Thursday, January 29, 2015
Film Friday: Juno and the Previa
The MacGuff family car, a Totoya Previa, circa 1992.
I always tell my writing students: you don't just drive a "car," you drive a _____, and you have to fill in that blank with at least the make(r) of your car. Mercedes-Benz suggests one socioeconomic position; Yugo suggests another. Likewise Maserati and Mustang.
When watching the film for a second time in a week, I began to reflect: when was the last year Toyota even sold Previas in the U.S. (or at least, that version of it)? The answer: 1997. Assuming Juno to be a contemporary film, that means that Juno's family has a car that's at least ten years old, and probably closer to fifteen. That tells an audience much about the family's economic circumstances; the Previa looks out of place as it pulls in front of the "McMansion" (thanks, Dave Monahan, for that term) where the prospective adoptive parents of Juno's unborn child live.
While Juno's dad and stepmom run their own businesses, they are very small operations; they are really working-class, though the film is at some pains to give them a middle-class sensibility, which is to be expected in most American films. They seem a lot more articulate and witty than, say, working-class characters in British films (even those written by the Angry Young Men of the fifties and sixties). We sympathize with them, especially as we begin to get to know them apart from Juno's perspective. (At first, Brenda, her stepmom, is a figure of ridicule, but when Bren confronts the sonogram tech who speaks condescendingly about Juno's situation, she pulls no punches in defending her "dumbass stepdaughter" and even goes so far as to suggest the tech go back to school and get a "real job.")
They are contrasted with Mark and Vanessa, the clean-cut yuppie couple whose house is meticulously ordered in a way that is vaguely reminiscent of the Burnham home in American Beauty. We are supposed to feel a little superior to them, despite their wealth. They are eager and mostly serious, where Juno and her dad are not. When Vanessa asks, "did you ever feel like you were born for something," Juno's dad mock-agrees, saying "cleaning H-VACs." He's got a level of class-consciousness that few of his position ever really get, or rather, he knows that life is pretty much a crapshoot and that you do what you can with the cards you get.
As the film goes on, we begin to feel less and less dismissive of Vanessa, and we have to re-think our opinions of Mark when he decides he's not ready to be a parent and wants to leave Vanessa and try once again to make it as a "real" musician instead of the hack-jingle writer he's become in order to pay for the McMansion. (Of course the film posits the "really cool" music Juno and Mark both like, along with the equally cool soundtrack, against the jingle work, without acknowledging that a pop song is in and of itself an advertisement, one that says, "BUY THIS RECORD! GO SEE THIS ACT!" This irony is missed.)
But again, since the film is about Juno -- hence the title -- and much of the narrative is her point of view, we don't really pay much attention to the economics of single motherhood that Vanessa is about to embark upon, as she agrees to continue with the adoption without Mark. The film doesn't address the question of Vanessa's financial circumstances; we don't know if she'll have to sell the house and move into Juno's neighborhood, but it seems unlikely. There's no consideration of the economic impact a separation is going to cause -- divorce is expensive and only the lawyers profit by it. Will she have a nanny, or daycare, or will she work from her home? None of that is relevant to the film's ending, because once Juno gives up the baby, she more or less returns to the concerns of being 16, even as she has learned quite a lot about life and relationships during the course of the pregnancy.
Juno could have tried harder to give us some insights into class, and in fact there are those subtle signs. But its script and direction have other concerns. Maybe that's why we don't see the Previa at the end, after its served its final purpose of getting Juno to the hospital in time.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Film Friday: American Sniper
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
'Twas the Night Before Christmas in Academia
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the college,
not a student was stirring, their heads full of knowledge,
the grades were all posted through the portal, with care,
in the hopes that professors were kind and were fair,
with a tablet in one hand, I sat up in bed,
and visions of theses still danced in my head,
the freshman class papers I asked to review,
would wait until next week, perhaps even two,
when up from my inbox there rose such a clatter
I turned to my tablet to see what’s the matter,
Was my little ‘puter about to go crash
Or was it a pop-up to upgrade the Flash?
