The Canterbury Tales: a joy to read when read in translation.

While steadily plugging away at the Norton Anthology of English Literature, I must admit I was a bit disappointed when the Canterbury Tales popped up because my last experience with them was not so good. All I remember was impossible vocab and grammar (think two centuries before Shakespeare, yep that rough) and blue humor that, at the tender of 12 or so, made me blush. The solution? I printed a "modern translation" version off the internet and listened to lots of hip-hop . . . after which what used to pass for dark blue humor seemed rather, um, pastel?

Now I can say that I love the Canterbury Tales, enough to call them a favorite. Above all, I loved the comic, irreverent voice that emerged from the writing. Chaucer is shrewd and analytical, but his criticisms of the world ultimately amuse and delight him. He took on a host of themes that no other writer before him (at least no other writer featured in the anthology) explored, including sexuality, gender, religion, politics, society, class, etc. His critical perspective felt surprisingly modern and topical. Contrast that with the grand Anglo-Saxon epics (e.g. Beowulf) and the genteel Arthurian romances (e.g. Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight), and Chaucer comes off as a strong, down to earth personality, determined to use literature to explore the (what was then) here-and-now and put his own comic stamp on it. There was something individualistic about his writing that surprised me. And, above all, I laughed at a lot of the stories and found the work to be as entertaining as it was enlightening. Thanks to Chaucer, the late middle-ages feel much, much, closer.

A favorite random moment: Pertelote, beautiful hen and wife of Chanticleer, the even more beautiful rooster, rips into her husband for his fear of a fox: "Have you no manly heart to match your beard?" she squawks :)

Or what about when one of the pilgrims interrupts the priest who goes on and on and on and on with one tragic, moralizing story after the next. The value of said stories? "Nat worth a boterflye" he snaps in Middle English. Precisely so. I've never liked tragedies. Too depressing. The pilgrim then turns to a fellow pilgrim and asks him to change to the topic:

"Come forth, you priest--Sir John, now come ahead!
Tell something that will gladden us inside,
Be blissful, though a nag you have to ride.
So what if you've a horse both foul and lean?
If he will serve you, should you care a bean?
Be merry in your heart and always so."

Little Shop of Horrors: creepy without trying to be.

Little Shop of Horrors is a delightfully eccentric, well-written movie. Famously low-budget, it was filmed in two days, or so the story goes. The star of the film, a man-eating venus fly-trap, is more hilarious than freaky thanks to "special effects" I could have simulated using random crap from around the house. The spookiness of the film comes from the casting and offbeat dialogue. The characters do and say the strangest things and it just doesn't feel like they're acting. Seriously, the "actors" in this movie seem to be genuinely weird people. Further, a tone of morbidity runs throughout, with constant jokes about and illusions to death, illness, and funerals. The movie even has a mad dentist. (What could be creepier than a madman with a hand drill up your mouth?) This is a good one for watching at 4:00am Halloween night . . .

Cadillac Records: tacky, but better than nothing.

I would recommend this movie for music fans only. It helped me put a face to legendary names like Leonard Chess, Muddy Waters, Etta James, Chuck Berry, Little Walter, and Howlin' Wolf. Otherwise, I think this movie was a flop . . . okay at best. I'm being quite picky, it's just that that, well, Beyonce is way too gorgeous and sweet to play Etta James. She's super talented so she pulls it off as well as she possibly could, but every time I saw her pretty face saying foul things or screaming for gin or smack, I just couldn't suspend my disbelief. All in all, the script failed to create complex characters. The characters talked and acted in ways that felt too predictable, shallow, and over-the-top. The screenplay just wasn't well written. When the bad-boy Little Walter died, bloody and broken-toothed in Geneva's arm, I couldn't help it . . . I burst out laughing. Tackiness always cracks me up.

Bye Bye Birdie: I am deeply disturbed!!!

I'm not joking! Some people refer to this 1963 film as a "satire." I think there is a hidden agenda, but that doesn't make the film's excesses tongue-in-cheek. The fact that so many people who review this film enjoy it as something that "takes them back" to the "good old times" proves that if the filmmakers were attempting to seriously question or subvert 1950s pop culture, they widely missed their mark. "Parody" would be the better term. This film exaggerates and thereby gently pokes fun at numerous aspects of 1950s suburban culture: Elvis, the nuclear family, the Ed Sullivan Show, teen consumer culture, teen "rebellion" (as in kissing your boyfriend/girlfriend).

I couldn't even get through more than 15 min. of the movie, truth be told, it was so grating. I'd like to finish it now though, just to understand it better. I guess what I'm interested in figuring out is what kind of a society would create such a thing and enjoy it as somehow being wholesome, uplifting, and entertaining. I know it seems like I'm over reacting, but this film creeped me out. I get a dark feeling in my gut when I embrace their premise that naivete is a thing to be praised, particularly when that message is targeted at women. The women were especially dumb, but the men were half-brained too. This movie is all about never wanting to grow up, get older, and engage with the world. It, and other entertainment like it, functions like a giant megaphone shouting: "Happiness is being dumb, in love, and 16. Or remembering when your were dumb, in love, and 16. That is the great climax of life." I've enjoyed a lot of chick flicks and silly movies in my day so I promise I don't always take things so seriously, but there was something about this movie that was very sinister.

Many people are reviewing this film as capturing an era that we have lost that was somehow more mature? Somehow more about "family values"? What in the hell do they mean by that? Is it a good thing if people's worlds revolve around a rock star coming to town, getting "pinned" by their boyfriend, or, um . . . what's for dinner? Is it just me, or is the whole Shriner's men's club association thing downright weird? Did anyone else feel antsy after seeing female after female after female wearing what looked to be very uncomfortable dresses and bras? I guess Stepford Wives sums up the vibe of that movie for me. I've never seen so many vapid women. Honestly, the mother goes ga ga over the rock star, too? And we're supposed to chuckle at that? It's disgusting.

