My question: is it possible to teach history, art, literature, philosophy, science, business, economics, etc... without a political agenda? Is pretending that you have no political position and teaching the materials as the dominant society constructs a subject a political agenda? Is it possible to "profess" or hold an "opinion" or construct a history or create art that is free of "bias" or "political agendas"?
Just curious ... ;)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Double-Tongued Dictionary; Dean Wright: Watching our language -- Writing about the financial crisis
I really enjoy the proliferation of websites helping us to make sense of the proliferation of buzzwords:
Double-Tongued Dictionary
I found this website in Dean Wright's fascinating article on Reuters Blogs:
Watching our language: Writing about the financial crisis
Double-Tongued Dictionary
I found this website in Dean Wright's fascinating article on Reuters Blogs:
Watching our language: Writing about the financial crisis
Response to a Critique of My Dismissal of the Movie Version of Watchmen
(Charles lengthy critique of my dismissal of Watchmen is in the comment section of this post)
Charles,
First off, lets agree that responses to films are subjective in the sense that we filter the film through our own experiences and ideologies.
Thus we have different reactions to the film. I read the graphic novel when it first came out and was powerfully moved by its critique of fetishized super hero worship (and its subtextual relation to the unreflective real-world worship of powerful "leaders" who are going to save the day and their destructive controlling ideologies) during Reagan's second term in which the dominant narrative was of the holy super America versus the evil destructive Soviet forces (Reagan's "evil empire"). The controlling American narrative at that time was that whatever we did in the interest of our holy mission against the evil empire was acceptable and just. This, for me, is what made Moore's/Gibbons' graphic novel so powerful (much like the graphic novel V)
The current movie (term used purposely) version is facile in the sense that it relies more on the spectacle of action super hero tropes as opposed to the deconstructive critique of the comic book super hero genre.
You state:
"This should be the main focus of a criticism of a film."
Is there only one way to read a film? Could you outline in more detail what that one way should be?
You cite Alan Moore's comments about his graphic novel to support your celebration of the film, while ignoring that he has disowned the film as a superficial exercise. He even refused any money from the film and gave all proceeds to the illustrator Dave Gibbons. How does that reverse/divert your application of Moore's critique to the film version?
Thus, it seems problematic that you seek to conflate the graphic novel and film versions as if they were one text. Is it not obvious that they are separate texts and that they should be treated/critiqued as such?
While you still are conflating the two texts you mention:
"From this in my opinion these superheroes of Watchmen are reactionary victims to the society they live in, and therefore exhibit the ability to inspire some sort of sympathy even in their most hellish and barbaric moments."
I never stated that I felt no sympathy for the characters, but I find it hard to reconcile anyone's empathy with the psychopathic Comedian. This is a man who murders on command, slaughters those who depend on him, and rapes at will (in all of its implications). Can you identify for me when and where you feel sympathy for this character? Is it because in his final moments he is horrified by the onrushing apocalyptic events he has helped to usher in? Does his drunken tears move you? What do we see as his ultimate response to this threat to the world of the movie's narrative? Is it worthy of our sympathy/empathy/respect?
Rorshach, on the other hand, deserves our pity, for he is the product of a horrible upbringing and it has made him into a psychopathic super hero. He is not commendable though, unless you celebrate vigilantes' hunting down people in the streets. Was Moore critiquing the Dark Knight mythos before he did it proper? Rorshach's death at the end of both versions is tragic and wrong, but it does not remove the fact that he is a psychopath with a mask (clearly outlined in the graphic novel, defused in the film).
You state:
"They each therefore exhibit extreme views and reflect certain unsavory ideologies that reflect the human condition .This translates verbatim into the film. I would go as far as to say that 90% of the dialogue present in the film is from the comic directly albeit with lines switched for different characters at many times."
What ideologies do these characters represent for you and how do these ideologies represent for you the human condition? Could you explain? Is nihilism an acceptable response even from those who suffer from tragic circumstances and/or "unsavory ideologies?" I would reject nihilism as a valid response, but then perhaps I am idealistic in my humanistic outlook?
I never said the movie did not try to "imitate" the comic, in fact, it seems the filmmakers try to do this as much as possible. Instead, the problem is while imitating the book they switch the emphasis to sensationalized visual spectacles over the more multitextual technique of the graphic novel. This, for me, robs the movie of the graphic novel's critical power.
I disagree that any of the Watchmen should be considered victims, except perhaps a bit of empathy for Rorshach, considering his background.
You state:
"Further there are many things in the aesthetics and style that are meant to be subversive I think. One of these would be how the characters enjoy the violence they are committing. Nite Owl II and Silk Spectre II both get aroused from brutally assaulting a gang of knot heads, as they do in the comic. Only in the film they go as far as to kill them. In the comic they merely brutally beat the men, but they do not murder them. In the film as well, two of Rorschach’s extreme acts of violence are altered as well. These alterations change the character quite a bit. In the comic when Rorschach comes upon the child killer, he does not murder him. He handcuffs him to the oven and set the place on fire and leaves a handsaw for him to cut through his arm should he want to live. This reflects Rorschach’s view that the man is an animal and as such can escape if he desires like an animal would gnaw its paw off to escape a trap. In the film, Rorschach comes face to face with the man and can’t conceive of how to simply punish the man in a world that is completely and utterly cold and hopeless. As such he butchers the man .The second is burning the man with grease in the prison. In the comic Rorschach reaches for the closest thing and burns the man with the shiv with the grease, out of self defense and to make appoint. In the film, Rorschach defends himself with his metal tray and knocks the man down defenseless. He then reaches over to grab the grease and burns the man, only this time not out of self defense, but merely an act of subversive spectacle. These two acts in my opinion alter the character and make him possibly more psychopathic in the film version. Another subversive moment in the film for me would be the sex scene with Dan and Laurie. In this scene there is focus on the costumes being torn away, and even more focus on the leather boots she is wearing. This coupled with the absurd use of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah , seems to turn what would have been a simple love scene , into a ironic and laughable marathon exercise into the sexual fetishism of their superhero identities."
I agree with your analysis of the changes, but I am completely befuddled by your claim that these are subversive moves? These two scenes, for me, are symptomatic of the movie's defusion of the deconstructive power of the original graphic novel ... people were loudly cheering Rorshach's violence as if he was a simplistic action hero and the Nite Owl II/Silk Spectre II violence/sex scene was beyond ridiculous (although I did enjoy my girlfriend's howl of mocking laughter when they acted out the fanboy fantasy scene). Once again though the scenes lack a clear sense of critiquing the dramas being laid out for consumption as if the filmmakers were hoping that they might be able to appease both the critical fans and the straight-forward action audience. I disagree finally with your insistence that the film presents the super heroes in an unsympathetic light as the audience I watched the film with cheered many scenes like they would a typical action film.
