In the next few months I'll be posting the writing of my father. As we clean out his bedroom we collect his work, which takes various forms: typed stories, hand-written pieces on lined paper, ideas on index cards, file folders and manilla envelopes with full-length manuscripts, college essays, printed articles. All of it analog, nothing in digital form. Which means it needs to be digitally archived, either transcribed, scanned, or photographed.
Among his papers are: issues of Driftwood, a monthly poetry anthology form the 1940s in which he published early poems; two novels; a book-length exegesis of an ornithologist; type- or hand-written journals detailing the years he met my mother (I found the very entry where he talks about their first date! He was smitten from the first.), a joint journal kept by both my parents during their honeymoon when they drove from the East Coast to California to spent six months atop a mountain where they were employed as fire lookouts, and his journal of the family's move from Pennsylvania to Cape Cod in early 1961.
There are also boxes of family photographs. I don't know if other families took as many photographs in the early mid-twentieth century, but cameras must have been yearly Christmas gifts for the Smith family. Dad was also a painter and illustrator. Aside from his love of birds, he took to doing watercolors and charcoals of beloved Cape Cod themes, adding his spin to light houses and crashing waves and soaring seagulls. He sent me cartoons when I was in college; he was influenced by Trudeau's Doonsbury comic. So I will post some of his artwork here as well.
It all amounts to an archive whose breadth and depth my father only occasionally hinted at during his later life. Wendell was a WWII glider pilot, a used book dealer, a writer, nature lover, a father of four kids, husband of almost 60 years to Muriel, herself a writer and book lover.
To get things started, I'm posting part 1 of the transcript of a recorded interview with both Wendell and Muriel Smith, when they lived in Florida, on Anna Maria Island, May 25th 2009. I'll post part 2 in the next few days.
Topics discussed: writing, reading, agents, literary influences, growing up during the Great Depression, WWII, living on Cape Cod, raising four kids to be readers and writers, buying and selling used books and antiques, how the Internet changed everything, the benefits of writing long hand, publishing cartoons in the New Yorker, publishing articles in Classics Illustrated, and meeting Kurt Vonnegut.
Dell Smith, son, interviewer.
Dell Smith: So, we’re here with Wendell Everett Smith and Muriel Phipps Smith. And we’re just going to be talking a little bit about writing and Smith family writers. (To Wendell) You grew up in New Jersey.
Wendell Smith: In Morristown.
Dell: You weren’t born during the depression, but you were a kid during the depression.
Wendell: Right.
Dell: So that must have had a bit of an impact on growing up and the way your family—
Wendell: Well it did, but you know, you’re a kid. You don’t really know. We weren’t starving to death or anything.
For the past three Decembers my crafty wife, Liz, has been a craft vendor at the SOWA holiday market. This year’s holiday market is tomorrow, Saturday the 9th. In the past I went with her and hung around if she needed me. More often than not, she didn’t. So I would take a brisk walk over the Pike to Copley Plaza and Back Bay.
There I would camp out in the Borders on Boylston and do some of my Christmas shopping. I would spend a couple hours browsing the current releases, checking out the new-in-paperback table, and trolling A to Z through paperback fiction. I always had a list of books to buy family members. Luckily for this book lover everyone in my family reads. That includes sisters, bro-in-laws, and, to a degree, niece and nephews. Like any fancy big box book store, this Borders also had a decent collection of graphic novels and movies. This is not a plug for Borders, obviously, since in the past year all Borders locations have been liquidated.
Borders was never my favorite bookstore. Borders had no feng sui. I would walk through the front door and be hit with inappropriately placed tables with no flow. Book shelving that was oblique or inconsistent. I smelled a corporate evil amid the stacks. The idea that one person, possibly a committee, decides which books all stores of a franchise should carry is a chilling deception. I know Barnes & Nobel has one buyer, one woman who decides on the book selection. Maybe she has great taste. But no one person should be the arbiter, the gatekeeper, of culture.
