MUSIC: "Futura" by Battles

The album Gloss Drop by Battles has been out for several months now, but I just got around to listening to it, so give me a break. "Futura" is one of the best songs on the album - it hooks you right away and keeps you mesmerized for six minutes, after which you will want to hear it again.

MUSIC: "Swerve... the reeping of all that is worthwhile (Noir not withstanding)" by Shabazz Palaces

I've yet to listen to Black Up, the LP by Shabazz Palaces, but after listening to "Swerve..." I am really gonna have to make it a priority. This track just makes your ears feel good.

POETRY: "A Part of the Forest" by Tomas Transtromer

This is an example of what you might call a prose poem. Prose poetry is a very loosely defined area of poetry -- essentially it is a poem written in prose form instead of verse form. Well why isn't it just prose then? Good question. Supposedly there are some lingering poetic qualities that mark it as prose poetry, but all of the good prose I read has scores of poetic qualities.

So prose poetry is difficult to define, but that doesn't change the fact that "A Part of the Forest" by Tomas Transtromer is a beautiful piece of writing. I sincerely hope you know a part of a forest somewhere like the one described in this poem. I think it's something that everyone needs.



A Part of the Forest

On the way there a pair of frightened wings clattered up, that was all. There you walk alone. It's a high building completely made of narrow cracks. A building that is always swaying but never falls. The thousandfold sun slips in through the cracks. In the play of light an inverted law of gravity prevails: the house is anchored in the sky, and everything that falls falls upward. You can turn around there. You can mourn there. There you dare look at certain old truths that otherwise are always kept packed away. The parts I play deep within float up there, hang like dried skulls in the ancestors' hut on some remote Melanesian island. An atmosphere of childhood around the spooky trophies. It's so mild in the forest.

MOVIE TRAILER: Holy Shit This Is Awesome

Okay, that's not actually the name of the movie. It's actually called The Raid. Here is the official description:

Deep in the heart of Jakarta’s slums lies an impenetrable safe house for the world’s most dangerous killers and gangsters. Until now, the run-down apartment block has been considered untouchable to even the bravest of police. Cloaked under the cover of pre-dawn darkness and silence, an elite swat team is tasked with raiding the safe house in order to take down the notorious drug lord that runs it. But when a chance encounter with a spotter blows their cover and news of their assault reaches the drug lord, the building’s lights are cut and all the exits blocked. Stranded on the sixth floor with no way out, the unit must fight their way through the city’s worst to survive their mission. Starring Indonesian martial arts sensation Iko Uwais.

POETRY: Gods, Pt. II

More of my poems, these being from all different periods in my life...


Beauty

I dreamt of Beauty,
Shining bright,
She would fall and touch me,
And she would bring
Much-needed rest
And comfort when she loved me. 



Evanescent

As a kiss,
Given in spite of itself,
Given because that's what they do in the movies.
As a touch remembered,
From a time when touch was still unsure
And charged with significance.
As our conviction --
About what, I don't know. 



Untitled
After Langston Hughes

“What happens to a dream deferred?”
It does not die, not quickly at least,
It remains, sagging like rotten meat,
Reminding us of its existence
At every opportunity.
Its weight, its whispers --
Sometimes subtle, so subtle
That we could pretend we didn’t hear them,
That we didn’t feel a thing.

Sometimes not so subtle --
Our faces tense and twist and others see
The grinding at the center of our brains.
And we snap, and sneer, and do anything
But tell them of our dream deferred.
Some days we hate the dream for being born:
We retrace the steps from its conception,
We think terrible things about it.
It cries and screams for attention;
We wish it would mind its own business
Or else dry up and explode.

We couldn’t justify or explain why
Our dream was set aside.
Was it foolish? Inconvenient?
Not a one of us could say.
We don’t know why we gave it up,
We only know we’ll get to it someday
If they’ll just leave us be;
Do they think we enjoy the endless grinding
Of dream against reality?



Poetry

Your voice:
How do you speak to yourself?
How do you tell yourself who you are?
Poetry is your voice.

Speak soon, my friend:
The second song is always best.
My friend --
Speak soon.

MOVIE REVIEW: Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go is based on the 2005 novel by Kazuo Ishiguro. It tells the story of three young people -- Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy -- who grow up together at a boarding school called Hailsham House in the English countryside. They have no families, nor do they have any exposure to the outside world. They are clones, bred for a single purpose: to provide organs to extend the lives of the natural-born population. As a result, they themselves live haplessly short lives, few of them living past their mid-twenties.

While it has a decidedly sci-fi slant to its premise, Never Let Me Go functions as a character study as much as a dystopian cautionary tale. As adults, Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy are beautifully embodied by Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightley, and Andrew Garfield respectively. Each character is unique in the way in which they deal with their lot in life. And it is a great credit to the actors that each one is relatable.

Kathy, our protagonist, reminds us of ourselves in many ways: she makes the best of her life, even as she can't always make sense of it. We follow her through all stages of her life as she tries to learn herself and unfurl the mysteries of those around her, Ruth and Tommy in particular. Her problems, while they are undeniably fantastic compared to our own, and magnified due to the abbreviated nature of her life, resonate with us because we have felt all of the same feelings.

Ruth makes for a very interesting foil to Kathy. They have many of the same questions, and many of the same hopes and dreams, but they carry out their lives in very different ways. Ruth gives into that urge which we all have that pushes us to forsake others and only look after our own happiness. Much like the society in the story, which cares not for the organ "donors," Ruth decides early on that she must wrap herself in herself if she is to achieve happiness and avoid suffering, which in her case is the suffering that comes with being alone. That all-too-familiar fear of being alone is something that we all live with and must resist, as it tempts us to be ungrateful for the many good things in our lives and leads us down a path to disaster, as the film shows.

