John Ford: Tough Guy, Filmmaker, American

Published on March 4, 2012 in film. 2 Comments Tags: , , , , , .

“My name is John Ford. I am a director of Westerns.” That’s how Ford described himself at a Screen Directors Guild meeting in 1950. It is a simple enough statement upon first glance, but like Ford’s work it is not so simple when examined more closely. It is however a good introduction to the iconic director who turned the Western into an art form.

John Ford – circa 1920

 

When he made that laconic introduction, he had won three Best Director Oscars for The Informer, The Grapes of Wrath, and How Green Was My Valley. All three of these films were prestigious literary adaptions but not Westerns. At the time, the Western was considered to be an inferior genre, comprable to dime-store romance novels. Why then would Ford identify himself with it?

I’ll get to that in a moment, Pilgrim, but let me say a few words about John Ford as way of introduction, so hold your horses. Literally,

John Ford’s films get consistently included in lists of the best movies ever made. He won four Oscars for Best Director, a record that no one has yet surpassed. Frank Capra was a friend, and Orson Welles was a big admirer; The story goes that Orson watched Stagecoach over 40 times in preparation for Citizen Kane. Other filmmakers who list Ford as influence include Akira Kurosawa, George Lucas, and Martin Scorsese.

The Searchers – 1956

 

Yet John Ford’s films tend to be a little different than what modern audiences have come to expect in a movie experience. They are glimpses into the lives of historical characters not roller coaster rides optimized around plot. Being such, the Ford films tend to unfold at a more leisurely pace, a pace that even Ford’s producers back then fought in vain to accelerate.

Also, in the words of Peter Bogdanovich, Ford is attracted to drama that communicates the “glory in defeat,” which takes some acclimation if you’re used to feeling like a winner every time you walk out of the theater. Still, there’s much to admire in a John Ford film, and I hope this overview will help you to better appreciate his work.

John Ford once told an interviewer, “When I come back from making a Western on location, I feel a better man for it.” He enjoyed being outdoors and working hard, he went on to explain, but there was more to it than that.

The Western also gave Ford an opportunity to explore his fascination with military men and frontier living, with American history and the fading traditions of the Old World, while trying to reconcile the contradictions in his soul.

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon – 1949

 

Ford’s cowboys are like his military men: defiant, courageous types with a distinct sense of honor who are trying to get a job done under challenging circumstances. In fact, the films in his Cavalry Trilogy, Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and Rio Grande, work as both Western and military films. The Cavalry was, after all, a division of the United States Army at the time.

Let’s not forget that in addition to his exceptional Westerns, Ford also made solid military films like Mister Rogers, They Were Expendable, and The Lost Patrol. The Long Gray Line is another one of his military films, an underrated one that I quite enjoyed.

It focuses on West Point, the renowned United States Military Academy,  and observes as the school turns a clumsy adolescent into an admirable man.  (I suspect that the Richard Gere’s An Officer and a Gentleman was at least indirectly influenced by The Long Gray Line, but I haven’t found any documentation about that.)

The notion of a boy becoming a man by responding well to adverse circumstances is a recurring one in Ford’s work. Another example worth mentioning occurs in Rio Grande when John Wayne’s son finally earns his dad’s respect after performing bravely in battle.

Battle of Midway, U.S. National Archives Collection – 1942

 

John Ford or Pappy, as he was sometimes called, didn’t just pay lip service to military men for the sake of his career. When the stakes mattered most, Ford volunteered to help, risking his life to document the war effort during World War II.

Now days when filmmakers shoot war films, they add camera shake as an effect to simulate combat. When John Ford shot his award-winning documentary The Battle of Midway, the camera shake is there because the enemy combatants were firing heavy artillery at his boat. He got injuring while shooting that film. How many other filmmakers would risk as much for the things they value?

In Ford’s 1937 film The Hurricane, Father Paul tells an oppressive Governor, “There are stronger things than governments in this world.” The hurricane of the film’s title makes it possible for the heroic, defiant Terangi to escape the Governor and prove true the words of Father Paul. Thus, nature allows a good man to escape the tyranny and corruption of the civilized world.

Sunrise – 1927

 

That’s another important theme to John Ford. He was greatly influenced by F. W. Murnau’s silent-film Sunrise, admiring it so much that he went to Germany and met its director.  In Murnau’s expressionistic masterpiece, the city and the country are treated as polar opposites.

The countryside represents all that is innocent, pure, and good. The city, on the other hand, represents all that is corrupt, decadent, and evil. Ford never took the polarity quite that far, but he did draw upon it.

(Maybe the exception to that is Hangman’s House. That silent-film of Ford’s goes so far as to confine its corrupt politician in a spooky house with a surreal fireplace. That whole film felt so much like a Edgar Allan Poe story that I kept waiting for a macabre raven to quoth.)

Still, Ford’s frontier is generally the stage where virtue is on display, and the city  tends to showcase corruption and hypocrisy. For example, in Stagecoach the travelers escape the judgmental, falsely pious society ladies in the city. Later they reveal their character or lack thereof in the frontier.

The Informer – 1935

 

The city in The Informer is a dark place where the fear of betrayal lingers, and in How Green Was My Valley the sense of community deteriorates as the town becomes more industrialized. In the movie, Mr. Gruffydd the good pastor and mentor to Huw, the central character, even declares, “Nature is the handmaiden of the Lord.” Etc.

That’s not to say that Ford is altogether opposed to civilization. With civilization comes law and order, dancing, and churches, all good things to Ford if uncorrupted, and in a Ford film the civilizing influence tends to be associated with a good woman.

The most obvious example of that happens in My Darling Clementine. When Clementine comes to town, she sets up a school to educate the locals. Wyatt Earp first connects with her when they attend a church-building ceremony that turns into a festive dance.

My Darling Clementine – 1946

 

Speaking of a church, now is as good of a time as any to mention the underlying sense of faith in Ford’s films. These days, the preference is to whitewash an artist’s religious beliefs into something generic like this: “he was a great humanitarian who really, truly, truly believed in the power of the human spirit.”   Stirring words, Pilgrim.

Sometimes that kind of generalization is appropriate, but not when faith is a central component in someone’s work, as it is for John Ford.

As a side note, a few years ago I read about some hipster gal who planned to do a sterilized adaption of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment  that was purged of any reference to religion. That would be like trying to retell Upton Sinclair’s novel The Jungle without the meatpacking industry. Dostoevsky should give that girl a good hard slap in the afterlife for that kind of attempted butchery.

Anyway, sometimes a sense of faith is implied in Ford’s films, but in films like The Informer, 3 Godfathers, and How Green Was My Valley, it is front and center. And partner, you’d have to be sleeping by the campfire to miss the religious metaphors in the Informer. The main character’s existence is a murky one until his religious experience in a church, a scene that is designed to bring to mind Christ’s lament on the cross, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.”

The Informer – 1935

 

That film is well regarded even today, but some critics complain that it is too literal in its symbolism. That line of critique strikes me as a little snobbish. Sometimes it is fun when a story’s higher meaning is hidden in Egyptian cuneiform, but sometimes an artist wants to make sure that as many viewers as possible get the point. I’ve been to the mountaintop, and I saw democracy at work, ladies and gentlemen! Honestly, do those same critics also complain that interstate road signs make finding desired exits less of an adventure?

Taken as a whole, Ford’s films have this sense that Providence is guiding the events of history. For a specific example see Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln, when Abe fortuitously receives a set of law books that will shape his interests or when he lets “the stick decide” an important career choice while paying respect to the grave of Ann Rutledge.

There’s a similar idea in Rio Grande. In that film, the final shoot out happens in a church, and the good guys shoot through an unsubtle cross-shaped opening. Through Christ, John Ford suggests, law and order will finally come to the wild west.

Believing in the guiding hand of God in the course of human events is not the same thing as having a Pollyanna outlook on life. As I suggested earlier, John Ford is often the poet for the defeated ones. It wouldn’t be a John Ford film if there wasn’t a sufficient amount of sadness in the mix.

Contrary to typical box-office fare, The Last Hurrah is about a politician who LOSES his last bid for political office. Cheyenne Autumn tells the tragic story of the Northern Cheyenne Exodus, where the Indians were tricked and pushed out of their land. Fort Apache looks at the senseless slaughter that sometimes happens when the man in charge thinks only of his own ambitions.

The Searchers – 1956

 

My favorite John Ford film, The Searchers, tells the story of Ethan Edwards, a man who pursues the band of Comanche Indians who killed and raped some of his loved ones. In spite of that gruesome context, the point of the film, as Peter Bogdanovich points out in his excellent commentary, is summed up by the line, “someday this’ll be a fine good place to live.”

In Sergeant Rutledge, another one of Ford’s films shot in Monument Valley, that same idea is expressed again in so many words: “But Mary it’s a good land, it really is. Maybe not now, but like Rutledge says, someday.”

Ford is well aware that America is an empire, like Rome, built upon tragedy right from the start, and yet he still believed that it was worth defending, that it COULD be something good. He’d show up in his Naval uniform at prominent events to broadcast that belief.

When others questioned the merits of his patriotism, he’d quote John Wayne as saying, “If you know of a better flag to wave, then wave it.”

The Searchers production still

 

Since we’re talking about The Searchers, someone should tell David Fincher that it is possible to make a great film about a difficult subject without addressing the disturbing aspects in explicit detail. All of the rape and violence against children in The Searchers takes place off screen, and I haven’t run into anyone who’s liked the film less as a result.

We’re getting closer to the end, folks. It is tricky to do justice to a filmmaker like John Ford in a short time. Thanks for being patient.

Let me conclude by using The Searchers to address both Ford’s greatest deficiency and his greatest gift. Most Ford commentators that I’ve read mention the importance of family in his films, and The Searchers is a shining example of that. The sense of joy or warm familiarity on-screen that happens when family members reunite is enough to make even the most jaded skeptic rethink his thoughts on marriage.

How tragic then, that John Ford was a horrible family man. Most biographers believe that he had numerous affairs with various starlets, perhaps even Katherine Hepburn.

His son struggled throughout his life, mostly in vain, to gain the attention of his father. His daughter became an alcoholic like her dad, and her first marriage ended quickly. Observers theorize that she lacked a solid point of reference for what a happy family could be like, so she just drew upon what she saw growing up.

 

My Darling Clementine – 1946

 

When Ford wasn’t shooting films, he was going on alcoholic benders, often ending up in the hospital. The story goes that alcohol was such a problem even early in Ford’s career that Samuel Goldwyn hired him to direct Arrowsmith in 1931 on condition that Ford not drink during the production. In response, John Ford sped up the shooting schedule.

That might sound amusing to someone who has never faced the heartbreaking realities of a loved one battling addiction. I assure you that it isn’t.

That discrepancy between Ford’s work and Ford’s life was tough for me to discover. I desperately want to find people who are consistent in their public and personal lives. Maybe that’s because some of the key people in my life lacked that consistency. Anyway, my knee-jerk reaction is to see nothing but the work of a hypocrite when I encounter that sort of discrepancy.

Things are rarely so simple though. Most of us have some seeming contradictions in our souls that we are trying to resolve in our own ways. Creative types tend to do that with work, and Ford was no different.

Some critics express surprise in the apparent contradictions between Ford’s work and Ford’s personal life, but there are enough clues in his films. Sure, there are tender family moments in his films, but more often then not, the films end with separation. The cowboy rides off into the horizon as his lady quietly ponders her future. The military man has to leave his girl behind as he tends to his duties.

Ford’s men are about as masculine as you get, but it is almost as if they don’t know how to remain masculine around Ford’s feminine ladies, so they have to leave.

The Grapes of Wrath – 1940

 

Even in The Grapes of Wrath, which has a theme of people sticking together in the name of survival, Tom Joad leaves the family by the end. I know it is similar to the book, but that aspect of the story might have been subconsciously appealing to Ford.

The film historian Joseph McBride suggests that Ford’s 1933 film Pilgrimage hints at the root of his relationship struggles. It is the rare Ford film where the mother figure isn’t given the beautified treatment. Instead, she’s an overbearing force who ruins her son’s life. McBride’s theory is that this is close to how Ford felt about his own mother, but he tended to suppress his negative feelings most of the time.

The film Mogambo gives additional insight into Ford’s personal struggles. That’s his safari film with Ava Gardner, Clark Gable, and Grace Kelly. There are some charming moments with Ava Gardner and the baby elephants, but it is also the only Ford film I’ve seen where the main character is involved in an affair with a married woman.

Mogambo – 1953

 

When the married Grace Kelly asks Clark why he hasn’t gotten married yet, he replies that women like her prevent it. It is a cryptic remark at the time, but later it becomes clear: He tries to keep his distance, but she pursues him. Too many married women have done the same thing, so he’s learned to be wary of commitment.

Clark plays his character as a powerful, but troubled man who is trying to do a job while surrounded by attractive women. That is not unlike John Ford’s circumstances as a director on a film set.

In the end, the love of the husband for his wife, persuades Clark to pursue a real relationship with Ava. Notably, that is one of the few films that ends with the couple together not trying to escape from something or someone.

Ford’s struggles to resolve his own inter conflicts made it possible for him to do what he does best: unify the country in a time of crisis.

Films like Stagecoach and The Horse Soldier feature Yanks and Rebels from the Civil War. The characters confront each other, sometimes in comic ways, but both sides are treated with dignity. The Rebels aren’t stupid, racist caricatures. Sometimes, but not always, the Rebs have more honor than the triumphant Yankees.

The Civil War happened less than a hundred years from when he made his films, and Ford realized that the wounds were still there, so he used his films to alleviate, not exacerbate, the tensions between North and South. And with trouble brewing abroad, Ford brought the country closer together by emphasizing the similarities between people and by giving Americans a mythology of the West that they could share with each other.

Young Mr. Lincoln – 1939

 

Consider too how Ford presents Abraham Lincoln as the great uniter. In Young Mr. Lincoln, Ole’ Honest Abe resolves a legal struggle between two brothers, meant to prefigure the brother-against-brother rivalry that the Civil War would embody, by discovering a hidden injustice that was perpetuated against them both. In The Iron Horse, President Lincoln unifies east and west by supporting the Transcontinental Railroad.

To further emphasize unity, Ford addresses racism in films like Sergent Rutledge. In Grapes of Wrath, Ford combats prejudice against Okie drifter types by making them so sympathetic. Oh yeah, and to make that film he partnered with producer Darryl F. Zanuck, who was … wait for it … a Republican!

