Why We No Longer Hear Angels - and a Few Words about Tennis, Chess, Prison & the Healing Power of Classical Music
If you’ve ever visited the circus or a city like San Francisco, then you know a barker is someone who stands outside a theater or sideshow and calls out to passersby to get them interested in what's happening inside the tent. The word comes to mind just now because there seems to be a lot of barking in the public arena these days. And a lot of braying too. All of it a distraction from the things that probably matter most to you—if you haven’t been too distracted by all that noise to figure out what that is.
So, let me depart from my usual commentary in order to share a few things I found touching recently, which you may find interesting too.
WHY WE NO LONGER HEAR ANGELS
The following clip is from Faraway, So Close—a beautiful 1993 film by Wim Wenders, which I heard about this year from a writer friend on Twitter. At only two minutes and fifteen seconds, this bit of dialogue gets to the core of why all that barking can be harmful. It depicts a telepathic conversation between two angels, Raphaela (Nastassja Kinski) and Cassiel (Otto Sander), as they consider why it’s so difficult for their guidance to reach us the way it used to back in the day.
The last time blackface rode into town, the showdown ended with Megyn Kelly losing her job at NBC Today and disappearing from television. But not without lawyering up and collecting a reported $30 million due on the remaining two years of her $69 million contract. That’s how much the network wanted to put an end to the controversy.
Now Blackface is back and ready for another showdown. Will Governor Northam of Virginia lose his job over blackface and Ku Klux Klan images in his medical school yearbook? Will Justin Fairfax, the African-American Lt. Governor, next in line for the top job, be impeached over sexual assault allegations? Can Virginia's attorney general come out of this mess unscathed after revealing that he too has worn blackface? What about Katy Perry's shoes and Gucci's blackface sweater? Or Cindy Sherman's controversial "Bus Rider" series, which became known in the art world as "Cindygate"?
And what about Jimmy Kimmel, Sarah Silverman, and Jimmy Fallon, who have also resorted to blackface in order to keep the masses entertained? Or the dozens of other American entertainers listed on this Wikipedia entry?
Is there no one who can rid us of this egregious insult once and for all?
With Albert Finney’s departure from the world stage on February 7, there’s plenty to say about his exceptional career. Two favorite scenes from The Dresser (1983) are included here. The film is about a small ragtag acting troupe that brings Shakespeare to the provinces. It’s a sendup of bombastic old-school acting and a poignant study of the lead actor’s personal assistant or “dresser.” The film opens with Finney's character in the role of Othello. As you can see from the above photograph, his entire body has been darkened. Tom Courtenay, his dresser, is shown assisting him with a post-performance bath.
Taken on its own and out of context, the image is both compelling and off-putting. It seems especially relevant to the current social moment when blackface is trending yet again. What does it mean when a white actor darkens his skin to play Othello? Is that the same as the kind of blackface historically used to denigrate African Americans? Or something different?
Why 'The Green Book' with Its Echoes of Greek Myth, Huckleberry Finn & Cyrano de Bergerac Is a Must See Movie of 2018
One critic calls it Driving Miss Daisy in reverse. But for my money The Green Book goes a lot deeper as it takes a long, hard look at what ails us—and hints at what’s required to heal our national divide. Even though it’s set during the early 1960s before passage of the Civil Rights Act, the movie’s themes could not be more relevant to today.
If you’ve never heard of the actual Green Book, which gives the film its name, you’ll learn during this two-hour excursion that even high-profile African-Americans were not allowed to eat or sleep in “whites only” establishments when they performed in the American Deep South. The film won’t tell you this, but it was a Harlem post-office employee, Victor Green, who published the book. Between 1936 and 1966, the Green Book was the essential guide for black travelers, providing a city-by-city list of restaurants, hotels, and gas stations where you would not be humiliated or harmed.
“Of course they’re guilty. How is it possible for men to cross women time and time again and go unpunished? If men were held accountable they’d hang hour after hour, every day of the year.”
This crucial line from the new adaptation of Wilkie Collins' A Woman in White comes during the first 60 seconds of a visually striking five-part series on PBS. But something about it seems all wrong. Not because it lacks truth but because it does Collins' novel an injustice.
Part of the fun of the story--one of the first and finest mysteries ever written--is deciding for yourself who did what to whom and whether they're guilty or not.
This 2018 adaptation seems to tip the hand in favor of certainty from the get-go. Its avenging-victim theme is so pronounced, I wondered if screenwriter Fiona Seres was more interested in making a case for #MeToo than in remaining true to the taut thread of suspense that makes the book such a thrilling ride
On Its Anniversary - The Amos 'n Andy Controversy vis-a-vis Cosby, Selma, and the Ferguson Tragedies
Last night's Golden Globe recognition for Selma seems to have brought history full circle in more ways than one. As everyone knows, the film re-enacts the historic crossing of the Edmund Pettus Bridge in 1965 during the Civil Rights Movement. But it also brings history around in another way. Eighty-nine years ago on January 12, 1926, the program that became known as Amos 'n Andy debuted on Chicago Radio as Sam 'n Henry. Two years later, the name was changed to Amos 'n Andy. In 1953, the show was canceled after ongoing protests from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). It continued to run in syndication until it was finally withdrawn by CBS in 1966.