In my opinion, Keira Knightley gives the strongest performance in the film. Ruth is a far cry from her usual roles: we are used to rooting for Ms. Knightley, but Ruth is a far more polarizing character. Ms. Knightley brings to Ruth a convincing air of superiority that helps us understand why Kathy is envious of her, and she is equally effective in the scenes where Ruth's facade is dropped. In these moments, Ruth's desperation is truly unnerving. Additionally, Ruth's third "donation" is one of the most haunting scenes of the entire film. The way the doctors handle her and the other donors like livestock makes for some disturbing imagery, and makes us consider how cold we can be if permitted.

Tommy is an awkward but relentlessly cheerful young man who prides himself on being a good donor. But it is through his story that we most clearly perceive the movie's message about the importance of living life to the fullest. The movie deals openly with our ability to ignore injustice, and Tommy's character arc deals with the other side of that coin: our propensity to create hopes and believe hearsay if it will distract us from the meanness of our fate. However, when we distract ourselves from reality we blunt our ability to live the type of life that will truly make us happy. As he sees the end of his life rapidly approaching, Tommy is filled with emotion and screams out in agony. He finally unleashes his rage about his fate, and we can venture a guess that he is also railing against his own role in limiting the amount and quality of his time with those whom he loves.

The message of the movie is neatly embodied in its title. The film implores its audience to hold on to the things and the people they love in the limited time they have. The message is passed on through the performances, and subtly helped along by a sharp score from Academy Award winner Rachel Portman. Additionally, some of the cinematography (especially later in the film) is breathtaking, a fact which -- given that director Mark Romanek cut his teeth in the world of music videos -- is unsurprising but no less pleasant as a result.

All of our lives are precious, and all of our lives must end. To deny the beauty of another's life imperils one's own -- not in the literal sense, but in the more important sense that it removes from our lives so much richness and introduces indelible impurities that render them less worthy of being lived. We all have cowardly urges to try and enhance our lives at the expense of others. But to do so misses the point of life completely, and such attempts are ultimately doomed to fail. As Hailsham's headmistress tells Kathy and Tommy, "There are no deferrals. There never have been." Never Let Me Go is a film that poses the deepest of questions: How are we to spend the limited amount of time that is given to us? It is a film that attempts to show the preciousness, beauty, and ultimately the fragility of this human experience that we all share. And it succeeds. This is what makes it an exceptional film.

I give it a 9 out of 10.

MOVIE REVIEW: Hamlet (1990)

I have been enmeshed in Shakespeare's Hamlet for the better part of a month now, as my teacher and I are working through a unit on the play in our 12th grade English class. This makes about four times I have read the play, and one time I've seen it performed (that one time being when I watched a filmed stage production starring Kevin Kline). When one watches or reads a play that many times, faults that weren't initially apparent inevitably reveal themselves. All one can hope for is that in those multiple experiences with the play, the beauty of the its triumphs will grow exponentially and thereby overshadow its shortcomings. Hamlet is a play that accomplishes this, and so I don't hesitate to call it a magnificent work.

However, my experience with Franco Zeffirelli's 1990 film was much more limited until recently. I had seen clips of it, and I knew that it starred Mel Gibson, Glenn Close, and Helena Bonham Carter. But it wasn't until my teacher told me she was going to show it to our class that I decided to sit down and watch the entire film. In brief, I was disappointed.

Mel Gibson as the title character in Franco Zeffirelli's Hamlet

The main source of my disappointment is the casting of Mel Gibson as Hamlet. I feel Mel Gibson is a world-class actor. He is very competent in both comedy and drama: an achievement not many actors can claim. But in my humble opinion he is not the right actor to play Hamlet. His masculinity and Australian gruffness do not work in his favor. Those qualities make it very hard for me to accept him as a pensive, introspective royal with a tragic tendency to delay action. And while I think it's wonderful for actors to try new types of roles, the reality is if they do so, they must really disappear into the role. Mel Gibson does not disappear into Hamlet. In fact, it is one of his lesser performances. Until I saw him in this role, I didn't notice his trademark "heavy breathing occasionally interrupted by exasperated dry swallows" acting technique (but by the end of the movie, it was all I could think about every time he was on screen). Aside from a slight British accent, this is Mel Gibson, doing the movie star thing and playing himself.

Truthfully, he is very good in some scenes, most notably the climatic scene with Gertrude (set in her bedroom). But on the whole, I prefer a somewhat more effeminate actor for my Hamlet. And I prefer a more masculine actor for my Laertes. Nathaniel Parker plays the part in this version of the story, and he comes across as pretty unintimidating. One of the main purposes of the character of Laertes is to serve as a foil for Hamlet, and to demonstrate through his decisive action how pathetic Hamlet really is. When you take a pasty Brit with long hair and a high voice and you put him up against a bearded Mel Gibson, that dynamic is pretty much destroyed.

I was also annoyed by the way some of Hamlet's lines were moved around. Most notably, the "Get thee to a nunnery" lines have been divided into two distinct parts. In the film, Hamlet says part of it to Ophelia when they meet in the castle, and the remainder later on after the play. I can't really see why Zeffirelli does this; it serves only to irritate those who know the play well enough to detect the change. The "To be or not to be" soliloquy was also moved so that Hamlet gives it after the aforementioned meeting with Ophelia, as opposed to before. This change bothered me less than the others because I saw a certain logic to it: in the play the soliloquy comes before he realizes Ophelia has agreed to spy on him, whereas in the film it comes after. Having Hamlet contemplate suicide after he has been betrayed by everyone, including Ophelia, makes a certain amount of sense.

