Over at Alex on Film I’ve finished a miniseries of updates on movies about the news industry. Hollywood doesn’t like television, and has always been cynical about the news (being expert on the construction of reality in the media). Starting things off is Ace in the Hole (1951), Billy Wilder’s satire on the extremes a fallen newsman will take to get back in the game. Next up is Network (1976), which still holds up pretty well thirty years later as a vision of where things were heading. Then there’s To Die For (1995), which has a great lead performance from Nicole Kidman and a slick documentary-style presentation that covers up for a fairly conventional story of aspirations gone too far. I didn’t think Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2005) was funny at all, and have trouble seeing why it was such a hit. But that’s often the way it is with comedy. Finally, Nightcrawler (2014) is an effective portrayal of psychopathy, and I think the first movie I’ve really liked Jake Gyllenhaal in.
Author: Alex Good
Federal election 2015: Before
We are now a week away from a federal election.
What I’ve been wondering about over the course of the campaign is what has happened to conservatism.
This summer the Republican primaries in the United States have been dominated by Donald Trump, a candidate that almost no one takes seriously. His success thus far has been attributed to causes such as the anger felt by most Americans at the political system (as a non-politician Trump can market himself as an outsider) and the public’s fascination with celebrity, which keeps everything Trump says and does at the top of the news cycle.
Another reason for his success may be the weakness of the rest of the very large Republican field. At one point there were seventeen declared candidates, and taken as a group they are an unattractive, uninspiring lot. Perhaps what’s most surprising is that only a few of them seem capable of speaking convincingly on any subject (a talent that eludes Trump as well). I thought giving speeches was the one thing politicians had to know how to do. Someone forgot to tell Jeb Bush.
But the bigger problem with the Republicans may be that a particular historical strand of American conservatism has played itself out. In terms of cultural conservatism it seems as though the “culture wars” are, if not over, at least moving into a new, yet-to-be-determined phase. The right to an abortion is now settled, and the fight over gay marriage mostly is too. Human-driven climate change is a fact accepted by everyone who is not a complete idiot. The idea that the U.S. can build a wall separating itself from Mexico (or Canada), and somehow round up all its illegal immigrants and send them back to their countries of origin is laughable. And yet all of this can be found in the platforms of leading Republican candidates.
When it comes to economic or fiscal conservatism the picture is just as bleak for right-wing politicians. In a nutshell: what advantage do they offer over the center or center-left? Economic inequality has continued to grow unabated under Democratic presidents, and it seems very unlikely that Hillary Clinton will do anything to stop these trends. If you’re a member of the 1%, or 0.1%, or the 0.01%, you have nothing to worry about: the Dems have your back. If you want to say that neoliberalism won the battle for ideas I don’t think that would be far from the mark (leaving aside the question of what such a victory means). And that being so, what is there to mobilize right-wing voters who are fiscal conservatives?
In short, the conservative movement has found itself left behind on almost every issue. This doesn’t mean they’re doomed to irrelevancy, far from it, but it does mean that either they or the world will need to change course in some dramatic way for them to regain power. And I am inclined to think it’s the world that is more likely to change first.
Where does this leave conservatives? Primarily as an anti-government party. This is a ridiculous position for any national political party to take, but in at least one sense it may have some traction. I sense a growing divide between public (unionized) and private sector workers both in Canada and the U.S. that could make for a coming split between a party of the state and a party of everyone else. If there is a future for the right it may be here.
In Canada the Conservative Party, or as it insists upon branding itself, the Harper government, is similarly bankrupt of ideas. The most depressing aspect (thus far) of the campaign has been the attention given over to the “issue” of the niqab. This is pure dog-whistle politics, a waving of the bloody shirt (or veil) that apparently came from Lynton Crosby, a political guru who specializes in this kind of thing. It’s not even a minor issue. It’s a non-issue. It literally affects no one. And yet voters, particularly in Quebec, have seemed to respond.
Nevertheless, it seems to me that Harper still has two big advantages going in to the election.
