K.A. Laity's Blog, page 160
December 30, 2010
BitchBuzz: The Quiet Grrl Riot
Today's column:
The Quiet Grrl RiotBy K.A. Laity
The biggest revolution this year may be one you didn't even notice.
The year end reviews seem to be having a nerd-gasm over The Social Network, which I figured out finally—thanks to Edgar Wright's roundup for a 'gentleman's magazine'—is all about "geeks as gangsters" and not the merits of a very uneven film with an often choppy script. I realise any film that allow genteel suburban white guys feel a surge of vicarious toughness will be a hit (hence the career of Guy Ritchie). Bond films are just romances for men and let's not even go to the fantasy world that is Apatown.
Women usually get the statues for dying or hooking, so it seems significant that the most stunning—though seemingly little trumpeted—parts went to young women who were not bravely succumbing to a mortal disease or providing eye candy for a male audience who can revel in their eventual downfall because it's all the women's fault for arousing them. No, they were adolescent but no Lolitas. They were suffering, but not in silence. They were victims, but they were not victimized.
Find out what films I'm talking about here (though I expect you might be able to guess): http://culture.bitchbuzz.com/the-quiet-grrl-riot.html#ixzz19bgcyACH (ironic photo choice, eh?)
I've got a bunch of things to do before I head to Memphis and Miss Wendy tomorrow. So far this morning makes it look like I can expect everything to go awry. Nothing tragic, just irritating -- though it may be that my Paypal account has been broken into (how very irritating). My muses have been playing the coquette, too. Normally, if one's not cooperating, I switch to another, but they're all being maddeningly elusive at present. I did get a query letter sketched out last night, but it's a completely different project than what I ought to be working on. It's frustrating to have such a stubbornly recalcitrant head.
The Quiet Grrl RiotBy K.A. Laity
The biggest revolution this year may be one you didn't even notice.
The year end reviews seem to be having a nerd-gasm over The Social Network, which I figured out finally—thanks to Edgar Wright's roundup for a 'gentleman's magazine'—is all about "geeks as gangsters" and not the merits of a very uneven film with an often choppy script. I realise any film that allow genteel suburban white guys feel a surge of vicarious toughness will be a hit (hence the career of Guy Ritchie). Bond films are just romances for men and let's not even go to the fantasy world that is Apatown.
Women usually get the statues for dying or hooking, so it seems significant that the most stunning—though seemingly little trumpeted—parts went to young women who were not bravely succumbing to a mortal disease or providing eye candy for a male audience who can revel in their eventual downfall because it's all the women's fault for arousing them. No, they were adolescent but no Lolitas. They were suffering, but not in silence. They were victims, but they were not victimized.
Find out what films I'm talking about here (though I expect you might be able to guess): http://culture.bitchbuzz.com/the-quiet-grrl-riot.html#ixzz19bgcyACH (ironic photo choice, eh?)
I've got a bunch of things to do before I head to Memphis and Miss Wendy tomorrow. So far this morning makes it look like I can expect everything to go awry. Nothing tragic, just irritating -- though it may be that my Paypal account has been broken into (how very irritating). My muses have been playing the coquette, too. Normally, if one's not cooperating, I switch to another, but they're all being maddeningly elusive at present. I did get a query letter sketched out last night, but it's a completely different project than what I ought to be working on. It's frustrating to have such a stubbornly recalcitrant head.
December 29, 2010
Reviews: Harry Nilsson/King's Speech/True Grit
I have no doubt about the finest film I saw last year this past year: hands down, it was
Winter's Bone
. I've heard people carp about how "accurate" it was, especially people who felt it portrayed their part of the world unflatteringly. I don't know -- there's plenty of areas like that, even here in upstate New York. And if "accuracy" is going to be some kind of gauge for best picture of the year, there's an awful lot of statues to be handed back. All the trailers I saw before True Grit today claimed to be "based on a true story" which always makes me groan. The truth is no basis for a story: too messy. But let me save that rant for another time.
