Hope at the Oscars

Leave the happy endings to Hollywood. Never mind the writer’s strike that lasted months and cost Hollywood billions. Had it not been for Jon Stewart’s comical references it would seem almost as if nothing had ever happened. And who better to pull off such a stunt than an auditorium full of actors, directors, playwrights, comedians and the like?
Hosting once again, Jon Stewart quickly defined the 80th Annual Oscars calling it the writer’s strike “make-up sex”. His light-hearted comedy seemed to make up for the heavy feeling that hung over Hollywood in the previous months. Both quick and witty, Stewart improvised throughout the show; consciously providing a mistranslation of Javier Bardem’s Spanish to “I believe he told his mother where the library was.” Even cueing the orchestra after one of the commercial breaks, Jon Stewart should be commended.
Afraid that the writer’s strike would extend past the Oscars, the Academy had prepared video clips that recalled famous Oscar moments and decided to use them regardless. The effect was a nostalgic recap of Oscar history that seemed to remind everyone there what they were fighting to preserve.
The Oscars awarded were carefully sprinkled out amongst a large number of movies but a few stood out. No Country for Old Men seemed to pull out on top taking best picture, best adapted screenplay, best director, much appreciated by the famous Coen brothers and best supporting actor for the proud Javier Bardem. But There Will be Blood’s British star Daniel Day-Lewis grabbed best actor and La Vie en Rose’s French star Marion Cotillard grabbed best Actress. Interesting to notice is that the European crowd won many of the awards this year. Taken aback, even Tilda Swinton from Scotland took best supporting actress for Michael Clayton.
Perhaps the most humble to receive an Oscar were Irish Glen Hansard and Czech Market Irglova with best original song; “Falling Slowly”, performed beautifully by them onstage. Cut off before she could give her acceptance speech, and she wasn’t the only one, Jon Stewart took advantage of his hosting powers in a touching moment to allow her to return to the stage and say a few words.
In the absence of the strike something else took hold. In between the random shots of Jack Nicholson smiling in his sunglasses and the clips of Cher’s spectacular costumes there was a feeling of hope for the future. Memories of the writer’s strike and the obvious European failed to tarnish the feeling of communal pride because as Market Irglova wisely noted: “hope at the end of the day connects us all, not matter how different we are”.

Defense of "Set Your Tasers on Slo-mo Wipeout" by Mike Hale

Mike Hale’s review of “Unbeatable Banzuke” is a well paced, clear cut, simple article. Going into the background from where Banzuke originated, Hale provides easy context for Americans to understand the show: by comparing it to Jackass.
Although Hale seems to lean on the rave side with a “but” early in the article, his position remains ambiguous. The only argument he really makes is that Banzuke is about as good as Jackass and only abandons his neutrality on the subject to keep Banzuke in parallel with Jackass.
Maybe not everyone would be satisfied with this comparison, but Hale politely explains the similarities and also the differences between these two similar shows; a healthy compare and contrast. By doing so the reader gets two things:
Firstly, by comparing the article to Jackass, Hale has allowed the assumption that if someone doesn’t like Jackass, they probably won’t like Banzuke and that is useful for a reader who will now not waste his time on a show he won’t enjoy. Secondly by contrasting the shows he has allowed the reader who does like jackass to use that as a standard that he can grade Banzuke from. The result is an article that is of practical use to any reader who is interested in the show.

p.s. i couldnt find the link but its in monday's paper, page B10.

It’s Enough

When the Whole Arts Theatre decided to put on a production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? they probably already understood that the resources available to them would not compare in scale or grandeur to many previous productions of the play.
This is a reality that many smaller theatres face. Instead of working to make the most glorious version of a well known play, the goal is to put on a production that can remind the audience of the play’s glory and to remind the audience of the entertainment that a live, in the round theatre performance can provide.
Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? debuted on stage in 1962, before being made into a movie in 1966. It is the story of a maddened couple, George and Martha, and the time they spend entertaining young couple, Nick and Honey, in their home for a “nightcap.” The older couple, heavily inebriated, tantalizingly drags them through the issues of their tumultuous relationship. During the course of the evening, Nick and Honey’s own problems surface, wreaking emotional havoc amongst four people so wacky and intense that the only natural response seems to be to squirm in your seat—or join in on the drinking.
Richard Philpot and Martie Philpot, George and Martha, respectively, beautifully execute their characters. Maybe their offstage marriage contributes to the chemistry that produces their vicious and violent arguments. But the Philpots consistently outperform both Carol Zombro as Honey, and Trevor Maher as Nick, in tact and execution.
The Philpot’s seemed to have found their characters making their performances appear far more natural than those of Nick and Honey.
While Honey is definitely supposed to be drunk for a good deal of the play, Ms. Zombro’s choice of facial and corporeal expressions instead misleads that audience to conclude that Honey has developed some sort of severe mental handicap in the course of the evening. What is really supposed to be a role that is comical alternatively turns into a role that makes little sense in the play and evokes pity rather than laughter.
Mr. Maher is more in touch with his character, acting within the frame of sanity, but with both hands waiting at his side like a quick draw cowboy, many of his lines were delivered quickly and missed their target. Precariously smoking a cigarette, the audience practically holds their breathe to see if he will choke or continue to deliver his lines.
It seems that the younger cast was chosen based more on availability than merit and this is all well because the only disappointment available is for the people who go to the play and expect a performance as great as Elizabeth Taylor’s. Given the scale of production and price of the show, Ms. Zombro’s and Mr. Maher’s performances’ are not exactly reprehensible and with the Philpot’s performance, it is enough to call this a successful local production.

