Breakfast with Pandora

Virtual tour of ancient Rome

From my friend Jill, a fun video that shows what Rome may have looked like in AD 320. Enjoy best on full screen. 

Rome Reborn 2.2: A Tour of Ancient Rome in 320 CE from Bernard Frischer on Vimeo.

Netflix Follies: "The Third Man" and "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill"

Netflix, ye giveth and ye taketh away.

Last night we were wracking our brains trying to figure out something that everyone, including stepson, could watch on Netflix instant streaming. Nothing was working. We finally settled on "The Man with One Red Shoe," an eighties remake of "The Tall Blonde Man with One Black Shoe," but stepson went on strike and retreated to his room.

He was right. "Red Shoe," an early Tom Hanks vehicle, didn't take us anywhere, and we stopped watching after about an hour.

Photo from here. Click and see a bunch of other similar photos. Enjoy!

I am happy to report, however, that two other movies I watched by myself this week were much finer fare: "The Third Man" and "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill."

These movies resemble each other not at all: "The Third Man" is a British film noir based in post-World War II Vienna, starring Joseph Cotten, Orson Welles, and the excellent Trevor Howard. I won't give anything away about the plot, just that an American investigates the death of his best friend, and suspense ensues. It is a great story written by novelist Graham Greene, and an absolutely breathtaking piece of art, a window to a lost world. I forget how charismatic Orson Welles was-- even in the first shot we see of him halfway through the film, he's riveting.

Everyone in "Third Man" turns in a terrific performance, including the people of Vienna, many of whom are used in speaking parts and as extras in the movie. The city itself, devastated as it was by the war, also stars as a character brought to life by the eccentric, vivid cinematography that revels in the city's shadows, textures, and crazy geometry.

Loved that there is plenty of German in the film with no subtitles. It allowed me to test my understanding of the language and feel as if I had been transported to a different place. Don't worry: all the essentials are in English.

See it.

"The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill" is on the other side of the spectrum. It is a documentary about a flock of South American parrots-- origins not exactly known-- that lives in San Francisco and forages for food on the slopes of the famous hill that is also home to the iconic Coit Tower.

"Parrots" stars a number of birds that will steal your heart, as well as Mark Bittner, the school-of-hard-knocks caretaker of the birds who steals the heart of-- well, you should watch the movie to find out.

It is stepdaughter's firm statement that she likes pictures of birds better than actual birds, but "Parrots" may be the best of both worlds. The film lavishes its attention on close-ups of these gorgeous and very charming "cherry-crowned conures," neon red and green cuties described with loving gentleness by Bittner.

If you've never been to San Francisco or Telegraph Hill, you might be surprised to see the lush, jungle-like environment within San Francisco's concrete confines that the birds inhabit and where Bittner lives like some solo ornithologist in the trackless Amazon. The area is very small, however, as the filmmaker, Judy Irving, attempts to show with numerous shots of helicopter flybys. Still, when you are with Bittner feeding the birds, it seems as if the place is a world away.

A lovely film that will lower your blood pressure, unlike "The Third Man."

Movie still from here.

Red Tails and heroism

Apparently it is not politically correct or film-savvy to like "Red Tails," the latest film about the barrier-busting World War II African-American fighter pilots who came from Tuskeegee Institute in Alabama and proved to the world that "courage has no color."

"Red Tails" is not going to be a critic's darling. It is a Hollywood movie that hearkens back to a day when war films did not show soldiers getting blown to bits. It pays homage to a period of history and a certain group of men. It is deliberately a history lesson, and yet it is also an action film.

Movie poster found here.

So there will be a lot of folk who blame it for not being what they want it to be.

But all that doesn't really matter. What matters (at least to me) is that stepson, who is 13, an airplane technology expert, and as cynical and world-weary about movies as a person his age can be, gave it two thumbs up.

Stepson was not interested in the metacontext of the film or the Black History Month themes (though he has decided to do his report for the month on one of the Airmen in the film, Ray "Ray Gun" Gannon). He thought that the flying and the fight scenes were mostly believable and exciting. He liked the story and the dilemmas it presented.

He even gave an analysis of the heroism of the story that made me sit up and listen.

