Electric, So Frightfully Hectic

It’s that time of year again: Oscar Blitz!

As I wrote last year, even if I haven’t gotten out to see many films in the theaters, I never miss the Oscars.

And the nominations for Best Picture are…

The Artist

The Descendants

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

The Help

Hugo

Midnight in Paris

Moneyball

The Tree of Life

War Horse

You can see a full ballot list for printing at Oscar.com.

I’ve gotten a bit of a head start on my blitz, having seen The Artist a couple weeks ago with La Javanaise, and having just Netflixed The Help and Midnight in Paris, with Moneyball in the DVR right now and The Tree of Life at the top of my queue.

In my mind, The Artist leads the pack. It was great fun, with plenty of nods to cinéphiles throughout. As a film historian, I’m happy for the success of any movie that gets people to see a black and white picture, nevermind a virtually silent one at that. Plus, you know I have to root for the French one.

That’s not to say I didn’t like The Help. I thought it was a very strong adaptation of a good book. And certainly its acting nominations are well deserved.

As for Midnight in Paris, let’s just say I have no idea why people like this movie. Sure, Paris looks gorgeous in the opening montage, but other than that I felt it was complete fluff. And not the good kind that goes with peanut butter. The kind that meanders with no real point. Yes, Paris in the rain does beat any other city in the rain, but it’s still rain.

Of course, I have yet to see Hugo, which I could root for based on the subject matter alone. I thought the book was just okay, but I can see where it would make a gorgeous film. And if there is anyone who can pay proper tribute to the genius that was Georges Méliès, it’s Scorsese. Silent films and film history are really front and center this year, aren’t they?

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is this year’s 127 Hours as it would have to be Citizen Kane before I’d pay to see a film about that day, especially with Tom Hanks. And I really have no interest in War Horse, but I’m willing to be convinced otherwise if people think it’s good. I haven’t really heard much about it.

Films that received multiple nominations but didn’t get a Best Picture nod include Albert Nobbs, Bridesmaids (which I actually saw in the theater), The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the last Harry Potter (which I recently Netflixed), The Iron Lady, My Week with Marilyn, A Separation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and Transformers. I’m not particularly interested in any of them except for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, but I’ll probably try to see The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and A Separation as well. I will not see Transformers.

One-offs include Drive, The Ides of March, Jane Eyre, Margin Call, Rise of Planet of the Apes, and W.E. I can recommend both Jane Eyre and Margin Call and will probably Netflix at least the first two, both of which I meant to see in theaters. As I have done previously, I will see both short programs (assuming they once again play in a local theater).

In the meantime, any Oscar contenders you recommend? What are you going to see between now and February 26th?

Sly Wit 2012

Happy New Year!

As always, I welcome the New Year with open arms and lots of plans and projects.

Barring any 2012 doomsday scenarios coming to fruition, here’s what you can expect to see at Sly Wit this year.

Books:

Clearly you all have opinions on these and I will be posting what I think of your favorites throughout the year as part of the 2012 Readers’ Choice Challenge. Encouragement as I tackle some of the longer ones is always appreciated!

I will also be trying to keep the book salon alive as many members move on to bigger and better things following the near dissolution of my former office by The Man. Appropriately enough, this month’s theme is “Go West, Young Man!” for which I chose to read The Grapes of Wrath.

Performing Arts:

Ballet 101 posts will probably dominate the spring as I enjoy a subscription to the San Francisco Ballet for the first time. Sadly, I don’t foresee the ballet of the Opéra de Paris in my future this year, but you never know what the fates may bring.

Opera won’t be completely absent, as I have tickets to The Lamplighters’ upcoming productions of The Gondoliers and The Pirates of Penzance singalong as well as Nixon in China at the San Francisco Opera in June. I’m also hoping to see Ensemble Parallèle’s The Great Gatsby in February.

Of course, assuming La Maratonista is willing, I’m planning to renew my subscription for the San Francisco Opera’s 2012-2013 season. To combat my opera withdrawal symptoms, I’ve been listening to a number of classic recordings and, before our next subscription starts, I’m hoping to write up some more systematic Opera 101 posts that go through the history of this art form, starting with the Baroque era and continuing to the present day.

Television and Film:

I’m still debating giving up cable, but I have to wait until at least the end of January since there is no way I am missing Season Two of Downtown Abbey on PBS. And, of course, The Voice will be starting up again soon. But there’s not much else I’m excited about going forward besides Season Two of Sherlock, which can’t come soon enough.

Aside from the Oscars, I don’t often talk about film here. (That in and of itself might not seem odd, unless you know that my training is as a historian of French culture with a specialization in the film industry and my doctoral dissertation was on the reception of American films in postwar France.) I’m hoping to rectify that with a new Film 101 series looking at various genres I want to explore again without having to view them through an academic lens. Right now, I’m thinking of three of my favorites: film noir, screwball comedies, and westerns; however, inspired by David Smay’s series at HiLobrow, I may also take on horror, a genre I don’t know at all.