In the first place there is the first-past-the-post election system. This archaic and undemocratic form of politics explains the Conservative campaign philosophy, which goes by different names but is usually referred to as Roveism (after Karl Rove) or “base politics.” Given the way the vote on the nominal left is split among several different parties the Conservatives can, in theory, not only win but win a majority with less than 30% of the popular vote. All they have to do is appeal to a hard core of support, which they can do by waving the bloody shirt and complaining that anything they’ve done wrong (the F-35s, the Senate scandals, the Robocalls) is all just a smokescreen of lies being sent up by the liberal media.
Such a strategy would be disastrous in a system of proportional representation, turning that hard core of support into a fringe movement. But we’re not playing by those rules.
The second advantage the Conservatives have is the fact that they are the party out of power in most of the provinces. In particular, their traditional stronghold in Alberta recently elected a premier from the NDP and the key province of Ontario is led by the deeply unpopular government of liberal Kathleen Wynne, who won the last provincial election, and a majority government, due only to the sheer incompetence of the Conservative candidate, Tim Hudak. I think voters like for there to be some conflict between their provincial and federal governments as a way of providing checks and balances, so this is something that I think works in Harper’s favour.
I voted in an advance poll. There were seven candidates in my riding: the four major parties, plus a Communist, a Libertarian, and one of the few candidates nation-wide for the Radical Marijuana Party. Waiting in line to vote (reports of long waiting times at the polls turned out to be accurate, as I was standing and sitting in line for nearly an hour), I spoke to the people standing directly in front of and behind me. One was a tech worker and the other a retired military man. Both had been Conservatives in the past but despised Harper and had specifically come out to vote against him, mainly on the grounds of his managerial incompetence. The riding has a long history of being Liberal, though the sitting MP is not running again in this election. I would say the Liberal is a shoo-in to win, but a popular liberal mayor was recently defeated by a hard-right candidate in our last municipal election so I wouldn’t be too sure.
So here’s my prediction on the federal election, offered up with that caveat that I’ve nearly always been wrong in the past and will probably be wrong this time as well:
Despite polls showing the Liberals clearly in the lead and gaining momentum, and much talk about “strategic voting,” I think the Anybody But Harper vote is so fragmented the Conservatives will be able to get re-elected with a minority, but won’t be able to govern, that task falling to a coalition of the Liberals and NDP.
In another week I’ll be back with some thoughts on what happened.
Her mother’s son
Here we go again.
It’s been a week now since the Umpqua Community College shootings, when 26-year-old Christopher Harper-Mercer, a student at the college, fatally shot nine people and injured nine others on the campus before killing himself when the police arrived.
His mother, Laurel Harper, was a proud gun afficionado and bragged of keeping loaded handguns and assault rifles in the house (guns that Christopher would take with him to school on the fateful day).
Here’s an excerpt from a Los Angeles Times story describing their relationship:
Reina Webb, 19, recalls how closely his mother would keep an eye on him, which to her, “was kind of weird, because he seemed like a grown man.”
She remembers how his mom had to calm him the day he found that someone had slashed the tires on his bike. “He had a fit almost,” Webb said. “Almost like a tantrum, like a kid. . . . He was upset, crying and doing all that stuff because of the tires on his bike.”
Other times, neighbors could hear him in the family’s apartment yelling at his mother as she tried to calm him down. “He would get mad if things weren’t his way,” Webb said. “But she always had him in control.”
Although she never interacted with Harper-Mercer, Webb remembers his mother as a “really nice lady.” “She’d always talk to everybody, say hello and be super nice and always try and watch her son,” Webb said. “She always tried to take care of him.”
Does this scenario sound familiar? It should. Yes, Harper-Mercer was yet another bitter loser, unable to get a girlfriend and with a hate-on for the entire world. But he’s also an example of the boy in the basement, a type I have already written about.
Laurel Harper, in turn, fits the stereotype of the enabling mom perfectly. You can check the items off the list: a single mom (widow or divorced), focusing all of her life on her (adult) baby boy; someone with a background as a professional caregiver (Laurel Harper is employed as a nurse); someone who gave in completely to the idea that her son was suffering from some kind of vague mental/psychological/social/emotional disability (here apparently Asperger’s Syndrome, though I don’t know what evidence there was for that).
