Librari[d]an

I am a pretty unabashed fan of the Indian Jones films. Yes–even that terrible one where they’re not looking for a Biblical relic. (That would be Temple of Doom for all you non-believers. Tut tut for not remembering it.) Something about banding together to defeat the Nazis has always resonated with me, especially if there are zeppelins and fancy period costumes involved. (I’m probably going to have to rent The Rocketeer one of these days, if only for the set and costume designs.) In my interview for my financial aid/internship, I actually talked at length about how this scene - in which Indy confronts Elsa at a book-burning - made quite the impression on me. (In all honesty, not the book burning itself, but the subtlety with which they were developing Elsa’s character.) For some reason, after this they still decided to give me a job and gobs of money. Bizarre.

So there’s a new one coming out: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Watch the teaser trailer for it here. This promotional peek is so jam-packed with action that I’m not sure what to think. (I know they’re just using it to sell the film, but it all seems too flashy and sensationally shot.) For me, Indiana Jones was never about the action. Dodging deadly, ancient booby traps in the grail temple in The Last Crusade was pretty awesome, but it was a lot more fun watching Indy puzzle out the solutions to these archaeological trials. Plus, Indy isn’t the spring chicken any more. I don’t want to see Harrison Ford gallivanting around, bull whip in hand, as if he was still 35 (or even 45). I felt myself wince every time I saw any stunt work in the trailer. Was this because I was afraid he’d get a hernia, or because it so unabashedly shatters our willful suspension of disbelief? (Funny, that I can handle ghosts making Nazis’ faces melt and a false grail dessicating a man, but can’t stomach Ford’s geriatric acrobatics.)

So, strike the plot stuff that I love: Nazis, Europe (apparently this one is set somewhere in Central/South America), Biblical artifacts. Insert stuff that I am ambivalent toward: that kid with the weak chin from Transformers (Shia LaBeouf), tons of action, tons of kinetic cinematography, tons of cgi, the Russkies. (Communism? Come on! It’s not evil. It can’t hold a candle to Nazis.) Now can you see why I’m a bit worried?

There are, however, two women who can save the film: Karen Allen and Cate Blanchett. Karen has a bunch of stuff going for her; her character from Raiders of the Lost Ark, Marion Ravenwood, is certainly the most plucky and popular of Indiana Jones’ love interests. However, she’s mainly coasting on nostalgia. (And did she get some plastic surgery? Or just get old? Her face looks different…) Cate Blanchett is just really, really good at acting. I know she’ll give a solid performance even if her character - Irina Spalko - isn’t particularly sexy or interesting. (However, despite her frump uniform costume and bob coiffure I think she may end up being both.) Happily she seems to be the main villain and is getting considerable screen time in the trailer. (Hooray for Communism! Equality of the sexes! Finally a villainess that isn’t subservient to a man!) However, the same can’t be said for Allen, who is only in a few shots.

So I guess I’ll just have to wait and see how it goes (on 22 May 2008). Mark your calendars, my little Short Rounds.

As a child, I would often have dreams about a mysterious blonde, blindfolded and all in white, silently calling out to me for help. She would appear framed in mirrors, reaching blindly towards me, or dead in a ruined coffin. When I related the dream to a friend, he assured me it was not mine at all. Rather, the girl was my misty memory of an obscure live-action Disney film, The Watcher in the Woods. The “dream” was in fact several suspenseful scenes from the science fiction/horror movie, which features a girl who was accidentally sent into another dimension - switched with an alien - during a solar eclipse. Why I came to think of it as a dream was clear: Karen’s costume design was theatrical and symbolic in nature, a softening filter made the images hazy, and little to no sound heightened the suspense of the scenes.

In “Prosthetic Memory: Total Recall and Blade Runner”, Alison Landsberg relates Herbert Blumer’s scientific finding that the mass media can implant memories into audiences via film. (LM 240) Audiences do not simply associate themselves with characters in the film, but incorporate the images and sounds fundamentally into the self. (LM 242) Landsberg views this as an extension of themes developed in contemporary science fiction films dealing with “prosthetic” (i.e. synthesized) memory.

In her essay, the author argues that post-modern film analysis privileges the time before audience’s relationships to events were not so mediated that people could not differentiate between the real and hyperreal. (LM 243, 240) Critics such as Fredric Jameson and Jean Baudrillard express nostalgia for this time – the “prelapsarian moment” – when it was still possible for viewers to experience and participate in true memory rather than inauthentic memory. Landsberg argues, however, that films such as Total Recall and Blade Runner work against this idea. The protagonists of both films don’t concern themselves with their past. This is because an authentic memory is not necessarily superior to a fabricated one, and because both memories exist. (LM 243, 244) Decker and Quaid forge their own identities based on the present moment. Thus, memory is less about the past than the present. (LM 244) A foil to this argument can be seen in the film Dark City. In the course of the narrative, John Murdoch (Rufus Sewell) attempts to unravel his memories to escape the strange people chasing him. As it turns out, these aliens have scrambled memories into a “cocktail” and literally inject them into men and women. By repeatedly changing humans’ identities in this manner, the aliens can keep them ignorant of their captivity. Only with the help of someone with authentic memories (Kiefer Sutherland) can Murdoch learn the truth (via injection of authentic memories) and liberate the humans.