There are two main characters in the story, "Lightning" (Joe Little, played by David Oweloyo) and "Easy" (Marty Julian, played by Nate Parker). "Lightning" is the risk-taker, the one who breaks all the rules, the daredevil, the glory-seeker. "Easy" is the calm, responsible flight leader, who internalizes all his anger and ambivalence and feels he cannot live up to his father's expectations.

Over dinner, the family discussed whom we thought was more heroic. I said that "Lightning" was the hero. He was the one that made the big splash. He had a romance with a beautiful Italian woman. He was the most proficient fighter, he got the most glory.

This is the Greek view of a hero, the view of the heroes of the "Iliad." The ones who are the most outstanding, the most bigger than life, are given the fame and remembered. Achilles falls into this category.

But stepson was having none of it. "Easy is more heroic than Lightning," he said. "He looked out for his men. He was the one who made sure the wounded pilots got home safely."

For this young man, a hero is the person who serves others and not himself. In other words, a role model.

 "Red Tails" is an unqualified success, therefore, in at least one household in America.

Me? I liked all the characters and hated having to wait to see if they would all survive. I understand all the critics' criticisms, about shallowness and broad brush strokes. But it didn't stop me from leaving the film with wet cheeks.

Is it good art? I'll leave that to the critics. Is it good myth? Go see it, and judge for yourself.

Holmes again

I wasn't going to see the new Sherlock Holmes (2: a Game of Shadows) film. I hadn't seen #1 and I'd read this review of #2 by the San Francisco Chronicle's Mick LaSalle. LaSalle gave it an "empty chair," which is reserved for nucular bombs like "Gigli."

The real creator of Sherlock Holmes found here.

But I have a stepson currently in the 7th grade.

So it was a family togetherness thing.

First, we rented #1 so stepson could get reacquainted with Sherlock (he'd seen it a couple of times before) and so the beloved and I could brace ourselves.

It was fine. Yes, someone took a hatchet to the original Holmes and put him back together in a Frankenstein's monster type of way. Instead of cerebral and spooky, you get campy, ninja, steampunk lite. But that's par for the course in the 21st century. And it was entertaining, in a goofy sort of way. 

So, I thought, how much worse can the second one be? What so got under Mr. LaSalle's skin?

#2, as far as I could tell, was nearly identical to #1. Same Holmes, played by Robert Downey Jr. as a seriously bent genius whose brain-activity needle is always pinned against the red zone, and who can plan out all the moves of his ninjatastic street fights before they even unfold. Same Watson, a good role for Jude Law, as the eye-rolling sidekick who enables Holmes' crackpot scientific experiments and hair-raising dances with death.

The villain in #2, Professor Moriarty, is a real stinker played by Jared Harris. Of course, in #1 we had a real stinker in Lord Blackwood, played by Mark Strong, the resurrecting phantom of the gallows.

In #1, we had a fairly incoherent plot that you just have to go with to enjoy. Same with #2, except that I thought it was less incoherent, maybe because I was trying to pay attention to make sure Mr. LaSalle's review didn't overly influence me. 

In fact, I thought #2's plot was clever. There were gadgets and twists that made me admire the writers in their quest to give something to moviegoers that would keep their interest. I'm not going to give any of them away, but if you want to talk about them in the comments, fire away. 

I personally didn't see what was coming. I couldn't guess. Which is uncommon in Hollywood nowadays.

So after I got out of the movie, I began to think, "This has to be a collaboration. There's no way one person can come up with so many different creative ideas."

I was right. Michele and Kieran Mulroney partner on this screenplay. And it underlines the genius of the original author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in coming up with such an original character as Holmes.

It's something I think about with my own writing. I have had friends-- people who are biased-- say about a chapter from one of my novels, "How did you ever think that idea up?" I'm pleased they think I'm imaginative. But I don't think I could ever write anything alone that is as plot-driven and yet surprising as "Game of Shadows."

Right now I have two novel drafts finished. One is being submitted, and the other is just barely drafted. Neither of the endings are even close to perfect. But I can't think of better. That's sometimes the problem with writing in the partnership of me, myself and I.

I once had a writing buddy. He is a good man. We collaborated on a novel in high school. It was dreadful, of course. It was science fiction. We went on to college and roomed together our first year. I thought we'd continue to work together. But he didn't want to. He told me so, in no uncertain terms.