I do agree that the film is a technical wonder, much like 300, which I also had problems with ... I find aesthetics to be political in the sense that the aesthetics of Triumph of the Will and Birth of a Nation or Maid in Manhattan and Pretty Woman cannot be separated from their political messages. I am not associating Watchmen with the first pair of films, instead, I am critiquing the aesthetic spectacle of Watchmen as a distraction from serious consideration of the political message of the film. I would make the same claim for the latest Dark Knight film in which, surprisingly, I found myself at one point cheering on the chaos of the Joker, because the Dark Knight becomes a symbol of unchecked (super) power in the service of a (supposed) noble cause--it would seem obvious who we are suppose to identify with in the film (much as Bush's administration thought it was obvious we should always cheer their means in the service of their self-proclaimed noble ends) but anyone vaguely aware of the cultural/political context of the film could not but help to reject the ultimate message of the Dark Knight.
Last, as this is running long, I find nothing admirable about "moral ambiguity" in films or people. Are you celebrating it? Can you explain why?
I appreciate your lengthy, thoughtful critique. I hope you take my words in the spirit of dialogue. If the movie version of Watchmen inspires people this much, perhaps it has more value than I originally thought. I still stand by my critique of the movie version.
Charles,
First off, lets agree that responses to films are subjective in the sense that we filter the film through our own experiences and ideologies.
Thus we have different reactions to the film. I read the graphic novel when it first came out and was powerfully moved by its critique of fetishized super hero worship (and its subtextual relation to the unreflective real-world worship of powerful "leaders" who are going to save the day and their destructive controlling ideologies) during Reagan's second term in which the dominant narrative was of the holy super America versus the evil destructive Soviet forces (Reagan's "evil empire"). The controlling American narrative at that time was that whatever we did in the interest of our holy mission against the evil empire was acceptable and just. This, for me, is what made Moore's/Gibbons' graphic novel so powerful (much like the graphic novel V)
The current movie (term used purposely) version is facile in the sense that it relies more on the spectacle of action super hero tropes as opposed to the deconstructive critique of the comic book super hero genre.
You state:
"This should be the main focus of a criticism of a film."
Is there only one way to read a film? Could you outline in more detail what that one way should be?
You cite Alan Moore's comments about his graphic novel to support your celebration of the film, while ignoring that he has disowned the film as a superficial exercise. He even refused any money from the film and gave all proceeds to the illustrator Dave Gibbons. How does that reverse/divert your application of Moore's critique to the film version?
Thus, it seems problematic that you seek to conflate the graphic novel and film versions as if they were one text. Is it not obvious that they are separate texts and that they should be treated/critiqued as such?
While you still are conflating the two texts you mention:
"From this in my opinion these superheroes of Watchmen are reactionary victims to the society they live in, and therefore exhibit the ability to inspire some sort of sympathy even in their most hellish and barbaric moments."
I never stated that I felt no sympathy for the characters, but I find it hard to reconcile anyone's empathy with the psychopathic Comedian. This is a man who murders on command, slaughters those who depend on him, and rapes at will (in all of its implications). Can you identify for me when and where you feel sympathy for this character? Is it because in his final moments he is horrified by the onrushing apocalyptic events he has helped to usher in? Does his drunken tears move you? What do we see as his ultimate response to this threat to the world of the movie's narrative? Is it worthy of our sympathy/empathy/respect?
Rorshach, on the other hand, deserves our pity, for he is the product of a horrible upbringing and it has made him into a psychopathic super hero. He is not commendable though, unless you celebrate vigilantes' hunting down people in the streets. Was Moore critiquing the Dark Knight mythos before he did it proper? Rorshach's death at the end of both versions is tragic and wrong, but it does not remove the fact that he is a psychopath with a mask (clearly outlined in the graphic novel, defused in the film).
You state:
"They each therefore exhibit extreme views and reflect certain unsavory ideologies that reflect the human condition .This translates verbatim into the film. I would go as far as to say that 90% of the dialogue present in the film is from the comic directly albeit with lines switched for different characters at many times."
What ideologies do these characters represent for you and how do these ideologies represent for you the human condition? Could you explain? Is nihilism an acceptable response even from those who suffer from tragic circumstances and/or "unsavory ideologies?" I would reject nihilism as a valid response, but then perhaps I am idealistic in my humanistic outlook?
I never said the movie did not try to "imitate" the comic, in fact, it seems the filmmakers try to do this as much as possible. Instead, the problem is while imitating the book they switch the emphasis to sensationalized visual spectacles over the more multitextual technique of the graphic novel. This, for me, robs the movie of the graphic novel's critical power.
I disagree that any of the Watchmen should be considered victims, except perhaps a bit of empathy for Rorshach, considering his background.
You state:
"Further there are many things in the aesthetics and style that are meant to be subversive I think. One of these would be how the characters enjoy the violence they are committing. Nite Owl II and Silk Spectre II both get aroused from brutally assaulting a gang of knot heads, as they do in the comic. Only in the film they go as far as to kill them. In the comic they merely brutally beat the men, but they do not murder them. In the film as well, two of Rorschach’s extreme acts of violence are altered as well. These alterations change the character quite a bit. In the comic when Rorschach comes upon the child killer, he does not murder him. He handcuffs him to the oven and set the place on fire and leaves a handsaw for him to cut through his arm should he want to live. This reflects Rorschach’s view that the man is an animal and as such can escape if he desires like an animal would gnaw its paw off to escape a trap. In the film, Rorschach comes face to face with the man and can’t conceive of how to simply punish the man in a world that is completely and utterly cold and hopeless. As such he butchers the man .The second is burning the man with grease in the prison. In the comic Rorschach reaches for the closest thing and burns the man with the shiv with the grease, out of self defense and to make appoint. In the film, Rorschach defends himself with his metal tray and knocks the man down defenseless. He then reaches over to grab the grease and burns the man, only this time not out of self defense, but merely an act of subversive spectacle. These two acts in my opinion alter the character and make him possibly more psychopathic in the film version. Another subversive moment in the film for me would be the sex scene with Dan and Laurie. In this scene there is focus on the costumes being torn away, and even more focus on the leather boots she is wearing. This coupled with the absurd use of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah , seems to turn what would have been a simple love scene , into a ironic and laughable marathon exercise into the sexual fetishism of their superhero identities."
I agree with your analysis of the changes, but I am completely befuddled by your claim that these are subversive moves? These two scenes, for me, are symptomatic of the movie's defusion of the deconstructive power of the original graphic novel ... people were loudly cheering Rorshach's violence as if he was a simplistic action hero and the Nite Owl II/Silk Spectre II violence/sex scene was beyond ridiculous (although I did enjoy my girlfriend's howl of mocking laughter when they acted out the fanboy fantasy scene). Once again though the scenes lack a clear sense of critiquing the dramas being laid out for consumption as if the filmmakers were hoping that they might be able to appease both the critical fans and the straight-forward action audience. I disagree finally with your insistence that the film presents the super heroes in an unsympathetic light as the audience I watched the film with cheered many scenes like they would a typical action film.