But before I begin that project, I will spend the month of January rewatching my favorite director of all time, a man who incorporated all those genres into his work (okay, maybe not westerns), Alfred Hitchcock. A colleague recently asked for recommendations of his films and, having lately read John Buchan’s The 39 Steps and Josephine Tey’s A Shilling for Candles (which became Young and Innocent), I decided he was due for a serious review.

I hope you join me for these and other random musings!

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

While none of these is my new job title, please accept my sincere apologies for not being particularly active here in the last few months. When not visiting missions, most of my spare time has been spent in pursuit of that elusive quarry, a new job, leaving little or no time for blogging. I’m thrilled to report that my search has ended happily and, with an ongoing reading challenge, a new subscription to the Lamplighters, and the upcoming season of the San Francisco Opera, regular posting will begin anon.

In the meantime, how awesome does the latest version of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy look? I love Alec Guinness as much as the next person, but that is one fine cast.

And thanks to those loyal readers who wrote to ask where and how I was. It is always nice to be missed.

The Great Unread—May

—People change, she said.

—Oh, no they don’t. Look at me. I’ve never changed. It’s like those sticks of rock: bite it all the way down, you’ll still read Brighton. That’s human nature.

As I mentioned in last month’s challenge post, this month I decided to read my copy of Brighton Rock, which is part of the six-volume “Deluxe Edition” Graham Greene centennial series by Penguin that I bought at the MLA some years ago. Being set in the Brighton underworld, the novel also fit conveniently into this month’s book salon topic, Crime and Punishment.

When I pulled this month’s challenge book down from the shelves, I had no idea what Brighton rock was. Knowing the basic outlines of the plot, I figured it was, you know, a rock, or maybe a cliff. But, no, it is actually a candy sold in seaside towns in the U.K.

[Note: The photo above was ganked from Paperback Reader, who provided me with some comfort by asserting that she had made the same assumption about this title, despite knowing of the candy. I wholeheartedly agree with her assessment that the symbolic use of this candy takes the book to a whole other level.]

Reading this at the end of a series of books related to the topic of crime really pointed up the issue of level, which we discussed at last night’s salon. While I enjoyed the other books I read (A Certain Justice, Killing Floor, To Love and Be Wise, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie) and the latter two had me immediately take out The Franchise Affair, Brat Farrar, and The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag from the library, they did not reach the level of the Greene, even if Brighton Rock itself straddles the line between his earlier “entertainments” and his later “Catholic” novels.

Next month’s read for me will also straddle the classic/popular line: Le Tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours. Besides a translation of Paris au XXe siècle, I’ve never read Jules Verne and I’m really looking forward to it. Of course, it’s a bit of a cheat because I just purchased it on my recent trip to France and haven’t been carting it from apartment to apartment for years like most of the Great Unread, but it syncs up nicely with next month’s book salon on Best Picture Adaptations. I’ve never seen Around the World in 80 Days (1956) either, so I’ve added that to my Netflix queue.

I haven’t heard from readers in awhile. Have you given up on this challenge? Not reading these days? Enquiring minds want to know.

Playing Favorites

This past weekend I was obliged to ponder the question “What is your favorite book?” and, I have to admit, it took me awhile to come up with an answer. How do I pick just one? I’m a Libra for goodness’ sake! Just writing this post made me want to go back in time and change my answer five times. It’s like Sophie’s Choice without the Nazis. [Disclaimer: I never finished Sophie’s Choice. I should probably stop referencing it until I do.]

A few books came to mind immediately, notably Jane Eyre and Rebecca. But, having recently revisited Jane Eyre for the new movie version, I don’t think I could say it’s my absolute favorite, even though I loved it growing up (and it’s still a great book). For one, it’s amazing how my impression of Rochester has changed over time—much like revisiting Star Wars and wondering how I could ever have been attracted to Luke Skywalker; Han Solo is clearly where it’s at. Rebecca was another favorite of my teen years and would definitely vie for a top position on any favorites list. But how much of that is Du Maurier and how much is Hitchcock? Hard to say.

How much do I want this bag? A lot.

I finally settled on A Widow for One Year by John Irving when I realized that for me it was a great combination of literary style, narrative, and personal connection. It certainly wouldn’t be the Irving of choice for many—I suspect that would be A Prayer for Owen Meany—but I remember that when I read A Widow for One Year, I felt that I finally got Irving. He was an author I had enjoyed for years (is it the bears?), but it wasn’t until this book that I truly connected with his writing.

I wonder, if I re-read it now, would I feel the same way? Should one re-read favorites? Can one have a favorite that one doesn’t ever read again? I know that I should probably never re-read The Joy Luck Club (which I read soon after my mother’s death), but can I pick up Watership Down again?

How about you? Do you re-read? Do you have a ready answer to the question “What is your favorite book?”

The Great Unread—April

Since none of the unread novels in my collection fit well with this month’s book salon topic, Royals and Rulers, I decided to take up a purchase that I had never gotten around to in my teaching days.

