To See, or Not to See?

Mr. Kumare

Documentaries are often tempting, because their subject matter is usually inherently interesting: some unique, strange, or heartwarming story that inspired the filmmakers to begin with. In Kumare, this weekend’s Museum selection, the filmmaker, Vikram Gandhi (at left) conned people into believing he was a spiritual guru and then recorded the results. Presumably, he’s making fun of people’s gullibility and exposing how easily a charlatan can gull naive folk. But then, the Museum desription implies a surprise ending: “the upshot of his story is truly transformative.”

I’m uncertain about recommending Kumare, because I haven’t seen it, and the reviews are ambivalent. And I don’t want to read the reviews too closely, because I don’t want the movie ruined. If you check out Rotten Tomatoes, which (like Metacritic) summarizes critical reaction, the conclusion is “no consensus yet.” It rates about 68% at this point–certainly above average, but not a rave.

I’m intrigued enough to give it a try, though I can’t go tonight and am not sure about Sunday. I want to see what that transformation thing is about, and I’m interested in spirituality and belief. If you see it, or have seen it in another city, I’d love to hear what you think.

Kumare plays at the Cleveland Museum of Art, 7:00 pm Friday and 1:30 pm on Sunday.

Posted in Movies | Leave a comment

A Clown, but Not “Klown”

Maybe I’ll always be recommending a classic film, here, in my weekly musings on my husband John’s film programs. If so, I may get boring, but I gotta be me.

I generally want people to read classic books and see classic movies, because they’re usually great.  A year or two ago, my book group, who usually chooses recent books, decided to read a Jane Austen novel. When I learned that quite a few members had never read any Jane Austen, I pushed hard for Pride and Prejudice. Another member, I learned later, thought this was a predictable and kind of embarrassing choice. She would have opted for a more obscure novel. My rationale was that if you haven’t read any Jane Austen, you should start with Pride and Prejudice. That serves as a template to which you can compare her other books and gives you a little cultural literacy boost. In life, you’re going to run across more allusions to Pride and Prejudice than Mansfield Park.

I realize this attitude represents my teacher self. As it turned out, everyone loved Pride and Prejudice (everyone who came to the discussion, anyway), and even the recalcitrant friend acknowledged that it was well worth rereading.

Les cubicles

With that apologia, I encourage you to see Playtime (Saturday, October 20, at 5:00), a 1967 satiric comedy by Jacques Tati. Not because it’s a classic that you “should” see, but because it’s brilliant and funny. Like a character in a Kafka story, Tati’s character Monsieur Hulot can’t find his way to an appointment; he keeps running into sharp corners and uncooperative bureaucrats and unmarked offices. There’s little dialogue or plot, but hundreds of sight gags and stark, beautiful visuals. (Here’s a scene.) Tati spent a fortune (and never recovered financially) designing and building the film’s elaborate sets. François Truffaut wrote that Playtime was “a film that comes from another planet, where they make films differently.” 

 I guess I’d rank the other films in this order: Kiki’s Delivery Service, The Well-Digger’s Daughter, and David Lynch’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. Regarding the last-place choice, I’m not cool enough for Lynch, but if you’re into surreal and weird movies, you should go for it. Kiki’s is another in the Cinematheque series by the great Hayao Miyazaki, all of which are worth seeing.

The Well-Digger’s Daughter looks to be pretty pedestrian to me, a kind of French Masterpiece Theater offering.  I liked Daniel Autueil, the director, when he starred in Jean de Florette in the ‘80’s and other films. This looks like an old-fashioned, straightforward retelling of a novel (by Maurice Pagnol). It did get good reviews, but they frequently use words like “traditional” and even “sentimental.”

Naked hijinks from "Klown"

Tuesday night, the Cinematheque shows  Klown, “the funniest film of the year,” at the Capitol Theatre (7:00 pm). I’m going to skip it, warned away by words in John’s flyer like raunchy, taboo, debauchery, and sex-crazed. Maybe you’ll see Klown and laugh a lot. If so, leave your comments here. And let me know what you think of Playtime.

Posted in Movies, Uncategorized | 4 Comments

A Collection of Choosers

I discussed the electoral college with my Latin students today, apropos of the Presidential election, of course, and described its Roman historical and etymological roots. As a break from our essential but enervating grammar explanations, such a lesson passes as “fun” in my class.