One thing Zeffirelli gets absolutely right is the casting of the supporting roles. It should come as no surprise to anyone who has seen any of her other performances that Helena Bonham Carter is great as Ophelia, particularly in the scenes after she has gone mad. Her performance in those scenes evokes a perfect mixture of creepiness and pity. Glenn Close is also very good in the part of Gertrude. I was especially delighted with the moment when she realizes she's been poisoned. You can see her face change as she goes through a series of shocking realizations: that she's been poisoned, that she wasn't poisoned by just anybody but by her husband, that he was also trying to poison her son, and that he was the one who had poisoned her first husband. It sound silly in writing, but it looks great on film. Alan Bates turns in a very capable performance as Claudius, particularly in the later scenes where Claudius and Laertes plot against Hamlet. He is super slimy and just evil -- the serpentine side of his character is on full display. I also have to single out Paul Scofield, who plays the ghost of King Hamlet, for special praise. He brings so many things to his few scenes: a palpable suffering, a deeply-felt sense of longing, a quiet rage, and a truly otherworldly aura. And thorough it all, he manages to be both frightening and sympathetic.

Helena Bonham Carter as Ophelia

Additionally, the sets and the costumes are extraordinarily beautiful. The movie just looks fantastic, and for a fan of the play it's a thrill to see the story brought to life like this. I honestly could not tell if they were on set or on location sometimes (Scotland and England stand in for Denmark, and I hope for the sake of the Danish people that their countryside is half as breathtaking).

But on the whole, the movie suffers from the abridgement and reduced running time. Characters don't have enough time to develop, and key subplots are dropped. When one reads the play, Hamlet's inaction is positively agonizing. But when the play is reduced by half its length, it doesn't have quite the same effect. His inaction is less pronounced, and his rashness is more apparent. His killing of Polonius and his appearance at Ophelia's funeral are much more upsetting here than the reading of the play because we don't know Hamlet's mind half as well. Some might welcome the chance to judge Hamlet purely by his actions, but I've always felt that the great strength of the play was the way in which the audience was able to explore the mind of the protagonist -- a mind more fully developed than those of most real persons we meet -- and then struggle with the task of passing judgment on him.

I would still recommend this movie to fans of the play, if only because of the costume and set design (both Oscar-nominated). But it is not a great adaptation of the play. I give it a 7 out of 10.

POETRY: Sonnet Showcase

The sonnet is one of the most popular forms of poetry, historically speaking. While it has fallen out of favor to a certain extent among contemporary poets, we still read the sonnets of the Italian and English Renaissances in schools and for pleasure. Oftentimes sonnets are grouped together in sequences, which may present the journey of a certain character or group of characters, or expound upon a given theme. The most famous sonnet sequence is Shakespeare's, which was published in 1609. However the popularity of the form means that we have sonnets from a very wide range of English poets, a few of which I have reproduced below.

There are two different types of sonnets represented here, but they all have a few things in common. First, sonnets are pretty much always written in iambic pentameter (five "feet," or pairs of syllables that take the form unstressed-stressed), and they almost always have fourteen lines.

But that's all pretty boring. The most interesting feature of the sonnet in my opinion is what is known as the turn. In sonnets that feature a turn, the opening lines introduce the topic or situation, and the speaker elaborates on it for several lines. However, about two-thirds of the way through (usually at line 9), there is a "turn," and the speaker breaks from the previous line of thought and introduces new ideas and/or a new point of view on the subject of the poem. At this point, a good sonneteer can often provide great insight into the topic at hand, and leave you with that feeling of wonder that good poetry instills in us.

So please enjoy these poems; three of my favorite sonnets.


"Bright Star" by John Keats (Shakespearian)*

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art --
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,*
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution* round Earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors --
No -- yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel forever its soft swell and fall,
Awake forever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still, to hear her tender-taken breath
And so live ever -- or else swoon to death.

* The Shakespearian sonnet uses the rhyme scheme abab cdcd efef gg.
* Eremite - a hermit
* ablution - ritualistic washing


"Since there's no help..." by Michael Drayton (from Idea; Shakespearian)

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part;
Nay I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now, at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling at his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.


"Death be not proud..." by John Donne (from Holy Sonnets; pseudo-Petrarchan)*

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy* or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than they stroke, why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death, thou shalt die.

* Donne did not always confine himself to a strict form; I am calling this "pseudo-Petrarchan" because he uses the rhyme scheme abba for the first octave, which is consistent with the Petrarchan form. I have never heard another name for it.
* poppy - opium

MUSIC REVIEW: Neighborhoods (Deluxe Edition) by Blink-182

You'd be hard-pressed to find someone in their 20s who hasn't heard of Blink-182. They had a string of hits in the 2000s that made them one of the most successful bands of the decade, right up until the announcement of their "indefinite hiatus." That is the point at which, for most people, they fell off the face of the Earth. However there remained a large contingent of fans who kept their fingers crossed hoping for the return of Blink and a new album. And there was a new generation of Blink fans reaching adolescence who had torn through Blink's back catalog and were ready for new material. So in early 2009 when the members of the band announced they were getting back together, there were a lot of excited fans, but even more questions. Could they recapture the popularity they had before their break-up? Could they create something that would satisfy new fans as well as old? What would the new album sound like? Now we have the album -- a brisk 36-minute disc called Neighborhoods -- and we have our answers. For all those distinct groups of fans who have been waiting eagerly and those former fans who may not even be aware of the album's existence, the answer is the same: Neighborhoods is a mediocre album. It is unlikely to win over many new Blink fans, and only a little more likely to satisfy their preexisting fanbase.