Shakespeare: The Tragedies, by Nicholas Marsh, is part of Macmillan’s “Analysing Texts” series on British literature, which also includes three other volumes on Shakespeare. Sadly, this volume, which examines Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth, and Othello, and therefore one might think would be the most popular and relevant for students, is apparently now out of print.

I bought this and two other volumes in the series at the annual conference of the Modern Language Association, one of the largest academic conferences in the country and where first-round interviews for almost all tenure-track jobs in English and other language departments are held. One of my favorite things about having to attend the MLA was going to the book sale on the last day while publishers were packing up their booths and selling their stock at steep discounts. Really, it’s amazing I don’t have more of a “book problem.”

The MLA is also where I picked up my May challenge book, Brighton Rock, part of Penguin’s six-volume “Deluxe Edition” Graham Greene centennial series, which included, as one might expect, The End of the Affair, The Heart of the Matter, and The Quiet American, but also, inexplicably, Orient Express and Travels with My Aunt. (Really, Penguin, how do you not include The Power and the Glory in that collection? Or, if you are looking to add something comic, Our Man in Havana?)

Anyway, back to Shakespeare. The Tragedies was definitely a “challenge” book, despite its short length. I’m not really sure why I kept it this long, when I have gotten rid of almost everything academic not related to either France or film, but it was probably because, like many people, I always intend to read more Shakespeare. And, after reading The Daughter of Time for my Royals and Rulers book salon, I had thought of reading Richard III for this month’s challenge, but ultimately decided against it. (Since I have the complete works of Shakespeare in a three-volume boxed set—purchased at an English bookstore near my apartment in Paris with the credit from trading in all the paperbacks I had accumulated while living there—almost any play could count as a challenge book for me.)

The Tragedies was an interesting approach to analyzing the texts, doing a close read of very specific extracts rather than discussing the plays as a whole, more in the style of the French “explication de texte” than much of the analysis I’ve read in English. Each chapter looked at one brief extract from each play, focusing on the openings, endings, heroes, heroines, society, humor, and imagery. Even though this meant that only a very small percentage of the text of each play was discussed, the author did manage to tease out larger meanings that helped me understand the works better. One benefit of the close read is that it made sense even for plays that I hadn’t read in a long time, such as King Lear. This leads me to actually want to attempt the other volume I purchased (Shakespeare: The Comedies, natch), even though I haven’t yet read most of the plays.

I hope everyone is making good progress on this challenge. I’d love to hear about what you’ve been reading. As stated above, my challenge read for May will be Brighton Rock by Graham Greene, one of my favorite authors. A new adaptation, with Helen Mirren, premiered at the Toronto Film Festival in September, and will hopefully be released soon in the U.S., although I’ve seen no sign of it.

Berlioz and Being the Ball

“I’m going to give you a little advice. There's a force in the universe that makes things happen. And all you have to do is get in touch with it, stop thinking, let things happen, and be the ball.”

What does Caddyshack have to do with a night at the symphony? Everything, apparently, when the conductor is Charles Dutoit. Although one might think I was at Davies Symphony Hall to watch the sexy French man (see below) on cello, it was Dutoit who held my attention as he conducted the Symphonie fantastique without a score, literally becoming the music in front of our eyes. Since Dutoit is known for his recordings of Berlioz and Ravel, this was not surprising, but it was an amazing experience to watch him throughout the piece, with every note written in his powerful but fluid movements as if on a score.

La Liberté guidant le peuple, 1830, Musée du Louvre

The Symphonie fantastique is such an important work in the canon that it was delightful to see it in such good hands. Groundbreaking in and of itself, it premiered during a seminal moment in the arts and literature of France: 1830 witnessed not only the political July Revolution, but also its artistic depiction in Delacroix’s La Liberté guidant le peuple, as well as the publication of Stendhal’s Le Rouge et le noir and the première of Victor Hugo’s Hernani amidst public riots heralding the downfall of classicism. Yet this symphony is also one of the easiest to understand and follow, as it is essentially one long tone poem about the artist’s obsessive and unrequited love. It will always be one of my favorites, despite its use in Sleeping with the Enemy.

Gautier Capuçon

Unfortunately, the cello concerto at the beginning of the bill (Dutilleux’s Tout un monde lointain) was less interesting, despite the presence of Gautier Capuçon. While the piece requires extreme and impressive ranges of sound from the instrument, and Capuçon achieved them, the work as a whole just never captured and held my interest. To me, it sounded like the soundtrack of some sort of creepy neo-noir from the 1980s or 90s trying to be avant-garde.

Maybe that’s what they should have used in Sleeping with the Enemy?

The Gods Must Be Crazy

In a strange set of coincidences, I spent much of yesterday immersed in the recent economic crisis.

I started the day off with a viewing of Inside Job, this year’s winner of the Oscar for best documentary. It was well done, but it left a bad taste in my mouth that not even the incredible catfish at farmer brown could eliminate. [Note to self: Stop being intimidated by catfish, it can be delicious.]