The Roman Republic divided its voting citizens into groups of 100, called centuries. The Senate submitted proposals to the Centurial Assembly, and each century got one vote. This was, then, an electoral college.The Roman aristocracy was fearful of the rabble, as were our Founding Fathers, who borrowed and adapted this indirect system. It gave our Founders a way to choose the President more or less democratically, without relying too, too much on fickle and possibly unwashed citizens.

This system is convoluted enough, but many Americans are probably confused by the term itself. Why are these electors part of a college? Do they hang out on a campus, sharing a keg while they choose the President? A look at the word’s Latin roots clears up the confusion. College comes from the Latin verb colligo, which means gather together or collect. (One of the verb’s principal parts is in fact collectum.) Colleague, collegial¸and collection are related English words. So the electoral college, or really any college, is fundamentally a collection or gathering.

Electoral derives from eligo, which means choose or select. Electors are people who do some choosing. So the electoral college is a gathering of people who choose.  Both the concept and the words themselves come to us from the Romans.

To digress, while perusing the internet for extra information, I ran across a blog by a certain Steve with a couple of amusing idioms smack in the first sentence. In a post dating from 2000, Steve addressed the alleged weaknesses of the electoral college vis a vis the  “brew ha ha” then in the news. You remember it, don’t you? That brew ha-ha regarding hanging chads (see photo) and Florida and good old Katherine Harris? That was one nightmarish brew ha ha. Maybe that one was a kegger.

Then, Steve comments, “I have whittled away my hours,” researching the topic. Maybe that’s an actual expression I’m just not familiar with. I always thought we while away the hours.  Maybe it’s writer being creative. Or maybe it’s just Steve being Steve.

Steve, by the way, is a big fan of the electoral college, fearing that popular election of the President would lead to socialism. Share your thoughts on the electoral college here.

Posted in Teaching, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Reflecting on the 47%

By now everybody knows what Republican candidate Mitt Romney said about 47% of Americans. It goes something like this. People will vote for President Obama because they are dependent on government and believe they are victims. These 47%  pay no income tax and think the government must take care of them. They believe they’re entitled to health care, food, and housing. Mr. Romney said, “I’ll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives.” When the secret videotape was revealed, Romney did not apologize. Now, weeks later, he has. The original remarks must reflect his feelings and those of the people in the audience, right? No one objected at the time.

I’ve been trying to figure out exactly whom he was talking about, reflecting on the people I know who fit into that 47%. Many of my students at Cleveland State University, for example, work at low-wage jobs and rely on student loans to help pay for their education. For these two reasons, then, they may not pay any income tax.

They work, often full time, at restaurants, nursing homes, and other businesses. A great many of them are also raising families while they attend college full-time. They pay payroll taxes, sales taxes, and other taxes, but, at this stage of their lives, no income taxes.

I wish I could introduce Mr. Romney to these young Americans. I’ve had students who come directly to an 8:30 am class from their night-shift jobs, who contact me from the hospital in order to keep up with their work, and who return to class after a death in the family, determined to finish the semester. These students do not believe they are victims, and they do not feel entitled. Interestingly, Mr. Romney didn’t even get their political persuasion right. I think many of these students will vote for Mitt Romney.

A second category of people among the 47% are the elderly. I have two older friends, for example, who probably no longer pay income tax. They now collect Social Security and benefit from Medicare. Both women worked outside the home throughout their marriages, as did their hard-working husbands. They maintained a middle-class lifestyle and sacrificed to send their kids to college. They continue to pay sales taxes and other taxes.

They, too, are not victims and have never behaved in an “entitled” way. These two particular friends are in the 47% who will vote for President Obama, but clearly not for the reasons Mr. Romney thinks. Of course, other elderly people on Social Security and Medicare, including some of my relatives, will be voting for Mr. Romney. The 47% is, in other words, a garbled mess.

The last category I’ve been thinking about are my GED students at the Thea Bowman Center in Cleveland’s Mount Pleasant neighborhood, where I volunteer as a tutor. Like my CSU students, some of them are working and also raising a family. Some of them have learning disabilities. Most of them have had to contend with other problems–violence, drug addiction, broken schools–that I can barely imagine.