[image error] Who is Harry Nilsson? (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him) offers an insightful look at the brilliant singer songwriter and his life. The film benefits from the ailing Nilsson's decision to try to record a kind of autobiography, the found tapes proving a real treasure trove of commentary that makes the late singer a very vivid part of the film. It helps too that his family including his third wife, Una, with whom he had six children and seemed to be as happy as he found possible, were also cooperating. The tragedy of course is that someone so talented was also so troubled. Paul Williams' description of Nilsson as a great big bunny with real sharp teeth captures that succinctly. He had many hits, collaborated with the Beatles and the Pythons, but wasn't able to shake the ghosts that haunted him, from the father who abandoned him to the friends near to him who died like Keith Moon and John Lennon. As a bonus there are so many extras, too -- as if they couldn't bear to part with any of the footage shot, including Eric Idle's tribute song. They talk to all kinds of people who worked with him from Richard Perry to Van Dyke Parks and with his wives and kids. Excellent: I highly recommend it.
The King's Speech has already received laurels a-plenty which has a lot to do with its cast: they are indeed splendid, including many fine actors in tiny roles who get a couple of lines each (like Claire Bloom, alas). Like so many films now, the background is left enigmatic (well, you know the history, fill in the details yourself, I guess) and only the central actors received development. That really only means Rush and Firth: Helena Bonham Carter is reduced to appearing with corgis and going "there, there" on occasion (AKA a MWW masquerading as a MW1W). The direction is bizarre at times, especially in the first half hour, with angles that take you out of the narrative wondering where on earth the camera is supposed to be. Worse, in the set-up scene between the Prince-soon-to-be-King and the Aussie therapist, the camera work is so bad as to make it look like they're both gazing off into space rather than talking to each other. What really makes the film fall flat is the overwrought ambiance, from the overplayed music to the mountain-out-of-a-molehill plot. Yes, as someone once crippled by the thought of public speaking and who overcame it, I know what a trial it can be for people, but to have someone who treated men just back from Gallipoli call the pampered royal "the bravest man I've ever known" (as do half the people in the film) is just ridiculous hyperbole. If you love Firth, you'll still enjoy it, I guess.
True Grit is like a truly satisfying meal when you're really really hungry. The Coens have a great team of people (apparently Matt Damon has his own whole team, too, according to the credits) from Carter Burwell's musicians to Roger Deakins' seemingly flawless eye. You know Jeff Bridges is going to be good, and yeah, I'll admit it though it burns me a bit, that Matt Damon can be truly skillful when he wants to be. There's a whole host of grizzled frontiersmen, too: Peg and I were joking after the film that they must have put out a call for the ugliest character actors with the tag, "Must have abundant facial hair."
The real star is Hailie Steinfeld. Like Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone, here's a young woman who more than capably carries the film flanked by powerhouse actors who might easily intimidate many a seasoned performer. From the get-go Steinfeld strides into town and into the part with all the certainty of the true believer that she is. You believe her, the grudging respect she wins from the men and when her faith falters, you see that she is a child yet and so very young. It's incredible work. For the Coens, this is a bit different from a lot of their work because there's not that distance that allows ironic humor (we have to be able to laugh at Barton Fink's sufferings because they would be too harrowing; A Serious Man walks that razor's edge with dizzying grace). It's a straight-forward adventure. Don't get me wrong; there's humor, but as in Shakespeare's dramas, it's there to give you a breather from the tension. Well done: go see it.
[image error] Who is Harry Nilsson? (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him) offers an insightful look at the brilliant singer songwriter and his life. The film benefits from the ailing Nilsson's decision to try to record a kind of autobiography, the found tapes proving a real treasure trove of commentary that makes the late singer a very vivid part of the film. It helps too that his family including his third wife, Una, with whom he had six children and seemed to be as happy as he found possible, were also cooperating. The tragedy of course is that someone so talented was also so troubled. Paul Williams' description of Nilsson as a great big bunny with real sharp teeth captures that succinctly. He had many hits, collaborated with the Beatles and the Pythons, but wasn't able to shake the ghosts that haunted him, from the father who abandoned him to the friends near to him who died like Keith Moon and John Lennon. As a bonus there are so many extras, too -- as if they couldn't bear to part with any of the footage shot, including Eric Idle's tribute song. They talk to all kinds of people who worked with him from Richard Perry to Van Dyke Parks and with his wives and kids. Excellent: I highly recommend it.