I do agree that the film is a technical wonder, much like 300, which I also had problems with ... I find aesthetics to be political in the sense that the aesthetics of Triumph of the Will and Birth of a Nation or Maid in Manhattan and Pretty Woman cannot be separated from their political messages. I am not associating Watchmen with the first pair of films, instead, I am critiquing the aesthetic spectacle of Watchmen as a distraction from serious consideration of the political message of the film. I would make the same claim for the latest Dark Knight film in which, surprisingly, I found myself at one point cheering on the chaos of the Joker, because the Dark Knight becomes a symbol of unchecked (super) power in the service of a (supposed) noble cause--it would seem obvious who we are suppose to identify with in the film (much as Bush's administration thought it was obvious we should always cheer their means in the service of their self-proclaimed noble ends) but anyone vaguely aware of the cultural/political context of the film could not but help to reject the ultimate message of the Dark Knight.
Last, as this is running long, I find nothing admirable about "moral ambiguity" in films or people. Are you celebrating it? Can you explain why?
I appreciate your lengthy, thoughtful critique. I hope you take my words in the spirit of dialogue. If the movie version of Watchmen inspires people this much, perhaps it has more value than I originally thought. I still stand by my critique of the movie version.
Sarah DiGregorio: Is Foie Gras Torture?
Is Foie Gras Torture?
By Sarah DiGregorio
Village Voice
It's very hard to watch the video about foie gras from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals and not conclude that you should lay off fatty liver.
You're shown a disheveled duck squeezed into a cage so small that the bird can't open its wings. Disturbingly, it rocks back and forth. You then see an enormous barn full of birds, all of them immobilized in tiny cages. There are graphic shots of birds' festering open sores with rats nibbling at them, some that are dying slowly, and some with holes punched through their necks. We learn that foie gras production has been banned in the United Kingdom, Israel, and Switzerland.
The Humane Society and the ASPCA have also joined PETA to oppose foie gras. They object to the force-feeding process, called "gavage," which entails putting a metal tube down a duck's throat to deliver a large amount of corn-based food that causes the liver to enlarge. The process, animal rights groups say, causes trauma to the duck's esophagus and beak. Also, they say, the enlargement of the liver—from six to 10 times the normal size—causes the ducks to become deathly ill, struggle to walk and breathe, and vomit up undigested food. At the website of the humane group Farm Sanctuary, a photograph of a healthy, fluffy white duck rescued from a foie gras farm is contrasted with a shot of two ducks in tiny cages, both covered with their own yellow vomit.
To Read the Rest of the Report and To Watch a Slideshow
By Sarah DiGregorio
Village Voice
It's very hard to watch the video about foie gras from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals and not conclude that you should lay off fatty liver.
You're shown a disheveled duck squeezed into a cage so small that the bird can't open its wings. Disturbingly, it rocks back and forth. You then see an enormous barn full of birds, all of them immobilized in tiny cages. There are graphic shots of birds' festering open sores with rats nibbling at them, some that are dying slowly, and some with holes punched through their necks. We learn that foie gras production has been banned in the United Kingdom, Israel, and Switzerland.
The Humane Society and the ASPCA have also joined PETA to oppose foie gras. They object to the force-feeding process, called "gavage," which entails putting a metal tube down a duck's throat to deliver a large amount of corn-based food that causes the liver to enlarge. The process, animal rights groups say, causes trauma to the duck's esophagus and beak. Also, they say, the enlargement of the liver—from six to 10 times the normal size—causes the ducks to become deathly ill, struggle to walk and breathe, and vomit up undigested food. At the website of the humane group Farm Sanctuary, a photograph of a healthy, fluffy white duck rescued from a foie gras farm is contrasted with a shot of two ducks in tiny cages, both covered with their own yellow vomit.
To Read the Rest of the Report and To Watch a Slideshow
J. Hoberman: Zack Snyder Didn't Ruin Watchmen -- He just sapped it of its superpower
Zack Snyder Didn't Ruin Watchmen: He just sapped it of its superpower.
By J. Hoberman
Village Voice
The most eagerly anticipated (as well as the most beleaguered) movie of the year (if not the century), Watchmen is neither desecratory disaster nor total triumph. In filming David Hayter and Alex Tse's adaptation of the most ambitious superhero comic book ever written, director Zack Snyder has managed to address the cult while pandering to the masses.
Warner Bros., which battled Fox for possession of the property—from which author Alan Moore has, typically, removed his name—is marketing Snyder, who remade George Romero's Dawn of the Dead in 2004 and had a surprise mega-hit two years later with his adaptation of Frank Miller's comic book Thermopylae, 300, as a "visionary." That's a grateful studio's code word for "competent hack." The master of the vid-game aesthetic has successfully streamlined Moore's 12-part graphic novel and, even at a running time that tops two hours and 40 minutes, made it commercially viable.
...
Although the ending has been somewhat modified from the novel's, let it be said that Watchmen doesn't lack for self-confidence or even entertainment value. Its failure is one of imagination—although faithfully approximating Dave Gibbons's original drawings, the filmmakers are unable to teleport themselves to the level of the original concept. Perhaps no one could have, but it would have been fun to see what sort of mess Terry Gilliam (who hoped to make a movie version back in the '80s) or Richard Kelly (who surely took inspiration from Watchmen in conceptualizing his no less convoluted comic book saga Southland Tales) would have made of Moore's magnum opus. Snyder's movie is too literal and too linear. Social satire is pummeled into submission by the amplified pow-kick-thud of the sub-Matrix action sequences; not just metaphysics and narrative are simplified, but even character is ultimately eclipsed by the presumed need for violent spectacle.
The philosopher Iain Thomson (who valiantly brought Heidegger's Being and Time to bear on his reading of Watchmen) maintained that Moore not only deconstructed the idea of comic book super-heroism but pulverized the very notion of the hero—and the hero-worship that comics traditionally sell. For all its superficial fidelity, Snyder's movie stands Moore's novel on its head, trying to reconstruct a conventional blockbuster out of those empty capes and scattered shards.
To Read the Entire Review
By J. Hoberman
Village Voice
The most eagerly anticipated (as well as the most beleaguered) movie of the year (if not the century), Watchmen is neither desecratory disaster nor total triumph. In filming David Hayter and Alex Tse's adaptation of the most ambitious superhero comic book ever written, director Zack Snyder has managed to address the cult while pandering to the masses.
Warner Bros., which battled Fox for possession of the property—from which author Alan Moore has, typically, removed his name—is marketing Snyder, who remade George Romero's Dawn of the Dead in 2004 and had a surprise mega-hit two years later with his adaptation of Frank Miller's comic book Thermopylae, 300, as a "visionary." That's a grateful studio's code word for "competent hack." The master of the vid-game aesthetic has successfully streamlined Moore's 12-part graphic novel and, even at a running time that tops two hours and 40 minutes, made it commercially viable.
...
Although the ending has been somewhat modified from the novel's, let it be said that Watchmen doesn't lack for self-confidence or even entertainment value. Its failure is one of imagination—although faithfully approximating Dave Gibbons's original drawings, the filmmakers are unable to teleport themselves to the level of the original concept. Perhaps no one could have, but it would have been fun to see what sort of mess Terry Gilliam (who hoped to make a movie version back in the '80s) or Richard Kelly (who surely took inspiration from Watchmen in conceptualizing his no less convoluted comic book saga Southland Tales) would have made of Moore's magnum opus. Snyder's movie is too literal and too linear. Social satire is pummeled into submission by the amplified pow-kick-thud of the sub-Matrix action sequences; not just metaphysics and narrative are simplified, but even character is ultimately eclipsed by the presumed need for violent spectacle.
