I never thought I'd say this, but: I think the U.N. may have gotten something right for a change. Albeit, no doing of their own. But right, nonetheless.
What I'm referring to when I make such a, normally, unfounded and irresponsible statement is their recent list of the 21 most desirable places to live in the world (yes, The United States is, surprisingly, on the list...at number 13. To be honest, I wasn't even expecting it to be on there at all). What the list tells us, what is so obvious to any right-thinking, freedom-loving, comfort-seeking human being is that the U.N. cannot, at least, deny facts all the time. Even the U.N. eventually has to succumb to the harsh realities of a world divided into two very separate distinctions: where would one want to live on Earth, and where would one not want to live? It's almost as simple as a game you would play out of boredom and over a few cocktails. If you were to ask a large group of people (drunk or not), you would get something close to the list of 21 countries the genius machine over at the U.N. came up with.
So, no, they don't get any credit for being necessarily original, or interesting, for that matter. All I said when I opened this diatribe was that they got something right. It's shocking, for sure, that they came up with a relatively normal and non-aggravating compendium. You would expect a list out of the shifty lot that named 21 out of the 47 countries in Africa as the most desirable places to live. But this particular list, to their chagrin, wasn't compiled based on opinion or deceptive propaganda. The list was based on data (something the U.N. typically uses to line their exotic bird cages). Figures regarding gross domestic product, education, and life expectancy. These are things that can't be ignored, they just are.
Of course, their report has to explain the hell out of their findings, just to make sure they don't lose any of the audience that typically cares what they say. The report says of countries on the bottom of the list, like Niger and Afghanistan, that, 'despite significant improvements over time, progress has been uneven.' That's one way of putting it. I mean Niger has it's problems, but Afghanistan? Come on, that's not even their fault. Afghanistan was completely 'even' before Bush started throwing his weight around. I'm surprised the list didn't have footnotes for the bottom countries. Something like:
#180-Sierra Leone* *-Bush took jobs away from child soldiers.
#181-Afghanistan* *-Bush's unnecessary and destructive war (obviously).
#182-Niger* *-Bush lied about yellow cake uranium (people died).
But I digress. What is telling about the list, and what I say the U.N. got right, but not by any motivation of their own, is that all 21 of the countries listed as the 'most desirable to live' are Western countries and/or Democracies (or some form of a constitutional monarchy). Of course this is an obvious result of the numbers, which, try as some might to get them to, don't lie.
The thing about the U.N. in the first place (and why the publication of this list is so ironic, and humorous to me) is that it functions as a unity of all nations despite the factors (or lack thereof) that came together to create this list. 'Gross domestic product, education, and life expectancy,' are usually things that get overlooked when the U.N. decides a country's worth. Even Obama said, in his speech to the U.N. in September:
"In an era when our destiny is shared, power is no longer a zero-sum game. No one nation can or should try to dominate another nation. No world order that elevates one nation or group of people over another will succeed. No balance of power among nations will hold. The traditional divisions between nations of the South and the North make no sense in an interconnected world."
Well, Mr. President, according to the data, countries 22 through 182 have some catching up to do. It's no big secret that the countries who don't exhibit a form of modernized civility are the countries in which one wouldn't want to relocate. Or at least it shouldn't be a big secret. But these days we're not supposed to judge another country despite their evident flaws. Whether they're neglecting their own people, harboring terrorists, proliferating nuclear weapons, denying the Holocaust, or abusing power and bleeding their own country until is dries out and dies. C'mon, man, we're all one big village. According to Obama, and many of the leaders he was speaking to, it makes no sense to espouse some "world order" for bottom-of-the-barrel and "developing" countries to live by. No, that would surely seem absolutist, and absolutism among nations is unspeakably politically incorrect. If it's obvious to you that the lower countries need to take some pointers from the top 21, then you need some hard lessons in multiculturalism, buddy. You think just because you have running water, you can go around saying you're right all the time.