Ah, the expected messages, urgent and scared,
Hoping to find a professor who cared,
The names so familiar, the desperate tweet
Begging at last for one more Incomplete,
But there were still more; inquiring faces
From adjuncts still working out plagiarism cases,
automated requests from all over the nation
Grad schools seeking letters of recommendation,
Reminders from the Dean: the schedule’s due
For the Fall semester – 2032!
Another request, from someone named “whiner,”
Who wants to declare film and media minor,
And if all that stuff wasn’t enough enjoyment,
cv’s of teachers seeking employment,
some with their master’s, some with PhD,
and some without even an English degree,
then: please go to surveymonkey, we must vote
on whether we can keep your program afloat,
I looked at my watch, it was 10:59,
I wondered, what classes we could offer on-line!
I replied, I clicked links, I said yes, I said no,
I said maybe to some, and to others “I don’t know”
Some students were sincere, others just lazy
But then I hit TILT, I was going quite crazy
I screamed at the screen: “go get you out, Johnny!
Go Jacob, Go Jimmy, Go Bertha and Bonnie!
Dash away, dash away, dash away all!”
And I threw my hot tablet against my green wall!
I woke with a start (you saw this one coming)
On my couch, with the lights of my Christmas tree humming,
The children were dressing, and getting their wish:
Christmas Eve at Grandma’s with nine courses of fish,
And turned off my tablet, not in need of repair,
And forgot the dreams of an Associate Chair,
But not before mailing my family’s cheer,
To my colleagues: happy holidays, and happy new year!
Monday, October 27, 2014
The New York Jets: a Post-Mortem (or, Ghost-mortem...)
Now that we have had several weeks to accept that their season is over, it's time to examine what the fuck happened to the 2014 New York Jets, one of the jokes of the NFL.
You know, that line has been used before, but it's been a really long time when you think of it. For all the ups and downs of the past fifteen or so years, the team has managed to make the playoffs a couple of times and even to the AFC championship game thrice. But it was Gary Myers in his column for the Daily News that brought up the dreaded name from the past:
Kotite.
That's right. Rich Kotite, the one-time Jets offensive coordinator and two-season head coach who managed to win just four games out of thirty-two.
Kotite, who became a symbol of all that was wrong with the Jets and their management approach.
Kotite, who was fired from his previous head coaching job with the Eagles for losing his last seven games when they were looking like a shoo-in to make the playoffs, only to be hired by the Jets, whose one-season coach -- some guy named Pete Carroll -- got canned because he blew his last six.
Kotite, who was hired personally by then-owner Leon Hess because Mr. Hess didn't want to wait and give Carroll a chance to develop his team. "I want results now," the old man said.
Kotite, who won three games his first season, was given a Super-Bowl QB in Neil O'Donnell in his second, who promptly got hurt after losing the first six games.
The management of the Jets was so inept that they didn't even officially announce that Kotite was fired, and Kotite said he did not really resign; despite the fact that he had a contract for a third season, the Jets announced simply that he would not be returning for the 1997 campaign.
Could the Jets be this dysfunctional again, with owner Woody Johnson? Consider:
He replaced one cap-ologist, Mike Tannenbaum, with another, John Idzik; was Idzik the best candidate? No, but he was the only one who was willing to a) keep Rex Ryan as his head coach instead of being given the chance to hire his own, and b) trade star cornerback Darelle Revis, coming off ACL surgery, because Revis had been a pain in the ass about salary pretty much every year he'd been with the team. Some candidates wanted their own coach, and other candidates were reticent about trading away the best player on the team, even if he was costly, and not a quarterback. And to do both -- keep Ryan and take away his best weapon, when healthy -- made little sense to most candidates.
So Idzik traded Revis and did turn one of the picks he got from Tampa Bay into his only worthwhile draft choice, Sheldon Richardson. Otherwise his drafts have been poor, and he's very much on the hook for his second-round selection of QB Geno Smith, who, yesterday in a dreadful first half against the mediocre Buffalo Bills, managed to do something not seen in about eight years -- throw more interceptions (3) than receptions (2). He left the game before the first half ended, with a Blutarsky-level QB rating: zero point zero. Smith has been a disaster this season, after showing promise late last year.
