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Showing posts from April, 2019

1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 14: Fly away home

Carroll Ballard has directed three fine movies about comunion between beasts and humans. The best, which everyone should see, is Never Cry Wolf (1983), in which a biologist, closely observing wolves, rediscovers his sense of childlike wonderment. The other two movies have children as protagonists. In The Black Stallion (1979), a boy and a horse are shipwrecked together on a tropical island; after they’re rescued, the boy becomes the horse’s racing jockey. And in Fly Away Home (1996), a girl (Anna Paquin) becomes a foster mother to some young geese.

This girl, a New Zealander, has just lost her mother and been brought to live with her father in his cluttered Ontario farmhouse. She isn’t very enthused about her father or her new school, but she enjoys the woods and fields. Her explorations give the camera a reason to linger over rural beauty.

Her father (Jeff Daniels) is a live-action version of a Hayao Miyazaki cartoon character. That is to say, he is an eccentric inventor, sculptor, and aeronaut. Flight is the theme of his creations. They include a gigantic metal dragon, a full-scale replica of the lunar landing module, and various leg-powered or motorized flying contraptions that he tests himself. He flies them well enough, but his landings are painful.

The inventor and his friends are full of sympathy for the girl, who is obviously lonely and frustrated (she wears her dead mother’s clothes around the house). But they are unable to earn her trust until another tragedy brings them under a common cause.

Some developers bulldoze a nearby woodland. Exploring the wreckage, the girl finds some abandoned goose eggs. She sneaks the eggs into a barn, incubates them, and watches the goslings hatch. Since she is the first creature they see, they regard her as their mother. They eat and bathe with her and follow her through the weeds and creeks and forests.

Only a broad-minded man would agree to have his house taken over by geese. The girl’s father doesn’t hesitate. By allowing his daughter to care for the geese, he helps her to come to terms with her mother’s death.

Eventually, however, it becomes clear that the geese must travel southward. It’s their instict; also, there are bureaucrats who’d destroy their habitat or even clip their wings. But without a mother to guide them, they’d never be able to find their way home.

And so the girl and her father decide to ride their aircraft to the south, over lakes and fields and skyscrapers, directing the geese in their migration.


Though all of this is fairly predictable, the movie isn’t on autopilot. Individual scenes play out in interesting ways, and certain passages evoke this biblical verse:
How think you? if a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, does he not leave the ninety and nine, and go into the mountains, and seek that which is gone astray?
(Substitute “geese” for “sheep.”)

There’s poignancy, also, in the father’s love for his daughter, and in the daughter’s engagement with the memory of her mother through her mothering of the geese. Best of all, though, is the lovely nature photography. The movie often feels like a nature documentary. It’s a bonus that an interesting human drama is happening in the background.

A feast

Quite a few of Karin’s relatives had birthdays this week. We celebrated two of them yesterday during a family gathering. We ate an enormous lunch of pork chops, fruity gelatinous salad, broccoli salad, pickles, and mushroom-sauced venison with boiled carrots and potatoes. For dessert, we ate “Hoosier” pie and a German chocolate cake that Karin had been paid $20 to prepare. Each slice of cake had about 900 calories. We ate so much that Karin & I slept all afternoon and then didn’t bother to eat supper.

In the evening, Karin fainted and fell on the bathroom floor. She seems OK, though.

Tonight, we ate leftover pork chops and potatoes.

Remembering the murder of James Byrd Jr.

Of all the murders that have occurred during my lifetime, the most sickening may have been that of James Byrd Jr. in Jasper, Texas, in 1998.

This crime has resurfaced in my consciousness because one of the murderers was executed today.

Small world

A lot of articles about South Bend’s mayor, Pete Buttigieg, have been appearing in my Facebook feed – especially now that he’s running for U.S. President.

One Facebook friend recently shared an article from The Daily Caller, a conservative news site founded by Tucker Carlson of Fox. What caught my eye was the reporter’s name. I did a little investigating. Sure enough: she’d been my “Introduction to Ethics” student at Cornell.

This is the second student of mine I’ve come across, in one way or another, in the national news.

The first has been serving as the mayor of Ithaca since January 1, 2012 – the same day Mayor Pete assumed office in South Bend.

Sjöwall & Wahlöö

In spare moments, I’ve been reading The Terrorists (1975), the last book of Sjöwall & Wahlöö’s crime series.

It begins with a scene of grotesquely comical political violence in South America.

My favorite policeman in the series, Gunvald Larsson, is on hand for the occasion. A fastidious dresser, he’s delighted to find that the banana republic he’s visiting has excellent tailors. (Apparently, tailoring is no longer practiced as a skilled craft in Sweden.) He commissions a new suit to be made for him.