However, the U.N. has inadvertently done just that for us with their analysis. It all goes back to a hypothesis: Where would a human being be the most happy? And, after all that data was gathered, the conclusion could have ended with the prediction: In a Democracy, stupid.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Roman Polanski and Death and The Maiden
I love movies, I have my dad to thank for that. I still remember my uncle (his brother) saying that Chinatown was the finest movie ever made. The first time I saw it, I knew it was good, but had no idea why.
Every Halloween my mother would show my sister and me a horror film. The Sentinel, The Haunting of Julia, The Exorcist. I didn't know why at the time, but even in my adolescent brain I could recognize that Rosemary's Baby was the best of the bunch.
All of this movie watching eventually led me to film school, where I would get my answers. I would study the art of film, what makes a good film a good film. In my screenwriting class we would dissect Robert Towne's script for Chinatown. I would watch it again with a trained eye and realize the powerful acting, the timeless cinematography, the masterful direction, blah, blah, blah. All of those things you learn in Film Analysis and then have to unlearn in order to enjoy a movie again. Good is good, I knew this already. What I learned in school was to figure out how "great" was made. Roman Polanski was a great filmmaker. I saw it in films like Repulsion, The Tenant, and Knife in the Water (of which I bought the Criterion Collection edition, just to prove what a way-out-there film admirer I was). One thing I knew (and still know) was that, as far as directors working in the late '60's and throughout the 1970's go, Roman Polanski was one of the best.
That all being said: put the great director behind bars, and throw away the key.
During my years as a film student, I was aware of the tumultuous life of Roman Polanski. A survivor of the Holocaust, witness to his mother's murder at the hands of the Nazis, and widower to actress Sharon Tate who was murdered by the Manson gang (along with her and Roman's unborn child). Polanski had lived Shakespearean tragedy all before his 40th birthday. Perhaps it is fitting that the next film after his wife's slaughter was The Tragedy of Macbeth (1971). The cold, calculated bloodletting enacted by the character of Macbeth on his enemies would have been the perfect vessel for Polanski's pain.
And then came 1977.
By now, everyone knows the full story of what befell the 13-year-old girl at the hands of a pedophile in Jack Nicholson's house at the top of Mulholland Drive. And when you take the artist out of it, it is simply that: the rape of an underage girl by a 44-year-old man. Where some would say that all the years of personal turmoil motivated such a devastating ravaging of another human's life, I say that the devastation was visited in spite of what could have been a heroic life. Tragedy is meant to beget redemption and self-knowledge. And a life of suffering does not excuse one to enact suffering on another.
I can't help but think about Polanski's film Death and The Maiden (1994), starring Ben Kingsley and Sigourney Weaver. In it, Paulina, a housewife, is unexpectedly confronted with her tormentor and rapist (a South American fascist) years later, in her own home. The film is based on a play of the same name, and much of the film's action takes place in the home of the woman and her husband. It is there that she attempts to force a confession out of her attacker so that she'll feel justified in killing him. I can't help but think that the director thought of his own situation when making the film. This scenario is hard to imagine, being that the character he most represents would, to even the less astute viewer, be the fascist rapist. It is more likely he was pointing the finger at the character of Paulina and at us, the audience. With heavy themes of vengeance as a means to justice, and action before consideration (or action founded in emotion), the film plays as a message from the director to those of us who would judge him. A director delusional of his innocence.
I illustrate the point (film imitating life, or art as autobiography) to conjoin both the life of a man to his work. Either Polanski consciously incorporates his experiences in his life into his films and chooses projects that will facilitate his worldview, or view of himself (twisted as it is). Or, he makes films that subconsciously absolve himself of any guilt he may have. Whichever the two, his opinion in the matter is revealing.