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, John Ford, a progressive liberal, partnered with a prominent Republican, and in the process Ford made one of his best films and did something good for the country. Surprising right?! Who knew that sort of craziness happened back in the day?

I will pause for a moment to let that sink in. Those of you who spilled your hibiscus-pomegranate martinis while reading the last two paragraphs will have time to clean up. But just a general suggestion, maybe in the future you shouldn’t drink hibiscus-pomegranate martinis while reading my blog. If you absolutely must have that drink while reading, well you could always head on over to the Huffington Post or something.

I understand their quality articles are now available for the iPad. Just think of it, ladies and gentlemen: what better way to enjoy the weekend then to snuggle up by the fire with iPad in hand, a fresh hibiscus-pomegranate martini by your side, and insightful commentary from the Huffington Post to stimulate your eager minds!

Where were we? Oh, right. The freakish ways of old Hollywood. Actually, you know who else was a Republican? John Wayne. You know, John Wayne, as in the actor from the Searchers, Stagecoach, the Quiet Man, and a few other hit films that John Ford made. That John Wayne.

Ford could have refused to work with others who were different from him, but his best films wouldn’t be quite the same had he done so. I, for one, am glad he found a way to make it work, even if that meant mixing it up with those strange Republican types.

The Searchers – 1956

 

Let’s take one last look at the Searchers. When John Wayne’s Ethan Edwards finally confronts Scar, the Comanche Chief who killed Wayne’s family, we realize that Scar is just a wounded variation of Ethan. Facing his wounded alter-ego almost destroys Ethan, but in the end it allows for healing. Only then can Ethan Edwards head back home with the girl. It is not just Ethan who might heal but the whole country, Ford implies, if the country can follow Ethan’s example and come to terms with the tragedies in its past.

That story structure is so powerful that it found its way into Star Wars (Luke realizes he’s like Vader when his mechanical hand gets cut off.) and the Lion King (The bad guy’s name is Scar in that one too.), just to name a few. It is a powerful way to tell a story because it carries truth: We have to face the broken parts of ourselves if we are to make the kind of progress that Providence offers us.   

All in all, not a bad bit of insight from a Western. Let’s hope that kind of progress can still come, even in our time, even for us. That’ll be the day, right Pilgrim?

Here’s to you, John Ford.  Thank you kindly for all you taught us.

 

Essential Films:
The Searchers
Grapes of Wrath
Stagecoach
How Green Was My Valley
My Darling Clementine 
The Informer
Young Mr. Lincoln
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance 
Rio Grande
The Battle of Midway

 

Further Reading:
Print the Legend by Scott Eyman
Searching for John Ford by Joseph McBride

 

It takes me a little longer to write the kinds of posts I prefer to write, and sometimes my schedule gets complicated, so I can’t promise to have new posts available on a consistent schedule. That’s why I encourage you to sign up by email. You can do that by clicking here.

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New Orleans, Land of Sinners & Saints

Published on January 31, 2012 in art and places. 3 Comments Tags: , , .

I’m going to write this one sober. That is not to suggest that I mostly write while intoxicated. Still, the subject does bring to mind a good stiff drink, does it not? New Orleans is a town notorious for its Mardi Gras celebrations, and we all know what happens at Mardi Gras.

Well, I don’t know what happens exactly since I’ve never been, but I imagine that it involves alcohol. Among other things.

Old Absinthe House exterior

(Unless otherwise noted, the photos & videos in this post are ones I took in New Orleans.)

I should clarify. I moved to Baton Rouge a few months ago, so I’ve visited New Orleans a few times, just not during Mardi Gras.

Instead of being in New Orleans for the festivities, I’m in Virginia trying to collect my thoughts. Once again, I’m trying to act on something I don’t entirely understand because it feels like I should. Blame Kenneth Terry for that if you want, but it’s not really his fault.

He’s the talented trumpeter in the Treme Brass Band, and he gave me his card and told me to email him when I finished writing this story. I wasn’t even planning to start it back then. How did he know it would happen? I don’t think he was from the future, although that wouldn’t surprise me considering the way things seem to happen in my world.

Louis Armstrong statue

 

Let me explain. He saw me writing in my notebook and assumed that I was writing an article about the music. Not a bad assumption; I’ve done that before, but at the time I was just reflecting on life in general.

That’s one way I try to process the sad and complicated things in my life. Alcohol is another way, but from past experience I’ve discovered that alcohol can be the considerably more expensive choice. I’m on a budget, so I opted for the notepad that night.

When Kenneth approached me, it was the first clue that I should do a story on New Orleans, but one clue alone does not a murder solve. Before you get your hopes up, I should mention that this post does not actually involve murder. I’m just trying out a new phrase. You can always take it back to the store if you don’t like it.

 

The New Orleans guide book features the tagline, “It’s New Orleans: You’re different here.” Someone got paid a lot of money to write that, and for a tagline it is not bad. It’s a concise way of suggesting that the city can have an intoxicating effect on you if you let it. It is also a reminder that New Orleans offers you the chance to be someone else, to escape.

Like so many others, I have gone into the city looking to escape. There’s so much to take in. Food, music, and culture: It’s all top notch and very interesting in New Orleans.

Escape does come at a price though. The more you try to escape, the more expensive it becomes. The underlying problems remain no matter how many  layers of dirt you try to bury them under.

From Disney’s official Princess and the Frog channel on YouTube.

 

It’s a basic law of economics: if the demand is high enough, the supply will emerge. No surprise then that there are a number of escape merchants in New Orleans. Walk down Bourbon St. for a few minutes, and you’ll see what I mean. There are fortune-telling gypsies, peddlers of cheap trinkets, and eager proprietors competing on how fast they can get you drunk and aroused.

Yeah, the con men are everywhere, looking for an excuse to get their hands into your pockets. I bought a blank CD from one of them who set up shop near a few musicians. I should have known better.

Sketches for Mardi Gras costumes

 

One night,  a girl on Bourbon St. was standing in a doorway talking to me. That’s not so strange, except she was wearing just a thong, and she was trying to have a conversation with her back turned. She wanted eye contact but not with her eyes. I guess some people like those kinds of conversations, but it is not how I prefer to say to hello.

I’ve got to admit though, the level to which people will stoop for escape does fascinate me. It’s one reason why I’m drawn to the city.

 

Escape was part of the equation even back in the city’s formative days. Its famous Mardi Gras culture developed as a reaction to high mortality rates in the mid 1800s.  The citizens of the Crescent City saw many of their young neighbors dying from yellow fever and other diseases, and they needed to divert their attention away from death’s ever-present nature.

It’s an all too-human impulse. Just think about how much effort we  put into sterilizing death out of our modern world. We don’t kill our food. That happens somewhere far away. We ask our citizens to go to a hospital or a nursing home, when they’re about to die. It can be anywhere really, as long as it is not in our neighborhood.

While New Orleans is often defined by its avenues of escape, it is not a city that brushes death to the outskirts. Here’s the intriguing part: death is on prominent display, as if the whole town is one big memento mori.  For one thing, the graveyards aren’t hidden out of sight. They are showcased on daily tours.

 

This is a photo I took on one such tour. Note the symbolism of the Alabama T-shirt in the cemetery. It represents the untimely death of LSU’s championship aspirations.

On top of that, no self-respecting souvenir shop worth its beads will lack assorted skeleton merchandise. It’s the city’s way of saying, “hey buddy, you’re going to die. Now buy a t-shirt.” That’s kind of refreshing actually, but I still haven’t purchased a skull t-shirt. Not yet.

 

Icons of death are scattered throughout the city, but there’s a heavier concentration of them in the French Quarter, and at the heart of the French Quarter sits St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in our nation. It is the solemn anchor to the pulsating commotion of Jackson Square, and that doesn’t strike me as a coincidence.

Sure, there’s decadence in New Orleans, but there’s also an underlying sense of faith, of soul. After all, it is the Saints, not the Sinners, who play at the Superdome.

As it happens, the city’s founder, Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, was also the first one to build a church on the site where St. Louis Cahedral now stands, so it is no stretch to say that  religion was built into the foundation from which the city grew.

Without that sense of purpose that comes with faith, I doubt that the people of New Orleans could confront death with their trademarked panache. When Katrina came and decimated the city, it was that very death-defying panache that revitalized the city, so don’t underestimate its power.

I mentioned earlier that I came to New Orleans looking to escape. I didn’t mention from what. It’s complicated, so to keep things simple, let’s just say that it involves football.

(This part is for those of you who are involved and have found it necessary to insult me in passive-aggressive ways. Well I can’t be sure about that, but it sure seems that way from my perspective. You are welcome to clear things up, just in case I got it wrong.

If you have an issue with me, then why not be direct about it? I’ve been direct with you, but you won’t treat me with the same consideration. To be less than direct at this point is cowardly and hypocritical.

Or are you vain enough to think that I would spend months trying to contort my life into some form that would be pleasing to your sensibilities? There are an uncanny number of coincidences, yes I know, but those coincidences have been outside of my control or are consistent with who I’ve claimed to be from the beginning.

There are also polarizing differences, and I would have to be the most incompetent or insane con man to use something as divisive  as contrarian politics to entrap you.

For your sake and for mine, I really wish I had never seen your show, because I would be so much happier, and things wouldn’t be what they are. By the way, did you notice how easily these parenthetical comments can apply to more than one person? Yeah, so did I. 

The only reason I’m still here, the only reason, is because something tells me I should be. Maybe it is crazy, but I can assure you that it is not wishful thinking. I would not wish this on anyone. 

Walk away right now, and I will never bother you again, but if there is something you need to say to me, then let’s hear it. Right now. Otherwise just go away and let me be. It will all fade eventually. It is not like I’m important enough for you to care about what I think. 

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then I’m sorry for the digression, but it needed to be said. I would do it differently if I could.)

Are you still reading? I can’t imagine why, but if you are, then let’s move on.

Old Absinthe House interior

 

I saw the sights, heard the sounds, ate the food. I can’t complain. It was an enjoyable escape, until I visited the World War II museum. It was a museum that came highly recommended. Plus, I’m a history enthusiast, and I do think about death more than most people my age, so it seemed like an obvious destination.

I was not prepared for what I encountered there.

That’s one of the photos in the museum. It was taken right before D-Day, when General Eisenhower visited with the 101st Airborne Division. The museum placard quotes the soldier wearing number 23, Lieutenant Wallace C. Strobel, as saying “While I think the General thought his visit would boost the morale of our men, I honestly think it was his morale that was improved by being with such a remarkably ‘high’ group of troops.”

That’s the effect that the museum had on me. I saw courageous men preparing for battle, knowing that they might die the next day, and I wanted to live more courageously. I read of men sacrificing their lives because they had a sense of purpose, and I wanted to live a more purposeful life.

I know that all wars aren’t fought for just reasons, but I believe World War II was. Having spent so much time pursuing a career in the entertainment business, I had forgotten what real heroes looked like. I needed the museum to remind me.

I can’t run into something like that, and stay committed to my plans for escape. Not for long. I’m not built that way.

The museum sealed the deal; I had to return to the purpose I was trying to avoid, and I knew then that I had to write this.  I didn’t say that I would enjoy writing this, just that it had to be done.

Admittedly, there are a lot of notable coincidences in the things I write, but they’re all true. I’m not trying to con anyone, and I don’t usually seek out those coincidences.

They come to me even when I try to avoid them. I hope you can believe me on that point, but if you don’t trust me by now, I don’t think you ever will. So it goes, you know. So it goes.

 

My best way to explain it is to quote the Disney clip I shared earlier. “I’ve got friends on the other side,” but unlike Dr. Facilier, I don’t think mine are the bad sort.

There’s something to be said for making an important point by quoting a Disney cartoon. If I were in a position to do so, I’d give myself a prestigious award for that, just because it would never happen elsewhere.

Anyway, Dr. Facilier’s name is derived from the Latin word ‘facilis’ meaning easy to do. If you think I am somehow taking the easy way out, you are so very misguided. Escape is the easy way, and I’m trying to avoid it. 

With a sense of purpose at hand, I can experience all the grand things that New Orleans has to offer, not as ways to escape, but as life-affirming wonders. Speaking of which, lets get back to Kenneth Terry.

I was hesitant about going to the Candlelight Lounge. It was late Wednesday night, and I was alone, but I had this sense that I should go, and that it would be OK to bring my camera. So I did.

 

The decor inside consisted of unadorned structural supports, shiny red stars borrowed from someone’s 4th-of-July celebration, and a Satchmo bobble head, but no one came for the decor.

They came for the music, and what a musical experience it was. Sometimes the trombones would take the lead. Sometime Kenneth would charge ahead as the drums and the tamborines held up the rear.

 

Sorry for the grainy video, folks. I had just my compact, but trusty, Canon PowerShot G12 with me that night. The video doesn’t do the experience justice, but it hints at the atmosphere.

On occasion, the musicians would get up from their seats and accost the patrons with their music, standing just inches away from their targets. Some of the patrons would dance out their responses. Others would nod along.

The band played with a vitality unlike anything I had ever seen. It was as if the musicians had made an agreement with us: They would play their hearts out for us, and in exchange we would go forth and embrace life with renewed vigor. It was an offer too good to refuse. The ephemeral unity of purpose from the mixed crowd in attendance suggested that they felt the same way.

 

I did what I could to honor my part, Kenneth. Thank you for the inspiration.

If you plan to visit New Orleans for Mardi Gras, I hope you’ll have fun.  Ask, and I’ll be glad to give you recommendations for what to visit, but I haven’t been in town that long myself, so what do I know, right?  Just try to remember that there is more to it all than just escape.

 

 

It takes me a little longer to write the kinds of posts I prefer to write, and sometimes my schedule gets complicated, so I can’t promise to have new posts available on a consistent schedule . That’s why I encourage you to sign up by email. You can do that by clicking here.

If you’re following along by  email, you’ll know right away when I have a new post waiting for you.  It is very easy to unsubscribe, and you won’t receive anything unrelated to my blog.

Lastly, if you appreciate my writing, why not write a comment or share the post with a friend? It would encourage me to keep sharing some of my heart with you.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless.

 

The nsavides Blog: The Year that was 2011

Published on December 29, 2011 in about this blog. 2 Comments Tags: , .

 

Photo credit: ewpn2000

 

Hi everyone, I hope you all are enjoying the holidays with friends and family. I’m excited about some of the stories I have planned for 2012, but before the New Year comes, I thought I’d take a moment to highlight the stories I wrote this past year.