If you want to watch that show today, there are many bootleg copies available online. But you won't find it on DVD, and it's not likely to be released by the network any time soon.
The anniversary of the show''s debut arrives during a peculiar and even paradoxical moment. It is part of a temporal configuration that includes the movie Selma, tragic events in cities like Ferguson, and the castigation of Bill Cosby -- all of it occurring during the administration of America's first African-American president.
What are we to take from all of this? What does it mean? What does it say about being black in 21st century America?
I do not pretend to know the answer. Is there some grand conspiracy, as some have suggested, to portray black males in a negative light, thereby justifying the killing of unarmed "suspects"? Was Cosby "taken down" in the court of public opinion to silence his increasingly conservative views just as he was about to make a comeback? Does the current media moment amount to a small-screen replaying of attitudes that go back D. W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation ? If there is a conspiracy, are these negative images meant to sideline the Obama presidency, casting him as an anomaly? Is Ava Duvernay's Selma a similar exception, which speaks only to the past?
Whatever the answer, the present moment calls to mind dialogue from the movie, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. The Sidney Poitier character is having an argument with his father because he (Poitier) is about to marry a white woman. "You think of yourself as a black man," Poitier says. "I think of myself as a man."
Is how you think of yourself enough, one wonders? Or is there some overarching perception by the larger world that places you always in danger, thereby determining for you that you are "black," regardless of how you think of yourself.
The present controversies surrounding race and even the ongoing one involving Amos 'n Andy have at their core a struggle to create a single narrative about what it means to be black in America.
The push-pull that pits past suffering against present-day injustice or Cosby "Truthers" against his accusers, or the proclivity of white police officers to kill unarmed black men against the undeniable achievements of Barack Obama -- is a struggle that seeks to define black experience within a particular frame.
Could it be that there is no single narrative? Is it possible that the multiple and conflicting storylines about blackness are simply examples that prove how varied we are as a people? Is it possible that buying into this or that storyline gives it power to influence who you are and how you think of yourself -- allowing it to play too great a role in both your destiny and identity?
One could argue the point in any direction, but in the end these are questions that can only be answered individually within the chambers of the heart.
What must be noted about the many nominations for Selma is this: It represents a significant effort by African-Americans to control the frame within which African-Americans will be seen. Of course, others have done this: Oprah, Lee Daniels, Chris Rock, and perhaps most notably, Bill Cosby.
But this brings forth yet another paradox. Does Cosby's tarnished public image diminish Dr. Huxtable? It should not.
The Huxtables were fictional characters on a TV sitcom. Their behaviors were written into the show's "bible." The actors who played those characters are not bound by that script, as Woody Allen's Purple Rose of Cairo showed all too well. In that film, Jeff Daniels' character steps down from the movie screen and falls in love with Mia Farrow. When the real Jeff Daniels finds out about this, he behaves dishonorably in order to set things right. Mia Farrow winds up choosing the real Jeff over the fictional one and is the poorer for it in the end.
Fitting isn't it, that the similarly castigated Woody Allen should provide the best argument for saving Dr. Huxtable, even as Cosby the man takes a nosedive. These two "great" men are in the same boat. Is Annie Hall a bad movie because of anything in Woody Allen's hidden sex life? Of course not. Should we dismiss Manhattan or Hannah and Her Sisters or Midnight in Paris for the same reason? Neither then should the Huxtable family lose standing in the public mind.
The Huxtables did what fictional characters must always do. They showed us a possibility worth thinking about and even emulating. Regardless of anything that might be happening in your life, that TV show allowed you to think of yourself in a certain way. If they could be a doctor-husband and lawyer-wife raising a family the best way they knew how, then perhaps you could aspire to do that too. Even if you still thought of yourself as a "black man" to return to Poitier and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, at least that idea of blackness was not some low and loathsome buffoon incapable of making a success of anything.
Perhaps that was always the problem with Amos 'n Andy. The original actors were whites pretending to be black. Those actors presented African-Americans through the eyes of whites whose perceptions were shaped during the first half of the 20th century. Although the TV version brought black actors aboard, the show was never able to jettison its origins in the derogatory tradition of "black face."