I keep going back to the films my parents showed me. My mother must have known of Polanski's arrest (she was my age now when it happened). Yet she showed me Rosemary's Baby without a mention of the man behind the camera. I remember, around this same time, not being allowed to see the film Powder because the director, Victor Salva, was convicted of videotaping sexual acts with himself and a 12-year-old boy. Clearly the immediacy of the latter case was the motive behind the censorship of one film and not the other. Knowing my mom, she innocently respected the film-making versus the filmmaker, as her son learned to do. Salva made the mistake of standing trial and serving his time, dooming himself to a life of making a string of Jeepers Creepers movies (a fate, some directors might say, far worse than death). Whereas, Polanski fled before his trial and became that mysterious Polish-Frenchman who did something awful that one time, then scurried off into the sunset.
Time confuses the details. And Roman Polanski has had the advantage of time on his side, making sure that only his films remain as the written history of Roman Polanski. Of course, with his recent arrest in Switzerland, time has caught up with him and Justice has been given yet another chance to balance the scales, and assure that no one forgets the 13-year-old girl in the story this time around.
In less than one week, Roman Polanski has become a household name. His morally bankrupt, hedonistic friends in Hollywood and Paris would have us believe, "for all the wrong reasons". They must recoil at the thought of Nom de Polanski being dragged around the States, in and out of every household, accompanied by names the likes of "child rapist", "pedophile", "sodomist". The irony being, in uncapping their pens and signing the petition to "Free Roman Polanski", they have drawn a crystal clear line in the sand between that which is Good, and that which is Evil.
Hollywood is overflowing with self-righteous, moral relativism and brimming with men and women who believe that, because they are "artists", they are right. It is this attitude that has men like Harvey Weinstein (Polanski's biggest supporter) calling on "every film-maker we can to help fix this terrible situation." And worse, claiming, "Hollywood has the best moral compass, because it has compassion."
These filmmakers, these artists, mistake artistic talent for humanity. They truly believe that the ability to make great art diminishes moral retardation, and the need to adhere to the laws of man and nature.
I, however, have learned to discern the two. I can separate the art from the artist and admire one and admonish the other. So what does it all mean? What do I make of the fact that I really enjoy the films of a rapist?
Using the simple deduction of logic, it can all be summed up in a statement: Powder is a terrible film made by a terrible man, and Chinatown is a masterpiece of a film made by a terrible man.
Every Halloween my mother would show my sister and me a horror film. The Sentinel, The Haunting of Julia, The Exorcist. I didn't know why at the time, but even in my adolescent brain I could recognize that Rosemary's Baby was the best of the bunch.
All of this movie watching eventually led me to film school, where I would get my answers. I would study the art of film, what makes a good film a good film. In my screenwriting class we would dissect Robert Towne's script for Chinatown. I would watch it again with a trained eye and realize the powerful acting, the timeless cinematography, the masterful direction, blah, blah, blah. All of those things you learn in Film Analysis and then have to unlearn in order to enjoy a movie again. Good is good, I knew this already. What I learned in school was to figure out how "great" was made. Roman Polanski was a great filmmaker. I saw it in films like Repulsion, The Tenant, and Knife in the Water (of which I bought the Criterion Collection edition, just to prove what a way-out-there film admirer I was). One thing I knew (and still know) was that, as far as directors working in the late '60's and throughout the 1970's go, Roman Polanski was one of the best.
That all being said: put the great director behind bars, and throw away the key.
During my years as a film student, I was aware of the tumultuous life of Roman Polanski. A survivor of the Holocaust, witness to his mother's murder at the hands of the Nazis, and widower to actress Sharon Tate who was murdered by the Manson gang (along with her and Roman's unborn child). Polanski had lived Shakespearean tragedy all before his 40th birthday. Perhaps it is fitting that the next film after his wife's slaughter was The Tragedy of Macbeth (1971). The cold, calculated bloodletting enacted by the character of Macbeth on his enemies would have been the perfect vessel for Polanski's pain.
And then came 1977.