The King's Speech has already received laurels a-plenty which has a lot to do with its cast: they are indeed splendid, including many fine actors in tiny roles who get a couple of lines each (like Claire Bloom, alas). Like so many films now, the background is left enigmatic (well, you know the history, fill in the details yourself, I guess) and only the central actors received development. That really only means Rush and Firth: Helena Bonham Carter is reduced to appearing with corgis and going "there, there" on occasion (AKA a MWW masquerading as a MW1W). The direction is bizarre at times, especially in the first half hour, with angles that take you out of the narrative wondering where on earth the camera is supposed to be. Worse, in the set-up scene between the Prince-soon-to-be-King and the Aussie therapist, the camera work is so bad as to make it look like they're both gazing off into space rather than talking to each other. What really makes the film fall flat is the overwrought ambiance, from the overplayed music to the mountain-out-of-a-molehill plot. Yes, as someone once crippled by the thought of public speaking and who overcame it, I know what a trial it can be for people, but to have someone who treated men just back from Gallipoli call the pampered royal "the bravest man I've ever known" (as do half the people in the film) is just ridiculous hyperbole. If you love Firth, you'll still enjoy it, I guess.
True Grit is like a truly satisfying meal when you're really really hungry. The Coens have a great team of people (apparently Matt Damon has his own whole team, too, according to the credits) from Carter Burwell's musicians to Roger Deakins' seemingly flawless eye. You know Jeff Bridges is going to be good, and yeah, I'll admit it though it burns me a bit, that Matt Damon can be truly skillful when he wants to be. There's a whole host of grizzled frontiersmen, too: Peg and I were joking after the film that they must have put out a call for the ugliest character actors with the tag, "Must have abundant facial hair."The real star is Hailie Steinfeld. Like Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone, here's a young woman who more than capably carries the film flanked by powerhouse actors who might easily intimidate many a seasoned performer. From the get-go Steinfeld strides into town and into the part with all the certainty of the true believer that she is. You believe her, the grudging respect she wins from the men and when her faith falters, you see that she is a child yet and so very young. It's incredible work. For the Coens, this is a bit different from a lot of their work because there's not that distance that allows ironic humor (we have to be able to laugh at Barton Fink's sufferings because they would be too harrowing; A Serious Man walks that razor's edge with dizzying grace). It's a straight-forward adventure. Don't get me wrong; there's humor, but as in Shakespeare's dramas, it's there to give you a breather from the tension. Well done: go see it.
December 27, 2010
December 25, 2010
Happy Christmas
I would have put "Happy Xmas (War is Over)" but you can't embed this version.
Or if you need something cheerier:
Or even --
But I have to add:
December 24, 2010
Friday's Forgotten Books: Puckoon
Spike Milligan's Puckoon
Once again this is a "forgotten" book only in the States; Spike Milligan is an icon for many in Britain and Ireland (not to mention the rest of the world). My Penguin copy actually has a note on the back cover, "For copyright reasons this edition is not for sale in the U.S.A." I bought it in Skoob some time ago (ah, Skoob, where I have whiled away many an hour).
I'm not going to write an entire review as there is a superb one by Jim Murdoch available. Rather I want to focus on why it's such a funny book and I love it. "This damn book nearly drove me mad," Milligan writes in the foreward, "I started it in 1958 and doodled with it for 4 years. I don't think I could go through it all again, therefore...this will be my first and last novel." Fortunately, that didn't prove to be true.