So we will never know what could have been--unless...?

"Game of Shadows" is fine. It is sort of loud. There are lots of explosions. Lots of fistfights. Lots of chases. Lots of frozen screen tableaux, for which director Guy Ritchie is famous. There's still a fair amount of deducing as well (stepson disagrees-- so does Mick). And campy ninja steampunk-lite stuff. But it isn't an "empty chair" movie. You can't always trust movie critics.

Janus! Nice to see you again (and again)

I try to keep the navel gazing to a minimum here at BwP, but it is the end of the year, we are facing both sides of Janus, god of transitions, and a bit of self-reflection is in order.

I liked 2011. 2011 took a long time to be over and was challenging, which to me is a good year. As I get older, I want time to go slower, not faster.

Image found here.

When I was younger I couldn't wait till summer and the leisure that summer brings. Nowadays I am savoring every day, regardless of the activity (or lack thereof).  

I learned in 2011 that I value BwP and want to keep at it, even if infrequently. This year I only did 37 posts, including this one, but I enjoyed writing every one, and I hope each of them was a good read. (37 is in fact an increase from 28 in 2010).

In the first years of BwP my focus was on Greek mythology, and most search engine queries still concern that topic. I am most frequently visited during the school year, when students are taking Greek myth courses in college. 

But much of what I want to say about Greek Mythology is up. My focus in recent years and going forward has been on contemporary good stories, Hollywood and otherwise.

I would like 2012 to be a year for BwP where

• I write 50 posts or more. A post a week on average. Not too much geekifying on deep subjects, not too little



• I continue movie reviews, following mainstream Hollywood as best I can, searching for clues about what makes America tick, and what our future holds (stay tuned for Sherlock Holmes post)



• self-published books continue to get attention. I have decided not to do reviews except for those books I like, or at least books that someone will like. Life's too short to devote space to something you don't want someone to read. Note: I am very open to authors sending me books to review-- if I don't like the book, I'll tell you why in an email.



• I post on Greek Mythology as I am led.



• at least one food post gets done. Food is good.



• I keep up the dialogue about the business and craft of writing, and report on (fingers crossed) my publication success

BwP will serve as my brand name when and if I publish or sell my novels. One, Healing Knowledge, is in the query process with agents and publishers. Longtime readers will remember I posted several chapters of that a long time ago. Another, Skater in a Strange Land, currently has 12 chapters posted online. I just finished my first draft and have high hopes for it. Read a bit and see what you think.

Sometime in March 2012 I'll publish my 6th anniversary post. If you've read me from the beginning, why, thank you very much. If this is your first time having a spot of breakfast with the young lady from Greece, welcome. And however frequently you spend time here, I hope you are getting a diet rich in mythos and logos.

 

Tintin take

It's a sign of the times when a family goes to an eye-popping, spectacular, exquisitely animated computer-generated animated feature film and the composite score (out of 10) is a smidge north of a 6.

That was Tintin's fate tonight, premiere night, when my particular group of relational units went to see the newest Spielberg project.

Movie poster from here.

To be fair, there were only 2 true Tintin fans in the focus group, my son and I. Bedtimes were our favorite time to read all the classic graphic novels by Herge, the Belgian genius storyteller. We also watched all the animated TV shows that were out there on VHS tape back in the day. I first saw one of those way way back in the seventies, and for me, it was the greatest thing ever, the books brought to life.

The movie was a careful tribute to the original books, including references and Easter eggs throughout.

Yet for all that, I couldn't give it more than a 7. There was something tiresome about the whole thing. I have read the books so many times there was no suspense as to the ending (the plot is, if you don't know and do care, based on The Secret of the Unicorn and Red Rackham's Treasure). And all the unlikely chase scenes and explosions and hotels with tanks inside them ended up feeling contrived, as if thousands of people had worked on them to get them perfect.

Which, I think, is what actually happened.

Plus, this idea of a one-on-one duel with the bad guy at the end that lasts for about 20 minutes is getting boring as well. (Do not worry, I am not spoiling anything by saying this. You probably won't see it coming, and it has a lot of unusual elements that are somewhat surprising.)