By now, everyone knows the full story of what befell the 13-year-old girl at the hands of a pedophile in Jack Nicholson's house at the top of Mulholland Drive. And when you take the artist out of it, it is simply that: the rape of an underage girl by a 44-year-old man. Where some would say that all the years of personal turmoil motivated such a devastating ravaging of another human's life, I say that the devastation was visited in spite of what could have been a heroic life. Tragedy is meant to beget redemption and self-knowledge. And a life of suffering does not excuse one to enact suffering on another.
I can't help but think about Polanski's film Death and The Maiden (1994), starring Ben Kingsley and Sigourney Weaver. In it, Paulina, a housewife, is unexpectedly confronted with her tormentor and rapist (a South American fascist) years later, in her own home. The film is based on a play of the same name, and much of the film's action takes place in the home of the woman and her husband. It is there that she attempts to force a confession out of her attacker so that she'll feel justified in killing him. I can't help but think that the director thought of his own situation when making the film. This scenario is hard to imagine, being that the character he most represents would, to even the less astute viewer, be the fascist rapist. It is more likely he was pointing the finger at the character of Paulina and at us, the audience. With heavy themes of vengeance as a means to justice, and action before consideration (or action founded in emotion), the film plays as a message from the director to those of us who would judge him. A director delusional of his innocence.
I illustrate the point (film imitating life, or art as autobiography) to conjoin both the life of a man to his work. Either Polanski consciously incorporates his experiences in his life into his films and chooses projects that will facilitate his worldview, or view of himself (twisted as it is). Or, he makes films that subconsciously absolve himself of any guilt he may have. Whichever the two, his opinion in the matter is revealing.
I keep going back to the films my parents showed me. My mother must have known of Polanski's arrest (she was my age now when it happened). Yet she showed me Rosemary's Baby without a mention of the man behind the camera. I remember, around this same time, not being allowed to see the film Powder because the director, Victor Salva, was convicted of videotaping sexual acts with himself and a 12-year-old boy. Clearly the immediacy of the latter case was the motive behind the censorship of one film and not the other. Knowing my mom, she innocently respected the film-making versus the filmmaker, as her son learned to do. Salva made the mistake of standing trial and serving his time, dooming himself to a life of making a string of Jeepers Creepers movies (a fate, some directors might say, far worse than death). Whereas, Polanski fled before his trial and became that mysterious Polish-Frenchman who did something awful that one time, then scurried off into the sunset.
Time confuses the details. And Roman Polanski has had the advantage of time on his side, making sure that only his films remain as the written history of Roman Polanski. Of course, with his recent arrest in Switzerland, time has caught up with him and Justice has been given yet another chance to balance the scales, and assure that no one forgets the 13-year-old girl in the story this time around.
In less than one week, Roman Polanski has become a household name. His morally bankrupt, hedonistic friends in Hollywood and Paris would have us believe, "for all the wrong reasons". They must recoil at the thought of Nom de Polanski being dragged around the States, in and out of every household, accompanied by names the likes of "child rapist", "pedophile", "sodomist". The irony being, in uncapping their pens and signing the petition to "Free Roman Polanski", they have drawn a crystal clear line in the sand between that which is Good, and that which is Evil.
Hollywood is overflowing with self-righteous, moral relativism and brimming with men and women who believe that, because they are "artists", they are right. It is this attitude that has men like Harvey Weinstein (Polanski's biggest supporter) calling on "every film-maker we can to help fix this terrible situation." And worse, claiming, "Hollywood has the best moral compass, because it has compassion."
These filmmakers, these artists, mistake artistic talent for humanity. They truly believe that the ability to make great art diminishes moral retardation, and the need to adhere to the laws of man and nature.
I, however, have learned to discern the two. I can separate the art from the artist and admire one and admonish the other. So what does it all mean? What do I make of the fact that I really enjoy the films of a rapist?
Using the simple deduction of logic, it can all be summed up in a statement: Powder is a terrible film made by a terrible man, and Chinatown is a masterpiece of a film made by a terrible man.
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