I spend a little longer writing each post than the typical blogger, so there aren’t as many posts, but I am proud of the ground I covered. Maybe you missed a story or maybe you just want to revisit a story that you enjoyed. In any case, I hope you’ll find something of interest in the list below.

 

Starting in January, these are the stories I wrote in 2011:

What’s the *#@#*$! big deal about $%*@#*! swearing?: Some people get upset even by the mildest forms of profanity. Others swear all the time. Is there a reason to be more mindful about the things we say?

Culture Mini: Stranger than Fiction : A quick write-up on the under-appreciated Will Ferrell film Stranger than Fiction.

Music Videos and Other Miscellaneous Matters: The story behind the “Alone in Space” music video I directed for the band Long Division.

(Mostly) Modest Thoughts on Modern Art: Sometimes a squiggle means so much more. Sometimes it doesn’t.

The Fight to Canonize Director George Stevens: Why the director behind films like Giant, Shane, A Place in the Sun, and Greatest Story Ever Told deserves the recognition of a world-class filmmaker.

Revisiting Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robot : Why the classic album from the Flaming Lips is so great.

Renewing our Cities by Renewing Each Other : A series of videos I did about how various creative types in Hampton Roads, Virginia revitalize their communities.

Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged: A Tribute: Literature that showcases positive business characters is so rare. Here’s why we need more of those kinds of books.

The Spooky Goodness of Harry Potter: A Tribute: What is it about the series that makes it so magical? Are the snobbish critics right about its supposed frivolous nature?

Will Eisner: Graphic Novel Godfather, Dreamer: A look at the artist and storyteller who transformed the comics business and made graphic novels respectable.

Israel, Where Rockets Turn to Roses: The nation of Israel gets a bad rap now and in years past. Some thoughts on why it is a special gift to world, worth defending.

 

Photo credit: ms.Tea

 

Whatever comes in the year ahead, I pray that we will all enjoy the exploration of it together. Happy 2012, ladies and gentlemen! 

It takes me a little longer to write the kinds of posts I prefer to write, and sometimes my schedule gets complicated, so I can’t promise to have new posts available on a consistent schedule. That’s why I encourage you to sign up by email. You can do that by clicking here.

If you’re following along by  email, you’ll know right away when I have a new post waiting for you.  It is very easy to unsubscribe, and you won’t receive anything unrelated to my blog.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless.

Israel, Where Rockets Turn to Roses

Published on December 25, 2011 in politics and religion. 1 Comment Tags: , , .

Gilad Shalit. That name probably doesn’t mean much to you, but it should. That’s the Israeli soldier captured five years ago by Hamas, an extremist Palestinian group considered by the United States to be a terrorist organization. In October 2011, the Israeli government negotiated his release in exchange for the release of 1027 Palestinian prisoners.

You read that correctly. Israel traded over 1000 Palestinian prisoners, many of whom had tried to kill Israeli citizens, for one of their guys, and Gilad was not even a big-shot general. He was just a corporal in the Israel Defense Force’s Armor Corps.

Initially, I thought it was the most insane strategic decision ever made. Why give the enemy more foot soldiers when they have sworn to annihilate your nation? Wasn’t that tantamount to rewarding terrorist tactics, and wouldn’t that merely encourage Hamas to be more belligerent in the future?

 

My faith instructs me to be charitable even to my enemies—something at which I do not excel, but I do try—and yet I could not have made the Gilad Shalit decision. I want to believe in the best in people, I want to believe that people will do the right thing on their own, but experience has taught me that vigilance is sometimes wise.

If everyone did what they should, there would be no need for the police or for the army, and throughout recorded history, no civilization has thrived for long without either. And yet, I cannot help but marvel at the courage needed to strike such a deal.

Sure, Israel’s decision was a risky one, but maybe it isn’t as foolish as I first thought. After all, is it not a testament to Israel’s value for human life? What fair-minded observer could witness such an action and still accuse Israel of being the aggressor, of being a mere nation of genocidal maniacs?

I wonder too if any of the 1000-plus prisoners will rethink their hatred of Israel after being released. If Israel really were the Little Satan as some Arabs call it, would the country really agree to such a trade?

There is something different about the nation of Israel. That much is clear, but how is it different and why? This six-minute video is a good place to start:

 

Israel is a controversial topic, ladies and gentlemen, so allow me to explain why I chose it before proceeding. This wasn’t something I was dying to write, I can assure you. Be that as it may, I could not avoid the topic.

When I did my write-up on graphic-novel icon Will Eisner I was surprised by the recurring Jewish themes in his work. That’s not territory comics tend to tread. Around the same time, I was also reading Corrie Ten Boom’s The Hiding Place and Art Spiegelman’s Maus, both of which elucidate Nazi horrors inflicted upon the Jews. I didn’t plan for that. It just sort of happened that way.

In the back of my mind too was President Obama’s dismissive comment about Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Then there was Glenn Beck’s Restoring Courage rally in Israel.

 

Concerned about how the Jews are being treated throughout the world, Glenn organized a rally in Jerusalem to show support and to encourage others to courageously defend what is right. There are easier ways to get attention than by bringing thousands of people to an unstable region, and to his credit Glenn Beck didn’t once veer into political attacks.

Besides, Jon Voight attended, and he’s a celebrity, so that has to count for something, right?

Say what you will about Glenn Beck, but he risks quite a bit to defend what he believes, and that earns my respect. (What have you risked to defend what you believe?) Here is part of his Restoring Courage speech:

 

All of those references to Israel simmered in my heart and then came to a boil, until I could not ignore them. I felt like I had to write this, so that’s the context. Now back to the country.

While struggling to survive in the brutal wilderness, the Israelites declared that there is one God and that He is good and cares how we treated each other. This was something new. In contrast, the Egyptians and the Greeks worshipped warring, sometimes amoral, gods who had dominion over different realms like earth, wind, and fire.

The enemies of Israel argued theology with their swords and chariots. Under enormous pressure, the Israelites sometimes faltered and fought amongst themselves, and yet they kept believing. Through their persistence they shaped how the rest of us see the world. The faith of the Jews, along with the logic of the Greeks, would become the very foundation of Western Civilization.

Jerusalem, Dome of the Rock. Photo credit: AntonioA

 

Yet, history has not always been kind to the Jews. They’ve been conquered, sent into captivity, exiled from their homeland, excluded from elite society, and relegated to ghettos and concentration camps. In 1948, the Jews were finally given nation status and allowed to return to their ancestral land, but ever since they’ve faced almost incessant attacks from their Arab neighbors. Could people of such sorrows truly be God’s chosen ones?

It is more comfortable to say no, to discredit the divine purpose of the Jewish people. That way suffering doesn’t have to be a central part of the equation, but somehow that doesn’t ring true.

I’ll elaborate on that by quoting Victor Laszlo in Casablanca: “Do you know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who’s trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t believe in his heart. Each of us has a destiny – for good or for evil.”

When Humphrey Bogart’s Rick tells Laszlo that he gets the point, Laszlo responds by saying, “I wonder if you do. I wonder if you know that you’re trying to escape from yourself, and that you’ll never succeed.”

Each of us really does have a destiny, for good or for evil. I really believe that. The Israelites sought to collectively pursue their divine destiny, and that made those who didn’t do as much feel uncomfortable, even angry. If that sounds odd, just think about all the people who would rather hate others for being successful than fight for their own success.

Evil hates it when others seek their sacred paths. It will do anything to prevent that from happening. Anything.

I’m hesitant to talk about evil, because it is rarely done right, but I am more convinced of evil’s existence than I’ve ever been in my life. I’ve felt physically uncomfortable after making certain recent decisions, as if something malevolent was pushing against my chest. I felt that way even when writing this post.

In fact, I came very close to deleting it and wasting the day away on frivolous or unhealthy pursuits. What can I say, it’s been a tough couple of weeks, and being alone on Christmas Eve brings up all kinds of emotions. It helped that the New York Giants won their game. The day might have gone otherwise had they lost, who knows.

Anyway, I believe the resistance I face when I’m seeking a destiny for good is but a small glimmer of what happens when nations do as much, and it’s not a pretty picture when evil prevails. That’s why we need to help those who are trying to fight the good fight. Goodness really is a team sport.

Hanukkah menorah. Photo credit: skpy

 

The paths of destiny is a tricky topic to broach. Philosophers have written piles of books on the subject, and if you think my ideas are kind of out there, well then, to use a double negative in a provocative way, you ain’t seen nothing yet.  If you’re interested in the concept though, check out Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. King explains it better, but then he does have books worth of time to get the details right.

Speaking of King, let me quote a different one. Jan. 15 is Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, which is just a few days away, so that’s as good of a reason to quote him here. (Well that, and he went to Boston University, where I studied film. Plus, you know, he’s Martin Luther King Jr.) With that said, I quote: “In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

For me, the hardest part of these past few weeks has been knowing that decent people I respect have known the truth about something and have remained silent, watching from a distance as I falter. It’s as if they think I’m doing it all to put on a good show, but the situation at hand will affect my life, and maybe those of others, in a significant way. I sense that I can’t make things work on my own; I need help, but I’m not sure I’ll get it. Still I have to try. Whatever happens, at least I’ll know I did the best I could.

How much more true that is for Israel right now. They are surrounded by hostile countries, some of whose leaders have sworn to wipe Israel off the map. It is no coincidence that these same leaders are aggressively pursuing nuclear weapons. Since that is the case, Mr. President, would you please listen more attentively when Prime Minister Netanyahu contacts you in the future? We are, after all, supposed allies of Israel.

Let’s go back to Stephen King’s Dark Tower series for a moment. In it, the destiny for good takes the form of a mystical Rose that sends ripples of love throughout the universe, trying to undo all the wrongs that have ever been done. Interestingly enough, an artist in Israel had a similar idea.

 

Yaron Bob lives in Israel, near the Gaza strip. He takes the metal scraps from exploded Hamas rockets and forges them into roses. It’s his way of trying to bring something good out of a tragedy. The roses are sold or given to dignitaries, spreading their message of hope in the process. Learn more by visiting rocketsintoroses.com.

Let me close with one more rose reference. “The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.” Isaiah 35:1. Some Christian theologians interpret that verse as a foretelling of Christ.

Christ Jesus was, like the nation of Israel, exiled from his home, ostracized by the elites, and made to suffer for pursuing his divine purpose. He did it so that all the sad things might someday be undone. Someday.

Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas ladies and gentlemen.

 

If you appreciate my writing, why not write a comment or share the post with a friend? It would encourage me to keep writing and sharing some of my heart with you.

I could not write these kinds of posts if I published on weekly basis. They take a little longer to produce. That’s why I encourage you to sign up by email. You can do that by clicking here.

If you’re following along by  email, you’ll know right away when I have a new post waiting for you.  It is very easy to unsubscribe, and you won’t receive anything unrelated to my blog.

 

Will Eisner: Graphic Novel Godfather, Dreamer

Published on December 1, 2011 in design and storytelling. 3 Comments Tags: , , , , , , .

“Dreamers journey through life to a cadence all their own. They make decisions or enter undertakings that often seem naive and confounding to the pragmatists, who, in the end, thrive on opportunities set in motion by fantasy and imaginings. This is a story about a dreamer.” That’s how Will Eisner introduced his graphic novel The Dreamer. It also works as an introduction to the man himself.

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I enjoy reading graphic novels and comic books. They showcase some of the most inventive storytelling on the market, but I discovered Will Eisner only recently.  I don’t know what took me so long.

It’s not like he’s an obscure guy in the comics world. The Eisner Awards that recognize excellence in American comics are named after him, and his Contract with God and other Tenement Stories is widely considered to be one of the first graphic novels. Even if it wasn’t the very first, it helped to transform the juvenile world of comics into sophisticated adult reading, paving the way for Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic novel, Maus.

Eisner was working on his seminal comic series The Spirit in the 1940s when comics were starting to go out of fashion.  As Neil Gaiman writes in his introduction to The Best of the Spirit, “his contemporaries dreamed of getting out of the comics ghetto and into more lucrative and respectable places.” Not Will Eisner.

He was more interested in producing something great out of his passion than in pursuing what others considered reputable. I admire that.

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Make no mistake, Eisner is a master at what he does. Most comic books are written by one person and illustrated by another. Eisner does both in top-notch form.

Flip to a random page of his work and you’ll probably find panels with heightened, dynamic action next to carefully delineated portraits that reveal character. The equivalent of that would be a Jean Claude Van Damme type winning an Oscar for his layered performance as Mr. Darcy in Jane Austin’s beloved classic Pride and Prejudice.

Speaking of which, when Eisner isn’t illustrating his own stories, he is adapting material from classic texts. I was particularly impressed by his adaption of Moby Dick. Herman Melville’s novel took me weeks and weeks to finish. It’s worth the time, but it’s no easy read. In contrast, Eisner’s children’s book version is 32 pages, so I read it in less than an hour.

Moby Dick – Will Eisner, 2003

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Despite the dramatic difference in length, Eisner’s edition nails the essence of the story, with themes intact and everything. Impressive.

In previous posts, I’ve defended optimistic art because I don’t think it gets the respect it deserves. I like Eisner’s work, but he is no warrior for optimism like Cameron Crowe or Harry Potter. It is a darker world Eisner conveys full of shady underworld types, vicious wife beaters, and treacherous females. Justice shows up less and less in his later work, and when she does, it isn’t always pretty.

It has taken me some time to appreciate that kind of storytelling. My inclination is to offer some kind of hope. After all, don’t most people already have enough real-life experiences to sense that life is sometimes cruel and unfair? Why focus on that side of things? It is sort of like inviting company over to your house and then forcing them to stare at your unwashed toilet.

Choosing to clean the toilet does not take away from the reality that the toilet was once unclean. It just points to another reality, that you care enough about your guests to give them a more sanitary experience. Besides, the reality of the toilet does not negate all the other, more appealing parts of the house.

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Still, there is a place for stories that delve into the soiled corners.  Storytellers can, for example, depict violence in an exploitative way that fuels our basest instincts or they can search for the truth behind the violence. The first is reprehensible. The second is instructive and possibly a step closer to peace. Eisner does the latter by bestowing a sense of humanity even to his lowlifes.

There are some monsters in this world and many of them work in the entertainment business, ladies and gentlemen. Fortunately I have seen films like Robert Altman’s The Player, so I am not entirely caught off guard. That’s the value of Eisner’s  occasionally grimy stories: They warn of the dark things that humans are capable of doing. The prudent reader will observe and take caution, perhaps saving himself future grief.