In the “Postfuturism” chapter of Vivian Sobchack’s Screening Space, she also identifies the importance of the coherence of identify. (SS 272) In the postmodern era, Sobchack feels that identity is shaped mostly by space and surface rather than the temporal. Landsberg also asserts that an emphasis on the surface typifies postmodernism. (LM 244) Thus, continuity of time is less important. Science fiction films are either nostalgic or celebratory in regard to this fact. (SS 273) In the first case, the films draw on the past in terms of plot and mise en scène (such as the antiquated fashions seen in Dune). In the second, the films glory in discontinuity editing that confuses the viewer’s sense of time. The Watcher in the Woods is of the first type, as it uses gothic horror and antiquated locales to cleverly mislead the audience into thinking the film is a ghost story (rather than science fiction).

Thus, postmodern memory and its repercussion on how films conceive of time/space can be added to a list of the elements of science fiction film. While critics readily discern the genre’s predisposition to look toward the future, they often neglect the just as conspicuous tendency for the films to look into the past.

I’ve included some screenshots from The Watcher in the Woods. I thought they might be useful in understanding why I subconsciously found the scene so gripping. If you haven’t seen the film, I would suggest it. (Annabel, at the very least, got some laughs when she revisited it.) I think it really embodies the generic tension between horror and sci-fi that Sobchack identified, even more so than Metropolis. (More on that later.)

:: Bibliography ::

Sobchack, Vivian. Screening Space. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1997.

Redmond, Sean. Liquid Metal. New York: Wallflower Press, 2004.

The Watcher in the Woods. Dir. John Hough. Perf. Bette Davis, Lynn-Holly Johnson, Kyle Richards, Carroll Baker, and David McCallum. 1980/1. DVD. Anchor Bay Entertainment. April 2, 2002.

This season I scored an aluminum Christmas tree at the Salvation Army! And let me tell you, Charles Shulz got it all wrong when he criticized them in A Charlie Brown Christmas. They were depicted as the embodiment of the holiday’s commodification: an economical and soulless alternative to the charming tradition of decorating a real tree. At the time, adopting this reactionary opinion was acceptable. Nowadays, I’ll take you to town if you talk smack on my delightful, foliose foil tree.

Let’s challenge the arguments - both past and present - against the aluminum tree (in brief):

1. Consumerism - Schulz’s baseless, Marxist criticism. Consumerism is consumerism, whether the tree has been raised on a farm or synthesized in a factory. The alternative, cutting a tree down in the wild, is simply not environmentally responsible.

2. Anti-tradition - It’s common knowledge nowadays that the tradition of the Christmas tree is rooted in pagan, Germanic folk traditions. This, combined with the fact that tradition is inherently fluid, sort of undermines any pro-tradition arguments. Let’s move on.

3. Ugly - If you’re reading this you’re using the internet, and if you’re using the internet you know how ugly the world can be. Can a glittering, silver, tree-shaped apparatus be any uglier than some of the .jpgs you’ve come across? I thought not. Of course, accidentally seeing heinous images on the net is very different from bringing something into your living space. My answer to this is that standards of beauty differ widely, and that aluminum trees come in a variety of colors. (Pink! Gold! Hurrah!)

4. Nostalgia / kitsch - The intellectual’s criticism of an aluminum tree is that it cultivates nostalgia and encourages sentimentalism, locating the best part of our lives in a highly Romanticized/fictionalized past. This is especially pertinent to the time when the trees themselves were introduced in the United States–the late 1950s. To remember the fifties fondly is, apparently, complicity in a sexist, racist, and ultimately conservative world view. I reject this criticism because it is a reductive way to envision an entire decade of a nation’s history. I also reject it because nostalgia plays no part in my enjoyment of an aluminum tree; I just like the way multi-colored lights play on the metal.

5. Dangerous - Aluminum trees are metal. Christmas lights have an electric current running through them. Put them together and the whole double wide goes up in flames. Happily, those of us with a lick of sense will not suffer from self-immolation.

Please consider a (second hand) aluminum Christmas tree next year. (If it must be a plastic pre-lit type, get one with LED lights! They use less electricity.) I will think you a better person for it.

Many Christmas carols are maligned. This may occur for any number of reasons: songs may be instrumental, depressing, non-nostalgic, contemporary, or too religious/too secular in nature. I think the most likely reason of all, however, is that these orphaned songs aren’t drilled into the collective unconscious by television ads, chain store playlists, radio, and film. Let’s revisit them, moving from awesome to slightly less awesome to “not exactly awesome but he needed ten.”

1. “Christmas is Coming” by the Vince Guaraldi Trio.

“Christmas is Coming”, from Guaraldi’s soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas, is consistently overshadowed by “Linus and Lucy” and “Skating”. However, this infectious, jazzy little number perfectly personifies the anticipation leading up to everyone’s favorite birthing. Whether it’s the pert little rest at 0:37 or the meandering interlude at 1:05, “Christmas is Coming” is more vivacious and musically interesting than anything else on the album.

