Beauty Reified

I've been thinking of this review of Fleet Foxes premier album by Stephen M. Deusner all day. Reading Oscar Wilde, I can really understand how absolutely wonderful a critic's review of a work of art can be. Again and again he reaffirmed the thoughts I had during this album, the warm and gorgeous harmonies of a more rustic age bringing the listener into, as Deusner puts it, "Fleet Foxes' old world," while bringing other more fuzzy imagery into much greater focus, placing eloquent and apt explanations in front of the frenzied frescoes the mind tends to remember. I just really liked this review, both because it so beautifully understood an album I absolutely adored, and because I understood why I enjoyed reading it so much.

The Elements of Stylin

What a cool "little" book. Brutal, concise to a dot, and simple.
I'm endeavoring to incorporate several of these "elements" in my writing, but a few in particular come to mind:
6: Do not overwrite.
I'm a fan of big words, run-on sentences, and big flowery passages. I feel My writing could use a little less overwriting, for I'm not a fan of the whole brevity thing.
17. Omit Needless Words.
This is all I've been seeing on my reviewed reviews, big loops through extraneous "subsequently"s and "obviously,"s. Gotta work on word-for-word conciseness.

The Critic as Artiste

In "The Critic as Artist," renowned playwright Oscar Wilde presents arguments, in the form of a discussion, that the Critic plays both a highly creative and interpretive role in society.
As Gilbert, Wilde attempts to prove to his companion Ernest that the Critical faculty and the Creative faculty are one and the same. Wilde argues that, like a painter or a novelist, a Critic "works with materials, and puts them into a form that is at once new and delightful." He then goes on to give the compelling theories that people who give their personal performances of material are not performers but in fact critics of the work they present; an actor is not a performer of his character but rather its critic, a musician is not a performer of his music, but rather its critic. Wilde's main theory is that the beauty art is truly within the eye of the beholder, and contends that the Critic is able to, by examining, analyzing, and giving his personal thoughts of a work of art, the Critic is able to transcend it by applying it to realms of thought the artist themselves could never have thought of in a method wonderful and descriptive.
During the second part of Gilbert and Ernest's discussion, Wilde states his theories about the Critic also acting as an interpreter, contradicting his previous views that true artistic Criticism should be entirely subjective; however, he downplays the importance of this role of Criticism.
Wilde's virtuosity as a writer and intellectual shines brilliantely even through the more mundane passages of his sound and elegant logic. Idea for idea, this was a brilliant piece of work.

Taxi to the Dark Side not exactly a Star Wars reference

Alex Gibney’s Taxi to the Dark Side is a documentary about the U.S. Government’s abhorrent maltreatment of detained suspected terrorists in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the infamous Guantanamo Bay. Featuring disturbing interviews and appalling images of torture, “Taxi” is not for the weak of heart. The documentary begins with the investigation of the tragic incarceration and murder of a young Afghani taxi driver named Dilawar at the hands of U.S. interrogators at the Bagram Air Force Base Afghanistan. Gibney uses this investigation and a series of extremely well-chosen interviews with soldiers involved in this and other incidents at Abu Gahrib and Guantanamo Bay to open the can of worms that is what the U.S. Military’s information division has become since 9/11. As the candid interviews with these interrogators become more and more shocking, it becomes dreadfully apparent that these pleasant-seeming American soldiers were, through the orders of their superiors and the ambiguity of their situation, led collectively down a path of logic frighteningly similar to the Holocaust Nazi. A British detainee offered a particularly disquieting interview, relating, in eloquent Pakistani accent, how he was abducted from his home, shackled, beaten and tortured for years without trial or even access to a lawyer. Unsurprisingly, Gibney’s investigation finds itself climbing the chain of command until it ends at the wrinkled visages of Bush and Cheney. As the documentary unfolds, it becomes truly horrifying to realize how words like “information” and “control” can be used to mask purely insidious intentions, and how easily evil can manifest and justify itself in the twisted rhetoric of official documents and memos.
However, even a documentary this powerful isn’t without issues. Time and again it couples outrageous photos and video clips with the mournful wailings of middle-eastern vocalists. Ironically, the documentary protests the use of sensory deprivation and assault in torture while it oftentimes seeks nothing more than to deprive the viewer of every sense other than empathy. While Gibney offers a reasonably fair amount of interviews of those for and against the techniques of torture used in Bagram and the like, the documentary is nowhere near unbiased. Interposing video clips of Bush and Donald Rumsfeld with shocking soundbytes and zooming-in shots of photographed documents while deep bells chime eerily in the background does little to prove the documentary objective.
Still, keeping his film unbiased was hardly Gibney’s prime objective. Gibney set out to make a documentary that would send a vehement anti-torture message, and did so masterfully. His research was impeccable, his imagery was brutally effective, and his presentation was superb. In the light of President Barack Obama’s recent order to shut down the very Guantanamo Bay investigated in this documentary, “Taxi” is extremely relevant. It is important to see this movie to understand why the standards set by the Geneva convention after World War II are so important. It is important to see this film to be informed about these atrocities, and to understand why and how they happened. For, as long as the American public has the ability to investigate and reveal the evils of power, corruption and hatred, we will remain a free nation.

Clint Eastwood's But

For my Gran Torino review, my but is ironically disguised as a "yet" in "Yes, there is plenty of acting in this movie, yet Eastwood seems to supply so much of it that sometimes it comes off as comical. " and the succeeding paragraph. I would rework this review in many ways. I definitely gave too much of a plot summary and even a spoiler at the beginning, and my but is pretty unclear.