The album begins on a promising note with "Ghost On the Dance Floor" -- an uptempo track that leads off with a very short drum intro before we get to the guitars, which are classic Blink: cheerful but strangely wistful, transporting you back to your adolescence in suburban California (even though you didn't grow up there). New elements like synthesizers and a genuinely unexpected drum interlude let you know that you're listening to a Blink song in 2011, and not 1999.

After "Ghost On the Dance Floor," we get "Natives," a track which tries too hard and ends up feeling overly angst-y, before the album gets to "Up All Night" (the first single). As one listens to the chorus, it seems as if Blink are trying to touch on some more mature themes, such as the difficulties of maintaining a long-term relationship and the weight of the responsibilities of adulthood. And while there is a good song somewhere inside of "Up All Night," it is buried beneath verses of incomprehensible gibberish. (Sample line: "Everyone's cross to bears the crown they wear on endless holiday.")

Then we get one of the best two tracks on the album (the other being "Ghost On the Dance Floor"). "After Midnight" seems to be made from the same blueprint as the Blink hits of yore: a toe-tapping drum beat beneath singsong-y guitars, and lyrics that offer a promise of long-lasting love, even as they describe all the hallmarks of adolescent infatuation. It plays like a slightly more chilled-out "All the Small Things," and the band was very smart to make it their second single.

Next up is "Snake Charmer," a song whose rock-out guitars and sinister lyrics recall Tom Delonge's side project Box Car Racer. If it weren't for the depressingly Korn-ish outro, it would be a song worth recommending. (Mark Hoppus fans should check out "Fighting the Gravity," which sounds like a +44 track that was rightly left off their album.) After that is "Heart's All Gone," another uptempo song that doesn't fuck up too badly, nor does it impress in any way. Even as they wail away on their instruments and Mark Hoppus sings his heart out, Blink couldn't get much more than a "meh" out of me with this one.

"Wishing Well" is a sonically cheerful song that represents a welcome break from all the forced moroseness of the first half of the album, although it does have its fair share of emo gibberish ("I went to a wishing well / It sank to the ocean floor / Cut up by sharpened rocks / And washed up along the shore"). My advice is just to soak up the music and ignore the songwriting, especially since "Wishing Well" is the last enjoyable song on the album.

From here, the album changes gears and descends into paralyzing mediocrity. Tracks like "This Is Home" and "MH 4.18.2011" (which I'm guessing refers to the April 2011 issue of Men's Health magazine) are completely forgettable and will probably leave you wondering if Blink even knew what they were trying to accomplish when they made them. At some points in its second half, the album veers dangerously close to self-parody: "Love Is Dangerous" is literally just Tom DeLonge singing "Love is dangerous, love is so dangerous" over and over ad nauseam.

So what's the final verdict? Well, as one of those Blink fans who was devastated when the band originally broke up, this was an album I had wanted to hear for a long time. But by the time it came out, my excitement had somewhat lessened. And it lessened still more when I actually listened to the album. I guess in some ways I had moved on. And while Blink has learned a few new tricks since their last disc, ultimately Neighborhoods is dragged down by their teenage tendency to try to rip their hearts out of their chests on every song. It has the schizophrenia of a transitional album, which is fine if they can actually complete the transition on the next album. But the new Blink seems proud of their contradictory sound: the title Neighborhoods is meant to represent how each member of the band is a different neighborhood, though they all exist in the same city. Hopefully they can move into the same zip code on for their next album, and not just be happy with having a nice metaphor to explain their shortcomings.

Score: 2.5 out of 5

HOCKEY: NHL Predictions 2011-2012

The 2011-2012 NHL Season is upon us, and here are my predictions for the final standings. For teams that did not make the playoffs last year, I have included a short explanation of why I think they will make the cut this year. Likewise, for teams that were in the playoffs last year but that I have predicted will miss the cut this year, I have included an explanation of why I think that will be.

Eastern Conference

1. Capitals
2. Penguins
3. Sabres
4. Bruins
5. Rangers
6. Flyers
7. Lightning

8. Maple Leafs: They have a strong defense and I think James Reimer will be the answer in net. They went out and got some offense in the form of Matthew Lombardi, Tim Connolly, and John-Michael Liles. I expect Grabovski and Kulemin will repeat last year's success (both were right up against the 60-point mark).

9. Canadiens: The East is on the rise and somebody's going to be left behind. Admittedly the 7-10 spots in the East are very difficult to predict -- this pick is more of a reflection of my belief in the eight teams above than a disparagement of the Habs.

10. Islanders
11. Hurricanes
12. Devils
13. Jets
14. Panthers
15. Senators


Western Conference

1. Blackhawks
2. Kings
3. Canucks
4. Sharks
5. Red Wings
6. Ducks
7. Predators

8. Blue Jackets: They have shown flashes of brilliance the past two years, and I am betting that this is the year they will develop some consistency. Scott Arniel is finally going to be able to play the type of uptempo, offensive hockey he wants to. I think the new additions will excel, and I think Steve Mason will return to the form of his rookie year.

9. Blues
10. Flames
11. Avalanche
12. Wild
13. Oilers

14. Coyotes: They lost Bryzgalov, and their division includes two of the most improved teams in San Jose and Los Angeles. You know things are bad when they are expecting a breakout year from Kyle Turris.

15. Stars

POETRY: Gods

Here are some poems I've written recently...I hope you enjoy them:


The Skin On My Side

The skin on my side
Is soft like newborn flesh,
And quiet as the new snow,
Lost in the woods.