Well, that’s another argument. We can all go indie if we don’t like it, so there’s no use complaining.
So then anyway, that brings us to tomorrow. When I drive Liz into the holiday show, will I stick around for the day as I’ve done the past three years, this time searching for a new store? (I know of a bookstore well up Newbury Street, but that’s a pretty long walk. There may be one or two in the upscale Copley malls.) Or will I turn around and drive out to Brookline or Somerville?
The Borders on Boylston was the perfect destination. After I collected my books, I could order a sandwich in the coffee shop (microwaved and rubbery) and of course drink as much Seattle’s Best as I could stomach. Then, dazed, perhaps zapped by consumerism and air freshener and a comprised stomach lining, I’d stumble through the matrix of Boston streets back to the SOWA holiday show to check on Liz.
Yes, bookstores are closing every day. And yes eventually those printed pages between covers will become rare. But, publishing is still a big business, and books are still printed and consumed. The generation brought up with Harry Potter and Twilight may be the last to appreciate the experience of waiting on line to buy a new book by their favorite author. It’s all too easy to buy all the books you could want online, or, if you’re not into the analog, download e-books or audio books. Still, for now, books have a place in our consumer society. And there are millions of readers who are unwilling, just yet, to part with them.
As for Borders, maybe they screwed up. Maybe they dodged left without a plan when Barnes & Noble dodged right with the NOOK. Maybe the marketplace demanded fewer bookstores (although about 40% the Borders locations are being filled with the even more middle-of-the-road Books-a-Million). I was a fan of Borders one time each year, otherwise I would go to Barnes & Noble or, when I had the time to make the drive into Boston, Brookline Booksmith, Porter Square Books, Harvard Bookstore, or Newton to New England Mobil Bookfair, and more often now that my mom is back on the Cape, Main Street Books in Orleans.
I do not rejoice when any bookstore goes down. I will miss Borders. Especially tomorrow. But I'll find another bookstore. Hopefully I always will. Sorry Virginia, there is no Borders this year.
The idea was to watch and review a movie a week for a year. It happened, for the most part, as planned. I didn't quite hit the 50 movie mark, but what do you expect from an Unreliable Narrator? For this blog I have written almost entirely about movies since October of 2010. All my literary thoughts got funneled through my posts over at Beyond the Margins.
I had some guest posts, for The Illusionist, Harry Potter, and The King's Speech. That freed me up for a few weeks here and there, and I suppose that's cheating. But sometimes when writing for two blogs and keeping up other non-blog writing, you need a break.
I did not end up reviewing 52 movies. But, I didn't do too badly. I reviewed 38 new releases, along with a couple of older movies I saw on the big screen including Touch of Evil and Tron. I also reviewed the films I enjoyed at the Disposable Film Festival, which the Lowell Film Collaborative brought to Lowell last year. I posted an appreciation of Steel Helmet, the Korean war film by Samuel Fuller and wrote an essay comparing Tarantino and Sam Packinpah. I also ran a duel DVD review of Easy A vs. Machete.
I would also like to take a moment to lament the eight hours I will never get back watching Battle: Los Angeles, Drive Angry 3-D, The Dilemma, and The Warrior's Way. Also, I found out how crappy a movie-going experience it can be watching a 3-D movie, with those dimming, uncomfortable, very low-tech glasses.
I saw most movies here in Lowell, at the Showcase Cinema, a decent mainstream theater with stadium seating. But I also saw movies in Arlington, Cambridge, Brookline, Oak Bluffs, Woburn, Waltham, and back in Lowell at the Historical Park Visitor's Center theater.
Did I capture that feeling I had when I was a kid? That excitement, that anticipation? Sort of. I have to admit that watching the action spectacle that was The Transformers was a guilty pleasure bar none. And laughing along with a full theater at Horrible Bosses was also an oddly comforting, communal experience. In the same way I groaned along with the audience during Hangover II.
