I was not sure when I first read this blog question, and I had to think about it for a while. I would think of a movie and then compare it to the complex simplicities that are No Country for Old Men and fear that I had fallen short. It is hard to think of a movie that mixes great content with great acting in a valid, let alone insightful visual presentation.
After much deliberation I settled on the 1999 movie American Beauty. The movie stars two veteran actors in Kevin Spacey and Annette Benning, and features fairly new to the scene and, at the time, fresh off American Pie fame, Mena Suvari, as the teenage temptress that lures Lester Burnham(Kevin Spacey) out of his great depression and into his midlife crisis.
I haven’t watched the movie in a while, so the details may be slightly fuzzy, but the basic plot is that Lester and Caroline Burnham (Benning) are miserable trapped inside their seemingly flawless suburbia bubble. Lester is middle-aged and becoming steadily more depressed at the path his life has gone down. His wife is equally miserable, which puts an unbearable strain on their marriage; while their teenage daughter, Jane, is counteracting her dad’s midlife crisis with her own teenage rebellion. Everything comes to a head when Lester lusts after one of Jane’s slutty friends, who as it turns out, is not so slutty, after all. Irony is oozing out of this dark satirical look on suburban life, and the twists and turns that the movie takes as it comes to a close are shocking, heartbreaking, and humorous. The film’s talented cast is matched by its powerful plot, and, while it is no No Country for Old Men, Lester’s character might have you thinking otherwise. Definitely a movie worthy of a closer look.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Introductions
This semester has had a huge impact on the person I hope to become. Having changed my major more than once (let’s just leave it at that), I am finally able to see clearly, at least translucently, the path that I want my future to take. In my previous majors, I have felt miserable in my classes, and I would look around and feel out of place. The students sitting all around me seemed truly excited by the topics of study, while I sat idly by waiting for my inspiration to hit.
I feel at home as an English education major. I look around me in my classes, and I’m comfortable. I no longer have to wait for inspiration strike, and I am surprising myself with how enveloped I’m becoming in my writing. This semester is the first time that I have written anything worth mentioning since my freshman year (my true freshman year), when I took the mandatory English composition classes. I have no intentions of writing the next great American novel any time soon, I like to think myself a realist, but perhaps something heartfelt that makes you laugh out loud- my own personal definition of the next great American novel!
While I enjoy the majority of my classes, there are some I could do without. The difference lies in the fact that even though I may not be thrilled by some of the topics of study in my classes, I am able to pinpoint what it is that I do not like from a critic’s point of view. I can look at my British literature class, for example, and say confidently that it is not exactly my cup of tea, and list reasons why. While I embrace the opportunity to learn of different cultures, as a rule, I have found that I do not care for the British authors. I was thrilled to read Jane Austen for the first time, yet I found myself highly disappointed. I just cannot get into any story in which the main goal is to raise a girl into someone a rich man will want to marry. I have never considered myself a feminist- I am aware that there are certain things that the male physique and mind frame are better suited for than mine- however, I feel that no man, woman, person should have to stifle his/her abilities in order to appease another human being. Being a female athlete made early British literature especially hard for me to grasp. The point is, I can look at the material in these classes and pick apart what I don’t like and flip the negatives around until they resemble positives.
Another aspect this class, in particular, has helped me to improve upon, is the way I read things. I am embarrassed to say that I had never even heard the term, “close reading” prior to this class, and so I was more than a bit skeptical, fearing the kind of reader I subconsciously already was. However, as it turned out, my original habits were not so far from the goal mark. I am now able look at the context of literary works from a more intellectual point of view, and that is something I pride myself on. Through various basic questions: What is the tone? Who is the speaker? What is the theme? Etc… I am able to turn an immature analysis into one of a skilled close reader.
This semester has also helped me realize my love of the English language. That is truly where my passion is. I always thought that it was a dorky thing to say that you love words, and I’m fairly sure that it still is, but I do. I love how you can manipulate language into anything you want it to be. You can string two contradictory ideas together into one fluid sentence, making connections and associations that can’t really be matched out loud.
I am now in a place where I can honestly say that I look forward to what the future holds. I’ve been so scared of the unknown before, never really feeling at home with any one idea; I had no clue how it was all going to turn out, or more accurately, when it was inevitably going to blow up in my face. I’m excited to continue my studies as a close reader, and manipulator of the English language, and even more excited at the idea of my future students, someday inheriting my passion. As an English education major, I have finally found my niche. This class has served me just as the title promised… as an introduction- the first step in a new direction. The warm-up is over, full-speed ahead.