The philosopher Iain Thomson (who valiantly brought Heidegger's Being and Time to bear on his reading of Watchmen) maintained that Moore not only deconstructed the idea of comic book super-heroism but pulverized the very notion of the hero—and the hero-worship that comics traditionally sell. For all its superficial fidelity, Snyder's movie stands Moore's novel on its head, trying to reconstruct a conventional blockbuster out of those empty capes and scattered shards.
To Read the Entire Review
J. Hoberman: The Excruciating Details of Death-by-Starvation in Hunger
The Excruciating Details of Death-by-Starvation in Hunger
By J. Hoberman
Village Voice
Hunger, too, is essentially contemplative. (It can be bracketed with such other "experiential," post-Gibson passions as The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, United 93, and Day Night Day Night.) The takes are long; the camera is mainly static, moving only to map out some confined space. The emphasis is on the individual setup. The piss-drenched corridor is scrubbed in real-time, with a guard working his way toward the viewer. The mode is materially Christian. The prisoners may use their Bibles for stationery or cigarette paper and exploit mass as a meeting place, but Sands (Michael Fassbender), who only appears midway through the movie, is an explicitly religious martyr. Even the Brits are into self-mortification—one cop compulsively washes his hands in scalding water. One of the few scenes outside the Maze is a cold-blooded execution, resulting in a savage pietà, the victim face-down in his mother's blood-spattered lap.
The heart of the movie is an extraordinary 20-minute conversation between Sands and a tough, far from unsympathetic parish priest (Liam Cunningham), much of it shot in a single take. Sands has requested a meeting to inform the priest of his planned hunger strike. The hardboiled banter (playwright Enda Walsh's main chance to riff out) is suffused in bleak Irish humor. All argument is stymied, however, by the prisoner's stubborn determination to fast unto death; the priest's irate "then fookin' life must mean nothin' to you" cues a close-up in which Sands answers with a story—or rather a long story within the story. It's not quite "The Grand Inquisitor," but I can't recall a movie with a more powerful priest-prisoner dialogue.
Hunger's harrowing final movement is informed not only by scripture, but by a thousand years of religious art—with Thatcher, or at least her voice, brought back to play Pontius Pilate. The subject is now exclusively Sands—or rather the physical state of his emaciated body—as he lies on a prison-hospital cot covered with running sores and stigmata lesions. One can barely watch this living cadaver or the bedside food tray that is his constant temptation. I've seen Hunger three times, and with each screening, the spectacle of violence, suffering, and pain becomes more awful and more awe-inspiring.
To Read the Entire Review
By J. Hoberman
Village Voice
Hunger, too, is essentially contemplative. (It can be bracketed with such other "experiential," post-Gibson passions as The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, United 93, and Day Night Day Night.) The takes are long; the camera is mainly static, moving only to map out some confined space. The emphasis is on the individual setup. The piss-drenched corridor is scrubbed in real-time, with a guard working his way toward the viewer. The mode is materially Christian. The prisoners may use their Bibles for stationery or cigarette paper and exploit mass as a meeting place, but Sands (Michael Fassbender), who only appears midway through the movie, is an explicitly religious martyr. Even the Brits are into self-mortification—one cop compulsively washes his hands in scalding water. One of the few scenes outside the Maze is a cold-blooded execution, resulting in a savage pietà, the victim face-down in his mother's blood-spattered lap.
The heart of the movie is an extraordinary 20-minute conversation between Sands and a tough, far from unsympathetic parish priest (Liam Cunningham), much of it shot in a single take. Sands has requested a meeting to inform the priest of his planned hunger strike. The hardboiled banter (playwright Enda Walsh's main chance to riff out) is suffused in bleak Irish humor. All argument is stymied, however, by the prisoner's stubborn determination to fast unto death; the priest's irate "then fookin' life must mean nothin' to you" cues a close-up in which Sands answers with a story—or rather a long story within the story. It's not quite "The Grand Inquisitor," but I can't recall a movie with a more powerful priest-prisoner dialogue.
Hunger's harrowing final movement is informed not only by scripture, but by a thousand years of religious art—with Thatcher, or at least her voice, brought back to play Pontius Pilate. The subject is now exclusively Sands—or rather the physical state of his emaciated body—as he lies on a prison-hospital cot covered with running sores and stigmata lesions. One can barely watch this living cadaver or the bedside food tray that is his constant temptation. I've seen Hunger three times, and with each screening, the spectacle of violence, suffering, and pain becomes more awful and more awe-inspiring.
To Read the Entire Review
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Jacob Needleman: The American Soul -- Founding Ideals and the American Dream
The American Soul: Founding Ideals and the American Dream
Jacob Needleman
Live at Stanford University’s Aurora Forum
January 26, 2004 Stanford University’s Aurora Forum
Jacob Needleman joined Reverend Scotty McLennan in conversation about the visions and values which gave birth to the American dream.
To Listen to the Conversation
Jacob Needleman
Live at Stanford University’s Aurora Forum
January 26, 2004 Stanford University’s Aurora Forum
Jacob Needleman joined Reverend Scotty McLennan in conversation about the visions and values which gave birth to the American dream.
To Listen to the Conversation
Philosophy Bites: Keith Ward on Idealism in Eastern and Western Philosophy
Keith Ward on Idealism in Eastern and Western Philosophy
Philosophy Bites
Hosts: David Edmunds and Nigel Warburton
Is the ultimate nature of reality non-physical? Keith Ward, who believes that it is, discusses the idealist traditions in Eastern and Western philosophy... .
To Listen to the Conversation
Philosophy Bites
Hosts: David Edmunds and Nigel Warburton
Is the ultimate nature of reality non-physical? Keith Ward, who believes that it is, discusses the idealist traditions in Eastern and Western philosophy... .
To Listen to the Conversation
Philosophy Bites: Sebastian Gardner on Jean-Paul Sartre on Bad Faith
Sebastian Gardner on Jean-Paul Sartre on Bad Faith
Philosophy Bites
Hosts: David Edmonds and Nigel Warburton
Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness is sometimes described as the bible of existentialism. At its core is the notion of Bad Faith. Sebastian Gardner, author of a recent book about Being and Nothingness, explains what Sartre meant by Bad Faith.
To Listen to the Conversation
Philosophy Bites
Hosts: David Edmonds and Nigel Warburton
Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness is sometimes described as the bible of existentialism. At its core is the notion of Bad Faith. Sebastian Gardner, author of a recent book about Being and Nothingness, explains what Sartre meant by Bad Faith.