Live from Baghdad relevant to today's War on Terror

After Barack Obama is inaugurated as President, he will do everything in his power to responsibly remove all American forces from the Middle East. Whether or not this can be done without inciting catastrophe remains to be seen. However, The Iraqi War and the War on Terror have become sodden with so much vehement anti-war sentiment and propaganda that the actual reasons for our presence in the Middle East have become horrendously skewed. A cursory yet intelligent glance at the American public’s view of our presence in the Middle East would present one with a steaming, monstrous pile of uneducated opinions, allegations, and inflamed misinformation that has been spoon-fed to and ignorantly processed by the masses for nearly a decade.
For some unbiased and informed individuals, this modern state of ignorance cries for illumination. HBO’s “Live from Baghdad” offers a desperately needed and masterfully executed recapping of the events that would cause our former president to invade Iraq and begin the ill-fated War on Terror. “Live from Baghdad” presents this story not in documentary form, but in a dramatization, relating the intriguing story of the reporters involved in CNN’s coverage of the beginning of the Gulf War in 1991.
Michael Keaton presents an excellent portrayal of CNN Producer Robert Weiner, a clever, passionate reporter who demands the opportunity to cover the escalating situation in Iraq and the rise of its new despot, Saddam Hussein. With the consent of CNN, Weiner plunges himself, shrewd companion Ingrid Formanek (Helena Bonham Carter) and their intriguing news team headfirst into the center of the dispute to report the truth. Through his impressive skill as a reporter and ardent desire for the truth, Weiner befriends the Iraqi Information Minister Naji Al-Hadithi (David Suchet) and manages to set up an interview with Hussein himself. Weiner’s observations of the media, the threats traded by Hussein and President George Bush Sr., and the overall situation lead Weiner to the realization that he is placing his news team between Hussein and the inevitable conflict of the Gulf War, remarking to Al-Hadithi that “As long as we keep the talking going, we can prevent this war”
The film’s depiction of Baghdad is superb; Keaton and his news team, sporting camera and microphone boom, conveyed by tattered, miniature European taxis, navigate through iconic images of a sand-blasted ghetto-metropolis. Armed guards that more resemble ordinary men outfitted with secondhand fatigues and AK-47’s than soldiers march the streets and harass them, Iraqi media officials shove their hands in front of the CNN camera, turbaned-peasants tote “DOWN WITH BOSH” picket signs for the camera, and anti-aircraft fire blazes in unexpectedly beautiful trails of blinding lights into the night sky.
Few scenes in this movie depict Saddam’s wickedness better than Weiner’s coverage of Hussein’s broadcasted conversation with a captive British family, in which Hussein repeatedly pats the head of an utterly terrified 10-year old while a translator bombards the poor boy with questions tailored to favorable responses for the family’s gracious host, Saddam. “Live from Baghdad” uses several clips of footage actually recorded during the events the movie depicts, including the previously mentioned recording, which give the film a documentary-like authenticity that bolsters its already-sterling presentation, an authenticity that emphatically offers a desperately needed explanation of the Gulf War and former president Bush’s invasion of Iraq. Whether or not it vindicates it is for the viewer to decide.

Gran Torino

Mike Borch
January 11, 2009
Art Journalism:
Gran Torino

Gran Torino is a movie in which Clint Eastwood asserts his unmistakable prowess as an actor and director both to tell a very real story and to reprimand the stereotypes of America as Walt Kowalski, a hardened Korean War veteran at the end of his life who begrudgingly becomes part of the lives of a family of Hmong immigrants that move in next door to him in an increasingly-foreign Detroit suburb. After Kowalski thwarts an unconfident Hmong boy named Thao’s attempt at stealing his cherished ’72 Gran Torino, a task he was bullied into by his gangbanging cousin “spider” and accompanying posse, Thao’s family insist that he make up for his trespass by working for Kowalski. A friendship is forged between the two as Walt consents to making a man out of Thao, and the two play out this plot quite well until “spider” and his posse do something unforgivable, and Walt realizes he must take matters into his own hands to protect the lives of the last few people he holds dear.
Unsurprisingly, Eastwood’s performance is powerful and solid, and it’s unlikely a better man could have been found for this part. He stands next to his wife’s open casket at her funeral, his gnarled face twisted in its iconic squinting grimace as he watches his detached relatives take their seats in the church. His thin lips contort as these upstart businessmen, spoilt young idiots cracking jokes, and an insufferable teenage princess bearing a midriff and piercing, line up in the pews. He sits, stewing in his disgruntled funk, as the 27-year old Irish boy of a preacher begins to ramble about the “bittersweetness of death.” He growls and runs down a list of racist slurs as strange Asian Hmong immigrants move into the house next door. He erupts with rage as his son starts spreading out retirement home brochures before him. He spares young Thao a glimpse of a smile as they share a moment. He coughs up blood and wonders whether he fears death, and glares down the barrel of a rifle aimed between the eyes of a Hmong gangbanger while he lays down his obligatory Dirty-Harry shtick and protects the lives of the innocent.
Yes, there is plenty of acting in this movie, yet Eastwood seems to supply so much of it that sometimes it comes off as comical. Several scenes feel added for the sole purpose of letting a true American like Clint scoff at the idiocies of pop culture, and the supporting cast and much of the script is laden with stereotypes so heavy they often seem campy rather than epitomic. My favorite example of this issue is when Clint tells this joke to his old salty bar buddies: “I’ve got a better one. So a Mexican, a Chinaman, and a Colored Guy walk into a bar, and the bartender says… get the f*** out of here,” to which there is hearty, wheezing laughter. However, it’s quite easy to take these issues in stride; it’s intriguing how Eastwood can pull off every “gook” “chink” and “dragon lady” racist quip and keep it fresh, and seeing the man fight for what’s righteous in a world mired in intolerable and unchanging stereotypes made for a very moving experience.