The Bird and The Bee are a duo, male and female, who have remade The Bee Gee's song of the same title. The song is wonderful. Unlike most remakes, the song seems to be such a reinvention of the '70s song, that, after hearing The Bee Gee's version again, it seems as if the original version is a medicore copy.
What makes the song truly unique is the woman's voice (yes, this is a blog, after searching for it, I've already forgotten). It's deeply feminine: vulnerable and steady and open to the possibilities of love, which makes it fragile and quivering.
It's a touching song. The delicate lyrics, song slowly, remind me, whenever I hear it, that the type of love this song is about is rare. So rare, the song is likely an idealized version of what love is, rather than the reality of what a relationship often is. Nonetheless, it's this idealized version of love that I think is likely inherent in us all.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
"Milk"
I wanted to like this film. I wanted to cheer for Harvey Milk, against the abuses of homophobia, discrimination, for a more egalitarian world, and against bullies and the small-minded. I'm certain the film makers also wanted this. Unfortunately, after watching "Milk", my conclusion is that Harvey Milk is only slightly different from those who discriminated against him.
The films begins on Harvey Milk's 40th birthday. Convinced he's a failure, and convinced that he doesn't want to be, he begins on an unintentional path to find equality. It begins slowly, with a business association in San Francisco. Slowly, as Harvey Milk understands the needs for political representation of San Francisco's large gay community, the movie presents the 1970s as one of blatant discrimination against gays. Humiliation, then, was common -- and apparently accepted and expected.
Eventually, Harvey Milk decides to become the first openly gay elected political official in San Francisco. The struggle and the political maneuvering take up much of the film. It demonstrates Harvey's determination, how he changes, and, the backdrop, the 1970s, becomes a comparison to how much and how little has changed in the US.
While pursuing his political ambitions, Harvey comes across a political rival who represents what San Francisco used to be: straight, Irish, Catholic, bigoted. This political rival, however, is willing to negotiate. He wants to get reelected and Harvey, at one point, needs his affiliation to achieve his political goals.
Harvey, however, eventually turns on him. The specifics, I think, aren't as important as what Harvey could have done. That is, he could have forgiven him. He could have recognized the need for forgiveness, over the need for either vindictiveness or pettiness. Instead, Harvey is now the aggressor -- and perhaps also an abuser.
This was a missed opportunity. If the film makers had chosen, they could have chosen to understand that Harvey Milk, truly, is only slightly different from those who inflicted their bigotries on him. When Harvey Milk had power to abuse, he used it.
And this is why Harvey Milk is not a martyr for the noble cause of equality and against homophobia. Instead, he's an all too-real symbol of the consequences of power.
The films begins on Harvey Milk's 40th birthday. Convinced he's a failure, and convinced that he doesn't want to be, he begins on an unintentional path to find equality. It begins slowly, with a business association in San Francisco. Slowly, as Harvey Milk understands the needs for political representation of San Francisco's large gay community, the movie presents the 1970s as one of blatant discrimination against gays. Humiliation, then, was common -- and apparently accepted and expected.
Eventually, Harvey Milk decides to become the first openly gay elected political official in San Francisco. The struggle and the political maneuvering take up much of the film. It demonstrates Harvey's determination, how he changes, and, the backdrop, the 1970s, becomes a comparison to how much and how little has changed in the US.
While pursuing his political ambitions, Harvey comes across a political rival who represents what San Francisco used to be: straight, Irish, Catholic, bigoted. This political rival, however, is willing to negotiate. He wants to get reelected and Harvey, at one point, needs his affiliation to achieve his political goals.
Harvey, however, eventually turns on him. The specifics, I think, aren't as important as what Harvey could have done. That is, he could have forgiven him. He could have recognized the need for forgiveness, over the need for either vindictiveness or pettiness. Instead, Harvey is now the aggressor -- and perhaps also an abuser.
This was a missed opportunity. If the film makers had chosen, they could have chosen to understand that Harvey Milk, truly, is only slightly different from those who inflicted their bigotries on him. When Harvey Milk had power to abuse, he used it.