To Listen to the Conversation
Tyler E. Boudreau: To Kill or Not to Kill
To Kill or Not to Kill
By Tyler E. Boudreau
The Progressive
U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel John Nagl was an unlikely guest on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. One of the authors of the 2006 Army/Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual, Nagl said: “If I could sum up the book in just a few words, it would be: Be polite, be professional, be prepared to kill.” In that single sentence, he put his finger on a crucial discrepancy. In Iraq, I witnessed this discrepancy. I felt it. I knew from the moment I picked up the Counterinsurgency Field Manual what was missing.
On April 11, 2004, I did something that I’d never before done. I shot a man . . . at least, I shot at him. (Amidst the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to say whether or not he was hit.) It was Iraq. I was a Marine. And we were under heavy attack. It seemed like the thing to do.
Though I’d been in the infantry for more than a decade, I would not exactly describe the moment as perfunctory—automatic perhaps, but not quite perfunctory. Exactly what does it take to level the sights of a weapon and fire it at another human being? Under the circumstances, you wouldn’t think it would take much. And honestly, for me it didn’t.
But it would be precarious to assume that it didn’t take much because of circumstances alone. For some people, circumstances weigh very little in the decision to shoot or not to shoot. In a counterinsurgency operation, military doctrine not only demands of its soldiers a willingness to kill, but a willingness not to kill as well. Training for the Iraq War has slighted the second part. So today, we have a different kind of force, a different kind of warrior. I know. I was one of them.
There was a well-known study—well known within the military, anyway—done directly after World War II by retired Colonel S. L. A. Marshall, author of Men Against Fire: The Problem of Battle Command in Future War. He discovered that even in the thickest of fire fights, the vast majority of soldiers did not fire their weapons. (Based on interviews with the soldiers themselves, Marshall estimated that within the average unit under fire, only 15 percent of men actually pulled their triggers. Even within the most disciplined units, he found that average rose to not more than 25 percent.) Marshall discovered that it was not fear that prevented these men from engaging their enemies, but humanity. All of them reported a keen reluctance to kill.
You can just imagine the military’s dismay upon getting this news. Beneath all the rigid tomes on military tactics lies the fundamental principle of conventional battle: Those who fire the most bullets win. In the military, this principle is referred to as fire superiority. It’s not which side has more guns. Fire superiority is when one unit is discharging a heavier volume of fire than the other, keeping more of the latter’s heads down, thereby allowing the former to maneuver. That’s the key right there—maneuver. That’s how an infantry unit gains forward momentum and how it seizes the initiative. That’s how you win the battle. And that is precisely why Marshall’s findings were so disconcerting, and how a new emphasis on killing entered the military culture, where it has thrived ever since.
The killing culture prevails not simply by indoctrination. With soldiers, the effort is mutual. The military, no doubt, provides an environment in which violence can be looked upon with nonchalance. But that can only take a man so far. A soldier must engage this environment willingly. He must embrace it for it to have any meaningful effect. To be truly desensitized, he must desensitize himself.
To Read the Rest of the Essay
By Tyler E. Boudreau
The Progressive
U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel John Nagl was an unlikely guest on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. One of the authors of the 2006 Army/Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual, Nagl said: “If I could sum up the book in just a few words, it would be: Be polite, be professional, be prepared to kill.” In that single sentence, he put his finger on a crucial discrepancy. In Iraq, I witnessed this discrepancy. I felt it. I knew from the moment I picked up the Counterinsurgency Field Manual what was missing.
On April 11, 2004, I did something that I’d never before done. I shot a man . . . at least, I shot at him. (Amidst the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to say whether or not he was hit.) It was Iraq. I was a Marine. And we were under heavy attack. It seemed like the thing to do.
Though I’d been in the infantry for more than a decade, I would not exactly describe the moment as perfunctory—automatic perhaps, but not quite perfunctory. Exactly what does it take to level the sights of a weapon and fire it at another human being? Under the circumstances, you wouldn’t think it would take much. And honestly, for me it didn’t.
But it would be precarious to assume that it didn’t take much because of circumstances alone. For some people, circumstances weigh very little in the decision to shoot or not to shoot. In a counterinsurgency operation, military doctrine not only demands of its soldiers a willingness to kill, but a willingness not to kill as well. Training for the Iraq War has slighted the second part. So today, we have a different kind of force, a different kind of warrior. I know. I was one of them.
There was a well-known study—well known within the military, anyway—done directly after World War II by retired Colonel S. L. A. Marshall, author of Men Against Fire: The Problem of Battle Command in Future War. He discovered that even in the thickest of fire fights, the vast majority of soldiers did not fire their weapons. (Based on interviews with the soldiers themselves, Marshall estimated that within the average unit under fire, only 15 percent of men actually pulled their triggers. Even within the most disciplined units, he found that average rose to not more than 25 percent.) Marshall discovered that it was not fear that prevented these men from engaging their enemies, but humanity. All of them reported a keen reluctance to kill.
You can just imagine the military’s dismay upon getting this news. Beneath all the rigid tomes on military tactics lies the fundamental principle of conventional battle: Those who fire the most bullets win. In the military, this principle is referred to as fire superiority. It’s not which side has more guns. Fire superiority is when one unit is discharging a heavier volume of fire than the other, keeping more of the latter’s heads down, thereby allowing the former to maneuver. That’s the key right there—maneuver. That’s how an infantry unit gains forward momentum and how it seizes the initiative. That’s how you win the battle. And that is precisely why Marshall’s findings were so disconcerting, and how a new emphasis on killing entered the military culture, where it has thrived ever since.
The killing culture prevails not simply by indoctrination. With soldiers, the effort is mutual. The military, no doubt, provides an environment in which violence can be looked upon with nonchalance. But that can only take a man so far. A soldier must engage this environment willingly. He must embrace it for it to have any meaningful effect. To be truly desensitized, he must desensitize himself.
To Read the Rest of the Essay
Howard Zinn: Lessons of Iraq War Start With US History
(Published in 2006, even more important to consider on the 6th anniversary of the Iraq War)
Lessons of Iraq War Start With US History
By Howard Zinn
The Progressive
Tuesday 14 March 2006
On the third anniversary of President Bush's Iraq debacle, it's important to consider why the administration so easily fooled so many people into supporting the war.
I believe there are two reasons, which go deep into our national culture.
One is an absence of historical perspective. The other is an inability to think outside the boundaries of nationalism.
If we don't know history, then we are ready meat for carnivorous politicians and the intellectuals and journalists who supply the carving knives. But if we know some history, if we know how many times presidents have lied to us, we will not be fooled again.
President Polk lied to the nation about the reason for going to war with Mexico in 1846. It wasn't that Mexico "shed American blood upon the American soil" but that Polk, and the slave-owning aristocracy, coveted half of Mexico.
President McKinley lied in 1898 about the reason for invading Cuba, saying we wanted to liberate the Cubans from Spanish control, but the truth is that he really wanted Spain out of Cuba so that the island could be open to United Fruit and other American corporations. He also lied about the reasons for our war in the Philippines, claiming we only wanted to "civilize" the Filipinos, while the real reason was to own a valuable piece of real estate in the far Pacific, even if we had to kill hundreds of thousands of Filipinos to accomplish that.
President Wilson lied about the reasons for entering the First World War, saying it was a war to "make the world safe for democracy," when it was really a war to make the world safe for the rising American power.