They made a mistake and dropped out of high school. Now they are trying to rectify that mistake. They want to help their kids with their homework and get better jobs. They pay payroll taxes, sales taxes, and other taxes, but not, at this stage of their lives, income taxes. Most of them, as far as I can tell, are planning to vote. Most of them, I imagine, are voting for President Obama.

Many of them receive government aid, but if they feel “entitled” and if they feel like “victims,” why are they attending GED classes four days a week in order to re-learn the branches of government and division of fractions? I would like to ask Mitt Romney, in what way are these dedicated GED students, college students, and elderly people not taking responsibility for their lives? Did he really expect his listeners to believe that nearly half of all Americans, the half who will vote for President Obama, are slackers and moochers?

My husband and I belong to the 47% who are voting for President Obama. Like many of our like-minded friends and family, we are not in that entitled and irresponsible half who pay no income tax. Though our income is a tiny fraction of Mitt Romney’s, we pay an annual income tax at about the same rate.

What about you? Which 47% (out of many) are you in?

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Good Docs

Two documentaries at the Cleveland Museum of Art sound interesting this weekend. Booker’s Place: A Mississippi Story revisits a 1965 NBC interview, in which an African-American waiter named Booker Wright spoke openly to TV reporters and later paid the price. The son of the original filmmaker returns to Mississippi in this film to examine the effects of that original story. Here’s a trailer.

That’s on Friday evening at 7:00 pm. On Sunday at 1:30 you can see Portrait of Wally, which examines the struggle between museums and the Jewish families whose art was stolen by the Nazis. The docs John brings to the art museum almost always sound intriguing to me.

Tanner, ’88 plays out on two more Wednesdays at the Museum at 6:45. Robert Altman and Garry Trudeau, an impressive duo, created this HBO political mini-series almost twenty-five years ago. It’s a send-up of political campaigning, following Michael Murphy around as Jack Tanner, a liberal entering the Democratic primaries.

John was telling me how funny the first episodes were last week. I watched a little on dvd and was amused but as much as John. Although the political themes are certainly relevant, it mostly seemed mannered and too familiar. It does provide a witty and ironic antidote to this dreary political campaign season.

Posted in Movies | Leave a comment

Hands Down, It’s “Madame de…”

No zombies or giant man-eating sandworms for me this weekend. I’ll pass over Juan of the Dead (Cuba’s first zombie movie) and Dune, David Lynch’s version of the Frank Herbert science-fiction novel, for Max Ophuls’s exquisite 1953 gem, The Earrings of Madame De… at the Cleveland Cinematheque.

Thinking this movie was based on a Guy de Maupassant story, I just reread “The Necklace,” which you, like me, may have read in junior high–a surprise-ending, O. Henry kind of story (only more elegant) about a couple who go bankrupt trying to pay the debt for a lost necklace. It has the same witty tone as Madame de…, but (zut alors!) this is a red herring! With a little research, I find instead that Madame de… is based on a novel by Marie Louise Lévêque de Vilmorin, who, interestingly and irrelevantly, was once engaged to Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince.

OK, I’m getting a little off track.

Madame de…is entertaining, suspenseful, clever, elegant, and touching. Danielle Darrieux is one of the most beautiful, graceful, subtle actresses you’ll ever see. Charles Boyer deftly plays her wise and sophisticated husband. The great Italian director Vittorio de Sica is a baron obsessed with honor. These three performances alone make this movie worth seeing.

There’s also the direction. When we were dating, John used to educate me about movies on our long drives from our hometown Canton to Cleveland, and that’s how I learned to associate the phrase “moving camera” with Max Ophuls. In this film, the camera glides through hallways and gardens, follows dancers at a ball, and glances over the characters’ revealing expressions. Seeing this movie helps you understand what “direction” is all  about. The New Yorker’s Pauline Kael began her review, “Perfection.”

These screenings honor the eminent film critic Andrew Sarris, who died this summer and who, having seen most of the movies every made, called Madame de… his favorite film. Cleveland Institute of Art President Grafton Nunes, who knew Sarris, will introduce the film on Friday night at 7:00. It also shows Saturday, 10/13, at 5:15.

Another French film this weekend, Unforgivable, tempts me a little bit, because it looks intriguing and suspenseful and starts Carole Bouquet, another stunning French actress I remember from That Obscure Object of Desire and other films. But it looks a little too thrilling for my delicate sensibilities.