Barring a few minor annoyances, it’s a film well worth seeing, whether you feel you understand a lot or a little about Wall Street’s role in the economic crisis. But it did provoke a bit of a crisis of conscience regarding my own employer, and it really made me want to pursue moving my money more seriously.

A lot of what the film covers is not necessarily new or surprising, but seeing it all laid out together was enough to make one sick. Some of the things that were surprising to me include how recently Wall Street salaries spiraled out of control, how many people did in fact warn of the dangers to the economic system, the complicity of the academic establishment and its incredible lack of disclosure (especially given what the FTC expects me to disclose as an amateur blogger), and (for the Buffistas out there) the quantities of hookers and blow involved.

Geoffrey Nolan, Juliana Egley, Carl Lucania, Brian Markley

In the evening, I was able to enjoy a much more comic take on the world of bankers, derivatives, and the Greek economic collapse, namely, No Nude Men Productions’ presentation of Hermes, a new play by Bennett Fisher, directed by Tore Ingersoll-Thorp. While I was there primarily to see the fabulous Juliana Egley as Anne, the entire cast was strong, especially Brian Markley as Brian. Admittedly, much of the philosophical speechifying of the gods Hermes and Hestia went over my head (through no fault of the actors), but I thoroughly enjoyed the more down-to-earth interactions of the businessmen, which often recalled the discussions about the “process” in The Spanish Prisoner.

If you are looking for a fun night out in support of local theater, or simply an excuse for dinner at farmer brown, I highly recommend it. The play runs Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8 p.m. until March 26th at the Exit Stage Left (156 Eddy Street) in San Francisco. Very affordable tickets can be purchased here.

Jane Eyre

Growing up, Jane Eyre was one of my favorite books. Even though I read it a couple of times back then, I haven’t picked it up again since I was a teenager. However, I do always try to catch the latest film version. The most recent is by Cary Fukunaga, with Mia Wasikowska (The Kids Are All Right, Alice in Wonderland) as Jane and Michael Fassbender (Hunger, Inglourious Basterds) as Rochester. The film goes into wide release later this month and I think it is one of the best I've seen at capturing both the gothic and romantic elements of the story, with a great atmosphere and just the right amount of gloom and drama.

In preparation for seeing this advanced screening, I downloaded a LibriVox recording by Elizabeth Klett to reacquaint myself with the story. If you don’t know LibriVox, they offer free audio recordings of books in the public domain. Since the books are all read by volunteers, the quality of the readers varies widely; however, the site often has multiple versions, so you can sample and pick which one you like. For example, the first reader I downloaded had mispronounced Hebrides and Caligula in just the first chapter, so I quickly abandoned her and switched to Klett’s reading, which I was quite happy with.

With the novel fresh in my mind, I must say that the choices of where to compress and/or change the novel for the screen were right on the money. I also loved how this version framed the story: The film starts with Jane fleeing Thornfield over the moors and ending up at the Rivers’ house (which actually takes place about two-thirds of the way through the novel). Her arrival and collapse on the doorstep sets in motion the series of flashbacks to her childhood and life at Thornfield. Eventually, the opening shots are matched later in the story as Jane’s tale plays out.

I had a few quibbles with some choices near the end, and Rochester was far too good-looking, but, all in all, they did a really good job with it. The two leads were very believable and Dame Judi Dench was characteristically fabulous as Mrs. Fairfax.

If you are at all a fan of the book, don’t miss this one.

Opera 101—It’s Hard Out Here for a Poet

Earlier this year, I was invited to a preview of Ensemble Parallèle’s production of Orphée by Philip Glass. Far from familiar with postwar concert music or contemporary opera, I was wary at best. However, with the inspiration and libretto being taken directly from the film by Jean Cocteau, my love of French cinema soon won out. The presentation was impressive and, although I had my doubts about some of the design elements, I looked forward to the production.

La Princesse (Death) and Orphée.
Photo by Steve DiBartolomeo 

I was not disappointed. Much to my surprise, I liked the music (and I’m sure the young Philip Glass fan that was my brother in high school would be shocked to hear me say that). Additionally, the singing was outstanding. I had heard a sample last month, but the full cast was really impressive, especially Marnie Breckenridge as La Princesse and Eugene Brancoveanu as Orphée. If you’ve been reading this blog since I started it in September, you know that I only recently began exploring the world of opera with my first subscription to the SFO. I don’t claim to know much about opera singing, but my partner in crime and all things opera, the Maratonista Minimalista, agreed that we didn’t think anything we saw this past fall had such consistently strong singing by all the leads (although some of the French diction could have been improved).

As for the production, while the film Orphée is already a modern, surrealist spin on the Greek myth of Orpheus (who travels to the underworld to rescue his bride), this staging went a bit further by adding a circus element to the depiction of the underworld—harkening back to another French director, Marcel Camus, who set his Orpheus, Orfeu Negro, during Brazil’s Carnaval. This concept ended up working very well and really elevated the second act above some of the sillier surrealist elements of the first. I particularly enjoyed watching the silk aerialist (and, of course, sfmike, who performed admirably as a circus henchman throughout). I would have loved if they had also used the Roue Cyr onstage during the deaths of the first act, although I imagine it may have been too dangerous to do that.