I'll always go to the movies. Just this past week I went to see a great film at the Historical Park Visitor's Center (another unique viewing experience sponsored by Suzz and Brett of the Lowell Film Collaborative!) called Of Dolls and Murder. The director, Susan Marks, was on hand to discuss this documentary about crime scene doll houses created in the 30s and 40s by Frances Glessner Lee and used as forensics training for detectives.
What's next for Unreliable Narrator? Not sure yet. I may go back to writing about writing, books, and reading. I also have another idea, another possible direction for this blog. I'll let you know in the next few weeks.
Thanks to everybody who reads Unreliable Narrator and also to those who leave comments. The comments and views really keep me going.
Spoiler alert-o-meter: Less plot, more theme. Not to worry.
What? You didn't know these movie reviews were a limited time thing? Yes, I have completed my goal of writing movie reviews for a year. I didn't quite achieve one review per week, but came close. In my next post I'll do a wrap up of my findings and introduce my ideas for the next iteration/generation of this blog (as soon as I figure out what that will be).
Meanwhile, for your entertainment value: The Ides of March:
Politics is fun. Politics is for people who love this country and want to see all people do better. The betterment of humanity. Politics is not boring.
Only one of the above statements is true. Unless you’re a sadist and think politics is actually fun and you are a naïve idealist and believe our political system works as originally designed.
We all know politics is a calling for those who are ambitious, scrappy, and shrewd. But, on the plus side, politics is the most riveting realty show ever created. And it is available for consumption 24/7, in papers, online, on broadcast TV, at work, in your neighborhood, and in your family. Politics in America, for better or worse, is an inescapable fact.
The Ideas of March takes politics today and scrapes away a layer of filth so we can see the filth underneath. Not that we don’t know it’s there. But one thing we don’t always see are all the back room shenanigans, including how decisions are made and at what personal cost. The Ides of March does an admirable job of showing us the cost.
The movie stars heartthrobs of different generations. We’ve got George Clooney (who also directed) as Mike Morris, the democratic governor of Pennsylvania and presidential hopeful in the days leading up to the Ohio Democratic primary, and Ryan Gosling as Stephen Meyers, his devoted, super savvy media consultant. Morris is the frontrunner to win this primary, at least if you ask the voters of the state. This is a big primary, and he may still lose. And if he does, simple math dictates he will go on to lose the democratic nomination.
The mechanics of how this plays out include enough shady deals, misunderstandings, backstabbing, and double crosses to fill a pulp fiction novel. But Clooney isn’t trying to emulate Jim Thompson or James M. Cain, so much as ‘70s film moralists like Sidney Lumet and Alan J. Pakula. Clooney knows modern politics is the reality show we all love to hate, so he tries to bring a human face to the proceedings. He conveys well the aphorism that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and shows that politics is less about how to help people than how to get reelected. He uncovers the greed for power and the greed for money. And how you can leverage all the relationships you’ve fostered working in politics to ease into the private sector where you can make some real money.
That Clooney’s Morris is a flaming liberal is no surprise considering the character mirrors Clooney’s beliefs as well. That Morris makes missteps that eventually compromise his integrity aren’t very surprising either. But it is always a little shocking to discover that the public persona of anyone—politician, movie star, author—turns out to be the opposite of that which is projected. This is an idea the movie plays with throughout.
We see most of the action through the eyes of Gosling’s Meyer. At the start of the movie he is enchanted with Morris, believing in the same causes as his boss. But at every turn he is reminded of the true nature of politics by those around him, including Morris’s seasoned campaign manager, Paul Zara (played with nasty gusto by Philip Seymour Hoffman), who has worked on dozens of campaigns and knows exactly what must be done to win an election. Then there’s New York Times reporter Ida Horowicz (played by Marisa Tomei with a gusto that matches Hoffman’s), who will do what she needs to get a scoop about the candidates.