It feels the air move across it
Playfully, each atom touching down
For an instant, and then
Laughing away.

It feels the sun lay
Mothering hands upon it,
And wonders at her warm touch
As she smiles gently on.



The Gathering Storm

This music sounds like love;
Like the soft tide rising green to our necks,
And the yearning, which you expect will soon diminish;
It sounds like the unfurling of serenity,
And the black discord.

I hear our dread of what comes next,
As we turn our windblown faces to the future,
Your eyes lit despite the gathering storm. 



Carnival

Here I am, light and fun;
Does my hair look okay?
I don't trust your judgment --
I heard someone shout my name.
Did you make a decision yet?
I think I could get a thought,
Or a spot in a stranger's fantasy;
What am I offering?
A night like cotton candy.

THEATRE: August Wilson Interview

"I try to explore, in terms of the life I know best, those things which are common to all cultures." - August Wilson

When I was in college, we watched this interview with the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright August Wilson, after reading his play Gem of the Ocean. For those who don't know, Wilson wrote a cycle of ten plays set in the 20th Century, each one depicting the experience of African-Americans in a given decade. The most famous of these plays is Fences, which takes place in the 1950s.

Even if you're not familiar with August Wilson's work, this interview is still worth watching. Bill Moyers and he discuss a lot of interesting topics, particularly with regard to race in America.

Click here to watch the interview, which runs about half an hour. And if, when you finish, you find yourself wanting some more Moyers, I would also recommend his series of interviews with Joseph Campbell, the first of which is available here.

POETRY: "Candlebird" by Don Paterson

I do not read a great deal of contemporary poetry. This is not to say that it's not worth reading; in fact the more I read the more I find to like about it. But when you only have so much time to yourself, you tend to want to read the classics.

But I am glad that I was assigned Don Paterson's book of poetry The White Lie in college, because it is very good, and I really love this poem. The note on the title is the poet's own, the other note is mine. And all I know about Abbas Ibn Al-Ahnaf is that he was a poet, and that Mr. Patterson must have read some of his work.



Candlebird*
after Abbas Ibn Al-Ahnaf, c. 750

If, tonight, she scorns me for my song,
You may be sure of this: within the year
Another man will say this verse to her
And she will yield to him for its sad sweetness.

'"Then I am like the candlebird,"' he'll continue,
After explaining what a candlebird is,
'"Whose lifeless eyes see nothing and see all,
Lighting their small room with my burning tongue;

His shadow rears above hers on the wall
As hour by hour, I pass into the air."
Take my hand. Now tell me: flesh or tallow?*
Which I am tonight, I leave to you.'

So take my hand and tell me, flesh or tallow.
Which man I am tonight I leave to you.


*Generic name for several species of seabird, the flesh of which is so saturated in oil the whole bird can be threaded with a wick and burnt entire.

*tallow: the white nearly tasteless solid rendered fat of cattle and sheep used chiefly in soap, candles, and lubricants




I like how this poem speaks to the fickle nature of love and lust. It touches on a truth about love that we all learn as adults: that sometimes who you are or what you do is not as important as when you meet a given person. This can be discouraging and also frustrating, particularly to young men, who are more likely to be caught up in one-sided infatuation. And maybe it's just me, but I like how the "verse" in question (what we might call a pick-up line more colloquially), is just a tad sleazy. Again, it speaks to how if you catch a woman on the right night, you might just be able to get her into bed with a really sleazy line.

The speaker's imagined rival comes across as less genuine than he somehow, which I think is how all young men imagine their rivals. While the rival would use the same line on the same woman and it would work, it is the speaker who really means it and believes it. Of course, maybe he doesn't. After all, this whole imagined scenario ultimately adds up to a longer and more complex pick-up attempt in the last two lines. The only question is, is it done cynically or is the speaker so lovesick that he actually believes what he is saying? I tend to think it's the latter, because that is the best way to account for the melodrama of the poem.

MUSIC: New Order & Pet Shop Boys - Songs with "Disco" in the title

I listen to these bands a lot, and I suddenly felt compelled to share these two songs:

"Mr. Disco" by New Order



"Heart (Disco Mix)" by Pet Shop Boys

MOVIE REVIEW: Hobo with a Shotgun

So yesterday, I watched Hobo with a Shotgun.

If you're not familiar with this movie, I don't know if I can impress upon you how absurd it is. But if you can imagine the hyper-violence and grindhouse nostalgia of Tarantino, combined with the disorientation and paranoia of Terry Gilliam, topped off with just a dash of the wanton silliness and cult appeal of Napoleon Dynamite, you are on your way to getting a sense of what Hobo with a Shotgun has in store.

The clearest comparison is to Machete, another "intentional b-movie" that evolved from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez's Grindhouse project. However, I found Hobo to be much more enjoyable than Machete.

But the point is that this is a particular type of movie, and it's going to get drastically different reactions from different people. This is the type of movie where people are murdered with ice skates, and a pedophile dressed as Santa Claus roams the streets looking for victims. The world of Hobo with a Shotgun is a twisted version of our own -- a dystopia where there are no concepts of decency or right and wrong. This world is ruled over by a gangster named The Drake. Now it's never explained who The Drake is, or exactly how he came to power. All we know is that he's a big bully who rules through fear, and that's all we need to know to make it clear that the city is in need of a hero to stand up to him and his two sons, Slick and Ivan.

All of the performances in the film are actually quite good, but I have to say that Gregory Smith and Nick Bateman are especially good in the roles of Slick and Ivan. When your role is essentially to play a sociopathic version of Biff from Back to the Future (complete with Harrington jacket), you basically just have to bring a lot of enthusiasm and have fun with the part, which both Smith and Bateman do. Without giving away any of their crazy antics, I will say that they are unbelievably sadistic and completely irredeemable, and I enjoyed every minute that they were on screen.

