Ties That Bind

We drove through the quiet streets of Sydney to the airport where we met Tommy Geddes of a flight from London.  He's here for the cricket.  It's his first visit to Australia and the country is performing its best for him: 30 degrees here (40 degrees in Penrith), 45 degrees in South Australia with fire warnings issued at the "catastrophic" level; meanwhile, up in Queensland, there is flood area larger than the combined land mass of France and Germany.  Back in the flat, having been joined by Sharon and Ken, we waited for the Bells recounting predictable tales of the very many forms of animal life here that can kill.  Snakes seemed to make a particular impression on Tommy who, I realised as we talked, I first met 35 years ago.  Spike was 4 months old at the time.

Earlier in the day I opened a parcel from Scotland.  I expected it to be a belated Christmas gift from my mother.  It turned out to be a card from Martin Currie accompanying a commemorative T-shirt for Tam White who did this year.  The Gagdefather indeed!

A Mercy by Toni Morrison

I finished reading Toni Morrison's short novel A Mercy.  It's well worth reading; challenging in some ways (not least working out whose voice we're hearing at times), lyrical in parts and affecting throughout.  If it's not as fully realised as is her Pulitzer Prize winning novel Beloved, one can hardly fault the author.  Beloved is a once in a lifetime event.  No author could produce two novels at that level of accomplishment.

There is, however, a direct line between A Mercy and Beloved.  The unnamed mother of Florens. like Sethe's Africa-born mother, remembers the pens of her initial captivity and subsequent sale to slave-traders who transport her to Barbados where she is sold to Senhor, the two-dimensional malignant force with whom Jacob reluctantly trades. But A Mercy is not a prequel.  There are no common characters or shared storyline.  The more recent novel deals with an earlier period, the late-17th Century when indentured servants hailing originally from Europe lived little-better lives than African slaves; where religious intolerance amongst Christian sects replayed old European (particularly English) rivalries and where the loss of the New World paradise to the be-spoiling touch of the fallen European re-enacts the original sin and banishment of Genesis.  It's probably no co-incidence that the house built by Jacob, with its serpent-headed wrought iron gates, is on the edge of a hamlet called Milton.

I think it's a good read.  The New York Times called it one of the best books of 2008 and gave a glowing review here.  Others were less persuaded.  In an uncomfortable, rather sneering review, here in The New Yorker, John Updike damned the novel with faint praise.  His thoughts on the text should not prejudice anyone.  It's a decent work of fiction with something valuable to tell us.
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Discretion is the better part of valour

My skin is a bit delicate.  Less than two weeks out from our flight to Scotland I've stayed off it most of the day.  I borrowed Spike's Kobo e.reader (a Christmas gift from her parents) and started to read Anna Karinina.  My jury is out on both (the Kobo and the Tolstoy).

There and back again

Like a hobbit enjoying his second breakfast I opened my second Christmas gift, the "special edition, extended version" DVD of The Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship Of The Ring.  There's nearly four hours of my life that I'll not see again but I did enjoy it ... although nothing like as much as I enjoyed my first breakfast / gift.

In one of my favourite moments Sean Bean as Boromir rolls his eyes in the mines of Moria as he says to Aragorn, "They have a cave troll."  Lots of fun.  The added footage does improve on the original film.

Bliss

String of Pearls from The Glen Miller Story

That noise is nature

One can luxuriate at times in the romantic notion of a rural idyll.  But not for long. 

At first I thought it was rosy tinted Dawn (to borrow from Homer) whose light woke me this morning at five-thirty or thereabouts.  But no.  I lay in bed in Spike's parents' house in the Dooralong valley trying to puzzle out what machine had been started or why a giant lawn-sprinkler was operating then realised the noise was nature.  Specifically it was the mating call of hundreds of thousands (maybe millions for all I know) Cicada males trying to attract females with their impressive and loud sound boxes. 

The trees around the property are bursting with sound.  It is constant, from dawn to dusk and truly deafening at times.  I wondered at one point if it never stopped, if there might not be some let-up.  I hit on this silly notion.  That in the dense forest of sound there is one tree from which not a sound is made.  There, I speculated, sits a solitary male with the loudest, most impressive boom box in all of Cicada land.  He has a smile of satisfaction on his silent face.  Around him sit a bevvy of happy Cicada females, sated by their Alpha male and oblivious of all the also- rans still banging away around them.

We've had a delightful couple of days with Spike's family.  Tranquil, however, is not a word that immediately springs to mind.
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Happy Christmas (from my friend Pat)

Movie wishes for 2011

There's a witty article in The Guardian Film section about the author's Christmas wishes for Hollywood in 2011.   It begins this way:

"Another year, another avalanche of remakes, dodgy 3D conversions and incomprehensible M Night Shyamalan dialogue. Here's how the studios need to mend their ways.

1 Fewer sequels and remakes

This was probably included in lists of Things We Want From Hollywood In 2010. And 2009. And 2008. And it'll be included on every list like this until the Sun implodes and swallows the Earth. It's a perennial complaint for good reason."

This was my comment posted in response.