Idzik was a bit handcuffed his first year because there were several big contracts still on the books, including QB Mark (Butt-fumble) Sanchez, who had been Tannenbaum's first-round pick in Ryan's first season as coach. But when Sanchez got injured in a preseason game -- at a point in the game that he had no business being in, and that's on Ryan for screwing that up -- that paved the way for the Geno era to start last season. With Sanchez's contract and a few others coming off the books, Idzik was free to spend some money, yet with a pretty good free-agent class of cornerbacks out there -- including, of all guys, Revis -- Idzik brought in garbage. Other free agent choices have either been so-so (like WR Eric Decker, who has been hampered by not having Peyton Manning throwing him the football) or dreadful (like RB Chris Johnson, who seems to have lost it completely).
Rex Ryan's team is undisciplined (they make lots of penalties) and unfocused (several players got screwed up by the time-zone change when they went to San Diego and missed a team meeting the night before the game, a brutal loss to the Chargers where the Jets didn't even make it to midfield until it was garbage time). He's made some bad decisions, and he sometimes seems to prefer acting the clown that being a professional. But the Jets' problems run deeper than this.
This is about an owner who looked to sell PSLs by bringing in Brett Favre, a gamble that almost worked -- until Favre hurt his shoulder just enough to be ineffective in the last five games and cost the team a playoff spot and coach Eric Mangini his job. (Mangini was not initially on board with bringing the aging legend in, and the previous QB, the injured but otherwise steady Chad Pennington, won eleven games and the division with the Dolphins, who'd been 1-15 the year before.) This same owner brought in Tim Tebow, for no real good reason other than to sell seats and jerseys. (Tebow was hardly used during his one year here.) Eventually, Tannenbaum lost his job, though he got to be around for the butt-fumble.
It's about an owner who doesn't really have a clue.
And we're back to the Kotite years.
Which might not be so bad, if the Jets could blow the season and then get a top-tier quarterback in the first round, though none of these guys is as impressive as the group that came out two years ago.
Speaking of Kotite, his 1-15 final season did give the Jets the first pick of the draft.
That was the year Peyton Manning graduated from Tennessee. Bill Parcells was hired to be the coach and the President of football operations.
But Manning opted to take one more year of his eligibility (which he had as a red-shirted freshman) and stay at Tennessee. The Jets, needing so much help, traded the pick instead of drafting future HOF lineman Orlando Pace, who won a Super Bowl with the Rams, protecting Kurt Warner.
So even if the Jets get a good young stud quarterback, we all expect them to blow it.
Ryan is gone. He's not really meant to develop young quarterbacks. The thing you can say that Sanchez and Smith have in common is bad decision-making. They throw bad picks, including in the red zone. Ryan needs a steadier hand, a veteran who's not too old, someone like Brad Johnson when he managed the Bucs to a Super Bowl in 2002. Idzik needs to go back to his actuarial tables. But what of the owner?
Indeed. What of him.
If he fires Idzik, he'll be looking for his fifth GM and and fifth head coach since getting the team just at the dawn of the century. The New York Giants have only had three GMs since 1979. They have been to five Super Bowls, winning four.
The math on this is simple.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Film Friday: Lesser than Macbeth, and greater: Random thoughts on Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood
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| Cinema as Fate: The spinning wheels |
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| Noh, or "NO!!!" ? |
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| fade into darkness... |
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| talk about lines of fate |
Kurosawa's composition owes much to theater, but his camera work is also very fluid, especially in the scenes where men race through the forest on horseback. His use of hard-wipes to change scenes may seem a bit old-fashioned, but it is keeping within a tradition of the use of screens in Japanese theater to change time and space. But then, perhaps one of the oddest possible mixes of west and east comes in this shot:
Thursday, October 9, 2014
F words: failing our students to inspire...
It really is funny how that works.