Yes, the movie does have an adult edge to it . . . but not the right kind. Sure, they lampoon the Soviets in what could pass as very light political satire. But the adult edge comes in the Britney Spears for middle-aged men effect. One reviewer at imdb.com pointed at the film's under-handed glorification of Anne Margaret's burgeoning sexuality. Several, in fact, have discussed feeling rather, um, "aroused" by her performance. It's true, the opening and closing credits where she sings her little guts outs like a true vixen in front of the blue screen are provocative. And whoever dressed her seemed to favor outfits that tended toward . . . tight. So they snuck in a little sex for the adults. Gross.

I'm glad that whole 50's thing got shattered because it wasn't real anyway. And if it was . . . then what a nightmare . . . to live in an all-white community where everyone is in harmony because they have the exact same lifestyles and values. Sounds racist, classist, sexist, everything bad. Why do people feel so threatened by growing up? Why shy away from complexity and waste adult minds on wanting to be 16 forever? Talk about a mental trap. I hated being 16, I didn't know who I was, I didn't have an adult perspective on things. Wisdom and experience are to be prized, not regretted.

Grosse Point Blank: a romantic comedy in disguise, and thoughts on dry humor

This movie wasn't a romantic comedy, but it was romantic and it was funny. So I guess it is a romantic comedy, after all. A romantic comedy minus those ooey-gooey moments that make you squirm in your seat and feel just a little embarrassed that your watching :)

First off, John Cusack's presence made the film work. What can I say, the man is enigmatic. His expressions are fun to watch and his diffident charm makes him the ideal leading man for a movie of this kind. After watching Scarface (1932) which didn't have any great actors, I appreciated John for his sheer charisma. A few actors have it, the vast majority don't. It's an indescribable something that draws the viewer into the film and captures the imagination.

Also, the script was very good. It didn't quite play to my particular sense of humor, so I didn't laugh very often. But I could sense the script was well-written. The tongue-in-cheek humor gave the movie a smart, off-beat feel. Funny how when humor is tongue-in-cheek or dry or whatever you want to call it, (basically when the jokes aren't set-up with ridiculous facial expressions or slap-stick misshaps), then humor is elevated to the level of an art form and commands respect from all who encounter it.

Tongue in cheek humor almost always elevates the comic to a superior status by putting their audience on the defensive: if the audience fails to "get" it, the joke's on them. Actually, it even goes beyond "getting" the joke. A proper response to tongue in cheek humor is tongue in cheek humor . . . otherwise the receiver of the joke drops the ball, so to speak. Which is quite an easy mistake to make. This helps to explain why, with tongue in cheek humor, it often feels like the comic is laughing at you and not with you. As a decidedly not funny person, I'm often on the outside of jokes and I often feel awkward around people with dry senses of humor.

Tongue in cheek humor is very powerful and, in social situations, can be applied to a dazzling or disastrous effect. It can be very tasteful and delightful if the comic knows when to stop and is willing to laugh with you if you fail to catch on or do not know what to say. Otherwise, it will feel like the dry-witted humorist is abusing their powers by refusing to throw you a life-saver. People like that are downright annoying . . . I hate the types who seem to enjoy putting others on the outside of jokes and watching them squirm . . .

Which leads me to a final point about humor. Interestingly, the most people-centered and friendly folks I know are often funny. They enjoy making light of life and laughing with you. On the flip side, the most arrogant people I know (certainly the most arrogant person I know), are also very funny . . . but they do it in the smart-alecky, refuse-to-throw-you-a-life-saver kind of way.

I guess humor is like most everything else in life. It isn't inherently good or bad, but what counts is the spirit you do it in.

Who first experimented with camera angles?

Something I noticed about Scarface (1932) that made it tiresome is that the camera angles were so tame. It was like watching a play except on film. The camera was almost always 10-20 feet away, putting all of the characters in a predictable "box" and me, the viewer, provided the fourth wall to that box so to speak. Hitchcock's movies break out of that box . . . was he the first?

Scarface (1932) and what makes art timeless

From the title of this post, you're probably expecting me to herald Scarface as a classic. But it's just the opposite. This seminal gangster flick is, in my opinion, now only relevant to film connoisseurs and history buffs. Why is it, then, that Alfred Hitchcock movies from the same era have aged so much better?

If a work of art is valuable only for its technical innovations, then that work of art will captivate the public imagination so long as its technical achievements go unsurpassed. For artists with the technique of Beethoven or Shakespeare, their art will have extraordinary staying power . . . but few are in their league. Scarface was in the category of only being exciting to viewers in 1930. Cinematography has come such a long way that it really doesn't have a fighting chance on technique alone.

Timelessness comes down to content and ideas. The more mind-bending and revolutionary the ideas involved, the longer it will last. Scarface fails yet again. Heck, it was a gangster movie. I know I'm expecting way too much from it. But the truth is that the simplistically good and bad characters in this movie bored me to tears. And sentimentality will doom any work of art to the trash bin.

Up until this point, I've just been stating the obvious. But what makes this line of questioning fascinating is when you compare Scarface to an Alfred Hitchcock move from the same era. And Hitchcock's movies, at a surface level at least, were often no "deeper" then the next who-done-it.

Where do the charisma of Hitchcock movies come from? They give me a lot to think about at a subconscious level; they stick with me and unsettle me long after I click the TV off. This many years later, their power is extraordinary. Vertigo may be my favorite movie of all time. I can watch that movie over and over and never get tired of it. Why? If timelessness is all about ideas, then why is that that most powerful works of art are the ones you walk away from understanding the least?