I feel at home as an English education major. I look around me in my classes, and I’m comfortable. I no longer have to wait for inspiration strike, and I am surprising myself with how enveloped I’m becoming in my writing. This semester is the first time that I have written anything worth mentioning since my freshman year (my true freshman year), when I took the mandatory English composition classes. I have no intentions of writing the next great American novel any time soon, I like to think myself a realist, but perhaps something heartfelt that makes you laugh out loud- my own personal definition of the next great American novel!
While I enjoy the majority of my classes, there are some I could do without. The difference lies in the fact that even though I may not be thrilled by some of the topics of study in my classes, I am able to pinpoint what it is that I do not like from a critic’s point of view. I can look at my British literature class, for example, and say confidently that it is not exactly my cup of tea, and list reasons why. While I embrace the opportunity to learn of different cultures, as a rule, I have found that I do not care for the British authors. I was thrilled to read Jane Austen for the first time, yet I found myself highly disappointed. I just cannot get into any story in which the main goal is to raise a girl into someone a rich man will want to marry. I have never considered myself a feminist- I am aware that there are certain things that the male physique and mind frame are better suited for than mine- however, I feel that no man, woman, person should have to stifle his/her abilities in order to appease another human being. Being a female athlete made early British literature especially hard for me to grasp. The point is, I can look at the material in these classes and pick apart what I don’t like and flip the negatives around until they resemble positives.
Another aspect this class, in particular, has helped me to improve upon, is the way I read things. I am embarrassed to say that I had never even heard the term, “close reading” prior to this class, and so I was more than a bit skeptical, fearing the kind of reader I subconsciously already was. However, as it turned out, my original habits were not so far from the goal mark. I am now able look at the context of literary works from a more intellectual point of view, and that is something I pride myself on. Through various basic questions: What is the tone? Who is the speaker? What is the theme? Etc… I am able to turn an immature analysis into one of a skilled close reader.
This semester has also helped me realize my love of the English language. That is truly where my passion is. I always thought that it was a dorky thing to say that you love words, and I’m fairly sure that it still is, but I do. I love how you can manipulate language into anything you want it to be. You can string two contradictory ideas together into one fluid sentence, making connections and associations that can’t really be matched out loud.
I am now in a place where I can honestly say that I look forward to what the future holds. I’ve been so scared of the unknown before, never really feeling at home with any one idea; I had no clue how it was all going to turn out, or more accurately, when it was inevitably going to blow up in my face. I’m excited to continue my studies as a close reader, and manipulator of the English language, and even more excited at the idea of my future students, someday inheriting my passion. As an English education major, I have finally found my niche. This class has served me just as the title promised… as an introduction- the first step in a new direction. The warm-up is over, full-speed ahead.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Geography III
In the collection of poems in Geography III, Elizabeth Bishop employs simple language to paint vivid pictures of landscapes. Whether we’re sitting on the edge of “miserable, small volcanoes,” in “Crusoe in England”, or reading (she could read) through a National Geographic at a dentist’s office in “In the Waiting Room,” we are drawn to the setting, or geography, of Bishop’s choice. There’s “Poem”, where the picture she creates with her fluid strokes of language is that of an actual painting. She takes the reader on round-trip journeys, following giant dog-prints (or lion prints) along a frigid shoreline in “The End of March,” and then she leads us on incomplete journeys, such as her bus trip that is suddenly interrupted by, “The Moose”, “curious creatures.” Bishop even manages to brush over the landscape of the heart in “One Art”, where she attempts to convince the reader that “the art of losing isn’t hard to master.”, until she gets to, “you (the joking voice, a gesture I love),” and it becomes clear it is not only the reader she is trying to convince. Just as a map can convey the entire world in one sliver of paper, so too, does Geography III encompass vast emotional and physical terrain.
In reading poetry, I am often left scratching my head at the great contradiction to its actual translation versus my own interpretation; hence, as a rule, poetry and I aren’t on the best of terms. That being said, I must admit that I did not find Elizabeth Bishop at all unbearable to read. I didn’t have to drudge through an other-worldly vernacular with a dictionary in tow as I often do with poetry- in my opinion a foreign enough word in itself! Instead, I found myself appreciating, and even, at times, enjoying Bishop’s use of plain language and her uncanny ability to make simple things appear grand. My favorite piece of the collection is “One Art”. I love the trivial voice of the heartbroken narrator. I would venture to say that the method of denial in coping with loss is not at all foreign to most people, and I am no exception to that rule. In my opinion, Elizabeth Bishop captures it perfectly here. Having endured losing the two greatest things a child can lose-her parents- I’m sure Bishop is all too familiar with just how much loss can resemble disaster.