It’s really a shame there are only two performances of this thoroughly enjoyable show. If you can make it to today’s performance at 2:00 pm at the Herbst Theater, I encourage you to do so. I don’t think I’ll ever prefer contemporary pieces over some of the “classics,” but Ensemble Parallèle certainly made me want to explore modern music further and I look forward to next year’s production of John Harbison’s The Great Gatsby. I can think of no higher praise.

[Disclosure: I received complimentary press tickets for this performance. Please refer to my policy page for more information.]

Oscar Blitz 5: Who Sees Short Shorts?

For the second year in a row, I’ve had the good fortune to make the live-action and animated short film nominees part of my Oscar blitz. Both sets of five nominated films are currently playing at theaters around the country and I highly encourage you to seek them out. You can see the complete list of theaters here. The films will also be released through iTunes on February 22, 2011.

While last year I was more impressed by the animated offerings, this year I felt that the live-action shorts represented a better collection. I liked elements of all five, but the standouts for me were The Confession, the story of two English schoolboys warily approaching their first confession, The Crush, about another young schoolboy (Irish, this time) who has a crush on his teacher and what he does about it, and Na Wewe, a surprisingly humorous look at a terrifying roadside incident during the Hutu/Tutsi conflict in Burundi in the 1990s. The Crush was adorable, but I think my personal vote would probably go to Na Wewe; however, I could see any of the five nominees potentially winning.

As for the animated shorts, the first two on the program were utterly forgettable while the final Pixar film, Day & Night, was cute but shallow. I could see The Gruffalo winning, because it’s very polished with big-name narration, but the real gem of this collection is the Australian film The Lost Thing: visually appealing, stylistically interesting, and a terrific combination of whimsy and nostalgia. There is no doubt in my mind that this should be the winner. Finally, as happened last year, the animation program included a few additional films. One of them, The Cow Who Wanted to Be a Hamburger by Bill Plympton, was absolutely hilarious and a must-see.

Oscar Blitz 4: This Time It’s Personal*

These past two weeks have seen me check off a number of films on my Oscar blitz list, all family dramas of (it turns out) escalating violence.

The first was The Kids Are All Right. I thought it was rather boring. If the central couple had been heterosexual, no one would have paid it any attention. Some might say that was the point, but that doesn’t make it a good film. An important one, maybe, but not one worthy of four Oscar nominations. I do think that Annette Bening gave a good performance though, and I would be perfectly fine with her winning.

Winter’s Bone takes the family drama up to the next level. It wasn’t a perfect film, but it was well done, with a real sense of place and foreboding. The atmosphere reminded me a great deal of Frozen River with Melissa Leo. Jennifer Lawrence is incredible as the oldest child of a more-than-deadbeat dad and invalid mother doing whatever she can to keep her family together and on their land. John Hawkes is strong (and creepy) as her uncle, but it’s Lawrence who keeps the film grounded. Even though I haven’t yet seen Rabbit Hole or Blue Valentine, I’m pretty sure that, if I were an Academy member, I would vote for her for Best Actress. I definitely recommend this one.

I’m still not sure what I think about Animal Kingdom. It was extremely disturbing and violent, but, at the same time, I found it fascinating. I think it was the dialogue; it felt very real. Like Winter’s Bone, it also focused on a not-quite adult trying to find his way in a world that is falling apart around him, but the star turn is definitely Jacki Weaver as the grandmother. Chilling. This film is worth watching for her alone.

On a lighter note, I also watched the street-art documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop, which was great fun, although I’m still not sure how much of it was true.

Next up, The Social Network!

* Best tagline ever for one of the worst movies ever, Jaws: The Revenge, which also produced one of the best actor quotes ever, from Michael Caine: “I have never seen it, but by all accounts it is terrible. However, I have seen the house that it built, and it is terrific!”

Oscar Blitz 3: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

And the nominations for Best Picture are…

Black Swan

The Fighter

Inception

The Kids Are All Right

The King's Speech

127 Hours

The Social Network

Toy Story 3

True Grit

Winter's Bone

You can see a full ballot list for printing at Oscar.com.

The Good?  Completely predictable (and so I’ve done pretty well covering everything with my Oscar blitz).

The Bad?  Completely predictable (Come on, Academy, throw us a bone, everyone likes a few surprises).

The Ugly?  This continues to be the existence of an Animated Feature category and the rules for submission in the Foreign Film category.

So, it looks like if I want to cover the rest of the categories that matter to me (acting, directing, cinematography, editing, writing, art direction, and costumes), I need to see Animal Kingdom (which is already in my Netflix queue with The Social Network and Winter's Bone), Another Year, Biutiful, Blue Valentine, I Am Love, Rabbit Hole, and The Tempest. I think I’m still going to save Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows until both parts are out.

Except Another Year, none of those new additions are particularly appealing. I’d love to hear from anyone who can convince me otherwise.