Just as the report into the Sandy Hook killings concluded, it all led to a pattern of appeasement, enablement, and accommodation. As it did with Nancy Lanza. As it did with Wenche Behring (another divorced nurse looking after her adult son). Here’s how I concluded my review of One of Us: Anders Behring Breivik and the Massacre in Norway:
Living such an isolated life, Breivik needed very little assistance. He received it, again as so often is the case, from his unhappy, damaged mother. And this is probably the only takeaway. If we’re to recognize the warning signs and draw lines around such people, that’s a process that has to start at home.
It doesn’t take an advanced degree in psychology to see where these situations are heading. As I said at the end of my earlier post: know the signs and keep your distance.
The Taking of Pelham: Once, Twice, Thrice
I’m sure David Godey (Morton Freedgood) knew his pulpy novel was likely to end up on the big screen, but three times? The latest coming out thirty-five years after the first?
Luckily, subways don’t date as much as other forms of transportation and technology, so they could keep going back to the same well. Lining them up, the original 1974 version is still clearly the pick of the crop. How can you beat Walter Matthau playing off against Robert Shaw? You can’t. The 1998 TV-movie isn’t bad, but is pretty limited. And the 2009 Denzel Washingon-John Travolta pairing is a real disappointment.
Rape-revenge
Added my notes on Ingmar Bergman’s The Virgin Spring (1960) over at Alex on Film. Was this the original rape-revenge film? Probably not, although it may be the most prominent and best known. It was the direct inspiration for Wes Craven’s The Last House on the Left (1972), which is essentially a contemporary remake. For some reason the 1970s were thick with such films, with titles like Straw Dogs (1971), Thriller: A Cruel Picture (1973), Death Wish (1974), Death Weekend (1976), and I Spit On Your Grave (1978). For those who like to mix art with evolutionary psychology, I guess the power of these stories is obvious enough, though I’m still not sure what it was about the ’70s that unleashed such anger.
For more of this kind of stuff, here’s a follow-up.
Off to see the Wizard
Just posted some of my thoughts on In the Basement of the Ivory Tower over at Good Reports. Throughout most of recorded history, individual cultures have had special, if not always sacred, texts. The Greeks had Homer. Chinese civilization had the Five Classics. Christianity had the Bible. English literature had Shakespeare. What unites us today? Professor X was curious to find out:
One of the things I try to do in English 102 is relate the literary techniques we will study to novels the students have already read. I try to find books familiar to everyone. This has thus far proven impossible to do. Many of my students don’t read much, and though I tend to think of them monolithically, they don’t really share a culture. To Kill a Mockingbird? Nope. (And I thought everyone had read that!) Animal Farm? No. If they have read it, they don’t remember it. The Outsiders? The Chocolate War? No and no. Charlotte’s Web? You’d think so, but no. So then I expand the exercise to general works of narrative art, meaning movies, but that doesn’t work much better. That really surprised me — that there are no movies they have all seen, except one: they’ve all seen The Wizard of Oz. Some have seen it multiple times. So, when the time comes to talk about quest narratives, we’re in business. The farmhands’ early conversation illustrates foreshadowing. The witch melts at the climax. Theme? Hands fly up. (The students can rattle off that one without thinking. Dorothy learns that she can do anything she puts her mind to and that all the tools she needs to succeed are already within her.) Protagonist and antagonist? Whose point of view is the movie told from? Can anyone tell me the cowardly lion’s epiphany? Are the ruby slippers a mere deus ex machina? What would you say is the symbolic purpose of the winged monkeys?
The movie comes in handy. Discussions are pretty lively.
In the long run, we’re all dead
From El Narco (2012) by Ioan Grillo:
“When I did my first hit, I got a little too close and shot too many bullets into the body. Then the blood and guts exploded out all over me and I had to throw away my clothes and wash hard to get it off. That night I had bad dreams. I kept remembering shooting the person and the blood spurting out.”
Gustavo did more hits and the bad dreams stopped. Every few weeks he would be given a new target. Mostly he killed in Medellín but he was also sent to take out victims in other cities across Colombia such as Bogotá and Cali. Soon he had killed ten, then fifteen, then twenty people. Then he lost count.
I ask him if he thinks about the victims. He shakes his head.