1. Sequels, remakes and adaptations
Not necessarily bad:
Star Wars (4, 5 and 6). Toy Story 3 closes off 1 and 2; LOTR (see also commendable adaptations); forgive me, there must be at least 7 HP
Good remakes: Magnificent Seven, The Maltese Falcon, Ocean's Eleven (although 12 and 13 ... was there a 13? fail the sequel test.)
Adaptations: How bad are Shane, Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, LOTR, HP i to vii.i, 2001 A Space Odyssey?
We should (of course) resist badly made sequels, remakes and adaptations ... you've seen the trailer - don't spend money on the fockers.

2. 3D - fair point but Avatar was truly wonderful to look at in parts (shame about story, script and acting)

3. Batman casting rumours ... no contest.

4. POTC 4 - doesn't it fall foul of the sequel rule? Tragically, no matter how bad the trailer looks I'll be sucked in. it's like nicotine. I know it's bad for me ... but.

5. Social Network ... the Winklevai seem dedicated to building the potential for sequels ... keep suing guys.

6. M Night etc ... no sequels, no remakes and few adaptations in HIS oeuvre but THAT doesn't stop him making some of the biggest crap of the 21st Century. So does that make MNS the exception that proves your rule number 1?

7. Vampires ... blood-sucking right!! give me dodgy accents, fake blood and Ingrid Pitt any day of the week.

8. Pixar ... I don't think you can lament the mainstream's lack of originality, dominance of re-makes and propensity for sequels at the same time as damn Pixar for originality, excellence and maturity. Up is what Up is ... brilliant.

9. Nicholas Sparks ... never seen one cos I've seen the trailers. You only have yourself to blame. Sorry, not true ... saw Notebook on DVD. I only have myself to blame. I'd seen the trailer.

10. Jen ... can't we agree to stop having a go? It's like shooting fish in a barrel. Sadly, the inherent sexism of Hollywood will soon deem her too old for leading roles and extract its surplus value from some younger version. One day I'll read a Guardian piece about the way women get dumped when they reach 40 with Ms Aniston presented as a case in point. That's entirely wrong of course. Let's leave her alone, hoping that one day she discovers the movie equivalent of her TV mojo cos she does seem to have talent.
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This is how A Penance ends

Funeral of Hercules: Hans Sebald Beham, 1546

       And yet, be sure of this: though I am nothing,
and cannot move a step, yet I will punish
her who has done this deed. Let her but come:
she will discover and proclaim that I
in death, as in my life, destroyed the wicked.

Sophocles, Trachiniae

There are seven basic plots

This is where it starts (maybe): a story that might become a book called A Penance (or something drawn from that idea)

But before Amphitryon reached Thebes, Zeus came by night and prolonging the one night threefold he assumed the likeness of Amphitryon and beddedwith Alcmena¹ and related what had happened concerning the Teleboans. But when Amphitryon arrived and saw that he was not welcomed by his wife, he inquired the cause; and when she told him that he had come the night before and slept with her, he learned from Tiresias how Zeus had enjoyed her. And Alcmena bore two sons, to wit, Hercules, whom she had by Zeus and who was the elder by one night, and Iphicles, whom she had by Amphitryon. When the child was eight months old, Hera desired the destruction of the babe and sent two huge serpents to the bed. Alcmena called Amphitryon to her help, but Hercules arose and killed the serpents by strangling them with both his hands.² However, Pherecydes says that it was Amphitryon who put the serpents in the bed, because he would know which of the two children was his, and that when Iphicles fled, and Hercules stood his ground, he knew that Iphicles was begotten of his body.

Appollodorus: Book  2, Chapter 4, Section 8
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A Tree

Making my way across this wide, open space
(behind me ... much the same as seems to lie ahead)
its emptiness, its barren neverendingness 
sucks out the marrow from dry bones that tumble
from the knapsack slung across one shoulder
drooping beneath the weight of expectation
accumulated in the course of life's dry river bed

meandering more as a memory of what it was
that might have been
than the possibility of what it is
that might yet be.
                              I find myself still looking up
from time to time, scanning the near distance
and the far horizon, for foolishly, against all evidence,
I still believe that there may be a tree; growing,

unexpectedly perhaps (against the odds for sure)
where once, some years before perhaps,
a seed slipped from the beak of some wandering bird
on the very day that rain fell on this parched land.
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Does sex still sell movies?

The Independent has an article today about the box office allure (or otherwise) of sex scenes in mainstream movies.  If you like movies it's worth a read here.

The article is built around the question posed in this extract:

"A comedy-drama based on the true-ish story of a Viagra salesman who falls for a beautiful Parkinson's sufferer, the film's US reviews were middling-to-decent, and made much of its sexual content. And yet, Love and Other Drugs failed to break even the $10m mark in its opening weekend at the US box office. On movie blogs and in studio boardrooms, its underwhelming performance has prompted a once-unthinkable question: if even Anne and Jake naked can't put bums on seats, then does sex still sell?"