2. The entirety of Nat King Cole’s Christmas-themed works.

Yes, his Christmas album is wildly popular. Yes, he butchers the German language in “O Tannenbaum”. But it’s the best ever, so people aren’t listening to it enough. (Epicure friend Lisa says there is a Nat King Cole children’s Christmas album. Must acquire!)

3. “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” translated from the Latin by John Mason Neale.

More poetry than carol, this magnificent Advent song is of unknown pedigree and seems to be rarely used even in Church services by Roman Catholics. Sober and solemn, I have seen people moved to tears by it. Not exactly holly jolly fare, but I’m sorta down with that. (Interestingly, the version I learned of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” has variant stanzas. For example: “O come thou wisdom from on high / Who ordered all thing mightly / To us the path of knowledge show / And teach us in her way to go” etc. Check out more variants here.)

4. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Judy Garland.

Sweet Jesus Christ, the melancholy! Old blue eyes’ cover of this song - the one you know and love - is nothing like Hugh Martin’s original and can be safely called a bastardization. The carol, already once revised because of its brooding nature, first appeared in the 1944 film Meet Me in St. Louis and was marked by its bittersweet tone and Garland’s pained vocal delivery. Haunting, perhaps the very embodiment of sehnsucht, this song is a staple for those of us who’d like a taste of our soul being crushed by profound emotion. For a bit more history, check out this article.

5. “Final Waltz and Apotheosis” from Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker.

While the average Christmas enthusiast will immediately recognize the Valse des fleurs or any of the Divertissements from Tchaikovsky’s 71st opus, it is much less likely that they will be able to identify the Final Waltz and Apotheosis. Sweepingly Romantic and alive with a sense of triumph and accord, it perfectly exemplifies the elegance with which the work as a whole has come to be associated. I am particularly fond of Peter Wohlert and the Berlin Symphony Orchestra’s rendition of the Valse finale et apothéose; it is slightly faster and more expertly conducted than most other recordings.

6. “Here We Come A-Wassailing”.

A traditional New Years drinking song that has become associated with yuletide, this little number is a blast to belt out on a snowy doorstep. Nowadays you’ll usually hear a version with drastically sanitized lyrics, about caroling and Christmas rather than drink and cash. Wassailing, according to the Oxford English Dictionary (Oh no, L’amour de l’étymologie!?!), means to toast to one’s health, and has connotations of “carousing”–their word, not mine! I strongly encourage people everywhere to reclaim the original version of this song by acting out the lyrics as frequently as possible.

7. “I’m Gonna Lasso Santa Claus” by Brenda Lee.

Miss Lee is best known for “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”. In “Lasso” she employs an even more bizarre-cutsey voice to relate a child’s conviction to truss, shoot (with a water pistol), torture (tickle…), and finally steal the presents of Saint Nick. The reason for this glut of deviancy? To supply poor kids with presents, Communist style! This isn’t the only socially conscious, underrated Christmas carol; check out James Brown’s “Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto” for a more saccharine song about impoverished, gift-hungry brats.

8. “Christmas Wrapping” by The Waitresses.

A Christmas carol that begins with “Bah! Humbug!”? Yes please! These deadpan ’80s ladies explore the delight an isolated cynic finds in rediscovering the pleasure that is the Christmas season. “Christmas Wrapping” is consistently recognized as a new classic by music-savvy hipsters, but is relatively unknown to the Christmas-celebrating population at large. It has been covered quite a great deal, on and off retail albums; however, alternate versions are odious and should be avoided like the plague.

9. “Once Upon a December” by Deana Carter.

Yeah, I’m man enough to admit that I like it. For the uninitiated, “Once Upon…” is a song from the animated film Anastasia. It occupies a precarious place in this list, as it is popular in the mainstream - with little girls and big fat women that never stopped being little girls - and not really a Christmas song. The in, of course, is the fact that it’s generally despised by anyone whose musical sensibilities command respect. Now all you smack-talkers take notice: Hear those sinister chimes in the intro? The rather interesting (for a children’s movie) imagery in the lyrics? The shamelessly hilarious backup singer that starts bellowing at 1:03? All pretty damn good reasons to give it another shot, to my mind.

10. “Good King Wenceslas” by John Mason Neale.

Another traditional carol to round out the top ten; I really just love this song because I can shout “Bring me meat and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither!” at the top of my voice with impunity. Eighteenth Century British scholar John Mason Neale, translator of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”, composed the lyrics to accompany the 13th Century spring carol “It is Time for Flowering” (”Tempus Adest Floridum” in Latin). Methinks I’m going to have to look into this bloke for a future post; seems he has a monopoly on carols from antiquity.

And we’re done! Go out into the world and get these songs from your local library, illegally from the internet, or make them yourself by playing your nose and singing aloud. (If that last one really occurs, please post to YouTube for reasons that need not be verbalized.) Also, look forward to my next Christmas post, which will be about the “Top ten Christmas horror films of ultimate depravity”!