In reading poetry, I am often left scratching my head at the great contradiction to its actual translation versus my own interpretation; hence, as a rule, poetry and I aren’t on the best of terms. That being said, I must admit that I did not find Elizabeth Bishop at all unbearable to read. I didn’t have to drudge through an other-worldly vernacular with a dictionary in tow as I often do with poetry- in my opinion a foreign enough word in itself! Instead, I found myself appreciating, and even, at times, enjoying Bishop’s use of plain language and her uncanny ability to make simple things appear grand. My favorite piece of the collection is “One Art”. I love the trivial voice of the heartbroken narrator. I would venture to say that the method of denial in coping with loss is not at all foreign to most people, and I am no exception to that rule. In my opinion, Elizabeth Bishop captures it perfectly here. Having endured losing the two greatest things a child can lose-her parents- I’m sure Bishop is all too familiar with just how much loss can resemble disaster.
Monday, February 23, 2009
King Lear
Shakespeare surprised me with this play. As a person who doesn’t cry in movies and generally only enjoys books with happy endings, you can imagine my mouth wasn’t exactly watering to sample this tragedy by Shakespeare. While King Lear definitely represents a tragedy in every sense of the word, and it certainly did not by any means leave me feeling warm and fuzzy as I read over the last lines, I did find myself content with the ending, and despite my original skepticism, I must say that I am, in fact, a fan of the play.
As far as Coppelia Kahn’s argument that King Lear’s transformation revolves around his increasing understanding of his inner woman, I am not certain I can completely agree with that. Sure, it is not manly to cry. Even in today’s society, though open displays of emotion are more acceptable and welcome, the dogma still exists that men are to be strong and tears are a sign of weakness. But, can you really say that Lear’s entire transition from a hard, short-tempered man who is incapable of feeling love and measures this powerful emotion by how eloquently one can profess it, to a man whose survival rests on his ability to receive and reciprocate the undying love of his one loyal daughter, comes from him being more “womanly”? There is no question that Lear shows more emotion towards the end of the play than we ever would have expected based on the harsh character we are introduced to in its opening scenes, but how can it be determined that his wise moments are solely to the credit of his becoming more feminine, as though both genders are not capable of remorse for wrongdoing? (Though this sentiment might provide the backbone of bitter women support groups everywhere.)
While Kahn’s focus is on the absence of a maternal role throughout the play, a reader cannot ignore the significance of the women that are present, as one will find the female characters serving as both Lear’s downfall and his saving grace. His decision to relinquish his power to his two daughters that are able to articulate expressions of love that don’t exist, and to shun the one who loves him so dearly that she cannot find the words that will suffice is the beginning of the end of Lear’s reign as a dominant, revered leader. This decision is the epitome of his emotional ignorance, but serves as the guiding force behind his emotional education, as well. As Goneril and Regan feign love and proceed on their path of deceit that drives their father to insanity, Cordelia’s reappearance in her father’s darkest hour serves as the gesture that allows him to feel and understand true love for the first time, and proves just enough to make a madman sane.
I agree that King Lear’s transformation in this play does find him expressing previously repressed emotions, and finds a once infallible king of great stature now willing to kneel in repentance for his sins; however I also feel that this transformation is a universal one, not one based on gender. I don’t concede that King Lear begins this play a man and ends it a woman; I believe that the better analogy pertains to the recurring theme of the “fool” throughout the play. Initially, Lear is the old fool that his evil daughters, Goneril and Regan, portray him to be, but by the end of the play, King Lear has acquired the wisdom to merit the white hairs in his beard.
As far as Coppelia Kahn’s argument that King Lear’s transformation revolves around his increasing understanding of his inner woman, I am not certain I can completely agree with that. Sure, it is not manly to cry. Even in today’s society, though open displays of emotion are more acceptable and welcome, the dogma still exists that men are to be strong and tears are a sign of weakness. But, can you really say that Lear’s entire transition from a hard, short-tempered man who is incapable of feeling love and measures this powerful emotion by how eloquently one can profess it, to a man whose survival rests on his ability to receive and reciprocate the undying love of his one loyal daughter, comes from him being more “womanly”? There is no question that Lear shows more emotion towards the end of the play than we ever would have expected based on the harsh character we are introduced to in its opening scenes, but how can it be determined that his wise moments are solely to the credit of his becoming more feminine, as though both genders are not capable of remorse for wrongdoing? (Though this sentiment might provide the backbone of bitter women support groups everywhere.)
While Kahn’s focus is on the absence of a maternal role throughout the play, a reader cannot ignore the significance of the women that are present, as one will find the female characters serving as both Lear’s downfall and his saving grace. His decision to relinquish his power to his two daughters that are able to articulate expressions of love that don’t exist, and to shun the one who loves him so dearly that she cannot find the words that will suffice is the beginning of the end of Lear’s reign as a dominant, revered leader. This decision is the epitome of his emotional ignorance, but serves as the guiding force behind his emotional education, as well. As Goneril and Regan feign love and proceed on their path of deceit that drives their father to insanity, Cordelia’s reappearance in her father’s darkest hour serves as the gesture that allows him to feel and understand true love for the first time, and proves just enough to make a madman sane.