This wet dream of an indie-file cast is rounded out by Paul Giamatti as Tom Duffy, the campaign manager of Morris’s opponent who is playing a game Meyers may or may not be up to. Jeffrey Wright plays Thompson, a senator who has the delegates to help either candidate win the primary, but in return for his endorsement insists a cabinet position.
Then there’s Molly, an intern in the Morris campaign office. Molly is played by the young actress Evan Rachel Wood, who is something of a revelation here. Molly is a tricky part. At first you don’t understand her motivations. She sleeps with Meyer (well, considering Ryan Gosling plays Meyer, I guess I understand that motivation) but we wonder if she has an agenda. Wood has to convey naiveté, mystery, and fresh-faced idealism. Her agenda is that of an impassioned post adolescent, an innocent who gets wowed by the bright lights of celebrity and power. The series of revelations and events that befall Molly is a shame, but is only a symptom in the wider contagion of betrayal and corruption on a national campaign trail.
The refreshing part of The Ides of March is that it does not stoop to portray us-against-them politics. Clooney—who also co-wrote the screenplay with Grant Heslov, based on the play Farragut North by Beau Willimon—is not interested in the democrats vs. republicans Fox News bullshit. Party affiliation doesn’t matter, because all parties are equally corrupt be they democrat, republican, independent, or libertarian.
It’s more about how even the best political intentions and moral judgments get waylaid by the money-based political process. To say that process is worse than it’s ever been may be hyperbole. But it ain’t great, and this little nasty insider slice of modern politics just wants to remind you that our process is alive and chugging along, if not particularly well. Not that we need reminding, especially as we collectively prepare to trudge into the mud of the upcoming election year.
Caution: this preview gives away more plot points than my review:
Stats:
Theater location: Lowell Showcase, Tuesday, October 11th, $6bargain night! Viewed with Liz! Snack: I splurged with two apple donut holes from Parley Farms, and 1 apple, cut and bagged.
Coming Attractions:
Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1. Surly teens in the Pacific Northwest. Some are vampires. Some are werewolves. Many are shirtless. Some are pale. Somebody gets pregnant. All hell breaks loose.
Young Adult. The welcome return of Charlize Theron, playing a type of obnoxious, crass character that Cameron Diaz nailed earlier this year in Bad Teacher. Theron plays a young adult author returning to her hometown to bag an old crush, who happens to be married. Co-starring the always welcome Patton Oswalt. From 'Juno' writing/directing duo Diablo Cody and Jason Reitman.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Completely superfluous version of the original. Looks about the same: story, look, characters, even accents. Why bother? I'm surprised such a visionary director as David Fincher took this on. Plus, the original wasn't that hot either. I chock it up to a lame, average story.
J. Edgar. Clint Eastwood is still churning out movies. This one stars Leonardo DiCaprio as the titular character. His aging makeup looks like a triumph, if incredibly creepy and disconcerting.
The Rum Diary. Ah, this is a movie I can get behind. Johnny Depp stars in the adaptation of Hunter S. Thompson's first novel. It has a playful vibe, a beautiful look, Johnny looks swell, and so do the ladies. Something to do with a journalist covering a story on a Caribbean island. Although that plot seems secondary to the drinking and various other Hunteresque shenanigans. Luckily it does not offer the same vibe as Gilliam's misfire Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
Moneyball is a movie directed by Bennett Miller based on the 2004 book Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game by Michael Lewis about Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland Athletics. It’s the end of the season in 2001, and the A’s had a decent run but didn’t make it to the playoffs. Again. Not only that, the team loses three of its best players to other teams. You see, Billy’s main problem is that his team only has about 38 million to spend in a season. Compare that with teams like the Yankees and the Red Sox who can spend 135-140 million a season. All the best, big name players go to those teams because they can afford to pay top dollar. Billy needs to change things up, to rethink the way his team acquires players.