And this is why Harvey Milk is not a martyr for the noble cause of equality and against homophobia. Instead, he's an all too-real symbol of the consequences of power.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
"The Wrestler"
To begin this review, I should note that, on Friday night, I hadn't intended to see "The Wrestler". Because my original selection, "Waltz with Bashir" was sold-out, this was my secondary choice (and better than going home and, inevitably, struggling with the latest math textbook I'm studying).
The movie was disappointing. I do, however, understand why so many films critics have praised the film.
My primary complaint of the movie is the narration-style. The movie begins with the primary character, Randy the Ram, in the midst of his dysfunctions. Following a strict linear time line, the movie progresses to follow Randy the Ram as he -- generally -- struggles. He struggles with his relationship with his daughter. He struggles with the only possible romantic relationship. And as is evident, he's a failure in many ways.
Without a flashback -- or any interruption of the linear time line -- the movie doesn't provide any type of explanation or insertion of what happened to Randy. Why, for instance, did he become a washout, after achieving a high degree of fame as a professional wrestler? Why doesn't he perceive -- what I think anyone who sees the movie would -- abandon wrestling? What are the hints or reasons to why he treated his daughter so poorly?
Instead, proceeding with Randy the Ram's decision to continue to professionally wrestle, the movie -- essentially -- forces the viewer to interpret what has happened to him. I wanted more. I wanted to understand Randy beyond the strict slice of time the movie makers presented. Perhaps most importantly, I wanted to sympathize with him. Instead, I found myself detesting him. I detested his choices. I detested the way he treated his daughter. I detested his failures.
After the movie, I felt disappointed. The short amount of time spent with Randy the Ram, I thought, wasn't enough. I wanted to know more about him and I wondered why the film makers didn't want to present more.
Finally, one interpretation that I thought was deliberate was the metaphor of Randy the Ram as the US. In the final wrestling match of the movie and the final scene, Randy has a rematch with the Ayatollah -- a wrestler who wears a head dress and menacingly waves -- what looks like -- the Iranian flag. Twenty years prior, Randy the Ram confidentally destroyed the Ayatollah. Now, during the rematch, it's left to the viewer to interpret what's happened. It's somewhat clear, however, that the outcome that has been determined, that Randy the Ram once again wins, is not how the match is going to end.
The movie was disappointing. I do, however, understand why so many films critics have praised the film.
My primary complaint of the movie is the narration-style. The movie begins with the primary character, Randy the Ram, in the midst of his dysfunctions. Following a strict linear time line, the movie progresses to follow Randy the Ram as he -- generally -- struggles. He struggles with his relationship with his daughter. He struggles with the only possible romantic relationship. And as is evident, he's a failure in many ways.
Without a flashback -- or any interruption of the linear time line -- the movie doesn't provide any type of explanation or insertion of what happened to Randy. Why, for instance, did he become a washout, after achieving a high degree of fame as a professional wrestler? Why doesn't he perceive -- what I think anyone who sees the movie would -- abandon wrestling? What are the hints or reasons to why he treated his daughter so poorly?
Instead, proceeding with Randy the Ram's decision to continue to professionally wrestle, the movie -- essentially -- forces the viewer to interpret what has happened to him. I wanted more. I wanted to understand Randy beyond the strict slice of time the movie makers presented. Perhaps most importantly, I wanted to sympathize with him. Instead, I found myself detesting him. I detested his choices. I detested the way he treated his daughter. I detested his failures.
After the movie, I felt disappointed. The short amount of time spent with Randy the Ram, I thought, wasn't enough. I wanted to know more about him and I wondered why the film makers didn't want to present more.
Finally, one interpretation that I thought was deliberate was the metaphor of Randy the Ram as the US. In the final wrestling match of the movie and the final scene, Randy has a rematch with the Ayatollah -- a wrestler who wears a head dress and menacingly waves -- what looks like -- the Iranian flag. Twenty years prior, Randy the Ram confidentally destroyed the Ayatollah. Now, during the rematch, it's left to the viewer to interpret what's happened. It's somewhat clear, however, that the outcome that has been determined, that Randy the Ram once again wins, is not how the match is going to end.
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