I liked Tintin the character. I like Jamie Bell, who voices Tintin, and the animation does a good job capturing him and his dog Snowy. Snowy was the consensus favorite character among our crowd. We do have a little white dog at home. Maybe this influenced things.

There will be a sequel. I will go see it. But I don't think that it will ever replace the memory of that TV show in my young heart. Often, nostalgia for a thing is better than someone else's vision of the thing itself.

Question: Is Zeus perfect?

It's been a while since I did a pure mythology post. But in honor of all those students these past two months who googled "Odysseus death" and came to BwP, here's a new one that I think would make for a great paper for your college mythology class.

Image from here.

Last week in school a student asked a brilliant question: "isn't Zeus perfect?"

The question is brilliant because it raises (some would say "begs," but that would be a misuse of the term) so many other questions, among them

• What does "perfect" mean?
• Why would Zeus above all other gods be perfect?
• Why would we think that any god could be perfect?
• What do we know about Zeus that makes it seem like he should be perfect?

Some thoughts follow, rather than complete answers.

If anyone knows anything about Zeus, it's that he's the supreme god of Greek mythology. He's the one with the beard, the thunderbolt, the throne. He's the Big Guy Upstairs, the Father of Gods and Men.

Which makes him a lot like the popular vision of the God of the Judaeo-Christian tradition, who, despite generations of sermon messages to the contrary, is still thought of by many as a Very Large Dude with a Very Large Stick.

The modern God in whom many still believe is supposed to be perfect. That is, he knows everything, sees everything, always existed, will never go away, never makes a mistake, always does the right thing. This God's son Jesus is a good example of who God is. For some people today, Jesus hovers about six inches off the ground and is utterly "perfect" but not quite human.

So, perfection in this popular view involves traits that regular humans could never have.

Zeus was never perfect in this way. None of the Greek gods ever were, either.

In fact, though Zeus was supreme, his stature never approached that of the one holy God of Judaism and Christianity. Zeus was powerful, but within a system of many divinities. His brothers Poseidon and Hades were nearly as powerful, but in different spheres. Aphrodite, goddess who was in charge of making people fall in love, worked her magic on Zeus a number of times. It could be argued that the Fates are the most important of all Greek divinities, for they presided over those things that had to happen. Zeus himself could not change Fate.

Zeus is, in fact, a god of justice who himself doesn't always do just things, among them cheating on his wife Hera ("Aphrodite made me do it!"). That's why philosophers sprang up in Greece who wanted to convert Zeus into something more like the God of Judaism and Christianity. In any case, philosophers were not interested in the bearded man on the throne who was the original do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do type of guy.

Being perfect is a tough job. The movie "Bruce Almighty" starring Jim Carrey, and Morgan Freeman as God, demonstrates in a light but effective way what it might mean to have 3,000,000,000 conflicting prayers on your plate at any given moment. Remember the "You've Got Prayers!" scene? Not everyone can win the lottery who prays for it.

So, Zeus is not perfect in our sense of being perfect, which is part of the reason why Greeks of later times looked at Christ and the God of Christianity as a perfect alternative. I don't think we can actually grasp what perfection is, but many of us hope that perfection in a God includes love. 

The Muppets: nostalgia on steroids

I never watched a lot of the original Muppets television show, although I knew it was a very big phenomenon. All the characters, all the inside jokes, all the celebs who made appearances-- it was a big deal.

Image from here.

But that was back-- I don't know-- 25 years ago?

(No, more.)

And there's no way the Muppets are going to make a comeback.

But everyone in Hollywood does make a comeback, and the Muppets have, too. And even if the voices don't sound quite exactly like they used to, the trademark Muppet comedy is back and better than ever.

The original Muppets show started in 1976, which is actually 35 years ago, but one thing they did is still very "now:" self-consciously play with the idea of show.

The Muppets never just did a show where you saw the performance and that was it. They interspersed scenes behind the scenes, showing the sausage-making quality of putting on a stage show. Kermit the Frog's ultra-nerd nervousness and neuroticism added humor as he tried to make sure all was well amidst the floating chaos of bahk-bahk chickens, prop mishaps, and Miss Piggy divadom.