President Truman lied when he said the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima because it was "a military target."
And everyone lied about Vietnam - President Kennedy about the extent of our involvement, President Johnson about the Gulf of Tonkin and President Nixon about the secret bombing of Cambodia. They all claimed the war was to keep South Vietnam free of communism, but really wanted to keep South Vietnam as an American outpost at the edge of the Asian continent.
President Reagan lied about the invasion of Grenada, claiming falsely that it was a threat to the United States.
The elder Bush lied about the invasion of Panama, leading to the death of thousands of ordinary citizens in that country. And he lied again about the reason for attacking Iraq in 1991 - hardly to defend the integrity of Kuwait, rather to assert U.S. power in the oil-rich Middle East.
There is an even bigger lie: the arrogant idea that this country is the center of the universe, exceptionally virtuous, admirable, superior.
If our starting point for evaluating the world around us is the firm belief that this nation is somehow endowed by Providence with unique qualities that make it morally superior to every other nation on Earth, then we are not likely to question the president when he says we are sending our troops here or there, or bombing this or that, in order to spread our values - democracy, liberty, and let's not forget free enterprise - to some God-forsaken (literally) place in the world.
But we must face some facts that disturb the idea of a uniquely virtuous nation.
We must face our long history of ethnic cleansing, in which the U.S. government drove millions of Indians off their land by means of massacres and forced evacuations.
We must face our long history, still not behind us, of slavery, segregation and racism.
And we must face the lingering memory of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
It is not a history of which we can be proud.
Our leaders have taken it for granted, and planted the belief in the minds of many people that we are entitled, because of our moral superiority, to dominate the world. Both the Republican and Democratic Parties have embraced this notion.
But what is the idea of our moral superiority based on?
A more honest estimate of ourselves as a nation would prepare us all for the next barrage of lies that will accompany the next proposal to inflict our power on some other part of the world.
It might also inspire us to create a different history for ourselves, by taking our country away from the liars who govern it, and by rejecting nationalist arrogance, so that we can join people around the world in the common cause of peace and justice.
--------
Howard Zinn, who served as a bombardier in the Air Force in World War II, is the author of "A People's History of the United States" (HarperCollins, 1995). He is also the co-author, with Anthony Arnove, of "Voices of a People's History of the United States" (Seven Stories Press, 2004).
Lessons of Iraq War Start With US History
By Howard Zinn
The Progressive
Tuesday 14 March 2006
On the third anniversary of President Bush's Iraq debacle, it's important to consider why the administration so easily fooled so many people into supporting the war.
I believe there are two reasons, which go deep into our national culture.
One is an absence of historical perspective. The other is an inability to think outside the boundaries of nationalism.
If we don't know history, then we are ready meat for carnivorous politicians and the intellectuals and journalists who supply the carving knives. But if we know some history, if we know how many times presidents have lied to us, we will not be fooled again.
President Polk lied to the nation about the reason for going to war with Mexico in 1846. It wasn't that Mexico "shed American blood upon the American soil" but that Polk, and the slave-owning aristocracy, coveted half of Mexico.
President McKinley lied in 1898 about the reason for invading Cuba, saying we wanted to liberate the Cubans from Spanish control, but the truth is that he really wanted Spain out of Cuba so that the island could be open to United Fruit and other American corporations. He also lied about the reasons for our war in the Philippines, claiming we only wanted to "civilize" the Filipinos, while the real reason was to own a valuable piece of real estate in the far Pacific, even if we had to kill hundreds of thousands of Filipinos to accomplish that.
President Wilson lied about the reasons for entering the First World War, saying it was a war to "make the world safe for democracy," when it was really a war to make the world safe for the rising American power.
President Truman lied when he said the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima because it was "a military target."
And everyone lied about Vietnam - President Kennedy about the extent of our involvement, President Johnson about the Gulf of Tonkin and President Nixon about the secret bombing of Cambodia. They all claimed the war was to keep South Vietnam free of communism, but really wanted to keep South Vietnam as an American outpost at the edge of the Asian continent.
President Reagan lied about the invasion of Grenada, claiming falsely that it was a threat to the United States.
The elder Bush lied about the invasion of Panama, leading to the death of thousands of ordinary citizens in that country. And he lied again about the reason for attacking Iraq in 1991 - hardly to defend the integrity of Kuwait, rather to assert U.S. power in the oil-rich Middle East.
There is an even bigger lie: the arrogant idea that this country is the center of the universe, exceptionally virtuous, admirable, superior.
If our starting point for evaluating the world around us is the firm belief that this nation is somehow endowed by Providence with unique qualities that make it morally superior to every other nation on Earth, then we are not likely to question the president when he says we are sending our troops here or there, or bombing this or that, in order to spread our values - democracy, liberty, and let's not forget free enterprise - to some God-forsaken (literally) place in the world.
But we must face some facts that disturb the idea of a uniquely virtuous nation.
We must face our long history of ethnic cleansing, in which the U.S. government drove millions of Indians off their land by means of massacres and forced evacuations.
We must face our long history, still not behind us, of slavery, segregation and racism.
And we must face the lingering memory of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
It is not a history of which we can be proud.
Our leaders have taken it for granted, and planted the belief in the minds of many people that we are entitled, because of our moral superiority, to dominate the world. Both the Republican and Democratic Parties have embraced this notion.
But what is the idea of our moral superiority based on?
A more honest estimate of ourselves as a nation would prepare us all for the next barrage of lies that will accompany the next proposal to inflict our power on some other part of the world.
It might also inspire us to create a different history for ourselves, by taking our country away from the liars who govern it, and by rejecting nationalist arrogance, so that we can join people around the world in the common cause of peace and justice.
--------
Howard Zinn, who served as a bombardier in the Air Force in World War II, is the author of "A People's History of the United States" (HarperCollins, 1995). He is also the co-author, with Anthony Arnove, of "Voices of a People's History of the United States" (Seven Stories Press, 2004).
Out of the Past: Episode 10# The Killers
Episode 10: The Killers
Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir
Hosts: Shannon Clute and Richard Edwards
While Robert Siodmak's noir triumph "Ernest Hemingway's 'The Killers'" flaunts its literary bloodlines, Hemingway's 1927 short story is little more than a pretext. The film actually investigates the fundamental post-WWII question: in a world where every man bears scars from the fight, how and why does he keep fighting? Siodmak's answer seems to be the very one given by Albert Camus in his famous essay "The Myth of Sisyphus." At the moment a man accepts the burden of his existence, bends to shoulder the stone of his being, he is greater than his destiny. Siodmak adds a caveat: if a man knowingly wrongs another he seals his own doom, and the killers descend on him like Fate itself.