But the movie is built in large part around its tone, which means it's really a director's movie, with the actors merely pitching in a bit to support the vision. Jason Eisener is a first-time director, and he acquits himself admirably. While the movie drags at parts and is ultimately overlong, I found myself unexpectedly refreshed by the way in which it rarely, if ever, winks at the audience or otherwise breaks the fourth wall. While Hobo is intentionally "bad," it never lets on that it's in on the joke. It plays as a glimpse into a bizarre parallel universe, and whatever laughs it earns derive from absurd characters being themselves.

And that's really the main question you need to ask yourself if you are considering seeing this film: Does this sound like a world you want a peek into? If you think it might be, I would recommend Hobo with a Shotgun. It lives up to the absurdity of its title and then some. I give it a 7.5 (out of 10).

MUSIC: Ricky Nelson

The music our parents listen to can't help but have an impact on us. We are exposed to it when we are young and impressionable, and, just as certain childhood memories remain fresh in our minds for our entire lives, so too does the music that we heard when we were young.

I have many memories of spending time at my family's country house in the Thimble Islands during the summers of my youth. And while my father was working around the house, he would often play the music of The Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, and Ricky Nelson.

While everyone has heard the songs of The Beach Boys and Elvis Presley, I get the impression that the music of Ricky Nelson is a little less known to Gen Y. So if this is your first time hearing these three songs, I hope you enjoy them. I find that they have an uncanny ability to transport the listener back to the time when they were recorded (these songs are all from the late '50s and early '60s, although Ricky Nelson was active as a musician into the '70s and '80s), much like the music of Elvis. However, the boyish quality of Ricky's vocals lends the songs an innocence and an earnestness that I don't find in most of Elvis' music. Some might call it saccharine, and I might agree with them, if I didn't enjoy it so much.

Poor Little Fool (1958) - Maybe the best-known of the three I've picked out.



Hello Mary Lou (1961) - This song always makes me smile.



Travelin' Man (1961) - Ricky somehow manages to make sleeping with random women around the world seem totally innocent.

MUSIC: "Clown Jesus" by Gods

Clown Jesus has arrived...and only one day late.

Clown Jesus by Gods 5:30

MUSIC: "Peein' in the Toilet" by Gods

New track by Gods (that's me). Expect a post containing all of my recent songs soon.

Peein in the Toilet by Gods 5:30

POETRY: "The Garden" by Andrew Marvell

What can I say about this poem except that I love it and I've read it so many times that I know it by heart. It seems as if every poet in history has written at least one poem about nature. But "The Garden" by Andrew Marvell is among the finest nature poems I've ever read.

I've marked some of the lines with asterisks, which you may follow to the notes at the end (they represent a combination of my own thoughts and a selection of notes from my own copy of the poem). I welcome comments, and I hope you enjoy the poem as much as I do.


The Garden

1

How vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,*
And their uncessant labors see
Crowned from some single herb or tree,
Whose short and narrow verged shade
Does prudently their toils upbraid,
While all flow'rs and all trees do close
To weave the garlands of repose.

2
Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence, thy sister dear!
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy companies of men.
Your sacred plants, if here below,
Only among the plants will grow.*
Society is all but rude,
To this delicious solitude

3
No white nor red was ever seen*
So am'rous as this lovely green.
Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,
Cut in these trees their mistress' name.
Little, alas, they know, or heed,
How far these beauties hers exceed!
Fair trees, wheres'e're your barks I wound,
No name shall but your own be found.

4
When we have run our passion's heat,
Love hither makes his best retreat.
The gods, that mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race.
Apollo hunted Daphne so,
Only that she might laurel grow.
And Pan did after Syrinx speed,
Not as a nymph, but for a reed.*

5
What wondrous life is this I lead!
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarene, and curious peach,
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.

6
Meanwhile, the mind, from pleasures less,
Withdraws into its happiness:*
The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find,*
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas,
Annihilating all that's made
To a green thought in a green shade.*

7
Here at the fountain's sliding foot,
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide:
There like a bird, it sits and sings,
Then whets, and combs its silver wings;
And, till prepared for longer flight,*
Waves in its plumes the various light.

8
Such was that happy garden-state,
While man there walked without a mate:*
After a place so pure, and sweet,
What other help could yet be meet!
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share
To wander solitary there:
Two paradises 'twere in one
To live in paradise alone.

9
How well the skillful gardener drew
Of flowers and herbs this dial new,
Where from above the milder sun
Does through a fragrant zodiac run;*
And, as it works, the industrious bee
Computes its time as well as we.
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
But reckoned but with herbs and flowers!


Notes:

the palm, the oak, or bays - awards for military, civic, or political achievement.

Your sacred plants, if here below / Only among the plants will grow - i.e., if there are symbols of Quiet and Innocence on this Earth, they must be among the plants.

No white nor red - symbols of a lady; I would say specifically of her makeup.

Apollo hunted Daphne so... Not as a nymph, but for a reed - the Greek god Apollo chased after the nymph Daphne in a fit of lust; she begged her father, a river god, to save her and he turned her into a laurel tree, which was thereafter sacred to Apollo. (Bernini's sculpture) Similarly, the god Pan pursued the nymph Syrinx, who turned into reeds, which Pan then made into his famous pipes.

Meanwhile, the mind, from pleasures less / Withdraws into its happiness - in other words, the mind withdraws from lesser pleasures and into itself. I believe the intent here is to contrast the largely flesh-based pleasures of the world of men with the more spiritual pleasures of nature and the mind.