Addendum: I have to laugh that Salt actually received a nomination (Sound Mixing)!

Oscar Blitz, Part Deux

This past week, in my continued effort to catch up on Oscar contenders, I managed to see The King’s Speech, True Grit, and The Fighter, all of which I thoroughly enjoyed. Although there’s a special place in my heart for good westerns, and I would probably most want to rewatch True Grit, I found The Fighter to be the most compelling of the three, both for its storyline and performances.

I am not a fan of Christian Bale, but his performance here is incredible and definitely Oscar-worthy (not that the Oscars are necessarily reflections of worth or merit). And Melissa Leo was completely unrecognizable to me as his mother. In fact, all of the acting was spot on, to the point where the film was hard to watch in places; not just because of the boxing (which is always hard for me), but rather because of the raw portrayal of family dynamics and social issues. Don't skip this film because you think it's just about boxing.

The performances in The King’s Speech were very good, but, except for Colin Firth, I didn’t really lose myself in them like I did with The Fighter. I was very conscious that it was Helena Bonham Carter playing the Queen Mum, Geoffrey Rush playing the therapist, etc. I’d say the same was true for the two male leads in True Grit. On the other hand, Hailee Steinfeld as Mattie Ross blew me away. I agree heartily with those who have said she would be perfect to play Katniss in the upcoming film of The Hunger Games.

For a bit of fluff amongst all this seriousness, I also netflixed the recent spy thriller Salt, where the title character is basically a female (but not “feminine”) Jason Bourne. It was a pure adrenaline rush that I liked far more than it may have deserved and really only served to increase my inexplicable girl crush on Angelina Jolie. (Just go with it. It’s something I can’t explain. Much like my love for Keanu Reeves, it’s a mystery probably “best left unsolved.”) If you like action movies, seeing a woman kicking serious ass, and are willing to completely suspend your disbelief, I definitely recommend it.

Opera 101—The Modern World and the Underworld

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to dip my toe into the pool of contemporary opera when I attended Ensemble Parallèle’s preview of their production of Philip Glass’s Orphée, which will be performed on February 26-27 at the Herbst Theater here in San Francisco. While postwar concert music is not really my thing, and my knowledge of Philip Glass is limited to my brother’s repeated playing of the Koyaanisqatsi* soundtrack in high school, I was intrigued by the Orphée part of the equation, as the Jean Cocteau film was one of the first I studied in graduate school.

The film itself is a modern, surrealist spin on the Greek myth of Orpheus, whose main claim to fame was travelling to the underworld to retrieve his beloved Eurydice, killed on the day of their wedding. Orpheus persuades the gods through the power of his song to be allowed to bring his wife back from Hades, but only on the condition that he not look back at her until reaching the land of the living; however, like Lot’s wife, he fails to resist the temptation, losing her forever.

Cocteau updates the setting to postwar France, where Orpheus is a famous poet, hated by rivals, but adored by the public (only in France, people). In this version, Death falls in love with Orpheus, which complicates matters with his one true love just a bit. But how can one resist when Death is played by Maria Casares with steely determination and killer outfits? Although the special effects are laughable by today’s standards, the film remains extremely poetic, if a tad bizarre at times. I can totally see why it would appeal to a modern composer like Philip Glass, although I was somewhat disappointed to learn that he pretty much lifted the libretto straight from the film.

Surprisingly, I quite liked the music we heard and the singers, especially Eugene Brancoveau playing the lead, did an excellent job with it. This production is also adding a circus element to the depiction of the underworld, which I found to be a really interesting idea and totally in keeping with the spirit of the film. I particularly loved that the motorcyclist henchmen would be played by people in Roue Cyr. I was less convinced by some of the other design elements, but I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt based on what I saw.

As a side note, it was lovely to meet so many bloggers who have taught me so much about the San Francisco music scene these past months including SFMike (albeit briefly), The Opera Tattler, and Axel Feldheim, who I was thrilled to discover really isn’t a scary German. A big thank you to John Marcher for the invitation.

*As my New England town only had a 99-cent movie theater that played movies very late in their run, we would sometimes drive quite a ways to see something semi-interesting. However, these weren’t exactly “family nights” at the movies, since typically we all arrived together but then almost inevitably chose different theaters. The night my brother saw Koyaanisqatsi, my father and I saw the re-release of Rear Window, and my mother saw some Italian film, The Night of the Shooting Stars, maybe?

It'll Turn into an Oscar Blitz

There’s little I love more than the Oscars. It’s the one dinner party I can be counted on to throw every year, complete with betting pool. Even while living in Paris, I continued the tradition through a variety of strategies—one year having my cousin hook up a cable descrambler and staying up all night to watch live, and another year hosting a party the following night while holding a news embargo throughout the day. One of the great fringe benefits about now living on the West Coast is being able to have people over without being up until all hours of the night.