To Listen to the Conversation
Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir
Hosts: Shannon Clute and Richard Edwards
While Robert Siodmak's noir triumph "Ernest Hemingway's 'The Killers'" flaunts its literary bloodlines, Hemingway's 1927 short story is little more than a pretext. The film actually investigates the fundamental post-WWII question: in a world where every man bears scars from the fight, how and why does he keep fighting? Siodmak's answer seems to be the very one given by Albert Camus in his famous essay "The Myth of Sisyphus." At the moment a man accepts the burden of his existence, bends to shoulder the stone of his being, he is greater than his destiny. Siodmak adds a caveat: if a man knowingly wrongs another he seals his own doom, and the killers descend on him like Fate itself.
To Listen to the Conversation
Democracy Now: Mark Danner -- Bush Lied About Torture of Prisoners
Mark Danner: Bush Lied About Torture of Prisoners
Democracy Now
Host: Amy Goodman
The International Committee of the Red Cross concluded in a secret report two years ago that the Bush administration’s treatment of prisoners “constituted torture” in violation of the Geneva Conventions. The findings were based on interviews with prisoners once held in the CIA’s secret black sites. Author and journalist Mark Danner broke the story when he published extensive excerpts of the report in the New York Review of Books. The Red Cross said the fourteen prisoners held in the CIA prisons gave remarkably uniform accounts of abuse that included beatings, sleep deprivation, extreme temperatures and, in some cases, waterboarding.
To Listen to the Conversation
Democracy Now
Host: Amy Goodman
The International Committee of the Red Cross concluded in a secret report two years ago that the Bush administration’s treatment of prisoners “constituted torture” in violation of the Geneva Conventions. The findings were based on interviews with prisoners once held in the CIA’s secret black sites. Author and journalist Mark Danner broke the story when he published extensive excerpts of the report in the New York Review of Books. The Red Cross said the fourteen prisoners held in the CIA prisons gave remarkably uniform accounts of abuse that included beatings, sleep deprivation, extreme temperatures and, in some cases, waterboarding.
To Listen to the Conversation
Democracy Now: Public Outcry Forces Lawmakers to Say They’ll Recoup Millions in AIG Bonuses, But Why Not the Billions in Taxpayer Bailout Funds?
Public Outcry Forces Lawmakers to Say They’ll Recoup Millions in AIG Bonuses, But Why Not the Billions in Taxpayer Bailout Funds?
Host: Amy Goodman
Democracy Now
Lawmakers on Capitol Hill have responded to growing public outrage with a pledge to recoup million-dollar bonuses paid out by the bailed-out insurance giant AIG. But the hundreds of millions of dollars in bonus money pales to the billions used to bail out AIG a second time. We speak to consumer advocate Ralph Nader and economist Robert Kuttner, co-founder and co-editor of The American Prospect. Kuttner says, “I think [Treasury Secretary Timothy] Geithner is probably gone within sixty days, because he has become a liability to the administration.”
To Listen to the Conversation
Host: Amy Goodman
Democracy Now
Lawmakers on Capitol Hill have responded to growing public outrage with a pledge to recoup million-dollar bonuses paid out by the bailed-out insurance giant AIG. But the hundreds of millions of dollars in bonus money pales to the billions used to bail out AIG a second time. We speak to consumer advocate Ralph Nader and economist Robert Kuttner, co-founder and co-editor of The American Prospect. Kuttner says, “I think [Treasury Secretary Timothy] Geithner is probably gone within sixty days, because he has become a liability to the administration.”
To Listen to the Conversation
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
John Hartl: The Robe introduced a new Scope
“The Robe” introduced a new Scope
by John Hartl
Parallax View
Whatever you think of the biblical blockbuster, The Robe, there’s no question that its phenomenal popularity marked a turning point in movie history.
Twentieth Century-Fox, which previously treated it rather shabbily on DVD, tape and laser disc, is finally recognizing its significance with a Blu-ray Special Edition that’s loaded with extra features. Among them: a featurette about the history of CinemaScope, a discussion of the script’s political implications, and an enthusiastic introduction by Martin Scorsese, who vividly remembers the impact it had at the time.
Just weeks after The Robe’s much-ballyhooed debut as the first Scope release in the fall of 1953, the movie was challenging Gone With the Wind by setting new box-office records, and theater managers were widening their screens and beefing up their sound systems.
Before the year was over, Scope had won the battle over screen shape and size, and even movies designed to be “square,” like Shane, were stretched and distorted to suggest a panoramic effect. A few major-studio films, including the Judy Garland remake of A Star Is Born, were partially reshot to take advantage of the new process.
The Robe led the way in replacing small screens and transforming monophonic sound systems. Although some critics suggested that wide screens were suitable only for photographing snakes and funerals, and Charlie Chaplin and Frank Tashlin made fun of Scope in their late-1950s films, the system eventually had an artistic impact. Hollywood’s famous 1950s spectacles and musicals were affected, and so were such meticulously designed wide-screen classics as La Dolce Vita, The Innocents, Jules and Jim and most of Robert Altman’s movies.
But it wasn’t a first. Abel Gance had experimented with a Cinerama-like sequence in 1927’s Napoleon, and Raoul Walsh used an early 70mm process called “Grandeur” when he cast John Wayne in 1930’s The Big Trail. Disney had made imaginative use of stereo in 1940’s Fantasia. Box-office disappointments all, they failed to capture the public’s interest.
To Read the Rest of the Review
by John Hartl
Parallax View
Whatever you think of the biblical blockbuster, The Robe, there’s no question that its phenomenal popularity marked a turning point in movie history.
Twentieth Century-Fox, which previously treated it rather shabbily on DVD, tape and laser disc, is finally recognizing its significance with a Blu-ray Special Edition that’s loaded with extra features. Among them: a featurette about the history of CinemaScope, a discussion of the script’s political implications, and an enthusiastic introduction by Martin Scorsese, who vividly remembers the impact it had at the time.
Just weeks after The Robe’s much-ballyhooed debut as the first Scope release in the fall of 1953, the movie was challenging Gone With the Wind by setting new box-office records, and theater managers were widening their screens and beefing up their sound systems.
Before the year was over, Scope had won the battle over screen shape and size, and even movies designed to be “square,” like Shane, were stretched and distorted to suggest a panoramic effect. A few major-studio films, including the Judy Garland remake of A Star Is Born, were partially reshot to take advantage of the new process.
The Robe led the way in replacing small screens and transforming monophonic sound systems. Although some critics suggested that wide screens were suitable only for photographing snakes and funerals, and Charlie Chaplin and Frank Tashlin made fun of Scope in their late-1950s films, the system eventually had an artistic impact. Hollywood’s famous 1950s spectacles and musicals were affected, and so were such meticulously designed wide-screen classics as La Dolce Vita, The Innocents, Jules and Jim and most of Robert Altman’s movies.
But it wasn’t a first. Abel Gance had experimented with a Cinerama-like sequence in 1927’s Napoleon, and Raoul Walsh used an early 70mm process called “Grandeur” when he cast John Wayne in 1930’s The Big Trail. Disney had made imaginative use of stereo in 1940’s Fantasia. Box-office disappointments all, they failed to capture the public’s interest.