The mind, that ocean where each kind / Does straight its own resemblance find - I see this as an allusion to Plato's Theory of Forms.

To a green thought in a green shade - possibly the most famous line of the poem. My copy of the poem notes that the thought is likely green because it is immature and unripe, and the shade is green because it is filtered through the leaves of trees. I like this interpretation; it speaks to how solitude and nature always seem to combine to create new thoughts we could not have had if we were without either one.

And, till prepared for longer flight - my copy of the poem suggests that "longer flight" may refer to the journey to the afterlife.

Such was that happy garden-state, / While man there walked without a mate - A reference to the Garden of Eden before the Fall. I see the poem as a celebration of nature, but with a clear longing for a return to a prelapsarian state. The title clearly alludes to the Garden of Eden as well.

Where from above the milder sun / Does through a fragrant zodiac run - i.e., the sun's rays are tempered by the aroma of flora that is in the air.

MUSIC: "Bumpin Bumpin" by Kreayshawn

You may know Kreayshawn from her hit (?) single "Gucci Gucci." Well here's another track from her that has a bit more of a mellow vibe. I for one think it's pretty great. Check it out below.

POETRY: "Good Morning Revolution" by Langston Hughes

Alright, here is my first post on the subject of poetry. I don't really have a plan for how to approach each poem; sometimes I might be inclined to provide background or commentary, sometimes not. I may even do a spoken version on occasion (click here for some poems I've recorded in the past). Personally, I feel this is a poem that is best discovered on its own terms.

I do want to say a little bit about Langston Hughes, however (not that I know a whole lot about him). For those of you who don't know, Langston Hughes was an African-American (technically he was a mixture of a few races, but he very much identified as black) poet and one of the foremost writers of the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and 30s. The lion's share of his writing reflects the black way of life at that time, including the language, the struggles, and the hopes of black people in the first half of the 20th century.

It is in that section of his oeuvre that we find this poem, which is both accessible and provocative.


Good Morning Revolution

Good morning, Revolution
       You're the very best friend
       I ever had.
We gonna pal around together from now on.
Say, listen, Revolution:
You know, the boss where I used to work,
The guy that gimme the air to cut down expenses,
He wrote a long letter to the papers about you:
Said you was a trouble maker, a alien-enemy,
In other words a son-of-a-bitch.
He called up the police
And told 'em to watch out for a guy
Named Revolution.

You see,
The boss knows you're my friend.
He sees us hangin' out together.
He knows we're hungry, and ragged,
And ain't got a damn thing in this world--
And are gonna do something about it.

The boss's got all he needs, certainly,
        Eats swell,
        Owns a lotta houses,
        Goes vacationin',
        Breaks strikes,
        Runs politics, bribes police,
        Pays off congress,
        And struts all over the earth--

But me, I ain't never had enough to eat.
Me, I ain't never been warm in winter.
Me, I ain't never known security--
All my life, been livin' hand to mouth,
        Hand to mouth.

Listen, Revolution,
         We're buddies, see--
         Together,
         We can take everything:
         Factories, arsenals, houses, ships,
         Railroads, forests, fields, orchards,
         Bus lines, telegraphs, radios,
         (Jesus! Raise hell with radios!)
         Steel mills, coal mines, oil wells, gas,
         All the tools of production,
         (Great day in the morning!)
         Everything--
         And turn 'em over to the people who work.
         Rule and run 'em for us people who work.

Boy! Them radios--
Broadcasting that very first morning to USSR:
Another member the International Soviet's done come
Greetings to the Socialist Soviet Republics
Hey you rising workers everywhere greetings--
         And we'll sign it: Germany
         Sign it: China
         Sign it: Africa
         Sign it: Poland
         Sign it: Italy
         Sign it: America
         Sign it with my one name: Worker
On that day when no one will be hungry, cold, oppressed,
Anywhere in the world again.

That's our job!

I been starvin' too long,
Ain't you?

Let's go, Revolution!

MOVIE REVIEW: Ridicule

The second French film I watched this weekend was Ridicule, which won the 1996 Best Film award at the Cesars (French Oscars). I don't mind saying right up front that I thought it was great.

The protagonist of the film is the Marquis de Malavoy, a nobleman from a rural area of France who comes to Versailles and lives at the court of Louis XVI. His purpose at court is to get funding for his plan to drain the swamps on his family's lands, which he learns will require the King's approval. See, de Malavoy is a good noble, and swamps have a tendency to breed disease, which is killing his peasants.

But the real meat of the film is its depiction of court life, which I found to be quite unique. While we get the standard dose of conspiracy and political maneuvering, Ridicule makes a point of emphasizing the shallowness, hypocrisy, and asininity that pervaded Versailles in the years leading up to the French Revolution.

In the film, these qualities are embodied by L'Abbe (Abbott) de Vilecourt and his lover, Madame de Blayac (a wealthy widow), expertly played by Bernard Giraudeau and Fanny Ardant, respectively. They have risen to the top of the heap at Versailles due primarily to their eloquence and wit, which, as de Malavoy learns, are essential if one seeks to curry favor with influential nobles and, ultimately, King Louis himself.

Upon his arrival at court, de Malavoy is taken in by de Bellegarde, an older nobleman who teaches him the ways of Versailles. Never laugh at your own jokes, he explains, and when you laugh at others' jokes, you must keep your mouth closed (after all, laughing with your mouth open is so vulgar). Failing to come up with a retort after a witty remark at your expense is the fast-track to court purgatory. Always be on the lookout for opportunities to demonstrate your wit ("l'esprit") with a few well-chosen jabs at the expense of your fellow nobles, and you can quickly become the talk of Versailles and ultimately gain the King's ear.