I generally try to see all the nominations in the major categories, but, as time goes on and I go out to fewer and fewer movies, my annual Oscar blitz becomes more and more difficult, especially now that the ceremony is a month earlier than it used to be. This year, I saw more foreign films in the theaters than usual, but not much else, although I did manage to catch both Leonardo DiCaprio movies (I swear that was not intentional). While Shutter Island is unlikely to get any nominations, at the very least, Inception should garner nods in art direction and music.

So that means netflixing The Social Network, The Kids Are All Right, and Winter’s Bone, and getting out to see The Fighter, The King’s Speech, True Grit, Blue Valentine, and eventually maybe Rabbit Hole. I’m boycotting 127 Hours on principle since I generally can’t watch any bodily incisions whatsoever, let alone one performed at the bottom of a canyon (which is why you’ll never hear me talk about any television shows set in hospitals, or those involving the initials C, S, or I).

This weekend I saw The Town and Black Swan. I enjoyed one a lot more than I thought I would and the other a lot less. The Town was a fun, if unexceptional, little film. I continue to be impressed by Jeremy Renner as well as Ben Affleck’s turn to directing—it will be interesting to see where he goes with it. Black Swan was a bit of a mess. The performances were great, but the story had more holes than the bodies in The Town. Of course, from the moment we were hit over the head with the “story” of the ballet, and that story was wrong, I knew it was going to be a difficult ride. And that was before all the self-mutilation. Not even Tchaikovsky can make up for that.

While I love Swan Lake as much as anyone, if you really want to watch a movie based around one of Tchaikovsky’s most technically demanding works to perform, I’d suggest instead the feel-good French film of the year (how often do I get to say that?), The Concert, based around the sublime Violin Concerto in D major and starring the equally sublime Mélanie Laurent, last seen on this side of the pond in Quentin Tarentino’s Inglourious Basterds.

In the meantime, any Oscar contenders you recommend? What are you going to see between now and February 27th?

And now for something completely different…

If you are looking for new listening material for your commute, or simply your edification, below are some of my favorite podcasts (all available for free on iTunes):

Books on the Nightstand by Michael Kindness and Ann Kingman

This is a great podcast about (mostly) contemporary books. Begun in 2008 by two sales reps for Random House, the format usually consists of a short discussion about a current events topic or theme involving books and/or publishing and then a reading recommendation from each of the hosts.

One thing I love about this podcast is that they simply give recommendations of books that have caught their attention (not necessarily by Random House). They don’t do reviews or give anything away, but rather tell you just enough for you to decide whether you might like it. This podcast is how I discovered The Book Thief, The Lost City of Z, and Mary Reilly.

The Classic Tales by B. J. Harrison

I am a longtime fan of this podcast where the host reads classic short stories and novellas, most often adventure tales and classic horror (and, unfortunately, the Jeeves stories of P. G. Wodehouse). The episodes vary greatly in length, but most run 45 to 60 minutes. Occasionally, he will produce multiple episodes of longer works, most recently The Turn of the Screw. His accent can be a bit off-putting, but it grows on you. Unfortunately, only his most recent episodes are available for free, but, if you like his style or story selections, all of them are available for purchase on his website.

Philosophy Bites by David Edmonds and Nigel Warburton

This podcast out of the U.K. presents short interviews (15 to 20 minutes) with guest philosophers focusing on a wide variety of very specific philosophical writings, questions, or issues: Plato’s Cave, Hobbes on the State, atheism, medical consent, and so on. Over 100 episodes are available on iTunes and each topic is independent from the next, so feel free to listen to whichever title looks appealing. Philosophy has always been difficult for me to get a handle on and the specificity of the topics really helps me with that.

Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir by Shannon Clute and Richard Edwards

This series is a must for any fan of film noir. Both professors, not only do Clute and Edwards really know what they are talking about, but they are clearly very passionate about their work. There are a total of 50 episodes, almost all focusing on a single film and generally running 30 to 35 minutes. There are a couple of instances where they pair a classic film with something more contemporary (for example, The Big Sleep and The Big Lebowski) and these run over an hour. Like a lecture course, they sometimes reference earlier episodes and discussions, so I highly recommend listening in some sort of vague chronological order. If you don’t really know the film well, I also recommend Netflixing before listening.

Watching the Directors by Joe and Melissa Johnson

This podcast ran from 2006 to 2008 and has almost 50 episodes. I don’t love the husband and wife team that hosts this series, but I love the concept and structure of looking at the entire career of one director in each episode. I also appreciate the incredible amount of viewing it must have required to put each episode together. The choice of directors runs the gamut from classic (Frank Capra, Ingmar Bergman, Michael Powell) to contemporary (Peter Jackson, Mira Nair, Steven Soderburgh) to iconic (Alfred Hitchcock, Woody Allen, John Hughes). Perhaps because of the time involved, the Johnsons, along with a third host, now host a new series that examines a single film from the angle of its theological, philosophical, and thematic content: Watching Theology is ongoing and has over 30 episodes to date including those on Pulp Fiction, Children of Men, and Fight Club.