To Read the Rest of the Review
Monday, March 09, 2009
Watchmen (United States of Amnesia: Zach Snyder, 2009)
Watchmen, so far, is the worst film I have seen in the theaters this year. A huge disappointment. Nothing like turning a critique of the false worship of heroes (the original graphic novel obviously meant for us to link it to a critique of media/historic construction of real world leaders as super heroic, thus the graphic novels constant deconstruction of this process across many narrative forms) into a fetishized worship of super heroes as mindless entertainment. Even the psychopathic Rorshach and Comedian in the final scenes are designed to evoke sympathy. Simple movies for simple minds (yeah, I went to see it, I engaged in a nostalgic hope, yes, sometimes I fall for the hype).
Open Source: Errol Morris’ “Feel-Bad” Masterpiece -- Standard Operating Procedure
(Last semester only 2 out of over a hundred students knew what Abu Ghraib was until I showed them pictures. United States of Amnesia -- USA. In Kentucky the state leaders are currently debating whether to remove from all state testing the humanities/social sciences components and end the portfolio process/essay tests, effectively making all regulatory/assessment tests multiple choice. Even worse was my students' classroom discussions this semester of how ridiculously easy it was for them to use the Plato Testing system, not in the sense of ease of test-taking, but in the sense of passing the multiple choice questions. Probably why it is so popular? I had a handful of students discuss how their entire last two years of high school where completed through Plato Testing? The conversation between Errol Morris, Chris Lydon and the students is amazing and Morris' film is essential viewing. The documentary is, for me, a masterpiece because it does not "tell" us what happened, instead, for one of the few times, we are encouraged to listen, to watch, and to assess for ourselves, to use our brains, to figure out may or may not have happened. It is a powerful film that encourages active thinking/meaning-making rather than passive consumption.)
Errol Morris’ “Feel-Bad” Masterpiece
Open Source (Watson Institute for International Studies -- Brown University)
Host: Chris Lydon
Errol Morris’s Standard Operating Procedure is a shocking, depressing work of art that might tell you almost nothing you didn’t know in your bones: that the torture chambers at Abu Ghraib were a perfect kernel of the war on Iraq. See the movie anyway, for confirmation or as penance. It is a blood sample of a gross policy of humiliation, emasculation, sophisticated mental cruelty and pitiless domination in the Arab Middle East. Errol Morris makes no bones about it. He says: we are looking at icons of American foreign policy.
To Listen to the Conversation
Errol Morris’ “Feel-Bad” Masterpiece
Open Source (Watson Institute for International Studies -- Brown University)
Host: Chris Lydon
Errol Morris’s Standard Operating Procedure is a shocking, depressing work of art that might tell you almost nothing you didn’t know in your bones: that the torture chambers at Abu Ghraib were a perfect kernel of the war on Iraq. See the movie anyway, for confirmation or as penance. It is a blood sample of a gross policy of humiliation, emasculation, sophisticated mental cruelty and pitiless domination in the Arab Middle East. Errol Morris makes no bones about it. He says: we are looking at icons of American foreign policy.
To Listen to the Conversation
On the Media: Word Watch -- Bipartisan
Word Watch: Bipartisan
On the Media (NPR/WNYC)
Obama promised to bring a bipartisan spirit to Washington. But ... he signed the 787 billion dollar stimulus package with basically no Republican support and the media declared it a failure of bipartisanship. What's bipartisan really mean anyway? James Morone, a professor from Brown University, says the media might have a warped sense of the word.
To Listen to the Episode
On the Media (NPR/WNYC)
Obama promised to bring a bipartisan spirit to Washington. But ... he signed the 787 billion dollar stimulus package with basically no Republican support and the media declared it a failure of bipartisanship. What's bipartisan really mean anyway? James Morone, a professor from Brown University, says the media might have a warped sense of the word.
To Listen to the Episode
On the Media: The Growing Cable Monopoly -- Comcast
The Die is Cast
On the Media (NPR: WNYC)
Host: Brooke Gladstone
Comcast is now the cable monopoly in 40 of the top 50 markets. It’s the third largest phone company in the US, and the largest provider of broadband internet to homes, with nearly 15 million customers, many of whom apparently hate Comcast. Wired Magazine senior writer Daniel Roth parses the troubled reputation of a media giant.
To Listen to the Episode
On the Media (NPR: WNYC)
Host: Brooke Gladstone
Comcast is now the cable monopoly in 40 of the top 50 markets. It’s the third largest phone company in the US, and the largest provider of broadband internet to homes, with nearly 15 million customers, many of whom apparently hate Comcast. Wired Magazine senior writer Daniel Roth parses the troubled reputation of a media giant.
To Listen to the Episode
Live in Concert from All Songs Considered: Sleater-Kinney in Concert at Washington, D.C.'s 9:30 Club (2006)
Sleater-Kinney in Concert at Washington, D.C.'s 9:30 Club (2006)
Live in Concert from All Songs Considered (NPR)
More than a decade after the band first formed in Olympia, Wash., Sleater-Kinney continues to make passionate, punk-inspired rock with the release of its seventh CD, The Woods. But it may be the trio's last album, at least for some time: The group recently announced plans to go on indefinite hiatus after its current tour ends later this year. It performed an epic concert at Washington, D.C.'s 9:30 Club August 3.
Sleater-Linney's current lineup features guitarists and singers Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker, with drummer Janet Weiss. The band emerged from the so-called "riot grrl" movement in the early 1990s — a subculture of young feminist musicians who sought to change perceptions of women in rock. It played traditionally male-dominated instruments like guitars and drums, screamed vocals and thrashed on stage. Though Sleater-Kinney has since distanced itself from that movement, the band still identifies with the fierce drive for independence.
"I was definitely a part of riot grrl when it happened way, way back in the early '90s," Tucker says. "But that all kind of took place and came and went really before Sleater-Kinney started. But I think that our presentation probably carries over a lot of feminist notions about wanting to be seen as multidimensional humans and as musicians first and foremost, and not wanting to be sort of seen as these objectified ladies."
To Read the Rest of the Profile and to Listen to the Concert
Live in Concert from All Songs Considered (NPR)
More than a decade after the band first formed in Olympia, Wash., Sleater-Kinney continues to make passionate, punk-inspired rock with the release of its seventh CD, The Woods. But it may be the trio's last album, at least for some time: The group recently announced plans to go on indefinite hiatus after its current tour ends later this year. It performed an epic concert at Washington, D.C.'s 9:30 Club August 3.
Sleater-Linney's current lineup features guitarists and singers Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker, with drummer Janet Weiss. The band emerged from the so-called "riot grrl" movement in the early 1990s — a subculture of young feminist musicians who sought to change perceptions of women in rock. It played traditionally male-dominated instruments like guitars and drums, screamed vocals and thrashed on stage. Though Sleater-Kinney has since distanced itself from that movement, the band still identifies with the fierce drive for independence.
"I was definitely a part of riot grrl when it happened way, way back in the early '90s," Tucker says. "But that all kind of took place and came and went really before Sleater-Kinney started. But I think that our presentation probably carries over a lot of feminist notions about wanting to be seen as multidimensional humans and as musicians first and foremost, and not wanting to be sort of seen as these objectified ladies."
To Read the Rest of the Profile and to Listen to the Concert
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