I've been doing this kind of thing for years, as the deadline to withdraw from classes approaches. Doesn't matter what the class is: you announce in class (or now electronically) that students who have handed in little to no work after five weeks should withdraw, and amazingly, their calendar clears, the work obligations change, their personal problems or health issues subside enough to... ask for more time! And to be truthful, sometimes they actually hand in work!
Every situation is different, and how I respond to late submissions can depend on too many variables to share here. But one scenario is among the most interesting: the choice between failing a student and giving the student a grade of Incomplete.
In theory, this is an easy deal, because there are usually rules at any college that govern when a student can be given an Incomplete grade. It's supposed to be given in cases where a student needs more time to complete the course work, and has a "serious reason" why s/he cannot complete the work on time. There's a lot of vagueness out there in student handbooks. For most classes, a student who hands in, say more than half the required work, has taken all the tests, but has one more assignment and needs more time because s/he got sick for two weeks near the end of the term, might be a good candidate for an Incomplete. Someone else who did hardly any work, did poorly on exams (or even skipped the midterm), is not a candidate. Common sense can prevail.
But common sense does not always apply to the college student. Many see a grade of Incomplete as another means to slack off, and if the professors don't follow up, the grade lingers beyond the standard deadline, and not all institutions just automatically change such grades to F. So, let's say you've got a student who could use a little more time to get the work done, especially the work of a senior thesis, which means someone who is really really close to getting his/her degree. In the old days, we might just not submit a grade at all until the work was done, but that really fosters laziness and apparently missing grades is a no-no because of financial aid issues. So: do you just give the kid an F, and THEN, when the stuff actually comes in (usually within 48 hours of the student realize s/he's just screwed up bigtime), file a change of grade form from F to whatever? Or give the Incomplete grade, often prolonging the inevitable change to F?
I think it's all psychological: you see that F and you realize the gravity of your situation. The Incomplete grade is a license to ignore the problem until the last minute. (Of course the last minute should really be in the fourteenth or fifteenth week of the term, not three weeks after finals.)
But is that the right thing for faculty to do? Doesn't changing a grade from an F to a passing grade, and doing so a few times a semester, defeat the purpose of the F grade? We're supposed to change grades infrequently; the reason for grade changes, aside from Incomplete grades (or the notorious "ABsent from final exam" grade, wherein a student doesn't show for finals, gets a reprieve, and takes a makeup test that may be easier than the one his/her classmates got), should be compelling: maybe you reconsidered some grades after the student appealed, or maybe you actually did make a computation error. To go from F to, say, a B seems like a big jump; it says you're circumnavigating the Incomplete-grade system by accepting work after the grade is in.
Again, theory and practices don't often mesh. In some ways, giving the F is also a short cut, since some of the students might not even bother to do the work. (I've had more than a few students simply disappear after they've asked for more time, or a chance to hand in late work to change a bad grade.) But I gotta say: it's a short cut that can really produce prolific undergraduate scholarship.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
A thought about football
Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
In the Shreve High football stadium, I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville, And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood, And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel, Dreaming of heroes. All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home. Their women cluck like starved pullets, Dying for love. Therefore, Their sons grow suicidally beautiful At the beginning of October, And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.
There are many places in our country where high school sports transcends all else; young men dream of getting out of a future of slow-death hard labor, or quick-death-drug-trade-violence. Being teenagers, and of course believing themselves to be immortal, they may still be choosing a shorter path to the grave by playing sports. But they may not have any other luxury in a country where so many of us are really expendable.
I think of some of the servicemen and women I know, who also had few options; the army gave them a sense of purpose, and if they can survive these endless middle-east wars, they can actually have a chance at the good life, if they don't let their memories and madnesses wear them down. I've seen it on their faces; sometimes you know which ones will make it okay and which ones won't.
Those of us who choose certain professions, even those that come with physical damage as a price, can't quite grasp, except at a distance, what those high-profile, high-risk-high-reward jobs like football player means when there are no options. And Wright's poem just simply nails it. And so when you read about this scandal at Sayreville, or read about the NFL's troubles, I hope you reflect on the images Wright creates here.