This suit is, of course, ruined during the political upheaval.

A little later, in Stockholm, a young woman is brought to trial for robbing a bank. It’s proven that the “robbery” was a misunderstanding. All the young woman had done was to ask for money and to place a bag on the teller’s counter for the money to be put in. The teller had interpreted these actions as extremely threatening.

These facts are drawn out through the testimony of two other recurring characters, the bumbling patrolmen Kristiansson and Kvastmo.

Next, a famous pornographer is fatally coshed in his mistress’s house. The now very high-ranking detective Martin Beck is assigned to the case. He and a junior detective, Benny Skacke, spend a morning watching one of the pornographer’s movies, Love in the Midnight Sun.

At first, the junior detective winces uncomfortably at all the nudity. Then he yawns. The movie is very boring and unerotic.

This is clearly a lampooning of those Swedish “masterpieces” of the late 1960s, I Am Curious (Yellow) and I Am Curious (Blue), which are now in the Criterion Collection. (No, I haven’t watched them.)

As I’ve read through its ten books, Sjöwall & Wahlöö’s series has reminded me of something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something with lots of recurring, cartoon-like characters and scenes of wry screwball comedy.

Now I know what it is.

It’s Tintin.

April’s poem

… describes this season of political campaigning.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(“Spring” by Edna St. Vincent Millay)

Progress report, pt. 2

The nightmare of this dissertation continues. I simply can’t write these arguments quickly enough to meet the deadlines. The arguments are too difficult. Too many complications arise.

There’s a certain chapter that, every day, I expect to complete, and then I work on it and it just keeps going on and on.

Final Four, pt. 2

At halftime of the championship game, Kenny Smith and Sir Charles pointed out that the teams – especially Virginia – were so used to bleeding out the clock that they weren’t taking open shots.

But the game’s real howler occurred in overtime. A Red Raider dribbled down the court on a fast break. A Cavalier knocked the ball out of bounds. Everyone saw this. But cue the replay review anyway. Frame-by-frame analysis. Yes, the Cavalier touches it last. But look more closely. There. In a single frame of the video, some electrons orbiting the little finger of the Texas Tech player appear to touch the ball.

Honestly, it was like the famous photo reconstruction scene in Blow-up.

The refs reversed their call and awarded possession to Virginia. The Red Raiders were never able to regain control of the game. The Cavs held on for their third straight deeply controversial victory (and the national title).

Did the Red Raider touch the ball last, using a few subatomic particles on his pinky? Maybe so. It shouldn’t have mattered.

One critic tweets:
For 100 years of basketball and on every pickup court in the country this is off UVA.

Slow motion replay changing the game by changing from who knocked it out to technical last touch is something I don’t think I like.
I agree.

It was like last summer’s World Cup final. All that time looking at video, and the refs still got it wrong.

Oh, and on the same play last night, the Red Raider dribbler was fouled. Indisputably. (See the previous link.) But that more important factor wasn’t considered, whether or not the rule allowed it to be.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

One of my colleagues is scheduled to have his gallbladder removed next week. The hospital sent him a letter saying that the night before the surgery, he shouldn’t eat or drink anything besides, “water, taki, and coffee.”

Takis?

I looked up the word “taki.” Wikipedia says it’s Japanese for “waterfall.” So maybe the hospital is telling my colleague that he shouldn’t have anything besides water, waterfall water, and coffee.

Final Four

I shouldn’t be watching, but this year’s NCAA Men’s Final Four is pretty good.

In the first game, Virginia bled the clock on each possession and carried a ten-point lead into the last five minutes. It seemed Auburn wouldn’t have enough time to erase the deficit. But then the Tigers went on a tear, overtook the Cavaliers, and looked set to win the game. At the very end, the Cavs went back on top due to some clutch three-point and free throw shooting – aided, also, by the refs’ no-call of a double dribble.

Sir Charles’s Tigers had previously KO’d a series of bluebloods – Kansas, North Carolina, and Kentucky – and they matched Virginia’s will, though the Cavs set the pace through most of the game. The blown call resulted in a heartbreaking elimination. Afterward, Sir Charles said he was close to tears.

Right now, it’s halftime of the game between Michigan State and Texas Tech. The two ferocious defenses have kept the score down to 23–21 (in favor of the Red Raiders). I don’t think either of these teams will pull very far ahead, which should make for another good ending. The winner will be a nightmare opponent for Virginia.

Progress report

Two chapters completed; one deleted; two others and an introduction still to receive finishing touches (which will involve pages and pages of writing).

I am considerably deprived of sleep.

The good news is, on Tuesday, I did not have to serve on a jury. But it took the good people of the court until late Monday night to figure that out.