Review of “In Treatment” for the Gazette

“In treatment” is very similar to what it would be like if anyone could spy on patients while they talked to their shrinks. In fact it’s probably about just as good or better because you don’t have to feel guilty about it, because in this case it’s legal and because your couch is probably more comfortable than anywhere you might have spied from.

Adhering so far to juicy sexual, emotional, gut wrenching and controversial issues, the series focuses around the work of psychoanalyst Paul Weston, played by Gabriel Byrne, who seems to be “in treatment” himself. His sessions vary widely in tone and topic; Laura with love trouble, Alex with guilt trouble, Sophie with sanity trouble and Jake and Mary with abortion trouble.

This unlikely mesh of people has at least one thing in common however. They all seem to be at war with Paul in every session, forcing him to fight for every psychological victory. This seems to be the form in which Paul’s own problems are manifesting themselves, where he was once able to preserve his patience with his patients (a pun used in the show). Frustration building, he decides to visit Gina an old friend and supervising colleague, who he hasn’t seen in ten years, to see if she can explain his professional downturn. In this way ‘In Treatment’ is different from the everyday psychology session because; what does therapy really mean anymore when the psychoanalyst is the one that is being analyzed?

Well, psychoanalysis isn’t the same as regular psychology. Psychoanalysis is Sigmund Freud’s approach in psychology which works on the basis that people have sabotaging thoughts and mental processes that they are not conscious of and which will continue to weak havoc unless brought to light in “treatment”. So it would make sense that Paul, apparently making the same mistake as his patients, would have to go see another person to figure out his problems right? Maybe, but it’s so interesting to be in the mind of the psychologist for a change that it doesn’t really matter.

“In Treatment” should really be called “In therapy.” It is closer to the truth. “Treatment” sounds so civilized, like the application of a band aid to a wound. But therapy can better express the mood of the show, because behind Paul’s calm face, the pretty furniture and apparent scientific methodological approach there is a wave of conflict and tension that practically emanates from the TV screen. Every patient seems to represent an almost barbaric nature and with every response Paul is forced to rally back with the proper civilized nature that masks the surfacing emotions that he is scared he can’t control anymore. Watching “In Treatment” is really like indulging in a guilty pleasure that normally wouldn’t be permitted. It may be a just a show but it has all the realness that one could hope for and a few more perks to it to boot.

Oscar Wilde

In The Critic as Artist, Oscar Wilde is trying to make the point that the critic is even more creative than the creator himself. Maybe this is out of an arrogant zeal that he possessed for his own profession but regardless there is wisdom to be heeded in his words.
Wilde points out that if you write beautifully enough there will be a scarcity of those who would disagree with it because to do so would be to deny the beauty that exists in your words. The mere fact that what is written is related to a subject that the reader is interested in appears like a cherry on top of an already decked out hot fudge Sunday of pleasant and poetic word combinations with hot fudge on top. He explains art as aesthetical, not a surprise given his background in aesthetic movement. He explains highest criticism to be dealing with art as impressive rather than expressive. This make perfect sense because as a writer your criticisms are really are your impression. The way the art is expressed does affect your impression, but ultimately it is not what your criticism should be about.

Pauline Kael

There as always been controversy over the criticisms that have been provided by Pauline Kael during her time as a weekly movie critic for The New Yorker. As a critic, Ms. Kael used movies to show “us the work of art in some new relation to our age”, as Oscar Wilde put it. Pauline herself stated “I was often accused of writing about everything but the movie.”

It is true that Pauline experimented with the boarders between movie critic and social critic, the boarders between what type of film should or shouldn’t be reviewed (Deep Throat); there are really few barriers in critical writing that Ms. Kael did not confront. An explorer in the field of movie critics, she had no particular movie preferences and could easily stomach and enjoy even lowbrow comedy.

But looking closely at her reviews and at her interview in Afterglow, where she describes some of the reasoning behind her work, there are a lot of movies that have done quite well that she has panned (American Beauty, Star Wars) and gone against the crowd, and then there are other films which seemed like they deserved less credit but received more.

It is complicated to keep track of what Ms. Kael’s taste is because it may revolve more around the social context that the movie is platformed on than the movie itself. Top Gun was seen as homoerotic instead of the classic, and Hiroshima Mon Amour, positively heralded throughout the media, was suggested by Ms. Kael to be the educated audience’s “wish fulfillment in the form of cheap and easy congratulation on their sensitivities and their liberalism,” but Barbra Streisand’s Funny Girl was given a “Bravo!” Perhaps an understanding of her opinion will always elude us.
It is evident that a great deal of actors, directors and movie-goers will not agree with her opinion and that is okay because the success of a critic is not measured by the degree of accuracy they have to the general public’s opinion or to the actual truth. Pauline Kael did a superb job of what Oscar Wilde calls “setting a mood.”

This, he explains, is what art is about and this is what Ms. Kael was great at. She would take a film, decide if she liked it or not, figure out the social context that it represented and then as Adler says “Then there began to be quirks, mannerism, in particular in certain compulsive and joyless naughtiness.”

Pauline Kael was daring, naughty, fun, pretentious, witty, and had a unique taste in movies perhaps only perfectly compatible with Francis Davis. Her vast reserves of knowledge about movies that are forgotten today, the movies of the sixties, seventies, eighties, may grant her some insight into films that escapes the rest of us. Ms. Kael had practically become a film Guru. It showed that she loved her medium and was happy to write about it with a creativity that spawned from her genuine criticism and did what a movie critic’s job is anyways. Ms. Kael entertained her readers, not matter what.