I added my twopence worth in the comments section:

Sadly, one is no longer a "young male" so I may not be in the 'sex sells movies' demographic anymore. I do think, however, the answer to the question is quite simple. No amount of sex in a movie puts (fully dressed) bums on seats if the movie is obviously crap and word gets out. If the trailer of of Love & Other Drugs is representative of the whole then its no surprise it has faltered at the box office. Naked crap is still crap. And Swordfish? I vaguely remember making the mistake of paying money to see what I was told was an action / thriller. Crap is what it was ... so bad I can't even remember if Halle Berry got her kit off and I don't care. As for Eyes Wide Shut, well it was hugely disappointing not because the sex was naff (which it was) but because a giant of movie making served up a risible film that his younger self would never have made or released.

Mention sex in commercial movies and I think (a bit predictably) of Don't Look Now, The Thomas Crown Affair, almost any Hammer horror, Brokeback Mountain (I could be mistaken there cos I lack expertise in male tent sex but it seemed compelling enough within the context of the story), Blade Runner (although that has a different kind of question mark) or Shakespeare In Love. Good God, even When Harry Met Sally had good sex ... albeit deliberately simulated to lead-up to a half-decent joke.

Bad movies suck and if that's all they have to offer it's no surprise bad sex doesn't sell. 
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Necessary noise part 16: Tom Waits - Tom Traubet's Blues

Julia Gillard and the death of principle

Dear Prime Minister,

I have read and watched reports of your comments today regarding Mr Assange and what you imply are illegal acts by him and / or his organisation.  Even if it was your role to publicly assert criminality on the part of an Australian citizen who has been charged with no offence in relation to publishing the content of cables received by Wikileaks (which is clearly not your role) you seemed unable today to cite any Australian Law that may have been broken.

Given that The Guardian, The New York Times, Der Spiegel, El Pais and Le Monde (to name but five reputable publishers overseas) have published exactly the same material as Wikileaks would you say that their actions are illegal?  And given that here in Australia The Sydney Morning Herald, The Australian and the ABC have quoted directly from the leaked material would you wish to claim that those news outlets have acted illegally too?

I am sorry to write Prime Minister that your public assertions today are repugnant to me.  I believe you have abrogated your responsibility to defend the rightful separation of the Executive from the justice system.  Your quite unjustifiable conflation of claims of sexual assault (Mr Assange has never even been charged with any offence in Sweden far less convicted) with the leaking of cables re-printed in the national newspapers of several countries with a free press was reprehensible, deceitful and outrageous.

I respectfully request that you change your stance on these matters and would refer you to the letter published today and signed by 200 prominent Australians and others.  I support its approach and urge you strongly to adopt it.

Yours sincerely,

Find wikileaks here and here and here
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Rococco by Christos Tsiolkas

I read Christos Tsiolkas's short story Rococco in the September 2010 Edition of Overland.  It's a brilliant piece of writing but for the life of me I can't even begin to work out what's going on inside the author's head.  Well worth a read, the story starts in this way (and maintains the conceit throughout)

"The auction of the painting A Lady Escorted into the Garden by the minor eighteenth-century Portuguese artist Alfonso Rigas de la Guerra created a significant stir in art circles when it was recently sold for €3.2 million (see ‘Unknown Work Sets Art World’s Hearts Racing’, Guardian, 17 May 2006). Though the price itself was relatively insignificant when compared to the astronomical sums fetched by more famous works, it nevertheless was an astonishing sum for a painting that has little, if any, international profile. It is not my intention here to comment on the workings of the international art industry. But I do believe it is necessary to make the one following observation before I begin: since the 1980s, any belief in the ‘revolutionary’ potential imbued in the traditional high arts can no longer be a tenable critical position, if for no other reason than the more democratic digital media technologies allow for a dispersal of message and image that would have been unimaginable to an artist of even a half-century before. But it is not only the internet that has exposed the elitism of art practice. Artists are neither a ‘proletariat’ nor a ‘vanguard’, and they do not make successful ‘revolutionaries’. If they have been, it has only been for a moment before the firing squad or the gulag or the concentration camp has seen to their ignoble demise."
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Jean-Honore Fragonard, The Swing (1767)

Yinka Shonibare MBE, The Swing (2004)

I googled Rococo (when in doubt Wiki will do).  One of the images presented as an example is Fragonard's The Swing painted in 1767, six or seven years after the invented painting of the short story.  Fragonard's painting was the inspiration for a sculpture by the British artist Yinka Shonibare MBE, which we saw when his exhibition filled the Museum of Contemporary Art last year.

Shonibare, like the fictional de la Guerra, is interested in racism, identity, colonialism (and much more no doubt).  Christos Tsiolkas might be too.  He's certainly an intelligent writer who can make you think even as he so spectacularly pulls the wool over your eyes.

The Social Network

We saw the Facebook movie this evening.  It's very good (as any David Fincher film would be) and terrifically well-written (naturally) but it delivered less than I had hoped.  The acting is impressive (it's not fair to pick out any individual but Jessie Eisenberg, who I liked in The Squid And The Whale, is wonderful).  The dialogue is stunning at times.  But the Zuckerberg journey (from one fictional female telling him he's an asshole to another fictional female telling him he's not really an asshole, only trying too hard to be one) felt too contrived, a little too twee.  But I'm nit-picking.  Good movie.