All that comes back in spades in the new movie, along with plenty of self-referential break-the-fourth-wall intertextual inside joke stuff. Which means that the adorable and star-powered Amy Adams, looking very wholesome with long, curled hair, actually has very little to do in the picture. 

Yes, there is plenty of show in this Muppets show. To spare, in fact. Almost as if they took the original show and pumped it up on Muppet-Growth-Hormone. At the end, despite all the self-consciousness, it would not be surprising if you wipe away a bit of a tear.

Congrats to the people behind all this. And congrats to everyone who kept the flame burning all these years.

It was worth it.

Netflix Follies: "The Card"

My uncle, a beloved person, was a theater professional in England for a long time and once introduced me to a group of British actors.

Movie still from here; nice review, too.

"I love acting," I gushed. "Why?" they asked.

"Because it's so exciting to become someone else for a little while," I said. "It takes so much passion to get it right." I was about twenty, and had acted in two college productions.

They all exchanged glances. "I shouldn't expect so," one of them said. "Yes, it's just another job, isn't it?" another said. "What do you need passion for?" a third said. "All this method acting. It isn't necessary. Just do your job."

My uncle smiled. "You see the difference between American and British actors. It's very marked, isn't it?"

I thought of that exchange when I saw "The Card," a British comedy starring Alec Guinness, on Netflix this Thanksgiving. The film was made in 1952 when Guinness, known now to most Americans as Obi-Wan Kenobi, was just starting his career. It's a rags-to-riches story of the son of a washerwoman who rises to wealth through his wits, charm, guile, and opportunism (thus the title, a "card" being a one-of-a-kind person).

Guinness is aided considerably by a trio of stunningly beautiful actresses, Valerie Hobson, Glynis Johns, and Petula Clark, the latter going on to megastardom as a pop singer.

Image: My favorite of the three actresses.

The plot is not what captivated me, but the acting. It is not a spoiler to say this comedy is armor-plated against misfortune. Guinness as Denry Machin can do no wrong; you're just waiting to see what his next triumph will be.

So the delight, for me, is in how the actors navigate their roles, injecting humanity and humor that comes not from the situation or even, much of the time, the script, but in how each of them reacts to one another.

Maybe the most important of these scenes concerns one of the less stunningly beautiful players in the drama, Denry's washerwoman mother, played by Veronica Turleigh. After Denry has made a large fortune, he buys his mother a sealskin coat, which is as luxurious, it seems, as a fur stole. Turleigh, a proud, stoic commoner who doesn't go in for her son's ridiculous financial ambitions, tries to play off her happiness at receiving the coat. Clark, as the ingenue Nellie, gushes over it, and Guinness is perfect in his disappointment when Mother masters her wordly desires and decides to put it in mothballs.

Every gesture, tone and mannerism in this scene is spot on. In less accomplished hands, the scene would have just been cheesy. I dare say, many scenes like this one have aspired to such spot-onness and failed.

I wondered how much these actors just went to work on that day they did that scene, and "just did their job." Tremendous.

So see it if you haven't cancelled your Netflicky subscription.

One other thing relating to mythology and pop culture criticism, in the Breakfast with Pandora way: I found this comedy to be quite amazing for 1952, a time in the UK when the British were still recovering from the devastation of World War II. In its optimism the movie is downright American, and in its obliteration of class differences (a defining issue of the British ethos) it just seems extremely, extremely unlikely.

The movie is set in 1911, when class differences were even more marked in the UK than they are today. The beautiful period costumes and the attitudes of the people emphasize that there is a difference between commoners and the upper class, and that Denry, as a kind of trickster god, is magically making that all go away.

Indeed, all that Denry does has that feeling of fairy tale, a Puss-in-Boots type of story, but set in pre-World War I, the unreality of it all is even more marked.

Was it that the British public just needed that type of light, optimistic, magic realist type of story at a very bleak time in their history? If so, then Miss Hobson's last line, the last line of the film, would make perfect sense.

Is there a recurrence of this type of story through British cinema? And how optimistic are other genres of British film? In America, we love resurrection and happy endings, even in drama. Was it always the same in the UK? Or was this just a moment in time?

We continue on. Pass the tea cakes, Pandora. 