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That’s not a new outlook. When I read The Federalist Papers I was surprised by how often the writers would suggest that a wise government is one designed to anticipate inevitable deficiencies of character. In contemporary political treatises, the notion of human fallibility has been whitewashed into politically correct platitudes, where citizens are mostly enlightened types (excluding, of course, those employed by corporations) who always act in the best interest of everyone involved.

Having lots of self-actualized types working to make things better for everyone sounds appealing, but history’s tragedies warn us that those in power aren’t always so noble.

Read enough Eisner and you might be less inclined to forget that humans have been, and still remain, creatures of light and shadow. Eisner offers enough examples of heroism so as not to dissuade us entirely from hoping for the best in others, but his work also reminds us to tread carefully just in case people don’t heed their better angels. After all, to err is human, or so they say. So they say.

In more conventional comic books, the bad guy meets his demise when the good guy gets him: Justice is serviced with a Pow! That kind of set up finds its way into Will Eisner’s stories as well, but sometimes the villain’s own vices do the deed.

New York Life in the Big City – Will Eisner, 2006

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In stories like “The Last Trolley,” “Martha & The Renaissance Primitive,” and “The Last Hand,”  the Spirit’s role is reduced to an observer. Basically all he has to do is show up and watch as the guilty ones self-destruct.

As a force for good, the Spirit’s mere presence tends to serve as catalyst for that destruction; His decency makes them so uncomfortable that they will do anything to escape it, including confession. Coming from a comic-book writer, that’s not too shabby an insight, don’t you think?

Eisner doesn’t flinch from depicting the dark side of human nature, but he still manages to suggest that the villains too have inherent value, that they too might be worth saving, if possible. Sometimes he allows the bad guys little endearing or comedic moments. Other times, like in “Christmas Spirit of 1948″ or “Satin,” Eisner makes us despise someone at first but then turns the tables and asks us to sympathize.

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In Contract with God and other Tenement Stories,  Eisner doesn’t clearly portray his characters as being good or evil. That way we’re more sympathetic when something unfortunate happens to someone who may have done bad things.

I suggested earlier that Eisner brought respectability to the once lowly art form of comics. That’s actually not a bad way to frame his artistic sensibilities as well. He likes to take lowly, unappealing subjects and give them dignity.

In the hands of lesser artists, The Spirit could have easily become another pulpy detective-hero story. Eisner turned it into a compelling, psychologically astute series, one that allows f0r the occasional intrusion of supernatural mystery.

In his New York Life in the Big City graphic novel, he gives the city’s underbelly a poetic quality, and my guess is that his inclination to bring dignity to the ugly things influenced his decision to tackle The Princess and the Frog.

Then there is Eisner’s Fagin the Jew. In it, he retells Oliver Twist from the perspective of Fagin. Fagin is still a villain who tries to lead little Oliver astray, but we discover that his childhood was very similar to Oliver’s. Fagin too was abandoned at a young age. Fagin too is given a fortuitous opportunity to get established within respectable society, but there was just one small problem.

You see Fagin was a Jew, and back then respectable society didn’t take too kindly to Jews. And so, all of Fagin’s legitimate efforts to advance himself are thwarted. To survive he is forced into a life of crime.

Fagin the Jew – Will Eisner, 2003

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Oh, those respectable societies back then. They were quite adept at saying the right things, but how different things would have been if they had actually lived up to their stirring rhetoric. But anyway, things were very different back then. Now days, well now days, respectable society is a whole new breed, very modern, very reformed, or so they say. So they say.

At first glance, some of Eisner’s stories seem a little bleaker than I’d prefer. In the stories themselves, justice isn’t always served. The stories with a hero end happily, but sometimes there is no hero who steps up to do the right thing.  That leads to tragedies great and small, but that’s not the end of it.

Someone did observe the wrongs, the injustices that crippled the characters in Eisner’s stories. There was a hero lurking in the shadows after all. His name was Will Eisner.

Will Eisner, 1982

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He used his consummate skills to entertain, yes, but also to tell the truth. He saw wrongs that needed to be righted, and he did something about them, bringing the sordid spots into the light where they are easier to clean. Read his work and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be a little bit more inclined to help in the cleaning.

If cleaning doesn’t sound all that appealing, well maybe you should still go ahead and take that shower anyway. I’ll appreciate it, and so will Procter & Gamble or whoever else supplies your personal hygiene products. Thank you very much.

After you’ve done that, please consider the words of Einstein, “The world is a dangerous place. Not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.” So smart, that Einstein.

There aren’t many real heroes in the world, and I don’t want to dilute the word’s meaning by using it to describe someone who is merely talented at what he does, but Will Eisner is the real deal.

 

The last book Eisner produced before he died was Plot: The Secret Story of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Published in 2005, it is the culmination of more than 20 years of Eisner’s research, and it tells the true story of one of history’s most infamous forgeries.

The Protocols of the Elders of Zion has been used throughout the world to spread hatred of the Jews. The KKK distributed it. Hitler cited it as a key influence, and Muslim radicals still reference it as a factual source, even though it has been categorically refuted by countless historians.

Ask the local occupier scene kids, the supposed 99 percent,  if they have heard of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. I bet many have. I bet some will claim that it reveals the truth about the Jews in power. That’s been my experience talking with some of them, anyway. How appalling that the old lies are still very much alive and well, but how encouraging that Eisner spent so much time and effort trying to refute them.

Protocols of the Elders of Zion – French edition, 1934

 

Eisner admits that Plot required more research than any other story that he produced, and the research is evident in the historical sources he references to prove the forgery.

Interestingly enough, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, that evil document which has done an inconceivable amount of damage to the world for over a hundred years, was the work of just one man. That’s how evil tends to operate. It has taken a community of decent, diligent folks like Will Eisner to slowly repair the damage. That’s how goodness tends to operate.

I’m not trying to take anything away from Eisner’s remarkable body of work, but I consider Plot: The Secret Story of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion to be his most important work. Eisner was a practicing Jew throughout his life, so it is not inappropriate, I think, to say that Plot is his strongest contribution to tikkun olam. That’s a Hebrew phrase for “repairing of the world.”

As fate would have it, the true story that inspired Eisner’s first graphic novel made the last one possible. In later interviews, Eisner admitted that the premature death of his own daughter led him to write Contract with God. In that story, a good man undergoes a crisis of faith and becomes jaded when his adopted daughter dies at an early age. He sees her death as a senseless injustice, and it becomes the defining tragedy of his life.

Contract with God – Will Eisner, 1978

 

Had Will Eisner’s own daughter not died in a seemingly unfair manner, then he would have been far less aware of the ongoing injustices around him. Without that tragic experience, I doubt that Eisner would have found the resilience to take on the ongoing injustices perpetuated by the Protocols of the Elders of Zion.

Contract with God is a story written out of anger, but still Eisner allows for the possibility that there is a bigger purpose behind the seeming unfairness of the tragedy. At the end of the story, a young man comes across the original contract with God, and he vows to honor it. The story ends before we learn what becomes of that young man. Eisner himself didn’t yet know where his own tragedy would lead him, so his ending parallels his own outlook at the time.

I don’t know what it is like to lose a child, but I have my own reasons to be angry at God. It is one thing to sense that you are asked to help a cute, vulnerable baby. It is quite another thing to sense that you are being asked to help someone you consider, at times, to be a hypocritical monstrosity, a glorified product, a creature who lives a life of privilege but has done everything possible to hurt you.

I’ve tried to avoid that fate, but it is not as easy as you might think. Go ask Jonah if you want a second opinion on that.

To be fair, when I am tempted to focus for too long on the monstrous deeds of others, I am reminded of the horrible things I too have done. I too can be just as monstrous if I’m left to my own devices, but I don’t wish to be left.

That desire to become something better than what I’ve been allows a greater good to guide my steps. It is the source behind my optimism, behind my perseverance. I call that God.

Be that as it may, it is not my fault that the person in question is screwed up. I had nothing to do with it. Besides, I’ve done the best I could and it was not enough, and I have my own issues. It feels like I’m fighting windmills, and I’m getting tired of that feeling.

 

Speaking of which, Eisner also illustrated Don Quixote. His version is called the Last Knight. Eisner sees Don Quixote as another dreamer who endured mockery and bravely fought for something more noble than the reality at hand.

Still, Don Quixote appears foolish when he is the only one who sees the world a certain way. It’s when others buy into the merit of seeing the world as it should be and not as it is,  when they too dare to dream the impossible dream, that Don Quixote  stops looking so foolish.

Come to think of it, he starts to look more like King Arthur. Really, the main differences between Don Quixote and King Arthur can be explained away by their companions. Don Quixote had only Sancho Panza. Arthur had all the Knights of the Roundtable plus Merlin the Magician. Truly, optimism is a team sport, ladies and gentlemen.

I want to believe in the best in people. I want to believe in tikkun olam. It was the optimistic films that got me interested in filmmaking, not films like Chinatown, in spite of what all the screenwriting books might suggest.

(Has there ever been a screenwriting book worth its weight that did not include page upon compelling page of in-depth analysis on Chinatown? I get it. Chinatown is a great film, but so is It’s a Wonderful Life, and that doesn’t get anywhere near the amount of ink. Why is that?)

New York: A Life in the Big City – Will Eisner, 2006

 

Here’s the thing though: pursuing a film career has threatened my capacity to sustain a sense of optimism, the very thing that got me interested in filmmaking in the first place. I don’t know that I can sustain my efforts much longer. There is only so much heartache I can take without seeing progress, and the last few weeks have been some of the most discouraging moments of my life.

This time, I can’t turn it into a happy ending without your help, ladies and gentlemen.

I’ve already done a write-up on director Frank Capra, the director responsible for It’s a Wonderful Life, but allow me to close by mentioning him again. He’s one of my favorite artists, so I hope Will Eisner won’t hold it against me too much.

According to some biographers, young Frank Capra was a bit of huckster, a conman even, the sort of struggling rogue Will Eisner might have featured in his stories. Capra grew up poor in the mean Italian ghettos of Los Angeles, so that doesn’t seem implausible. Consider too that his films like Meet John Doe and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington showcase men who first discover themselves to be  phonies before they decide to stand for something.

The biographers suggest that at the start of his film career Capra came close to leaving town  with other people’s money, money that was meant to fund Capra’s early films. Had he done that, Capra would have killed his chances at becoming an established filmmaker, and he would have never made the films that inspired so many people. For some reason though, he stayed.

There is speculation that he stayed because of a mysterious stranger to whom Capra repeatedly alluded. In his autobiography, Capra does not name the man but credits him with reawakening his conscience at key moments of his life. For whatever reason that stranger took interest in Capra and helped him do the right thing, and for that reason he may have been the determining variable that allowed Frank Capra’s life to start as an Eisner illustration and end as a Capra film.

Tikkun olam only happens if enough people want it to happen, help it to happen. Do you want it to happen? The ending of it all will depend on your answer. Choose wisely, my friends.

 

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The Spooky Goodness of Harry Potter: A Tribute

Published on October 29, 2011 in storytelling. 3 Comments Tags: , , , , , , .

It’s that time of year again when witches roam the streets, so now’s as good of a time as any to a revisit the most famous student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  I know a lot has already been written about the Harry Potter series, but I still hope you’ll stick around.

I re-read all the books and re-watched all the movies and a few of the documentaries so that I could give you more depth than a typical review allows.  That means I’ll be discussing plot points, which is why I suggest that you read this only after reading all the Harry Potter books or watching all the films. If you really must read this now, well I can understand the enthusiasm, but just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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I wanted to understand how a seemingly simple children’s book, dismissed by smarty-pants critics like Harold Bloom, became a groundbreaking worldwide phenomenon that has spawned, among other things, an amusement park, a new genre of music called wizard rock, and the most successful movie franchise of all time.

Plus it was an excuse to return to the Harry Potter world, one I quite enjoy in spite of the condescending looks I get from the occasional disapproving librarian.  Hey lady, reading Harry Potter keeps me off the streets, so be grateful OK.

Let’s not be too hard on our librarian friend though.  After all, It’s not just the librarians who scoff when people my age read Harry Potter.  Most self-respecting, and by self-respecting I mean pompous, critics would be appalled by the mere suggestion that something of merit, of substance, and depth would come from a children’s book.

Generally, children’s stories are not awarded prestigious literary awards. Instead those awards go to people like Philip Roth and Don DeLillo.

The Head Ache – George Cruikshank, 1819

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In case you lack the unique experience of reading a Philip Roth book, allow me to reduce his books, at least those I’ve read, into one compact sentence:  The main character, inevitably a man, inevitably a Philip Roth doppelgänger, is a corroding soul obsessed with death and sex who searches for new ways to infect others with those obsessions. Come to think of it, without the sex he sounds kind of like Lord Voldemort.

As to Don DeLillo, I attempted to read just one of his books.  Early in Chapter 1, there was a certain sex act described in excessive detail.  Again folks, that was in Chapter 1, not 6, not 12, not 24.  Chapter 1.

With all due respect to the literary genius of Mr. DeLillo, let me just politely suggest that if you have to start your story with an explicit sex scene to sustain interest or … I don’t know … to convey metaphor, maybe that means you suck as a writer.  I did not finish that DeLillo book, but I’m sure that if I had, I would have found it very profound, very apropos to the human condition. Or something.

Little Red Riding Hood – Walter Crane, 1875

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That just goes to show that more awards should be given to writers like Mr. Roth and Mr. DeLillo are worthy of accolades, not to schlocky authors like J. K. Rowling who pen children’s stories for simpletons.  Isn’t that so, Mr. Bloom?

Well, for a children’s series, the Harry Potter books do reference some rather sophisticated material.  There’s alchemy for one thing.

My Book House illustration – Donn P. Crane, 1900s

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Alchemy, as you may recall, started as a medieval discipline, in which alchemists sought to transmogrify  base metals into gold,  Philosophers and theologians of the era expounded on the subject, seeing it as a soul-purifying process meant to prepare a person for union with God.

This isn’t just an arcane topic briefly referenced in the Harry Potter books.  It has been a central part of the story from the start.  The British version of the first Harry Potter book was called Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, and the philosopher’s stone was considered to be an essential ingredient in the alchemy process.  (The title was changed to the Sorcerer’s Stone to make the book more accessible to the U.S. market.)

Nicholas Flamel engraving – 1800s

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J. K. Rowling even weaves Nicholas Flamel, a historical figure tied to the alchemist tradition, into the story; Dumbledore mentions him when he explains the power of the Sorcerer’s Stone to Harry.