“I keep focused and do my work. Before I go out, I pray to Jesus and clear my mind. I never take drugs or drink before a job as I need my five senses. When I come back I will relax and smoke a spliff and listen to music.”
…
Does he feel remorse about the people he has murdered? I ask. How can he square what he does with his Catholicism? “I know it is bad,” he says. “But I do it out of need. I do it to support my family.
He also knows that his work may well lead to his own murder. But he tries to keep any fear tucked deep inside.
“I need to keep strong and focused. I can’t spend all my time worrying if they are going to kill me or not. Everyone dies in the end.”
No books for old men
From “Closing the Books” by Arthur Krystal, Harper’s Magazine (March 1996):
At fifteen or twenty, the books we read — or rather the minds behind them — are far more interesting than our own. But as we experience for ourselves the rites of passage that were previously only read about, and as we mature and reflect on what those experiences mean, novelists and poets begin to lose an important advantage — at some point we’ve all been down that road. And what may happen is this: we begin to find that most writers are less interesting than we think ourselves to be.
From Bookslut interview with David Markson (July 2005):
Where did I read that you no longer pay attention to more recent fiction?
It’s true. Any fiction, really. I hate to admit it, and I don’t really understand it, but it’s some years now — it just seems to have gone dead for me. Not just recent stuff, but even novels that I’ve deeply cared about — I try to reread and there’s none of the reaction I used to get, none of the aesthetic excitement or whatever one wants to call it, all a blank. With one exception of course — I can always reread Ulysses. In fact I went through it twice, consecutively, just a few years ago. But hell, that’s not like reading a novel, it’s more like reading the King James Bible. Or Shakespeare. You’re at it for the language. But even The Recognitions, which I think is categorically the best American novel of the twentieth century, just doesn’t do anything similar for me. It did, the first four times I read it — and four is not an exaggeration, by the way, in spite of its length — but the last time out it just went flat. It’s not the books, I’m sure, it’s me — I’m just not bringing the same receptiveness to them that I used to.
No other exceptions?
Oh, well, there are books by friends, that you do give yourself to. You approach them with a different psychological stance, somehow, wanting to enjoy. And doing so. As with the most recent Gil Sorrentino, for instance. Or Ann Beattie’s new collection of stories. But there’s simply no impulse toward anything else, and certainly not toward the latest generation. They all seem like they shouldn’t have driver’s licenses, even. You do become aware of the names, of course. Who are they, Lethem, Foer, Eggers? Are they mostly named Jonathan?
You know of them, but you’re not interested in reading them?
Seriously — to paraphrase Ezra Pound, there’s no record of a critic ever saying anything significant about a writer who came later than he did. You grow up getting interested in books, and the writers of your own generation or the generation or two before your own are the ones you pay most attention to. But listen, I’m scarcely as bad as some of the people I know. But good lord, some of the people I went to college or even graduate school with pretty much quit about nine days after they got their diplomas. And haven’t read a poet since Auden, or a novelist since Hemingway. There was one fat novel I did read. In 1996, in fact. I remember the date because my novel Reader’s Block had also just been published: Infinite Jest. Before I’d heard of David Foster Wallace, way back in 1990, he’d written a very perceptive long essay on Wittgenstein’s Mistress for a periodical. Even though I was never able to solve the structure of his novel, to understand why it ended where it did, I admired the hell out of it. Eight or nine years ago even, I wasn’t reading with the equipment I possessed when I was younger. But pat me on the head, I did manage to get through one novel that long in the past decade.
Cold cases
Added my notes on Fargo (1996) and A Simple Plan (1998) over at Alex on Film. They’re both good movies, but I can’t shake the feeling that the Coen brothers and Raimi see their characters as rubes.
The gift that keeps on giving
Added my notes on Ringu (1998) and The Ring (2002) over at Alex on Film. It’s interesting, maybe even a bit ironic, that a novel about an unpleasantly viral technology — a haunted videotape that has to be reproduced for its curse to be lifted — has gone on to spawn a franchise. The ring ever widens. As for which version I recommend, it depends on what you like (or don’t like). The original is a better film, but if you can’t stand subtitles or want to see Hollywood production values then Verbinski’s isn’t a bad alternative.