Joseph Campbell and resurrection in American film

Even longtime readers of BwP might not remember that I weighed in a couple of times on 20th century mega-mythologist Joseph Campbell.

Those posts are here and here.

The first one is more than six years old, a fact not lost on a recent correspondent, a screenplay writer who wants to know whether I feel the same now as I did then. The answer is yes, but I'm not interested in continuing that theme in this blog post.

Instead, I want to talk about resurrection, the act of coming to life again after dying.

Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey template, which I discuss here, has resurrection as part of its skeleton description of what could happen in a good story. Apparently the model is used in many movies, though it is most famously used in Star Wars and The Matrix. The following is a very well-done video that cuts in portions of The Matrix with the Hero's Journey template. If you have seen the movie and liked it, it will be very clear and understandable what's going on. If you've never seen The Matrix and don't want the ending to be spoiled, you probably should stop reading now.

I love The Matrix. I've watched it a dozen times, and I don't get tired of it. Part of the love comes from geek credentials honed fine in my teenage years by reading science fiction and fantasy swords and sorcery novels and playing role-playing games. What skinny, pale guy in a dead-end job doesn't want to become The Chosen One with the access to the girl and the explosions and the ju-jitsu moves?

But then there's the resurrection, too.

Resurrection is a dream and a desire lodged deeply in a lot of people's psyche. In the case of stories, resurrection means that the hero comes back, sometimes literally from the dead, to win when it seems as if winning is impossible. I get chills at the end of The Matrix because the resurrection moment is done with such certainty of triumph.

Love those bullets falling on the floor.

The desire for resurrection may be universal in human culture. It's very basic, in any case. But its use in stories is very culture-specific. In Greek mythology, resurrection is almost never used as a motif in a serious story. Even the happy ending of the Odyssey, where Odysseus takes vengeance on the men who have invaded his household, doesn't have the feel of a resurrection. Instead, Homer makes it clear through many side references to fate that the invaders are well and truly doomed-- doomed beforehand, unmistakably. There's no suspense about will Odysseus or won't Odysseus win. It's a foregone conclusion.

I believe, though I can't prove, that the current American love of resurrection in movies comes from a historical change in the plots of movies that began during the Great Depression and became a given as the theme took root in moviegoers' hearts.

My theory: happy endings in movies proliferated in the Thirties, when Americans really needed to feel good about ourselves in the face of horrific social and economic disruption. During World War II, that trend continued in order to keep up the morale of an America threatened by fascism. After World War II there was a wonderful, limited window for the popularity of complex and dark stories known as film noir. But filmmakers like Frank Capra (It's a Wonderful Life) in the Fifties set the tone for the desirability of resurrection in American films, and today resurrection is the norm, while loss, failure and tragedy are nearly always reserved for the art house.

I also think the emphasis on resurrection comes from the Judaeo-Christian religious tradition of the filmmakers. Resurrection is, of course, the hallmark of the Christian vision, but Jewish scripture, conditioned as it is by the destruction and exile of Israel and dream of return, cherishes resurrection as well.

Psalm 25 communicates such a dream with chilling beauty:

And in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feast of fat things, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of wines on the lees well refined.

And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and the veil that is spread over all nations.

He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it.

(King James translation found here)

I suppose that Joseph Campbell would not say that the emphasis on resurrection in American stories is culture-specific. I think it is, though I don't have the expertise to survey all the world's culture's for resurrection's influence on world stories. I think it is somewhat self-evident that a culture with limited resources and a sense that life is contingent and difficult is probably not going to emphasize resurrection in stories. It is counterintuitive.

Resurrection, indeed, is a counterintutive quality of the Hebrew religious vision. The nation of Israel faced the same challenges as the Greeks-- the same arid conditions, uncertain rainfall, vulnerability to invaders and war, and helplessness in the face of disease. But uniquely of all the cultures of the eastern Mediterranean, Israel believed in resurrection through faith in its one God.

That vision transfered itself to Christianity through its resurrected Messiah, and eventually, to American films.

I still don't know how important the idea of resurrection was to pre-1930's American stories. It may be that the American story is of resurrection, or at least of victory against all odds. I do have the feeling that tragedy and loss would have been more prevalent in American stories before movies de-emphasized them. But it's a question for another day and more research.