I can enthusiastically recommend Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away, also showing this weekend. If you haven’t seen any films in this series, get to at least one. Take your kids and your grandkids if you have them. But you don’t need kids to enjoy Miyazaki.

Posted in Movies | 7 Comments

La Grande Illusion

Jean Gabin in "La Grande Illusion"

It happened again tonight. As I was tearing up watching Jean Renoir’s great 1937 anti-war film La Grande Illusion at the Cinematheque, I was thinking that I should have told everyone I know to come and see it. John didn’t need my help–the crowd was big enough. I just felt sad that some people who may have loved this classic and moving film were missing it. You have one more chance: Sunday, October 7th, at 4:00 pm.

From now on, I’m going to let people know. I’m going to devote my blog, every Monday or Tuesday, to a look ahead at movies coming both to the Cleveland Museum of Art and the Cleveland Institute of Art Cinematheque to offer my reflections and recommendations. This will serve a bunch of purposes, most of them selfish. First, it will force me to look ahead at John’s schedules; like lots of other people, I forget to check out what he’s showing and sometimes miss good movies. Of course, he often tells me what he’s showing. I’m just not always listening. And, yes, I also get the weekly emails. Sue me.

If I’m writing about the movies, I’ll have to plan ahead. And maybe John’s audience will be increased by a small increment.

Second, I’ll be sharing my recommendations with friends and acquaintances. Lest this seem egotistical, it happens that some people appreciate my take on John’s movies. My tastes are more mainstream, and I’m less, let us say, expansively enthusiastic about his selections than he is. For the record, I rarely cozy up to truly avant-garde films and usually avoid violent ones. Science fiction doesn’t thrill me; neither does anime, though I make exceptions. I’ll feel very happy if some people, because of my advice, see some good movies they would otherwise have missed.

Lastly, there’s the pleasure and the practical purpose of writing the blog, which I always enjoy but often neglect. The discipline of a weekly deadline may be motivating. And the underlying purpose of the blog is blatantly promotional, i.e., for me, not John’s movies. Writers have blogs to promote their writing. Accumulating readers is the goal. Feel free to spread the link around. Comment at the blog itself, if you choose to, whether you liked or hated a movie.

And if you borrow a film I recommend from Netflix instead of seeing it at the Museum or Cinematheque, I hope you enjoy it, but you don’t need to let me know.

Posted in Movies | 1 Comment

Frustules, not Frustrating

My friend Jerry, a scientist who studies Lake Erie algae, visited the GED class where I tutor to talk about his work. I learned a lot about his research, and I also learned some new words, which I’ve had fun investigating.

A diatom that resembles 16 mm. film. Who knew?

Jerry studies diatoms, one-celled plants that have a silica shell called a frustule. I rushed home to check out this word’s etymology and was gratified to find an interesting history. A frustum is a little bite or piece of something, both in English and in Latin, and the -ule ending (Latin frustulum), called a diminutive, makes it even littler and cuter. The frustules of diatoms are so cute and so little, you need a microscope to see them, and, fortunately, Jerry brought one today to allow us to gaze upon them.

Looking further, I discovered that the root of these words is the verb fruor, which means enjoy, as you would enjoy a little bite of food.

So frustule is related to the words fruit, fructose, and frugal, all derived from the verb fruor. (But not frustrate, from frustra, meaning “in vain.”)

Then I grew curious about diatom and found it means cut in two, because diatoms appear to be in two parts. Each one has two thecae, or coverings. So a theca (and I’m going to share this first-declension singular and plural with my students tomorrow — theca and thecae) is a shield or container in Latin, borrowed from the original Greek word. Hence the words bibliotheca or bibliotheque for a library (holder of books) but also — wait for it — cinematheque (holder of movies!)

As my husband John, director of the Cleveland Institute of Art Cinematheque, points out, everything in the end comes back to the Cinematheque.