I love mad chaotic humor like Milligan created for the Goons (and yes, of course Peter Cook, source of my endless fascination with world domination). Milligan could be rather erratic as his personal histories attest, but when he was on, there was an elegant madness that makes you marvel as well as laugh. Long before it became a staple of post-modern literature, Milligan made himself a character as well as The Author, leading to exchanges between the two of them like this:
Delightful, eh? This is the kind of writing I aspire to do. It reads as if pouring from the brain spigot but of course, as Milligan's foreword makes plain, it's very hard work to achieve even if the prose reads effortlessly. Always the case.
If curious about the 2002 film version, here's the trailer. I'm not encouraged. For more Forgotten books, check out Patti Abbot's blog every Friday.
Once again this is a "forgotten" book only in the States; Spike Milligan is an icon for many in Britain and Ireland (not to mention the rest of the world). My Penguin copy actually has a note on the back cover, "For copyright reasons this edition is not for sale in the U.S.A." I bought it in Skoob some time ago (ah, Skoob, where I have whiled away many an hour).I'm not going to write an entire review as there is a superb one by Jim Murdoch available. Rather I want to focus on why it's such a funny book and I love it. "This damn book nearly drove me mad," Milligan writes in the foreward, "I started it in 1958 and doodled with it for 4 years. I don't think I could go through it all again, therefore...this will be my first and last novel." Fortunately, that didn't prove to be true.
I love mad chaotic humor like Milligan created for the Goons (and yes, of course Peter Cook, source of my endless fascination with world domination). Milligan could be rather erratic as his personal histories attest, but when he was on, there was an elegant madness that makes you marvel as well as laugh. Long before it became a staple of post-modern literature, Milligan made himself a character as well as The Author, leading to exchanges between the two of them like this:
...He rolled his trousers kneewards revealing the like of two thin white hairy affairs of the leg variety. He eyed them with obvious dissatisfaction, After examining them he spoke aloud. 'Holy God! Wot are dese den? Eh?' He looked around for an answer. 'Wot are dey?' he repeated angrily.
'Legs.'
'Legs? LEGS? Whose legs?'
'Yours.'
'Mine? And who are you?'
'The Author.'
'Author? Author? Did you write these legs?'
'Yes."
'Well, I don't like dem. I don't like 'em at all at all. I could ha' writted better legs meself. Did you write your legs?'
'No.'
"Ahhh. Sooo! You got some one else to write your legs, some one who's a good leg writer and den you write dis pair of crappy old legs fer me, well mister, it's not good enough.'
'I'll try and develop them with the plot.'
Delightful, eh? This is the kind of writing I aspire to do. It reads as if pouring from the brain spigot but of course, as Milligan's foreword makes plain, it's very hard work to achieve even if the prose reads effortlessly. Always the case.
If curious about the 2002 film version, here's the trailer. I'm not encouraged. For more Forgotten books, check out Patti Abbot's blog every Friday.
December 23, 2010
BitchBuzz: World Domination (and bonus fez)
For my latest column, I channel EL Wisty:
A Simple Guide to World DominationBy K.A. Laity
Some people use the holidays to give gifts, bond with families and eat too much. These people will never control the globe.
Lots of people have a good string of days off this time of year when they are free of the mundane tasks required to make a living scraping by in a moderately successful job. Most will spend their time imbibing festive drinks and exchanging gifts. The more ambitious, however, will put this freedom to better use by formulating a plan to dominate the world.
While reading Manisha Thakor's piece on how women seldom ask for raises, instead hoping their hard work will be noticed and rewarded (it won't), I was struck again by the failure of so many women to risk not being seen as nice. 'Nice' will not conquer worlds: look at Dick Cheney. I'm sure Alexander did not remember his co-worker's birthdays. And if Stalin ever brought cookies to the office, they were probably poisoned. If you want to rule the world, keep a few of these things in mind...
Read the rest of the guide: http://life.bitchbuzz.com/a-simple-guide-to-world-domination.html#ixzz18x3hyVk5
I'm off to Robert's tomorrow for Xmas gatherings. Can I be away from the internet for that long? Well, I will have to adjust. I may actually do some reading if I am not (as usual) put to work peeling potatoes (apparently my only culinary skill).