As it turns out, there are seven steps to the alchemy process and seven books in the Harry Potter series, so some commentators have suggested that each book correlates somehow with each step. To read more about that, then check out  (affiliate link) How Harry Cast His Spell: The Meaning Behind the Mania for J. K. Rowling’s Bestselling Books

Rowling is referencing more than alchemy though.  As our boy Harold Bloom points out, the Harry Potter books draw from the British boarding school stories made popular by Thomas Hughes’s novel Tom Brown’s Schooldays. Other influences Rowling has sited include Jane Austin, E. Nesbit, and Peter S. Beagle’s Last Unicorn.

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If you visit http://www.jkrowling.com  and go to the links section, you’ll spot a few more books.  The site does not claim that these books helped shape the Harry Potter universe, but it is not hard to make the connections.  Rowling’s panache at naming brings to mind the whimsy of Charles Dickens.  Wuthering Heights gives context to the Severus and Lilly relationship.  Animal Farm paved the way for using cartoon-like fantasy to explore serious political issues. Etc.

I don’t have time to get into all the mythology behind the series, but let me mention two strong influences in more detail.  They’ve both significantly affected my take on Harry Potter.

First at bat are the Arthurian legends.  Like King Arthur, Harry was taken from his home at a young age by a wizard who oversees his education and guides him into a higher purpose.  It’s no coincidence that Dumbledore is affiliated with the Order of Merlin, ladies and gentlemen.

What I’m going to do next is give you all a quick refresher on King Arthur, even though doing so is not necessarily part of my mission statement.  Regardless, I’d like to think that giving back is a large of what we do here at the nsavides blog, and when I say we, I mean myself and the young elves, goblins, and other magical creatures who have just started their apprenticeships with me.

I know I can’t offer the full Hogwarts experience, but not everyone gets accepted there.  Even if you didn’t, you should still have options for advancement, and I’m really excited about the opportunities I CAN offer to magical creatures.  Soon I should have a brochure available for downloading which will nicely illustrate all the benefits.   So you know, mention it to your house-elves or something.

Sorry for the interruption folks, but this blog would not be possible without the generous donations of our sponsors, and right now I am those sponsors.  All of them. Right.

Anyway. Anyway, Arthur was chosen to rule over Camelot, a kingdom sustained by magic and meant to be a sort of Kingdom of Heaven here on earth.  Sex, tainted by dark magic, broke the spell and caused Camelot to crumble into pestilence, and so the Knights of the Round Table went on a quest in search of the Holy Grail, the only mystical object that could bring healing to the land.

A vision of the Holy Grail. French Manuscript, 15th century

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In comparison, Harry matures in a land already corrupted.  The leaders in power, both at the Ministry of Magic and in the Muggle world are power-hungry, incompetent or tainted by dark magic.  In his quest to destroy Voldemort, Harry discovers the magical objects he needs to bring healing to the land. It is not a perfect fit, but there are similarities.

Oh, and one of Dumbledore’s middle names—the man has more middle names than most of have cars—is Percival.  You know who else was named Percival? One of the few Knights of the Round Table who lived to see the Holy Grail.  Hmm.

Next up is Tolkien.  Some have suggested that Joanne Rowling picked the J. K. Rowling moniker as an homage to J. R. R. Tolkien.  The stories do suggest that Tolkien was more than just a passing influence.  Just like in Lord of the Rings, friendship is a crucial part of Harry’s success.  In every single book, Harry succeeds or survives because of his friendship with Ron and Hermione.

In contrast, Voldemort is repeatedly set up as a loner who trusts no one.  He was once an attractive youth named Tom Riddle, but much like Gollum, he chose power over companionship, and in so choosing he grew into a deformed version of his former self.  As Dumbledore explains in the Half-Blood Prince, “Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.”

 

Punch and Judy – George Cruikshank, 1860

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In the later books Tolkien’s shadow grows more apparent. Tolkien links Frodo’s progress in his quest directly to the strength of his friendships, and we see a variation of that with Harry and Co.

In spite of the help that he gets from his friends, Harry would not have succeeded in his quest had he not been gracious to Dobby, Peter Pettigrew, and Kreacher, all of whom tried to harm him. On that one, think Frodo’s kindness to an undeserving Gollum. Then there are the Horcruxes which have wills of their own and corrupting effects on those who carry them just like the One Ring of Power.

Legends of Charlemagne – N. C. Wyeth, 1924

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Speaking of Horcruxes, Voldemort sure is hard to kill, isn’t he?  That’s generally how it goes when you’re fighting evil.  You cut off one hydra head and two more pop up.  You go through a whole ordeal to blow up the Death Star only to learn that the Emperor has just finished building a more powerful one.  Dang it!  Persistence is key when battling the dark side.  That much is clear.

Now that we’ve looked at some of the influences on Harry Potter, lets explore the books themselves.   When Harry faces the spirit of Voldemort for the first time in Book 1, Voldemort taunts Harry by saying, “There is no good or evil; only power and those too weak to seek it.”  Unwavering in his allegiance to goodness, Harry prevails, but that confrontation sets up the central conflict that will escalate until the end.

If existence is merely about obtaining power as Voldemort or some modern philosophers claim, then Rowling is just doing fancy footwork to get her fair share of it.  Suppose that were true, isn’t it a little odd for a children’s author to become more powerful than accademia’s best and brightest?  Aren’t children supposed to be the least powerful of the species in a strictly evolutionary context?

The Alphabet of Old Friends – Walter Crane, 1874

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No, my friends.  There’s more to it all than just a power grab.   Rowling is using her fiction to provide a kind of roadmap to those of us who’d like to see goodness prevail, not just in stories, but in the real world as well.

If you see good and evil as mere constructs, then it is easier to dismiss the Harry Potter stories as pure fantasy, imaginative perhaps, but obviously not as accurate about life as say a Philip Roth novel.  If you believe in the reality of good and evil though, well that changes things.

In that case, the series might feel more like it’s based on a true story.  Madeleine L’engle, author of A Wrinkle in Time says it better. (Yeah that’s another children’s writer, Mr. Bloom.  Put that into your reading initiative and drink it.) “If it holds no truth then it cannot truly be a story,” she writes in Walking on Water, her reflections on faith and art.

Take the Sorting Hat for example.  As a reminder, it’s the talking witch hat that makes house assignments based on what it senses about a student.  I believe the Sorting Hat actually exists in the real world, at least in some form.  Allow me a story to explain.

The Sorting Hat

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A few years I was in court facing a potential reckless driving charge.  Frustrated by all the things that were going wrong, I went to court angry, planning to question the police officer’s conclusions and professional capacities.  I won a few debate tournaments in high school, and I was going to become a lawyer at one point, so I figured I had a fighting chance.

Then this calming voice prodded me to just tell the truth.  Doing so would be worth it in the long term, the voice whispered.  It sounded a lot like my voice, but I was too angry to consider that option on my own.

Reflecting on the matter, I didn’t expect the truth to improve my situation, but I became aware of how much I admired honesty in others, so I reluctantly agreed.  Within seconds of making that decision, the judge who was handling my case got replaced for some reason.

Later I learned that the judge who was supposed to hear my case was a tough taskmaster, the very sort who would not respond well to argumentative defendants.  The judge I got was more lenient.

I explained to him that I was driving late at night, that I didn’t see the last speed limit sign, and that a mechanic found my speedometer out of alignment by a few miles. I can’t remember how many miles it was, but it was not much.

All those details were true.  Still, a hardliner judge would not have been swayed by that information. My judge was.  He reduced the charge to a speeding violation.

Had I gotten convicted of reckless driving, my license would have been suspended. As a result, I probably would not have gotten the job that brought much-needed stability to my life.  To this day, I believe the circumstances worked out as they did because I made a decision to tell the truth.  Noticing that, the cosmic sorting hat made adjustments accordingly.

The Mysterious Stranger illustration – N. C. Wyeth, 1916

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Even Harry’s scar, the one that welds him to Voldemort’s spirit and causes him pain, does not seem so farfetched.  I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy, but it is true, so here goes:  My upper body burns in an uncomfortable way when a certain person I know is in trouble.

I don’t know why that is, and on some days I’ve tried to make it go away with enough alcohol, but that’s only a temporary fix, and it tends to make things worse in the long term.  I don’t know that I could have made sense of something like that without the Harry Potter series.

Moving on. While the battle between good and evil is at the heart of the Harry Potter series, the representations of  each are not always what we expect.  That’s how it should be. After all, discerning between good and evil can be a rather complicated matter.

The Cholic – George Cruikshank, 1819

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In the Sorcerer’s Stone we’re made think that Professor Severus Snape is the bad guy. It seems so obvious: He’s the oily one dressed in black and the most belligerent of teachers, at least to Potter. The bad guy though is actually the bumbling, stuttering Professor Quirrell.  In spite of his disdain for Harry, Snape uses his magic to save Harry’s life.

Wait. The character we feel sorry for is the villain, and the unlikeable one saved the day? That’s odd. Aren’t the good guys supposed to be shiny and beautiful? Well no, at least not in the Harry Potter universe.

Consider Neville Longbottom. He’s the struggling student who is usually seen stumbling or otherwise causing accidents.  Not exactly one of Hogwart’s finest, or so it seems, and yet he is the one who destroys the last Horcrux, allowing Harry to obliterate Voldemort.  It’s like they say, that deaf, dumb and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball.

In Book 2 we are introduced to Gilderoy Lockhart. What a character that Gilderoy. Props to the guy for uttering one of my favorite lines in the series, “Celebrity is as celebrity does.”

That’s his best advice to Harry. What inspired insight!

Actually, it sounds initially like inspired insight, but on closer inspection it reveals itself to be so very vapid, so very celebrity like.

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Like many a celebrity, Gilderoy Lockhart is content to look good from a distance, to sign autographs and make a show of battling evil, but when he has a chance to actually do something consequential, to actually battle evil, he reveals himself to be a coward and a hypocrite. Truly, all that glitters isn’t always gold.

Seeing Harry Potter as a like-minded celebrity, Gilderoy tries to seduce him away from his quest to defeat Voldemort.  Potter could have easily capitalized on his name recognition and lived a comfortable existence, letting someone else worry about Voldemort.

As Dumbledore would later frame the dilemma in the Goblet of Fire, Harry had to choose “between what is right and what is easy.”   Because Harry chose to do what is right, thousands, if not millions, of people are freed from Voldemort’s malicious reign by the end of the series.

That’s important.  Harry Potter CHOSE to do what was right.  That’s what distinguishes him from Gilderoy Lockheart. By the time he met Lockhart, Harry had already become known as “famous Harry Potter.” Many of fame’s trappings that Gilderoy cherished were starting to arrive for Harry as well.   Lockhart even points this out to Harry.

Speaking of which, it is not unusual for the villain and the hero of a story to share common characteristics.  In lesser fiction, the villain will tell the hero this, right before an overly dramatic fight at an overly dramatic location where there are, in best-case scenarios, lots of explosions happening in the background.   It will go something like this:

Villain: “You and I are very much alike.”

Hero: “You’re wrong, I will never be like you.”

Villain: “Well then, you must die!”

Hero: “No you must die!”

Boom. Lightning. Thunder.  Karate kick.  Boom. Lightning. Punch. Kick. Gasp. Thunder. Boom. Boom. Karate chop. Wow!  Sparkles.

 

Through the Looking Glass – John Tenniel, 1870

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In Rowling’s version, the difference is that Harry Potter himself can see the similarities.  He disdains Lockhart but recognizes his own growing celebrity status.  Not wanting to become another Gilderoy Lockheart, he chooses not to be defined by fame.

Harry is also well aware of how similar he is to Lord Voldemort.  Both of them were orphans who had difficult childhoods.  Both can speak Parseltongue,  the language of the snakes, and both of them were drawn to wands made from the same Phoenix.

When he learns these things, Harry becomes uncertain about his own true nature. Nor has he forgotten that the Sorting Hat almost put him into the Slytherin house, the house of Lord Voldemort, until Harry silently wished not to be sent there.

The connection expands in Chamber of Secrets as Harry realizes that he tried to withhold information from Dumbledore almost exactly as young Voldemort had done.  It gets worse in the Order of the Pheonix.

Harry is at his most unlikeable in that book.  He taunts Dudley and challenges him to a fight just to make himself feel better.  A trained wizard against an unarmed kid is not exactly a fair fight, and Harry comes off as a bit of a bully.

The Mysterious Stranger illustration – N. C. Wyeth, 1916

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Harry’s also sarcastic in class and rude to his friends. At one point, under the influence of Lord Voldemort, Harry has an intense desire to attack Dumbledore, but he does not give in to that temptation. Realizing that he is just a moment’s weakness away from turning wicked helps Harry retain his decency.

Later in the book, we see Harry’s father, James Potter, also acting badly.  Through Snape’s memories, Harry sees his father humiliating Snape just to be mean.  Up to this point Harry had known only of the good things that James had done, so this new revolution knocks his world out of kilter.

Harry has a similar reaction when he learns more about Dumbledore’s past in Book 7.  It turns out that Dumbledore had Muggle-hating family and that he once saw magic as a means to power. Devastated to learn as much, Harry wonders if  he was wrong to admire Dumbledore and follow his lead.

Eventually Harry’s faith in Dumbledore and James is restored. They had their faults, but both of them proved themselves through their collective actions.

For Rowling, questioning even the merits of loved ones who seem beyond reproach is necessary when distinguishing between good and evil.  Dumbledore once said as much: “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends.”

My Book House illustration – Donn P. Crane, 1900s

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That sensibility affects how the kids deal with authority.  In every single book, Harry and company are breaking rules somehow, but they’re not doing so just to be defiant.  They’re usually aiming for a greater good.  Harry defies even the Ministry of Magic for that reason.

Through Harry’s example, Rowling shows us how to stand for something even when government stands in opposition, and there are a surprising number of issues that Rowling weaves into her children’s books.

It’s not hard to read the Ministry’s use of dementors as a comment on torture used by governments in the name of keeping people safe.  Rowling also explores racism, identity crisis, class struggles, and labor issues.

My politics are a little different than hers. Still, I’m glad that J. K. Rowling is encouraging her readers to defy authority when necessary and defend what is right.

Just as Rowling wants us to question seeming goodness, she also aims to subvert our expectations of evil.  Prior to Harry Potter, witches were not exactly getting lots of positive press.  Nor were werewolves, come to think of it, but Rowling gives both types the star treatment.