Posted in Teaching | 2 Comments

Moby and Me

Howard Vincent, author of two books about Herman Melville, The Trying-Out of Moby-Dick (1949) and The Tailoring of Melville’s White Jacket (1970), was my favorite professor at Kent State University. He had, in my memory, an elfin appearance: white of hair, bushy of brow, red of cheek. Quintessentially professorial, he wasn’t imposing, at only about five and a half feet tall, or handsome; by the time I knew him–in the 1970s, in his seventies–no college girl would have had a romantic crush on him, but some of us were infatuated nonetheless. He was charismatic. He was articulate and funny, and, most of all, inspiring. A Howard Vincent groupie, I took every course he offered as he neared retirement, and I hung on his every word. My friends made fun of me for loving him so much and taking, first, his Melville course, then his Transcendentalism course, then his course called The Creative Process. I was smitten, and he still influences my reading and my thinking.

An English Ship in a Gale Trying to Claw off a Lee Shore by Willem Van De Velde The Younger

Dr. Vincent (or “Moby,” as we called him among ourselves) is on my mind these days, as I’m rereading Chad Harbach’s The Art of Fielding, a lovely novel published late last year about a college baseball team. It centers on a shortstop phenom named Henry–who develops the yips and just can’t play baseball for awhile–along with teammates and friends who undergo their own crises. The college president, a Melville scholar, reminds me of Howard Vincent. The book, as it happens, is also about Moby-Dick and choices and friendship and reading and recovering after grief and hardship.

Dr. Vincent taught me that writers are nearly always writing about writing. That’s the theme of his own books, as well as most of his lectures. He said that in Bartleby the Scrivener, Melville’s somber late novella, Melville was saying, “I’m not going to write popular whaling sagas anymore. I would prefer not to.” Full of Melville allusions both whimsical and trenchant, The Art of Fielding is also about the art of writing. Like Harbach’s characters, a writer sets out into unknown, scary waters. He or she fails, often, and has to wait out the storm or dark, depressing doldrums and, sometimes, fight through them. A writer is often alone.

In 1974 or so, I wrote a paper for Dr. Vincent based on “The Lee Shore,” the famous brief chapter in Moby-Dick, which happens to underlie The Art of Fielding. I was nearing the end of my time in graduate school and sick to death of writing papers and grading freshman papers. I felt debilitated by my students’ often tame and tedious efforts–shaped within the safe borders of the five-paragraph essay. One I remember chose as her subject the three types of dorm rooms at Kent State University. I was equally tired of my own papers, churned out to please somebody else, only infrequently concerning a topic I cared about.

So I wrote something that didn’t fit Dr. Vincent’s assignment, your standard fifteen-page, end-of-the-semester term paper. My opus was only about five pages long, and it was about teaching freshman composition and writing papers. I said I wanted my students to push off from the lee shore–to head off into deeper, scarier waters, in Melville’s formulation. And I wrote that in my little way, I was trying to step off the shore and try something different in this assignment, knowing that my professor would be well within his rights to give me an “F.”

True to his unconventional habits, Dr. Vincent gave me an “A,” probably mostly for effort, with a wry comment that he hoped at least I had read all the assigned works by Melville. I admire Chad Harbach for his more intrepid effort, daring to use Moby-Dick (Moby-Dick!!) as a referent for his first novel. I love that “The Lee Shore” served as a metaphor for his characters’ embarking out of safety into adulthood and, more subtly, for his own writing–launching into the landlessness of deep, earnest thinking.

Posted in Books, Teaching | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Difficult Moms

Medea, a Difficult Mom

Whenever I talk about the subject of my book, at parties or with other groups, a few women around me begin to nod and then chime in with stories of their own mothers. I hate to malign moms, being one myself, but it seems that a number of us had challenging relationships with mothers who may not have had borderline personality disorder but at least exhibited some of its traits.

This is not so surprising. Studies have shown around two to three percent of Americans suffer from BPD (most of them women). A 2009 study, in fact, indicated that a whopping six percent are so inclined. That amounts to three times the number of Alzheimers patients, an astounding 18 million people. If these figures are true, a lot of us had borderline mothers. I’ve written about this phenomenon before (here and here).

When people hear my experience, they want to share their own. The dialogue begins with horror stories, but after some venting, it can move gradually toward understanding and even forgiveness. The more you know about the disorder, frustrating and infuriating as it can be, the more you realize that the sufferer struggles more than you do. I’ll admit this is an easier realization when your mom is gone, you have time to reflect, and you’re dealing with painful memories rather than ongoing anger and judgments.

Even unpublished, my book has begun the dialogue on a small scale.  Maybe you can relate. If so, what stories would you share?

Posted in BPD-Related | Tagged , , | 5 Comments