I'm pleased with the latest installment of Kit Marlowe's serial, Airships & Alchemy. It's the beginning of chapter two and we're with the Italian alchemist now -- and his Venetian lion, Eduardo. And as I observed yesterday to a friend, I have a theory that adding a fez improves almost anything. That reminds me: Marko sent a picture of the birthday gift I gave him. Looks good on his car! :-)
A Simple Guide to World DominationBy K.A. Laity
Some people use the holidays to give gifts, bond with families and eat too much. These people will never control the globe.
Lots of people have a good string of days off this time of year when they are free of the mundane tasks required to make a living scraping by in a moderately successful job. Most will spend their time imbibing festive drinks and exchanging gifts. The more ambitious, however, will put this freedom to better use by formulating a plan to dominate the world.
While reading Manisha Thakor's piece on how women seldom ask for raises, instead hoping their hard work will be noticed and rewarded (it won't), I was struck again by the failure of so many women to risk not being seen as nice. 'Nice' will not conquer worlds: look at Dick Cheney. I'm sure Alexander did not remember his co-worker's birthdays. And if Stalin ever brought cookies to the office, they were probably poisoned. If you want to rule the world, keep a few of these things in mind...
Read the rest of the guide: http://life.bitchbuzz.com/a-simple-guide-to-world-domination.html#ixzz18x3hyVk5
I'm off to Robert's tomorrow for Xmas gatherings. Can I be away from the internet for that long? Well, I will have to adjust. I may actually do some reading if I am not (as usual) put to work peeling potatoes (apparently my only culinary skill).
I'm pleased with the latest installment of Kit Marlowe's serial, Airships & Alchemy. It's the beginning of chapter two and we're with the Italian alchemist now -- and his Venetian lion, Eduardo. And as I observed yesterday to a friend, I have a theory that adding a fez improves almost anything. That reminds me: Marko sent a picture of the birthday gift I gave him. Looks good on his car! :-)
December 22, 2010
New Ink
I realise I posted this on Facebook and Twitter but not here (multiple media streams is the key to success for writers, they tell me). So here it is and here's a bit about the image of Akka. I bought the brooch at the National Museum in Helsinki. It's just above the bruising on my ankle that's still there from the torn ligaments. Yeah, still there. Got a new piercing, too.
December 21, 2010
Happy Yule, Jane Quiet, Elena & Providence
The solstice is upon us and it pays to remember that the longest night also means it's time for the return of the light. Here's my perennial offering on Anglo-Saxon Yule that ended up online without my putting it there. At least they credited me as author.
I've got another piece up at Polite Company Magazine: a humorous account of a medieval saint.
Waking up at Elena's can be an interesting experience. I am glad not to have been in the room with the evil clown lately. Instead I get the knitted giraffe...
And of course, pin up boy, Gunnar Hansen...
As well as the Spider-man bedding and if lucky, a puppy. Shaq certainly enjoyed the Spider-man comforter (or perhaps just the belly rubs). The three pups are a lot of fun and of course, as Elena always says, "I'm a mom!" so visitors are very well taken care of. It's nice. Thanks so much for all the food and fun!
Yesterday, once we could tear ourselves away from the pups, we headed off to Providence and the John Hay Library. We needed some visual references for Jane Quiet and to fill in some of her back story. I'm excited that Elena is ready to work on it again -- the story we have in mind is a knock-out! Here's Hay himself with a jaunty holiday bow. Seems that students rub him on the nose for good luck on exams, which makes it shiny. There was a terrific exhibit on Hispaniola in the gallery. We chatted with a librarian who was very helpful and gave me the card for the librarian who's the primary curator for the occult and magic collections -- a good resource. We'll be going back soon with specific volumes to look through (may that Danse Macabre bound in human skin!) Elena snapped some photos for reference. They had a copy of the Audubon book on display. Huge!
