANT new idea for communication.
Eugene: What? What about those phone things? I feel like you just barely introduced those. How am I supposed to sell this to the committee already?
Walter: Come now, if you eat the same sandwich and fries twenty years in a row you’re bound to grow tired of it, it’s time for something new! It’s fairly common knowledge that nothing dulls one’s enjoyments faster than making them routine! Innovations aren’t like silverware, you can’t just supply it once and reuse it, they’re like groceries, you need to constantly restock!
Eugene: Are you pitching communication or supermarkets?
Walter: Alright, fine, here’s my idea. Now: I want you to look at the world right now. The population is on a steady incline, and shows no signs of stopping. This means that very soon, isolation will no longer be a viable way of life unless one grows gills and lives in the ocean. With such a tightly packed populace, inevitably people will not only require more active communication with the rest of the world, but also cling more tightly to their moments of privacy, which will unavoidably become increasingly rare. What I am proposing to you now is a solution to both problems: a worldwide network—my working title is the world wide web—which will allow virtually anyone to contact anyone else in a matter of minutes.
Eugene: I’m already spotting more holes in this thing than your average block of Swiss cheese. Most alarmingly you’re making the assumption that people will only use this for business meetings, or friendly family conversations. If this network is strong enough to facilitate communication between anyone who has access to it, surely that would open up all kinds of windows for strange, or worse, harmful and criminal behavior.
Walter: …Please. Do you really think an idea so revolutionary and full of potential will instantly dissolve into anarchy?
Eugene: Yes! You said the exact same thing about phones, and look where that’s ended up! We’ve got wiretapping, we’ve got telemarketers, and we’ve got creepy people paying money for weird sexual conversations! If an audio-only media can lead to these problems, imagine the potential for a form of media which engages sight AND sound to be twisted and mutilated!
Walter: Okay, okay, okay… I’ll grant this proposition. Let’s say, hypothetically, that all of these creeps and more migrate to this world wide web… this isn’t like the phone where often the creep can’t be identified until he’s already done his damage. With a worldwide network comes the immediate protection of anonymity; no one person is a target anymore. You see, a place like this would provide universal appeal; everyone could find their own little niches and satisfy their own tastes.
Eugene: But that same anonymity allows anyone to disregard even the loosest rules of social etiquette. I can admit that such a network could be very useful to many people, but at the same time it allows the worst traits of already rather unpleasant people to blossom in plain sight. Is it worth the luxury to be constantly reminded of just how idiotic and often downright mean-spirited many people are? The people raised with exposure to this network will grow up cynical and utterly sickened with their own species. Then what will you do? There’s not much innovation you can force upon people like that. You could give them a device that stores every song they’ve ever heard or could ever want to hear and they’d find mundanity in it within a couple years.
Walter: Ever the pessimist. Alright, I’ll even grant that idea, that my revolutionary concept will lead to generations of entitled, cynical idiots as well as representatives of the absolute bottom rung of society. Hey, more work for us! I can’t tell you the kind of bonuses we’d accumulate if we’re called upon to provide innovation after innovation to people who lose fascination with the most impressive examples of consumer technology virtually months after they come out. The sheer rate at which things would become obsolete in such a culture would make us easily the biggest branch of the Supernatural Design Committee. And if I’m right, and this tool won’t be swarmed by the dregs of humanity, then we’ll have done our job properly.
Eugene: …Well I’ll be damned. Ya sold me.
Young optimistic designer for the communications department Walter prepares to run a proposal by his supervisor, Eugene.
Walter: I’ve come up with a BRILLIANT new idea for communication.
Eugene: What? What about those phone things? I feel like you just barely introduced those. How am I supposed to sell this to the committee already?
Walter: Come now, if you eat the same sandwich and fries twenty years in a row you’re bound to grow tired of it, it’s time for something new! It’s fairly common knowledge that nothing dulls one’s enjoyments faster than making them routine! Innovations aren’t like silverware, you can’t just supply it once and reuse it, they’re like groceries, you need to constantly restock!
Eugene: Are you pitching communication or supermarkets?
Walter: Alright, fine, here’s my idea. Now: I want you to look at the world right now. The population is on a steady incline, and shows no signs of stopping. This means that very soon, isolation will no longer be a viable way of life unless one grows gills and lives in the ocean. With such a tightly packed populace, inevitably people will not only require more active communication with the rest of the world, but also cling more tightly to their moments of privacy, which will unavoidably become increasingly rare. What I am proposing to you now is a solution to both problems: a worldwide network—my working title is the world wide web—which will allow virtually anyone to contact anyone else in a matter of minutes.
Eugene: I’m already spotting more holes in this thing than your average block of Swiss cheese. Most alarmingly you’re making the assumption that people will only use this for business meetings, or friendly family conversations. If this network is strong enough to facilitate communication between anyone who has access to it, surely that would open up all kinds of windows for strange, or worse, harmful and criminal behavior.
Walter: …Please. Do you really think an idea so revolutionary and full of potential will instantly dissolve into anarchy?
Eugene: Yes! You said the exact same thing about phones, and look where that’s ended up! We’ve got wiretapping, we’ve got telemarketers, and we’ve got creepy people paying money for weird sexual conversations! If an audio-only media can lead to these problems, imagine the potential for a form of media which engages sight AND sound to be twisted and mutilated!
Walter: Okay, okay, okay… I’ll grant this proposition. Let’s say, hypothetically, that all of these creeps and more migrate to this world wide web… this isn’t like the phone where often the creep can’t be identified until he’s already done his damage. With a worldwide network comes the immediate protection of anonymity; no one person is a target anymore. You see, a place like this would provide universal appeal; everyone could find their own little niches and satisfy their own tastes.
Eugene: But that same anonymity allows anyone to disregard even the loosest rules of social etiquette. I can admit that such a network could be very useful to many people, but at the same time it allows the worst traits of already rather unpleasant people to blossom in plain sight. Is it worth the luxury to be constantly reminded of just how idiotic and often downright mean-spirited many people are? The people raised with exposure to this network will grow up cynical and utterly sickened with their own species. Then what will you do? There’s not much innovation you can force upon people like that. You could give them a device that stores every song they’ve ever heard or could ever want to hear and they’d find mundanity in it within a couple years.
Walter: Ever the pessimist. Alright, I’ll even grant that idea, that my revolutionary concept will lead to generations of entitled, cynical idiots as well as representatives of the absolute bottom rung of society. Hey, more work for us! I can’t tell you the kind of bonuses we’d accumulate if we’re called upon to provide innovation after innovation to people who lose fascination with the most impressive examples of consumer technology virtually months after they come out. The sheer rate at which things would become obsolete in such a culture would make us easily the biggest branch of the Supernatural Design Committee. And if I’m right, and this tool won’t be swarmed by the dregs of humanity, then we’ll have done our job properly.
Eugene: …Well I’ll be damned. Ya sold me.
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