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Draco Malfoy is another example of subverted expectations. In the first five books, he is set up as an entirely unsympathetic character. That’s why it is such a shock to find him crying in the Half Blood Prince.

We no longer see him as a caricature of evil but as a real person overwhelmed by the dark consequences of his actions.  As the series ends, Draco further reveals his humanity when he hesitates to confirm that the captured prisoners are indeed Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Rowling gives sympathetic moments even to Lord Voldemort.  At first we see him as this almost omnipotent evil force.  As his story unfolds, we discover that he was once an accomplished, but arrogant, student, and before that he was a neglected orphan without friends. When the monster is unmasked, we see but a person gone sour over time.

“Of house-elves and children’s tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing.” By the time Dumbledore explains this to Harry, a part of me wants to see things work out even for Voldemort.  In fact, Harry offers him a chance for redemption, but he refuses it.

If you’re paying attention, you may have noticed that we’ve talked about good and evil, but we haven’t yet addressed how Harry prevails. A nice observation, whoever you are. Ten points for Gryffindor!

The Lady and the Unicorn tapestry: Desire, 1400s

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Before we get there, let me mention two brief criticisms. First, the Time-Turner. If the kids could use it to save Sirius Black, why couldn’t they also use it to, I don’t know, prevent the rebirth of Voldemort and save everyone loads and loads of trouble?

I know. I know. Time travel is tricky to get right.  In recent years only one show comes to mind that really nailed it, and of course I’m thinking of Adam Sandler’s Click. Got to tell you, I’m eagerly anticipating the Criterion Collection release for that puppy.  (OK, maybe not.)

My second grievance involves the announcement about Dumbledore’s sexual orientation.  To be clear, I don’t take issue with Dumbledore being gay. Plato’s philosophy books are ones I greatly admire, and that includes Symposium, a book which makes recurring references to homosexuality.

With that said, if you want to take on a complicated issue in your art, go right ahead, but please don’t try to work it in after the fact.  I would be equally annoyed if J. R. R. Tolkien revealed in his will that Gandolf was most certainly against Keynsian economics or if the estate of Lord Alfred Tennyson declared that the Lady of Shalott was clearly a pro-life activist ahead of her time.

Lady of Shalott – John William Waterhouse, 1888

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I do not believe for one moment that J. K. Rowling accidentally disclosed the sexual orientation of a central character at a Q & A event. As proved by the success of the Harry Potter series and the scarcity of leaks about the finale, Rowling has grown exceptionally skilled at managing the release of information.  But at one Q & A, she just lets the info slip as if caught off guard after having a few too many Butterbeers? I don’t think so.

Thanks, no doubt, to Rowling’s outing of Dumbledore, Sesame Street faced mounting pressure to out Bert and Ernie.  Bringing some sanity to the discussion, the folks at Sesame Street responded with this statement, “Bert and Ernie are best friends. They were created to teach preschoolers that people can be good friends with those who are very different from themselves. Even though they are identified as male characters and possess many human traits and characteristics (as most Sesame Street Muppets™ do), they remain puppets, and do not have a sexual orientation.”

You’re better than that, JK.

Anyway, back to Harry Potter.  What exactly is his strength? How does he prevail over power-hungry Voldemort?  Hercules conquered through strength, Odysseus through cunning, Siegfried through courage, but Harry?

Harry Potter conquers through love, and we’re not talking the hipsters-with-hashtags variety.  No. He is the boy who lives because of the sacrificial love of his parents, of his friends.

Arthur Draws Sword from the Stone – Walter Crane, 1911

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Love that comes at a price is the most powerful kind of magic, and all along Dumbledore has been trying to teach Harry as much.  It is the very love that Harry learns to wield because others first wielded it on his behalf.  How extraordinary for a hero to conquer with such a sword.

You know, that sounds familiar somehow. A sacrificial love that conquers death. Where have I heard that before?  Where? Where? Where? Oh yeah. Christianity. Interesting. As as it turns out, JK Rowling is actually a Christian. Weird.

Vintage Christmas card

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Wait, there is one other demonstration of sacrificial love that I failed to mention. That of Severus Snape.  In spite of his seeming betrayal of Dumbledore, it turns out that he was one of the good guys after all.  Treated badly as a child, Severus wandered into the dark arts, but it was the love of Lilly Potter that brought him back, the love that compelled him to keep Harry alive, the love for which he sacrificed his life.

Yeah, Severus Snape is the character with whom I most identify.  In school, I was never the popular kid or the guy who always won at sports like Harry does. I was the guy who was teased year after year, at least until I got better at defending myself.

One time at camp, kids threw shoes at me while I tried to sleep.  They thought it was funny, but I wanted to die.   That kind of treatment made me angry, and I did some bad things as I grew up. I didn’t know how to deal with the anger any other way.

Now I’m trying to do something positive with my life.  Sometimes it’s a challenge to stay focused on that and not get distracted by the people who have done me wrong. It helps that the Harry Potter series shows how it’s done.  After all, if Harry can maintain his innocence and be gracious to the one who killed his parents, why can’t I let go of past hurts?

When I read the Harry Potter books or watch the movies, I am encouraged to fight the good fight.  That doesn’t happen when I read critically acclaimed books by Philip Roth or watch critically acclaimed films like Drive.

Sure, Drive features some solid performances, but it also has a buffet full of inhuman savagery.  There’s one scene where Ryan Gosling’s character gets ready to pound a man’s skull in with a hammer while topless girls watch in silence.  Sex and death. That’s badass, yo. I bet Philip Roth would enjoy that.

Not so much me. If that’s the alternative, I’d rather stick to children’s books.   The Harry Potter series doesn’t lack sophistication. It’s just that some adults have gotten so corrupted by power and sex that they can no longer understand the wisdom of innocence.

The Boy’s King Arthur – N. C. Wyeth 1922

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Sex ruined Camelot, but I’d like to see it return.  I’m not entirely sure, but I think that Harry Potter points the way back: It’ll take courage, innocence, and love. Above all things love.

Steven King allows Harry Potter a cameo in his Dark Tower saga, and he has passionately defended the series. Unlike some of his literati compadres, he’s not too cool for school. (Of course, by school I mean Hogwarts. That’s a pun, yes.)  So, I’ll give him the last words.  This comes from his Entertainment Weekly writeup about the series:

“J.K. Rowling has set the standard: It’s a high one, and God bless her for it.”

 

LINKS
exit music: A little wizard rock to hum on the ride home. Do it! Rock it!

fxguide: They’ve done some of the best coverage I’ve read and heard on the effects work behind the Harry Potter films.

Harry Potter wiki: A comprehensive encyclopedia of all things Harry Potter, largely maintained by an impressive number of fans.

Pottermore: An immersive multimedia experience brought to you by J. K. Rowling. Currently in beta.

Secrets of Harry Potter podcast: An in-depth discussion about the symbols, history, and literary references of the series.

 

If this post has been valuable to you, would you remember me this holiday season? The Harry Potter films would make nice gifts for your favorite Potter enthusiasts, and if you click on either of these amazon banner links before you make a purchase, then I’ll get some compensation. These kinds of posts do take a little longer to produce than typical blog posts, and with your support I can do even more of them in the future. Thank you!

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As always, thanks for reading and God bless.

 

Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged: A Tribute

Published on August 29, 2011 in business. 1 Comment Tags: , , , , , , , .

I once read a critique of Atlas Shrugged that slammed Ayn Rand’s masterpiece for its unpolished prose.  That’s like reading Emily Dickinson and wondering when the explosions will manifest.  If you read Atlas Shrugged in search of flowery phrases, well you’re reading the wrong book there kemosabi.  The book’s appeal is in the heroic treatment it gives the builders and entrepreneurs of an otherwise corroding civilization.  

That’s right.  Atlas Shrugged is a critically acclaimed work of fiction that celebrates business people.  Shocking, right?  I mean, everyone knows that business types are evil, don’t they? It’s so obvious.

Just look at movies like Erin Brokavich, The Verdict, Michael Clayton, The Rainmaker, Wall Street or the vast majority of pop culture that features business people.  Even Lost, one of the most innovative television shows ever made, features an evil industrialist.  Whoa, the industrialist is the bad guy?  No way! Didn’t see that one coming, guys!

Maybe I’m missing an obvious reference, but prior to Atlas Shrugged, I think we’d have to go all the way back to a book like Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables to see a similarly heroic take on the entrepreneur.

As a quick reminder, Les Mis begins as Jean Valjean, a former convict, steals silverware from a kind bishop.   After the bishop discovers the crime, he graciously allows Jean Valjean to escape another prison term.  In exchange, the bishop asks Jean Valjean to promise that he will live an honest life from this point onward.

The narrative skips ahead a few years, revealing that Jean Valjean has indeed kept his promise.  He has become respectable and made his town wealthy thanks to a new manufacturing process he invented for his factory.

Back in Victor Hugo’s time, folks actually appreciated those who brought jobs and wealth to their towns. That’s probably why Hugo uses Jean Valjean’s business accomplishments to suggest that he’s become a model citizen.  In contrast, today we gather up our collective pitchforks  to hunt business people as if they were freakish monsters worthy of death or at least heavy regulation.  With attitudes like that, is it any wonder that the U.S. has the second-highest tax rate in the world?

That anti-business animosity is present even in Atlas Shrugged, and Hank Rearden, one of the heroic entrepreneurs in the novel, struggles to overcome it.  He’s a businessman who has figured out a way to make a metal that is stronger than steel, and he puts all of his energies into building a great company that manufactures his new material.  His competitors cannot deliver anything of comparable quality, so instead they pay off government bureaucrats and give lots of speeches.

Since we’re on the subject, I do admire great orators as much as the next guy, but I’m more impressed when speakers prove themselves to be people of action.

Speech-minded reader, you could do worse than following Teddy Roosevelt’s example.  He too gave speeches, but his speeches were not the sum total of his efforts. They were merely the structural supports.  It’s why he could boldly admonish his listeners to “speak softly and carry a big stick.”

Anyway, many people in Rearden’s society have come to feel entitled to the profits of his business, even though they have done nothing to help it grow.  Ayn Rand calls them the looters, a ravenous mob not unlike a zombie horde.   Seeing an opportunity to expand power, the government satiates the looters by raising taxes and placing more onerous restraints on Rearden and industrialists like him.

Rearden’s competitors use their government contacts to negotiate loopholes for themselves.  That’s Ayn Rand’s way of acknowledging that businesses are not immune to corruption, but that big government tends to enable rather than curtail it.

Cruelty in Perfection – William Hogarth, 1751

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As the novel progresses the government bureaucracy becomes more intrusive and many entrepreneurs decide that it is no longer beneficial to stay in business.  Rearden tries to stay afloat, but as the government takes over more industries it becomes increasingly more difficult to do so.

From the beginning, the novel’s speechmongers had clamored for more government control, but contrary to their utopian claims, society does not improve.  Since no one has an incentive to work hard, the workers opt to do the bare minimum or to drop out of the system altogether.   Gone is the potential to profit from manufacturing parts or excellent service, so machinery deteriorates and accidents increase.  

As the general population becomes more apathetic, the government realizes that it must use force upon its own people to compel them to work.  The doom of civilization lingers, but a few resourceful entrepreneurs like Rearden mount the resistance.

Atlas Shrugged was published back in 1957, but it feels so contemporary: In our world, entire nations and politically connected corporations ask others to finance their profligacy insisting that they’re too big to fail.  Our American government comes down hard on businesses, except those who have contributed heavily to certain political campaigns.  For example, one of Obama’s biggest campaign contributors was Goldman Sachs, a company that did quite well in the subprime-mortgage dustup.

Let’s not forget that the S&P recently downgraded the U.S. credit rating.  That didn’t even happen in the Great Depression ladies and gentlemen, and the very politicians who spend our money at unprecedented rates look us in the eyes and tell us that the government is not the problem.

Simon Fraser, 11th Lord Lovat – William Hogarth, 1746

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The problem, as they see it, stems from the people who protest the government’s encroaching appetite.  Indeed Ayn Rand has become a prophet of our times.

Now please don’t misunderstand.  My goal in writing is not to suggest that businesses can do no wrong.  On the contrary, businesses are run by people, and people come in all sorts of varieties, some good some bad.  If we agree that proper governance helps sustain society, then it follows that some limited government oversight in business can also be useful.

Not every Ayn Rand enthusiast would agree with those presuppositions, so allow me to defend them by quoting from Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, an influential pamphlet during the American Revolution.

Paine writes,”For were the impulses of conscience clear, uniform, and irresistibly obeyed, man would need no other lawgiver.”  In other words, if we were all perfect we wouldn’t need government; We would naturally live in harmony with each other.

Since that is not the case, we need a system of laws to preserve the social fabric that allows for civilization.  Businesses too need some regulation to ensure fair play, to prevent unethical business types from doing anything to make a quick buck.

Besides, without even the most limited amount of regulation, porn shops and drug dealers would be everywhere.  Do you really want to live in that kind of society? I don’t.

With that said, we need to get rid of this harmful notion that every societal problem is due to the nefarious machinations of conniving, greedy businessmen.  By and large, successful businesses make things better, not just for the stockholders and their employees but also for their customers and their communities at large. 

If they didn’t, why would people continue to work and buy from them?  Remember, businesses don’t have standing armies to coerce participation. Governments do.

Then there’s the whole notion of being able to advance based on merit.  We take that for granted, but it wasn’t always a given.

Imagine what it would be like if your status was almost entirely dependent upon the family to whom you were born or to which you joined in marriage.

Not so keen on the medieval way?  You could always live la vida loca like the Soviets did, by bribing government officials just to increase your odds of survival.     I’d say the oft-maligned businessman is starting to look downright friendly in comparison.

You wouldn’t know it from popular culture, but a lot of folks actually have strong affectionate feelings toward businesses.  I’m one of them.

Working for Canon has expanded my technical abilities, increased my confidence, and brought more stability to my life.  No charitable outreach has done the same for me.

Plus, Canon equipment is among the best in the market.  All my recent freelance projects have been shot with Canon gear, and I wouldn’t go that route if I didn’t have the highest respect for Canon engineering.

Don’t just take my word for it though.  Visit Canon USA’s Facebook page, and you’ll notice that the vast majority of comments are positive, effusive ones.  But why stop at Canon?  You’ll find similar things if you check out the feedback for companies like Apple, amazon.com, IKEA, Chick-fil-A, Volkswagen, Target, Whole Foods, Starbucks, Zappos, Walt Disney, and the list could go on and on.