I agree that King Lear’s transformation in this play does find him expressing previously repressed emotions, and finds a once infallible king of great stature now willing to kneel in repentance for his sins; however I also feel that this transformation is a universal one, not one based on gender. I don’t concede that King Lear begins this play a man and ends it a woman; I believe that the better analogy pertains to the recurring theme of the “fool” throughout the play. Initially, Lear is the old fool that his evil daughters, Goneril and Regan, portray him to be, but by the end of the play, King Lear has acquired the wisdom to merit the white hairs in his beard.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Persepolis
Persepolis is a passionate, emotion-driven and evoking book. Marji takes the reader on a rollercoaster of feelings from sympathy, to anger, to pride, yet she somehow manages to pepper the very serious themes of her story with her never failing sense of humor. “Politics and sentiment don’t mix,” is an ironic statement coming from Marji’s father, when the premise of the book revolves around the various climates of emotion the Satrapi family perseveres through, as their country is in a state of incessant political turmoil. While it may be an ideal thought of the political realm that policies and feelings do not overlap, in reality it is just that, a thought. Politicians are people, and people are driven by their beliefs; thus, political actions reflect personalities.
The politics presented in Persepolis are especially interlocked with emotion because they often attack personal liberties. The Iranian women are forced to wear scarves to cover their hair, which is believed to release fragrances, enticing sexual urges too overwhelming for men to resist. One way Marji’s intense inclination toward rebellion is displayed is in her refusal to wear her scarf properly. She is often shown with her scarf pushed back on her head, allowing some loose hairs come through in the front, a practice that earned her the label of “whore” on many occasions. Her mother and grandmother similarly display their distaste for this law, as they begrudgingly wear their scarves in public, often incorrectly, and instantly rip them off as they return to the privacy of their home.
Another way that the Iranian government and “Guardians of the Revolution” attempt to 'roboticize' their women is by monitoring the way they dress. Anything reminiscent of western culture is perceived as “decadence”. These laws especially spark a fire inside of Marji. A fire which her parents let burn, and sometimes, add fuel to. They purchase such decadent illegal items for Marji when they go to Turkey and craftily manage to smuggle them back through Iranian customs. Marji’s parents also ignite her passion for justice by insisting that she educate herself as much as possible on the facts of her country, and warning her not to accept the swayed word of her teachers as truth. Marji often speaks out in class questioning the teachers’ contradicting lessons, another practice that does not add to her popularity among authority figures.
Also creating an indefinable line between politics and sentiment is the fact that the Satrapi family lineage is comprised of a long line of political activists, whose vigorous pursuit for what they believed in often resulted in persecution. Members and friends of the family, alike, willingly risked their lives for the fight against political injustices, and oftentimes, that was exactly the cost. To say that politics and sentiment do not coincide would be to belittle the fight which these men so strongly believed in, and, in turn, detract from the value of their lives.
The politics presented in Persepolis are especially interlocked with emotion because they often attack personal liberties. The Iranian women are forced to wear scarves to cover their hair, which is believed to release fragrances, enticing sexual urges too overwhelming for men to resist. One way Marji’s intense inclination toward rebellion is displayed is in her refusal to wear her scarf properly. She is often shown with her scarf pushed back on her head, allowing some loose hairs come through in the front, a practice that earned her the label of “whore” on many occasions. Her mother and grandmother similarly display their distaste for this law, as they begrudgingly wear their scarves in public, often incorrectly, and instantly rip them off as they return to the privacy of their home.
Another way that the Iranian government and “Guardians of the Revolution” attempt to 'roboticize' their women is by monitoring the way they dress. Anything reminiscent of western culture is perceived as “decadence”. These laws especially spark a fire inside of Marji. A fire which her parents let burn, and sometimes, add fuel to. They purchase such decadent illegal items for Marji when they go to Turkey and craftily manage to smuggle them back through Iranian customs. Marji’s parents also ignite her passion for justice by insisting that she educate herself as much as possible on the facts of her country, and warning her not to accept the swayed word of her teachers as truth. Marji often speaks out in class questioning the teachers’ contradicting lessons, another practice that does not add to her popularity among authority figures.
Also creating an indefinable line between politics and sentiment is the fact that the Satrapi family lineage is comprised of a long line of political activists, whose vigorous pursuit for what they believed in often resulted in persecution. Members and friends of the family, alike, willingly risked their lives for the fight against political injustices, and oftentimes, that was exactly the cost. To say that politics and sentiment do not coincide would be to belittle the fight which these men so strongly believed in, and, in turn, detract from the value of their lives.
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