Individual and Collective Fate

If you haven't seen The Reader, I highly suggest that you do. It is a movie that I think will go down as one of the best movies, at least, of this decade. Upon the second viewing, I agreed with my friend Joe that the actor David Kross gives one of the best performances I've seen that deal with the themes of the film. Stephen Daldry is amazing. I can't recommend it enough, and recommend that you really contemplate the reasons why Michael is so deeply affected by Hanna's treatment. It's my choice for best film.

Cheerio

I know that for the last couple of years I have been using this blog to, well, complain. I've often come here to complain about things that no one in their right mind would give an ear to. I've also used this forum to discuss literature, film, and art, but, let's face it, not as often as I've come here to rant and moan. So to make it up to you, and me, dear reader, I've planned to make the next few posts about some of the better experiences I've had in the past couple of months, and as soon as I have access to the hard drive with some pictures, some images to go along with.

I promise I'm not always an ungrateful wretch. In fact, just today I thought that my life has been a boon of blessings, and I can't imagine that I've ever done anything to deserve it.

Just on an evil sidenote, today in American Gothic we discussed the fabulous Hawthorne story "Roger Malvin's Burial," and guess what, I commented, "You know, it seems like Malvin has no problem with Bourne leaving him, but he doesn't respect that Bourne wants to stay -- Bourne should have stuck with his gut feeling that he should stay." And the instructor kind of blew me off, then went on to discuss that Bourne is actually suffering from a horrible guilt that Freud says results from committing an act that everyone tells you is okay, but that you have a personal issue with. Am I the only one that sees that I was pretty much alluding to this?

Happy post next time, I promise.

New Template

Time for a change. I also thought I would share this poem I came across in one of my notebooks. I don't know when I wrote it, but it's nestled between note on Gwendolyn Brooks' "The Mother":


I would not really
want to
rip your clothes from
your work-weary body
and climb aboard
like so many
disillusioned tourists
I would want to take
your tireless hands
and hold them to my lips
I would want to lay you down
on a divan with seven veils
I would want to
explore the map of your face
and understand the reasons
for obscurities
I would want to
feel your pulse
like the ancient auyervedics
procure the herbal physic
to ease the injury
that is why
it cannot be
you would end up
needing me

Audiences

I went to see Revolutionary Road last week. I found the movie fascinating, everything I thought it would be, and more. I want to see it again, simply for its complexity and beauty, but I also want to see it again at the theater, for the audience I watched it with was so appalling that I want to rid myself of their memory. Talking, rustling popcorn and candy, this audience wouldn't quit making noise for the entirety of this dialogue-focused film. To make matters worse, they laughed at the most inappropriate moments. When John, the supposedly mentally ill neighbor, fantastically played by Michael Shannon, is consistently violent and vengeful towards his mother, this audience laughs. When April Wheeler tells her husband that if he comes any closer to her she will scream, and then does scream, the audience laughs. When John says one of the most satisfying lines in the film, regarding his gratitude that he's not April's unborn child, the audience expresses it's horror at this statement, recoiling with astonishment that anyone could be so cruel.

I felt like I was watching this film with an audience of Helen Givings (John's mother), individuals who cannot bring themselves to deviate from social norms (violence toward mother good, violence toward fetus bad). I felt connected to my friend Joe, who has been irritated by the viewing population for some time now.

My annoyance doesn't stop there. I have oft complained about my classmates at Dominguez Hills, and an incident yesterday in my Studies in Composition class rekindled some of my old grievances.

This class is basically taught from the point of view of the high school instructor, offering ways to look at teaching secondary English. The class is mostly English majors, with perhaps a few liberal studies/philosophy majors thrown in. Right know we are studying the notion of using visual art, such as works of art on postcards, to teach composition. We are engaging in the process ourselves, as well as trying to understand why this approach may work well in the classroom, engaging students to think at deeper analytical levels, as well as inspire them to learn English syntax,as well as literary terms and concepts. Doing group work yesterday, we were asked to pull a couple of quotes from the assigned reading, and relate them to our personal experience. I offered one, which had to do with "seeing" as an activity requiring creative effort, and my group-mate offered a quote in which the author of the article related that the group of students she was teaching were adolescents who were already living with what we conceive as adult issues, like drug addiction and pregnancy, and that this activity seems to open them up to express themselves through writing. Determined to learn from group work, and not simply obey, I asked her what she thought the visual aspect of the exercised contributed to the students participation. She got incredibly defensive, and said that it makes them think deeper. I again asked her what it was about visual stimulation that appeals to students more than language alone, because it seems like you could assign a topic, like "write about an issue you are dealing with at home," and not get the same results. I knew there were a myriad ways to answer this question, and I was genuinely interested in her thoughts on the matter. Yet, somehow she didn't understand what I was saying, because she told me, point blank, "I disagree with you completely." At this point the instructor interrupted us and asked the class to share. Her hand went up immediately, and she proceeded to claim, "Well, we are having an argument in my group, because I liked this quote [she then went on to read the quote about the issues students are facing and how this exercise opened them up, which, incidentally, is in the second introductory paragraph of the eight-page article], because I want to teach inner-city kids and I think this project would help them, but one person in my group disagrees with this." I mutter that I didn't disagree with it, but really to no avail. Our instructor, then asked if we found anything else, and I went on to discuss the quote about seeing being a creative effort, and how my experience forced me to experience the art I examined, and search my experience for ideas that I had created as a reaction to it.

There were other, more political aspects of this conversation that I have left out, but it is very clear to me that asking questions, attempting to make people think, can be understood as an attack, or a disagreement. Maybe that is why the audience during Revolutionary Road tried so hard to make light of the more uncomfortable aspects of the film -- people often try hard to not have to think. One of the greatest moments in that film was when April begs Frank to leave her alone, so that she can think, she needs to think! I'd like to see it again soon, so that I can think, too.

As far as schoolmates go, if I can just stifle my ego and my sense of justice for a few moments, maybe I can make some real good out of the situation. For instance, if I really work on being clear, and perhaps less intimidating, I can actually accomplish my objective, which is to learn from other people's ideas. I still think rustling wrapper and chomping on popcorn is rude.