The performances in Ridicule are excellent, and the very best comes from Mr. Giraudeau as the Abbott. He manages to create something very unique with the character, something I can only describe as a well-rounded caricature. And, despite being the embodiment of all that was wrong with the French nobility in late 18th-century France, he manages to pull off being strangely likeable and even sympathetic at times. His best scene in the movie is without a doubt his sermon to the nobles (including King Louis) in which he puts forth his proof for the existence of God. He gives his sermon with an unusual amount of gusto and dripping with adoration for himself and -- as much as you will want to be disgusted by him -- you will have a big, goofy smile on your face as you watch.

The actors are helped along by the amazing costumes and sets in the film, which looks like it was actually filmed at Versailles (I haven't been able to confirm this). As the film progresses, and de Malavoy works his way into the most exclusive circles, his wardrobe becomes increasingly intricate and ostentatious.

If I were so inclined, I could use this as a jumping-off point to seriously criticize the film. For, even as it excoriates the excess and myopia of the court of Louis XVI, the film is so damn pretty and fun to watch that its underlying message of conscience and sobriety can sometimes get lost. This is most apparent at the ending of the film, which I won't spoil except to say that it is quite abrupt, and you can almost sense the filmmakers rushing to get back to that core message.

But even taking that into consideration, I give Ridicule an 8.5 (out of 10).

MOVIE REVIEW: Tell No One

I've been interested in French cinema since I studied French in grade school. At every level of my schooling, but particularly in high school, my teachers made a point of showing us French films. We watched classics such as Le Ballon Rouge, as well as more recent films such as La Reine Margot, Colonel Chabert, and Chocolat (not the Juliette Binoche/Johnny Depp movie, although I love that film).

French movies have an interesting sensibility. They don't always have the obvious "set 'em up and knock 'em down" feel of American films. They seem overall less concerned with what you think of them, sometimes to the point that American audiences might find them strange or argue that they are badly-made. In contrast, American films have a tendency to feel very polished (even the mediocre ones). You can tell you are watching something that a lot of people (i.e., producers, actors, director, studio) have a stake in.

The tendency of French films to be a bit more naturalistic allows me to lose myself in the story a bit more. This is complemented by the fact that I generally don't know any of the actors. Of course as I watch more French movies this will be the case less and less often, but even if I recognize certain actors (e.g. Gerard Depardieu, Vincent Perez) chances are they haven't been overexposed to the point that I know how many children they have, what religion they practice, etc. In this way, it's almost like seeing a play.

This weekend I watched two French films. The first one I'd like to discuss is Tell No One.

Tell No One is a thriller in the vein of State of Play or The Fugitive. It tells the story of a pediatrician named Alexandre Beck whose life is thrown into chaos eight years after the murder of his wife. When the police discover new evidence that implicates him in the murder, he launches his own investigation in order to clear his name and sort out what really happened on the night of his wife's death.

Full disclosure: I'm not a big fan of thrillers generally speaking. They usually feature characters fighting back against the system in some way and taking the law into their own hands, and those things don't really fit in with my worldview, which dictates that if the police want to frame you, you're fucked. That being said, I would say Tell No One is an above-average thriller. (I liked it about as much as the aforementioned State of Play.)

Some positives: Francois Cluzet, the actor who plays the main character, is actually quite good. He can seem a bit inexpressive at times, but that comes with the genre (the protagonist in a thriller is typically stuck in "determined" mode for 90% of the film). He makes the important moments work, though. There is a scene in the film when he is being questioned by the police about his relationship with his wife, and they keep insinuating that he beat her. I expect most people would agree that when you see someone wrongfully accused of something in a movie - especially something as heinous as spousal abuse - it creates a very intense and very specific type of tension. The tension builds until the police finally out-and-out ask Alexandre if he beat his wife. Reserved to this point, Cluzet snaps at them defiantly, unleashing all the tension of the scene. It was quite well-done, and one example of how Cluzet makes Alexandre a very sympathetic character.

Another actor that does an admirable job is Andre Dussolier as Alexandre's father-in-law. I single him out mainly because he has a scene where he has to give a lot of exposition and he does a good job with it. (This is another reason I generally dislike thrillers: you can always count on a few scenes of some guy explaining the important stuff that actually happened over here while the audience was busy watching the movie over there. It's like a magician explaining a trick to you immediately after he does it, except there typically isn't any skill involved in the execution of the trick.)

One of the big problems with the film is that we don't see enough of the relationship between Alexandre and his wife. While what happens to her is undeniably horrible, we never feel the impact of Alexandre's loss because we really only get one scene with them. As a result, early on, when the film dangles the prospect that Alexandre's wife may have survived the attempt on her life, it's hard to get emotionally invested in the possibility of a reunion.

Finally, I have to say that the requisite explanation ultimately didn't feel very satisfying. We get a lot about a place at which Alexandre's wife worked that we never see, and a whole lot more of a very minor character fucking everyone's lives up by being a pervert. While shady, manipulative characters are a given in the thriller genre, having everyone in the movie be so deeply affected by a minor character's inability to keep it in his pants eight years prior to the action of the film is kind of lame. It might be different if the film had something to say about this type of depraved person, but it really doesn't.

I read that they are producing an American remake of Tell No One. I will be very interested to see how much they change it, and if it's a success. Based on the original I'd have to say the most important thing is casting; if they get some star power behind it, it will be successful.

For now, I give this version of Tell No One a 7 (out of 10).

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