What follows here are four items of interest with regard to all of this: 1) The NAACP Bulletin on Amos 'n Andy; 2) The documentary called Amos 'n Andy: The Anatomy of a Controversy. 3) The viral YouTube video on racist cartoons; and 4) Harry Belafonte's moving acceptance speech, upon receiving the 2014 Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award, about the impact of media images on the black psyche and the role Hollywood has played historically in shaping how black people think of themselves.
THE NAACP'S AMOS 'N ANDY CANCELLATION BULLETIN
HARRY BELAFONTE & THE IMPACT OF MOVIES ON THE BLACK PSYCHE
Born this day in 1901, Strasberg is the "father of method acting," who mentored many actors whose work we now consider great. The following clip gives an idea of the man in terms of his famous "method" and its impact on the actors who use it.
It's a long way from Mean Girls to The Notebook and Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. But Rachel McAdams, born this day in 1978 is a bonafide star now. Here's a look at her audition for The Notebook.
Born this day 71 years ago, this director has given us one great film after another - Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, The Last Temptation of Christ, Gangs of New York, and The Color of Money among them. But wasn't it nice that his 2011 film, Hugo, picked up five Oscars and a Golden Globe for Best Director - a film without an ounce of violence even his own little kid could see.
Born this day in Toronto, Canada, in 1944, Lorne Michaels got his start as a writer for Laugh-in back in the 1960's. By 1975, he was ready to co-create one of the most successful television comedy programs in the history of the medium. We know him for Saturday Night Live, which has served as the launching pad for many successful actors over the years: Eddie Murphy, Dan Akroyd, Tina Fey, Adam Sandler Chevy Chase, Jane Curtain, John Belushi, and the list goes on.
It is documented that Fyodor Dostoevsky was born this day in 1821, but it can also be argued that the great Russian writer whose work we admire today was really born after his arrest in 1849, when, as he was standing before a firing squad, a note of clemency was delivered commuting his sentence from death to four years at hard labor. I'm parroting Irrational Man, William Barrett's book on existentialism, here, but the point is well taken. To be certain that you are going to die, to find yourself in the moment when it is sure to come and you have no reason to believe anything but that final destination is upon you, and then to be released - there is no way you will ever be the same afterward. So our thanks to the Czar for delivering into our hearts and minds one of the greatest novelists in history. If you suffered through Crime and Punishment in your youth, try reading it again as an adult. If you're still struggling to get your mind around The Brothers Karamazov, you could start with this clip from the 1958 film starring Yul Brenner, and yes, that is the ubiquitous William Shatner, eight years before Captain Kirk, as Alexei.
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
God bless you, Mr. Vonnegut (born this day in 1922). And thanks for Player Piano, Cat's Cradle, Mr. Rosewater, and the idea of the centipede in Slaughterhouse Five. You know you're doing something right when they burn your books (as was done in Drake, North Dakota, in 1973), though it's hard to understand why anyone would not want others to read Slaughterhouse. Unless it cuts too close to the truth, and the only thing they can think of to justify narrow-mindedness is to say that it is "unwholesome." Really? Because it blends fact and fiction? Because it uses the MF-word once in a line of dialogue? Or because it speaks about the unnecessary Allied bombing of Dresden during World War II? Here's the trailer from the film version. But the book, of course, is a thousand times better.
We all know that Leonardo (born this day in 1974) is the "king of the world." He recently brought life to Gatsby and gave us an unforgettable portrayal of Howard Hughes in The Aviator. But did you know he also worked with Woody Allen? Here's a clip from Celebrity. He's not so lovable here as in Catch Me If You Can or Titanic. In fact, the woman-beating may not be for everyone. Viewer discretion advised. (As I watch this, however, I am reminded of something James Earl Jones once told me during an interview back in the day. "If I play a cop in one film, I want to play a criminal in the next." It's an actor's way, Jones said, of keeping his balance. Perhaps that's why the hero of the sinking-ship saga needed to play something of an antihero in the Allen film one year later.)
Come on, when you think of Calista (who turns 49 today), Brothers and Sisters is not the first thing that comes to mind. She's Ally McBeal, and here's that scene with Lucy Liu that caused a lot of controversy back in the day. Once again, viewer discretion is advised. If you are offended by sexually suggestive content involving two humans of the same gender, you'd best leave this one alone.
Best known for her roles in the films of Ingmar Bergman, this remarkable Swedish actress turns 78 today. She's in The Seventh Seal, The Passion of Ana, Wild Strawberries, and of course, Persona. Here's a clip from that great film, which also stars Liv Ullmann as the famous actress who has lost her ability to speak until the moment depicted in this scene.
I like big books, and I cannot lie. My background includes talk radio, newspapers and TV news. I've hosted a morning-drive classical music program on the California coast and published nationally in Reader's Digest, the Christian Science Monitor, and Playboy. I've won awards for my journalism and my fiction. One of my essays even made it into an anthology for college English courses. For real? Yes, for real.
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