12 Byzantine Rulers: The History of the Byzantine Empire by Lars Brownworth
In just 17 episodes (most 25 to 30 minutes long), Brownworth manages to condense over 1000 years of history into a fascinating narrative by focusing on some of the key leaders of the Byzantine Empire. While the original series is long over, his current effort is Norman Centuries, which tells the history of the Normans in England, France, and Italy. To date, there are 10 episodes.

The Dave Ramsey Show by Dave Ramsey

If you are looking to get out of debt, this podcast is a great motivator, particularly on Fridays, when people call in to shout “I’m debt free!” and tell their own personal get-out-of-debt stories. But, fair warning, he thinks you should be sacrificing more to make it happen and his plan is not easy. He also has strong Christian beliefs that he is not afraid to talk about; however, he is pretty good about keeping the show money and debt focused. As someone who used to work in investment consulting, I didn’t really need most of his financial advice (which is extremely sound), but his show played an important role in helping me stick to the strict budget that allowed me to pay off my graduate school loans much earlier than I would have otherwise.

Quick and Dirty Tips

Finally, for help in other areas of your life, I also recommend the “Quick and Dirty Tips” podcasts. This is a group of self-help podcasts each led by a different specialist and focusing on a particular area: legal issues, fitness and health, money matters, etiquette, grammar, etc. The episodes are very short, usually 5 to 10 minutes—which is extremely annoying given how podcasts work on iPods (but I digress). My favorite series are Get-It-Done Guy, who covers managing and organizing your work life, and The Nutrition Diva, who examines such vital questions as “Is high-fructose corn syrup really as bad as they say?” and “Should you spend more for natural gourmet salt?”

Do you listen to podcasts? If so, what are your favorites and why? I have a 30-minute walking commute so I'm always looking for new listening material.

Opera 101—Rock Me Amadeus

From the opening bars of Le Nozze di Figaro (familiar to anyone who has seen Trading Places, another great story of putting one over on an undeserving aristocracy), I was thrilled with my decision to explore the world of opera this year.

In New York, one of my great luxuries was an annual subscription to the New York Philharmonic. So, once my budget here allowed (food and rent are not the only things around here that cost money…), I looked into both the symphony and the ballet. Not thrilled with the programming of either, and seeing that the opera season would include a number of “warhorses,” perfect for a beginner like me, I decided to take the plunge.

Over the years, despite my love of concert music, I have seen only a few classic operas live: La Bohème (it’s an opera), La Traviata, a horrific Carmen in Paris, and a number of productions of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte. But these have been few and far between.

So, naturally, I decided that some research was in order. I turned, as I often do, to The Teaching Company, which provides educational courses on CD and DVD. These recordings cover a range of topics, from science to history to literature, and can usually be found at your local library. I can’t recommend them enough. If you have any interest in concert music, I highly recommend Robert Greenberg’s lectures, especially How to Listen to and Understand Great Music (48 CDs) and How to Listen to and Understand Opera (32 CDs).

The Marriage of Figaro is featured prominently in Greenberg’s discussion of opera buffa, or Italian comic opera. It’s a fun opera, easy to follow, and very tuneful. Last night’s production seemed to be a very traditional interpretation, but I highly enjoyed it. I was reasonably impressed with the orchestra and singers, whose acting was particularly strong. The set was appropriately Spanish looking. My only complaint was with the supertitles, which were remarkably inconsistent, and, at times, incomplete. My Italian filled in the gaps, but I feel like they could have been handled much better than they were.

But, all in all, this was a great start to the season.

Looking good, Mozart!

[Note: If you missed the multitude of Trading Places references in this post, get thee to Netflix—it's a classic.]

A Trilogy of Trilogies

As I finish up the second most-awaited third volume of the year, I’m left wondering about trilogies.

Hollywood has long taken advantage of the popularity of original works to produce sequels, but rarely are these films better than the original (feel free to post your inevitable defense of The Empire Strikes Back and Star Trek II: Wrath of Khan here). Of course, Hollywood’s trilogies suffer greatly from the fact that they are rarely planned; rather, they are most often attempts to capitalize on the success of the original. As such, they are generally ill-conceived, rushed, and often leave you even more depressed than when you started—Wachowski brothers, I’m looking at you.

But what of literary trilogies? Two of the biggest book releases of 2010 were conclusions to trilogies, the first volumes of which were released in the US in 2008: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Hunger Games. The Hunger Games series seems to have been planned as a trilogy, but, while the Millennium Trilogy was only submitted to publishers after the (now late) author had completed all three books, rumor of a manuscript for a fourth book leads one to believe that the series would have continued.

What’s intriguing to me is that, while opinions vary on which book in the Millennium Trilogy is “the best” (as often seems to happen with books in an extended series), everyone I know who has read the Hunger Games trilogy was disappointed with Mockingjay, myself included.

Are the second and third volumes of literary trilogies doomed to disappoint? After all, people say that Purgatorio and Paradiso are a snooze, and only Inferno is worth reading.  As I pick up Beaumarchais’s Figaro trilogy to prepare for Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro later this month, do I bother to read La Mère coupable?