These are all businesses that have made life better for millions of people,  and you don’t make life better for millions of people by merely focusing on profit.  That is a foolish anti-business fallacy.  You get there, first and foremost, by being useful, even delightful, to others in an excellent way.

In Atlas Shrugged, it is the bureaucrats who compromise and sell out to advance themselves.  Rearden, in contrast,  sacrifices prestige and short-term wealth so that he might produce something truly exceptional.  To aim for anything less even when the entire world encourages you to do so is not to be fully alive, Ayn Rand suggests.

Like Hank Rearden, the entrepreneurs who produce excellent, profitable businesses are heroes of our modern world, but when was the last time a movie, a music album, or a novel conveyed as much?  Atlas Shrugged is one example, but we need more.

In the book Microtrends, author and researcher Mark Penn tells of a recent survey he ran where an alarming number of kids expressed interest in becoming snipers when they grow up.  He speculates that data spike is due to the attention snipers get in news coverage, movies, and video games.

Now you tell me, would you rather have a society full of aspiring snipers or entrepreneurs? Do you want your next creative project to inspire the next Columbine shooter or the next Steve Jobs?

The Delivery of the Keys – Pietro Perugino 1481–1482

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If you chose the latter options, then maybe it is time for you do something about it.  Reading Atlas Shrugged is a good place to start (you can listen to it as an audiobook if you prefer), but if you don’t have time for that, would you at least stop suggesting that every business person is evil?  Can you stop relying on the government to solve all your problems?

While you’re at it, don’t be content just to consume. Produce. Give back.  Building a great and virtuous business is as good of a way as any to do that.

 

If you appreciate my writing, why not write a comment or share the post with a friend? It would encourage me to keep writing and sharing bits of my heart with you.

Please consider signing up to get my posts by email.  You can do that by clicking here.  I don’t write every week.  If I did, I wouldn’t have the time to write the kinds of posts I prefer to write.
I only write if I believe I have something worth writing and after I’ve spent some time finessing my thoughts.  If you’re following along by email, you’ll know right away when I have a new post waiting for you.  It is very easy to unsubscribe, and you won’t receive anything unrelated to my blog. 
As always, thanks for reading and God bless.

Renewing our Cities by Renewing Each Other

Published on July 27, 2011 in art and giving. 1 Comment Tags: , , .

I recently did a series of videos about how people in Hampton Roads, Virginia renew their cities.  The videos were initially done to help promote the Renewal Art Show that is produced each April by Symphonic, the church I attended while in Virginia.

I wrote a few articles about the Renewal videos for altdaily.com, a fine local source of news and culture, but the piece I wrote for the last video was by far the most personal, and so it was the hardest to write.

Manuel Osorio de Zuniga – Goya, 1784-1792 

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I thought about deleting it several times during and after the writing process.  Repeatedly I’d ask myself, is it really all that wise to be deliberately vulnerable in public, and do I really believe all those fancy-sounding things I am writing?

I’d say yes to both, but only when I’m at my best, when I’m under the influence of good friends.  My default sensibility is to be wary of others and go it alone, so it’s a battle to get past that.

Overall the edits that AltDaily did to my last piece made it more coherent, for which I am grateful, but the nuances of a small, but important, point I made got lost in translation.

Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters – Goya, 1797

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I initially wrote that two discouraging incidents I faced were probably the results of past abuse or supernatural manifestations of evil.  The edit did away with the possibility of abuse, making it sound like I am prone to see demons at work in many of the challenging circumstances I face.

Actually, I am more inclined to see problems as the consequences of human selfishness, poor design, or prior trauma, but I do believe that spirits, good and bad, exert influence in our world.  After considering the AltDaily article as it currently stands, I realized that it is still true to how I see things, but the demons I’m thinking of are not necessarily scary spirits.

There are scary ones too, I’m sure, but most of the ones we encounter on a daily basis are more like lingering relics from the past that prevent us from becoming whole, sort of like how the brilliant cartoonist Lynda Barry portrays them in her book One Hundred Demons.  (As it happens, that book is available for free on Google Books. Pretty neat, but the book has such a tactile aspect that you might want to consider the printed version.)

Little Hobgoblins – Goya, 1799

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Put differently, demons are often like irrational bits of code that cause us to self-destruct, to doubt ourselves and others, to go against the very things that we claim to value, to override our inherent programming if you will.  (Yeah, that’s the Matrix creeping into the discussion.)

It’s only fair to mention that I too struggle with my own personal demons.  When I’m on my own, they win more than I care to admit, and I don’t like the person I can become when that happens.  I am more likely to prevail when providence brings me people who help me stay the course.

La famille de l’infant Don Louis – Goya, 1783

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With that said, here is the AltDaily article:

http://www.altdaily.com/features/arts/video-how-we-renew-our-city-part-iv.html

Below I’ve included all the Renewal videos.  They are longer than many YouTube videos,  but most people who’ve seen the videos have found them worthy of the time commitment.  I hope they will inspire you, just as they inspired me when I made them.

Part I:

 

Part II:

 

Part III:

 

Part IV:

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If you appreciate my writing, why not write a comment or share the post with a friend? It would encourage me to keep writing and sharing bits of my heart with you.

Please consider signing up to get my posts by email.  You can do that by clicking here.  I don’t write every week.  If I did, I wouldn’t have the time to write the kinds of posts I prefer to write.
I only write if I believe I have something worth writing and after I’ve spent some time finessing my thoughts.  If you’re following along by email, you’ll know right away when I have a new post waiting for you.  It is very easy to unsubscribe, and you won’t receive anything unrelated to my blog. 
As always, thanks for reading and God bless.

Revisiting Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robot

Published on June 30, 2011 in art and music. 5 Comments Tags: , , , , .

“I thought I was smart. I thought I was right. I thought it better not to fight. I thought there was a virtue in always being cool.”  So begins Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robot, the classic album from the Flaming Lips.  The song goes on to talk about how being a man means being willing to fight for the important things, if necessary, even when you’re not prepared to do so.

 

 

 

What a revelation it was to hear those lyrics when I first discovered the Flaming Lips in college.   Until then, I assumed that just seeming cool was the whole point, at least for bands.  This was something different.  My expectations about this buzzed-about indie band were thwarted right from the beginning.

The album came out in 2002, so there’s a good chance that you’ve heard it by now.  Even if you haven’t, you might guess from the title that it deals in some way with a fight against the robots.  You are right!

Time travel is in there too, but so are reflections about what it means to be human, to love and face mortality.  That’s not the kind of thing you find in a lot of albums.

 

Photo credit: Sebastianlund

 

 

I like the Beatles as much as anyone, but “I am the walrus” only does so much to help me navigate through life.  This is because, as far as I know, I am not a walrus.  (Yes, yes, the Beatles have depth too.  Just a quick example folks.)

I enjoy that music for what it is, a whimsical auditory snack, but sometimes I hunger for more substance, so it’s reassuring that there are albums like Yoshimi out there.

I’ve listened to it many times, but I still find new things to discover when I give it my attention.  It was one of the first albums that made me realize albums could examine, in an interesting way, the bigger questions and mysteries of life.  Plus, it subtly shaped my interactions, encouraging me to appreciate the short time that we have on this earth with each other.

 

Wayne Coyne at SXSW 2006. Photo credit: birzer

 

(Incidentally, the Flaming Lips documentary The Fearless Freaks also had an impact on how I treat people.  Lacking pretense, the band frontman, Wayne Coyne, walks down the street in his neighborhood and greets a few strangers.  He’s not selling merchandise.  He’s just trying to make people smile or participate in his quirky projects.

Similarly the band does all kinds of crazy things at their shows to make them memorable.  Whatever the venue, the Flaming Lips are maniacally focused, not on being cool, but on creating engaging moments for those around them.)

 

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hq-W-4Izjwc]

Music video for “Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Part 1″ The joy that Wayne conveys in playing and being around his fans is not standard indie-rock fare.

 

I wouldn’t hesitate to call the album a great work of art, and by great art I mean a form of creative expression that takes skill to produce and has a memorable, enriching impact on how we see the world.

That’s my working definition anyway.   I’m constantly revising it.  I might elaborate on that definition in a later post, but for now notice the subjective aspect of it.

Art is a personal experience both in its creation and its reception, so there is bound to be some variation in what has an impact on us.  Yoshimi would easily make my list of most influential albums, but I don’t expect everyone to feel the same way.

 

Photo credit: Profound Whatever

 

Even so, there is something to be said about work that has a timeless quality, that can transcend cultural differences and moments of time.  It’s too early to say, but Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robot might become that kind of classic.  It was widely celebrated by the critics when it was released and continues to be well regarded.

Wayne Coyne at SXSW 2006. Photo credit: birzer

 

The other Flaming Lips albums don’t have the same magic for me.  I haven’t heard them all, but the bits I have heard have been a little too experimental and psychedelic for my tastes. (To be fair I haven’t given the new stuff much time.)

That happens sometimes.  Just a few artists throughout history have been able to produce a lifetime of masterpieces.  Usually artists are lucky to have even a small fragment of their work survive time’s winged chariot.

People change, relationships sour, and beauty fades.  “It’s hard to make the good things last,” the Flaming Lips remind us.  It’s an album filled with cosmic mysteries, robots, and hypnotism, of love and lingering sadness, but it ends with the reminder that “all we have is now.” That’s about right, so let’s make the most of it.

 

 

Flaming Lips at Cornell – April 18. 2010. Photo credit: .reid.

My apologies for the delay between posts.  I have a few video and photography projects that are keeping me busy, and I will be moving to Baton Rouge, Louisiana in less than a month.  Besides, if I were to write more consistently, then I would not be able to spend as much time writing each post.  

That’s why I recommend that you sign up to get email updates for this blog.  You can do that by clicking here.  I don’t write every week.  If I did, I wouldn’t have the time to write the kinds of posts I prefer to write.

I only write if I believe I have something worth writing and after I’ve spent some time finessing my thoughts.  If you’re following along by email, you’ll know right away when I have a new post waiting for you.  It is very easy to unsubscribe, and you won’t receive anything unrelated to my blog. 
As always, thanks for reading and God bless.

The Fight to Canonize Director George Stevens

Published on May 3, 2011 in film. 6 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , .

His movies have won Oscars for himself and the people with whom he collaborated, and the American Film Institute recognizes his films A Place in the Sun, Woman of the Year, Swing Time, and Shane as being among the best movies ever made.  He has credit not just as a director, but also as a cinematographer, producer, and writer. Stephen Spielberg lists him as an influence.  Yet, for whatever reason, George Stevens does not get the same respect and film-school shout-outs that guys like Scorsese and Tarantino command.  I would like to help correct that oversight.

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I had seen and enjoyed a few of George Stevens’s films, but I didn’t take interest in him as a director until I saw some talking-head footage of an elderly Frank Capra. Capra’s face lit up when he mentioned Stevens, declaring that he would look him up when he went to heaven so that they could work on more pictures together.  Frank Capra is a huge source of inspiration to me, so that made me wonder, “Who is this George Stevens guy, and why does Frank Capra like him so much?”

For one thing, he was a partner at Capra’s Liberty Films production company.  As it happens all four of the partners in that company had gone overseas to help the war effort during World War II.  Like Frank Capra, George Stevens went over at the height of his career, sacrificing all the comforts that come with success to serve his country.

Before he packed up his bags for Europe, George Stevens had worked with A-list actors in critically acclaimed productions, generated huge box office, and had his movies nominated for best picture awards.  One of the nominated pictures was The Talk of the Town, made in 1942, just before Stevens committed himself to the war effort.

This is not a trivial point.  To state the obvious, an Oscar nomination gives someone a lot of buzz, which can translate into more power and creative freedom.  From a business perspective, that is one of the worst times to step away from the limelight, to take a pay cut in the name of your ideals.

Still from Triumph of the Will – Leni Riefenstahl, 1935

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Yet, that’s exactly what George Stevens did.  Why would he do that? According to first hand accounts of those who knew him, he saw the German propaganda film Triumph of the Will and felt compelled to do something about it.

Confronted by evil, Stevens did not merely write a letter to an editor or buy US Treasury bonds; he put everything on the line to oppose it.  He left a career that almost anyone would envy to document the struggles of our troops in dangerous situations.

In the process, he was one of the few people to capture the horrors of the concentration camps, photographing the piles of bodies lingering in the fields as if they were just piles of rubble at a construction site. That footage did much to convince the world that the horrors of the camps were not propaganda lies but real, devastating atrocities.

World War II recruitment poster

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Truly George Stevens earned his place in the Greatest Generation.  Would the people in our generation be able to rise to the occasion in a similar manner?  I do not know, but I have my doubts.  We’ve grown decadent as a society, fueled by powerful entities who feed our basest instincts in the name of profit and entertainment.

George Stevens never stooped to that level. His filmmaking style is steady and deliberate, a little slower in pace than other filmmakers, but he still holds our attention. If you can fill the screen with the size of someone’s character, you don’t need to resort to fast cuts and cheap gimmicks. It’s like Norma Desmond said in Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard, ”I am big. It’s the pictures that got small.”

Still from A Place in the Sun, 1951

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That’s not to say a Stevens picture lacks sexiness.  It’s just that he’s a skilled enough craftsman to do more with less.  You get such a sense of intimacy in the way he stages the kisses between Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor in A Place in the Sun, sometimes cutting off even parts of their faces out of frame, that you don’t need to watch an explicit 10-minute sex sequence to get the idea.

In Swing Time, there’s a clever door gag that prevents us from seeing the couple kiss at all, but the scene is still sexy in the way Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers relate to each other.  Actually, sometimes it’s more alluring when the details are left to our imaginations.

Swing Time movie poster, 1936

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Speaking of details, let’s look at some of George Stevens’s films and  recurring themes.  While he had done other feature-length films, his breakout production was Alice Adams, his first chance to work with a rising star, in this case Katherine Hepburn.   The film was well received, getting nominated for best actress and best picture.  In it we see two preoccupations that Mr. Stevens will revisit throughout his career: the battle of the sexes and the efforts needed to make domestic life work.

Men and women in conflict are also notable parts of Annie Oakley, Woman of the Year, Shane, and Giant. Sometimes the woman’s outlook prevails, as in Annie Oakley and Giant.  Annie is literally competing with a man, the guy she happens to love, in one sharpshooting match after another throughout the film.  In Giant, the dramatic question is whether Leslie will bring about change to the Benedict ranch or whether it will stay set in its ways.  She changes it by influencing her husband to finally take a stand against racism.