On paper Moneyball sounds like a yawn, and in the theaters it has the potential to live up to that promise, yet somehow the movie mostly works due to a emotionally resonant script (by Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillian) and a filmmaking style that doesn’t overwhelm the story. The great cast embodies the key players both on the field and in the clubhouse and help breath life into what is essentially a movie about statistics.
Brad Pitt plays Billy. When he was younger, Billy was courted by the majors right out of high school because he was a talented player with amazing potential. Cut to twenty-five years later, and now he’s the guy that goes to the prospective player’s houses to meet and sign them.
Billy’s in great shape, although he scarfs junk food and his job would give anybody anxiety attacks. He’s an athlete who no longer plays the game. He hates losing even more than he loves winning. And he’s tired of his team losing. Pitt’s still vital physique belies his characters’ sense of yearning, loss, and need for redemption. Billy’s sad, tired eyes tell the story of his also-ran life in pro sports. He’s divorced (his wife is played by Robin Wright), and when it’s his turn with his daughter (Kerris Dorsey), she can’t help but worry about him.
Billy meets Peter Brand (Jonah Hill, going effectively understated here), a business major just out of Yale who is a whiz with statistics. Peter tells Billy of his belief in the ideas set forth by analyst Bill James decades earlier but never embraced, including how winning in baseball is a percentage game and that teams are throwing big money at all the wrong players. Peter’s idea is to acquire players based on how often they get on base. Because players that get on base win games. This makes so much sense to Billy that he hires Peter and embraces this new single-minded philosophy when he starts recruiting players for the next season.
The arc of this story concerns Billy recruiting new players, and seeing how this ragtag team plays out their 2002 season. It’s fun watching Billy break the news to his seasoned scouts that they will not be hiring pitchers with the fastest arm and young hitters with a lot of potential (not unlike Billy when he was younger). Their new season starts with a losing whimper, with a team that includes a pitcher who throws sidearm, a former catcher with a bum elbow on first base, aging star hitter David Justice, and various other motley players all cheap enough for the A’s budget.
When it’s clear to everyone that Billy’s new philosophy isn’t working out, he and the team, not to mention coach Art Howe (played by Philip Seymour Hoffman as a seasoned vet whose contract may or may not get picked up), become the brunt of announcer’s jokes and fan’s fury (oh those fans). When the team finally hits on a winning streak, everyone’s amazed.
Moneyball is a heartfelt look at not just the game of baseball, but how the players are pawns in a game where moves are made far above their heads and how they can be traded with a well-timed phone call and a look at the money in the bank. It avoids being a big league Bad News Bears, or a Major League played mostly straight.
I’m fascinated by movies that showcase jobs I don’t know about. I don’t follow baseball, but even if I did, Moneyball shows the inside scoop on how the gears grind behind major league teams and pro sports in America. The movie runs about 10-15 minutes long, as if director Miller didn’t want to disturb his characters, wanting their emotions (mostly Pitt’s Beane) to play out in almost real time. The ending is obvious and redundant, but it doesn’t detract from what came before. Days after viewing, the movie has stuck with me.
Stats
Theater location: Lowell Showcase, Sunday, September 25th, pm matinee. Viewed with Liz. Snack: licorice from the Chocolate Sparrow!
Coming Attractions
Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Completely superfluous version of the original. Looks about the same: story, look, characters, even accents. Why bother? I'm surprised such a visionary director as David Fincher took this on. Plus, the original wasn't that hot either. I chock it up to a lame, average story.
Immortals. Looks like a bunch of other movies where warriors during a distant past (or future?) era stormed the castle. Bonus: Mickey Rourke!
J. Edgar. Clint Eastwood is still churning out movies. This one stars Leonardo DiCaprio as the titular character. His aging makeup looks like a triumph, if incredibly creepy and disconcerting.
Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy. A jazzed up version of the John le Carré novel. All star cast includes Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, John Hurt, and Tom Hardy.