Next to the library is the little memorial for H. P. Lovecraft, a Providence legend and influential horror writer. I always refer to the "Lovecraft effect" in that city, which seems to mean it's impossible not to get lost. We had GPS and we still got lost (turns out there's two different Prospect Streets in Providence).
So we had a great Indian lunch and snooped around the bookstore (though a drama section that has neither Beckett nor Stoppard doesn't speak highly of their selection process). Re-energized by the trip and all the ideas we bounced around on the drive, we decided to work on storyboarding the new adventure we'd plotted out. So here's Elena sketching away while I was writing dialogue. She's a wonder -- I so admire her skill and how she can capture emotions. I'm so excited about this story -- all I can tell you is Egypt...
Home again to a crying cat, good things in the mail and a boatload of email to wade through. So little time, so much to do!
I've got another piece up at Polite Company Magazine: a humorous account of a medieval saint.
Waking up at Elena's can be an interesting experience. I am glad not to have been in the room with the evil clown lately. Instead I get the knitted giraffe...
And of course, pin up boy, Gunnar Hansen...
As well as the Spider-man bedding and if lucky, a puppy. Shaq certainly enjoyed the Spider-man comforter (or perhaps just the belly rubs). The three pups are a lot of fun and of course, as Elena always says, "I'm a mom!" so visitors are very well taken care of. It's nice. Thanks so much for all the food and fun!
Yesterday, once we could tear ourselves away from the pups, we headed off to Providence and the John Hay Library. We needed some visual references for Jane Quiet and to fill in some of her back story. I'm excited that Elena is ready to work on it again -- the story we have in mind is a knock-out! Here's Hay himself with a jaunty holiday bow. Seems that students rub him on the nose for good luck on exams, which makes it shiny. There was a terrific exhibit on Hispaniola in the gallery. We chatted with a librarian who was very helpful and gave me the card for the librarian who's the primary curator for the occult and magic collections -- a good resource. We'll be going back soon with specific volumes to look through (may that Danse Macabre bound in human skin!) Elena snapped some photos for reference. They had a copy of the Audubon book on display. Huge!
Next to the library is the little memorial for H. P. Lovecraft, a Providence legend and influential horror writer. I always refer to the "Lovecraft effect" in that city, which seems to mean it's impossible not to get lost. We had GPS and we still got lost (turns out there's two different Prospect Streets in Providence).
So we had a great Indian lunch and snooped around the bookstore (though a drama section that has neither Beckett nor Stoppard doesn't speak highly of their selection process). Re-energized by the trip and all the ideas we bounced around on the drive, we decided to work on storyboarding the new adventure we'd plotted out. So here's Elena sketching away while I was writing dialogue. She's a wonder -- I so admire her skill and how she can capture emotions. I'm so excited about this story -- all I can tell you is Egypt...
Home again to a crying cat, good things in the mail and a boatload of email to wade through. So little time, so much to do!
December 20, 2010
At Elena's
Pictures to come but I've only got the iPod with me. Puppies! Elena cooking! Appletinis! Providence today: Lovecraft and Jane Quiet and hopefully catching up with some friends.
December 17, 2010
My Birthday / Your Present
I don't have a scanner so this will have to do for now. A photo of a photo on a camera with no view finder. I think this must be the house on Clark Road just after it was finished, because my grandparents house next door (where we had been living) has an alcove by the front door. I'm not yet two according to the Kodacolor date on the back.So, yes, it's my birthday and a rather intimidating number of them have added up so I will not think about that and instead I'm going to give away a copy of The Mangrove Legacy to someone at random who comments on this post.
Surely someone will want to wish me a happy birthday, right? Well, I shall be off gallivanting. I hope to check in now and then. The definite plans include lunch with Bertie and drinkies with the gang at The Point at the traditional cocktail hour -- there are rumours of cake and the possibility of a ritual from last year being repeated. We shall see.
I must choose the right hat...
![[image error]](http://citypaper.net/blogs/criticalmass/files/2010/11/who_is_harry_nilsson-280x413.jpg){kind=link}