Woman of the Year movie poster, 1942

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Sometimes it is the masculine  side that prevails, like in Shane.  In Woman of the Year it is more or less a draw.  Sure, she cooks for him in the end, but Tracy Spenser had to play the part of a subservient house wife for much of the film.

Taken as a whole, Mr. Steven’s work does not come down in favor of one side or another.  The differences between men and women are delineated, but they both seem important to Steven’s concept of a happy, civilized existence.  In the world of George Stevens, both sides have to sacrifice something to make the relationship work, but the relationship is worth it.

Giant movie poster, 1956

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Some filmmakers cut out the chores that their characters have to do in their day-to-day lives.  (That way you get to the explosions faster!) Not so in Steven’s films.  We watch the details of ranch maintenance in Giant, the struggle to pull up a tree root in Shane, and the small indignities that come with trying to make ends meet in I Remember Mama.  These details usually aren’t there to advance the plot, but to reveal the effort that the characters expend to sustain their environments and their relationships.

Yeah, commentary about chores.  That’s how I keep my readers engaged!  Before you start thinking that this is a chore to read, or that you’d like to get back to your cherished collection of Tarantino films consider this: I’ll be giving a away a free TV to the first 5 people who can prove that they made it to the end! That’s right, what better way to experience the glories of George Stevens’s Giant then on a magnificent big-screen television!

Thanks to the tireless efforts of our partners, we’ve managed to put questionnaires under the seats of all our readers.   So, right now I want you to look under your seat. Seriously. Right now, look under your seat.  What do you see?

Probably just a few screws and bolts and other chair components.  Maybe dried gum, if you’re that sort. What can I say, my partners and I like to think big, but we’re still trying to get the execution right, and when I say partners I’m being optimistic and talking in the future tense. Still it would be a nice promotion to do some day, so check back in like 20 years.  Or something like that. It’s hard to get the date exactly right when you’re talking in the future tense.

Gunga Din movie poster, 1939

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Back to the films. I discovered Gunga Din when doing research for this post, and what a great action film that is.  Set in 19th century India, the story follows the adventures of three British soldiers, one of them being the ever charming Cary Grant, who seek treasure while battling the sinister, Kali-worshiping natives.

With its masterful blend of adventure, humor, and supernatural elements, Gunga Din set the stage for contemporary action-adventure films like Indiana Jones and Romancing the Stone.

The battles in Gunga Din happen on an epic scale and the action still holds up, impressive because they didn’t have the technology to fake it back then.  Those are all real horses, real extras, real stunts.

Even though this is a light-hearted swashbuckling adventure, we still see Stevens’s values shine through.  This quote from Sgt. Ballantine as played by Douglas Fairbanks Jr. sums it up nicely, “The trouble is you don’t want a man for a husband! You want a coward who will run out on his friends! Well, that’s not me, never was, and never will be. I don’t care how much I love you! And I do very much. I’m a soldi… I mean I’m a man first!”

World War II recruitment poster

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Doing one’s duty, that is to say doing the things that aren’t enjoyable but that need to be done, was an important concept to George Stevens.  He didn’t just put it in his movies to gain appeal. He lived it by getting involved in the war effort.

When abroad I’m sure he witnessed some horrible, evil things. I’ve never witnessed anything like the horrors of war, but I have encountered evil on a smaller scale. Even then, it takes effort not to let that influence how I treat people.

On occasion I’ve failed at that and hurt others because I could not rise above the hurt that others had done to me. My point is that it would have been disappointing, but understandable, if George Stevens came back from war and made cynical, jaded films.

The Diary of Anne Frank movie poster, 1959

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That’s not what happened.  Yes, some of the humor went away, but it was replaced with a heightened moral vision,  and he made his most regarded films after the war: A Place in the Sun, Shane, Giant, The Diary of Anne Frank, and The Greatest Story Ever Told.  I will discuss these films in more detail, so you might want to watch them before reading further.

A Place in the Sun is the most ambiguous of the lot.  It’s a fine piece of filmmaking but a bittersweet pill to swallow: George Eastman, played with depth and passion by Montgomery Clift, gets sentenced to death simply because he did nothing to save a girl from drowning, a girl that he once planned to murder but then decided against it when the time came.  She falls out of the boat by accident.  Not being able to swim, she dies.

A Place in the Sun movie poster, 1951

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Eastman initially considered killing the girl, his former sweetheart, because she got pregnant and was interfering with his attempts to romance a stunning society girl, played by Elizabeth Taylor.

Was he doomed for being tempted to murder or for overweening ambition? For getting his girlfriend pregnant? For not being honest? Because society wouldn’t allow his girl to get an abortion? A lesser filmmaker would have hit us over the head with the message, but Stevens keeps it open to interpretation.

My take: Eastman was guilty because he did nothing.  He knew that his former girlfriend couldn’t swim, but when the boat overturned he ignored her and chose to take care of just himself.

Not counting On Our Merry Way, an uncredited film he helped to direct with three other directors, A Place in the Sun was only the second film George Stevens made after the war, so my guess is that it was his way of working out his feelings toward the Germans who saw Nazi horrors but did nothing to stop them.

On a technical level, watch how Loon Lake changes in its associations throughout the story. First it is a place of optimism, of a budding romance, then it foreshadows tragedy, then creates suspense, and later reinforces guilt.  Genius.

Giant movie poster, 1956

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Another genius thing that George did was guide the film Giant to greatness. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, there is rarely a situation that cannot be improved with a smattering of alliteration thrown into the mix, applied with discretion.  I stand behind that statement.

To demonstrate, I ask you to consider the Middle East.  Does alliteration abound there? No. Are there lots of problems? Yes. (A probable note from Nick’s future partners: kindly do not take Iran and Iraq into account. It is not fair to count them, because if you do that then you discredit the illustration we are trying to make. Also, these TVs we’re giving away look amazing!)

Thanks for being patient folks.  I know this is a long post, but I’m just trying to do justice to Mr. Stevens, a severely underrated director.  Besides, George Stevens is known for making long films, so the length is not entirely inappropriate.

Giant publicity still

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Anyway, the movie Giant really was a gigantic undertaking.   The production team actually constructed the facade of a Victorian home on location in Marfa, Texas, and the house was built to scale from what I understand.  Think about how much easier it would have been to build a smaller replica of the house on a studio backlot, but that wasn’t how George Stevens did things.

George Stevens Jr. recalls this statement from dad when he asked why they had to spend so much time finessing the details: ”Just think of how many man hours people will spend watching this film over the years.  Don’t you think it’s worth spending a little more of our time working to make it a better experience for them?”  What an unselfish outlook.  The emphasis is not on what is most profitable for him, but what is most beneficial to us.

When we see the house stand in proud defiance of the otherwise flat landscape, it gives a sense of scale to the surroundings and a heft to the unfolding story.  Not a bad payoff for all that work.

The film spans decades which means the main characters have to play young and old versions of themselves.  In doing so, Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean give some of the best performances of their careers.

The astonishing part is that they were all under 30 at the time. Surely some of the credit to their believability as adults beyond their years must go to George Stevens. Someone else must have thought so too: the film earned Stevens an Oscar.

Still from Giant, 1956

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Let’s take a closer look at James Dean’s character before moving on to the next film. He plays Jett Rink, the outsider looking in.  He discovers oil and finds success but not character, and so he withers into demise, not standing the test of time in the way that the Benedict family does.  Although Jett evolves into a villain, Stevens still allows him moments of sympathy, triumph, and charisma.

That’s Stevens’s affection for the outsider talking.  Notably, some variation of the outsider figure, the character who doesn’t quite belong but yearns to do so, also appears in Alice Adams, Annie Oakley, Gunga Din, Shane, The Diary of Anne Frank, and the Greatest Story Ever Told. (It’s not too much of a stretch to claim that Christ might be the ultimate outsider.)

Oh man. We’ve made it this far, and I haven’t even discussed Shane in detail yet.   I suppose I’ll save the 28 pages of analysis for when I’m really trying to make a good impression. Nothing like sharing a glass of merlot while deconstructing the mise en scène of a film, right ladies? Still, Shane is one of my favorite films, so please indulge me for a few paragraphs as I expand upon it.

Shane movie poster, 1953

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The story centers around the home of Joe and Marian Starrett and their little boy Joey. Joe and Marian were married on July 4th, Stevens’s way of suggesting that there is something quintessentially American about the family.  They are homesteaders working diligently to maintain a small place of their own out in the wilderness.

Mostly, they are a self-reliant bunch, but they partner with other homesteaders to help preserve the common good.  That small community of homesteaders is threatened by Ryker, a rapacious rancher looking to expand his territory by any means necessary.  As fate would have it, that’s when Shane, a stranger, an outsider, comes to the Starrett home.

Shane is a former gunslinger with a mysterious past.  He was planning to stay at the Starrett home for just a short time, but then he comes to admire the family and realizes that they are in danger. Reluctantly, he takes up his gun again to defend them.

Marian doesn’t want her son exposed to guns, but Shane rebukes her by saying, ”A gun is a tool Mariam. No better or worse than any other tool, an axe, a shovel or anything.  A gun is as good or as bad as the man using it.”

World War II propaganda poster – Royal Typewriter Company

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There’s that sense of duty again. This time it’s to preserve a family’s way of life that Shane himself may never know.  He sees the inherent decency in the Starrett family and feels compelled to defend it, even though it might cost him his life.  That’s the iconic sensibilities of a soldier on display, ladies and gentlemen.

There are hints throughout the film that Shane and Marian are attracted to each other, but when the treacherous Ryker tries to buy his loyalty by offering him anything, even Joe Starrett’s wife, Shane gets angry. He doesn’t pause to consider.  He doesn’t waver in his response, calling the rancher a dirty old man.

That’s the kind of man Shane is.  He refuses to take what isn’t his, regardless of his feelings.

Throughout the film, George Stevens uses young Joey to help shade our perception of Shane.  We first see Shane when Joey spots him approaching the house.  At first, Joey is bewildered by the strange man, but then he comes to admire him.  ”I just love Shane,” he tells his mom.  ”He’s so good.”

Wherever Shane goes, Joey is not far behind, quietly observing him and making sure that Shane is still worthy of his admiration.  He stays enthusiastic about Shane until Shane fights his dad, and then his tone changes.  ”You hit him with your gun. I hate you,” he wails at Shane.

Shane production still, 1953

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The issue is not that Shane picked a fight with his dad but that he didn’t play fair, since the dad was unarmed.  Concluding that Shane could not possibly be good if he doesn’t play fair,  Joey is devastated. Only later does the poor little guy  realize that Shane hit his father to protect him, to prevent him from facing Ryker’s gunman.

Relieved, Joey rushes to catch up to Shane, and gets there just in time to help Shane stay alive.  When Joey watches Shane leave he does so both with admiration and sadness, acknowledging the departure of a good man.  Those of us in the audience who cherish the opportunity to see a truly good man in action share Joey’s sentiments.

You don’t need razzle-dazzle effects when you can get your performers to convey that kind of character.  There’s another moment in Shane that relates. It happens when one of the homesteaders is thinking about leaving town to avoid facing Ryker’s men.  Joe tells him he can go but then adds that he would be mighty disappointed if he left.  Hearing that the man stays, willing to put his life at risk so as not to lose the esteem of Joe Starrett.

That’s the kind of man Joe is, and when we watch Van Heflin deliver those lines in his quietly authoritative way, we believe he can have that kind of impact on others. There’s no way a director lacking in character would ever get that moment right.

World War II propaganda poster

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On to the Diary of Anne Frank. Yet again we see George Stevens’s interest in the nuances of domestic life and the pressures that come when different types of people share a confined space.

The fully realized set helps to convey the subtleties.   Seeing a photo of George Stevens on that set was supposedly what first got Spielberg to dream about becoming a director.

The film is beautifully shot and beautifully acted, and it features one of the first prolonged sequences of a Hanukkah celebration captured on film, but the film’s power comes from Anne Frank’s famous quote: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

Some critics complained that the film did not show what happens to Anne at the concentration camp and suggested that her statement and the limited perspective of the film is naive. They got it wrong. She says the line after she has a nightmare about a concentration camp, after hearing the sounds of gunfire at night.

That line shows up again in the film’s conclusion.  The movie ends with a shot of Anne’s father reading from her diary.  He survived the concentration camp.  Anne did not.

We hear her quote again, this time in voice over, and it brings him to tears.  ”She puts me to shame,” he cries. Then we see a shot of birds flying in the sky, similar to one that opens the film, as if to suggest that Anne found a way to fly above the fray, to transcend the cruelty that surrounded her.

Like Anne Frank, George Stevens saw the evils of war, but instead of getting tainted by what he saw, he grew stronger in his capacity to see the good around him. The Diary of Anne Frank is his victory anthem.

World War II propaganda poster – Alexander Liberman, 1943

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The Greatest Story Ever Told was the second to last film that George Stevens made.  I won’t go so far as to say that it is the best movie ever made.  Much of it feels like a snapshot of Sunday-school lessons rather than a fleshed out story.

It comes with the territory of approaching a subject  that is regarded with such reverence by so many people.  There’s enormous pressure to live up to other people’s expectations, and so it becomes very difficult to tell the story in a personal, dramatically inventive way.

Still, there are some exceptional bits.  The cinematography plays up the struggle between light and darkness, becoming almost a black and white film at times.

Just like in a Western, the good guys are in white and the bad guys in black. Christ and most of the townspeople are draped in white garments.  Only the religious leaders and the people in power wear black, providing more insight into how George Stevens sees the world.

The Lazarus resurrection sequence is stirring, but the moment that resonates most with me is when Sidney Poitier  emerges from the crowd to help Christ carry the cross.  It is as if Sidney Poitier is saying without words, “I too am an outsider.  I too have known sorrows. Let me help you.”

George Stevens’s sense of duty exposed him to the worse in mankind.  Not letting evil overcome him, he kept his films focused on things nobler than himself and the cruelties he witnessed, and he did so in a meticulous, larger-than-life way. That’s what made him a great director, one of the best.

I salute you, Mr. Stevens, and I do hope you’re up there making more pictures with Frank Capra.  If you see my dad, tell him I say hello.  You two share the same name.

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If you enjoyed this exploration of George Stevens’s films, you might also enjoy my posts on these filmmakers:

Frank Capra

Cameron Crowe

Pixar

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