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Showing posts from June, 2021

1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 40: Kingpin

I wonder if, when they made The Big Lebowski (1998), the Coen Brothers deliberately set out to one-up the Farrelly Brothers.

Nice comedy, I imagine the Coens saying. But here’s where Kingpin goes wrong.

A bowling movie should be about the LOOK of the sport.

Balls.

Pins.

Wood.

Those props deserve to be lavishly displayed.

Kingpin’s visual treatment of them is perfunctory.

Well – the Farrellies might reply – your own bowling movie isn’t really a BOWLING movie.

It has no sense of sporting drama.

WE showcase the slow tumbling of the pins.

The satisfying sound of the strike.

The agony of the 7–10 split.

Why aren’t THOSE things front-and-center in The Big Lebowski?

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Not that the Farrellies are bowling purists. Kingpin takes the slum-sport formula of movies like The Hustler and The Color of Money and lampoons it.

Bowling, not billiards. Otherwise, the elements are the same.

The general squalor.

A down-and-out virtuoso (Woody Harrelson).

The dame (Vanessa Angel).

The virtuoso’s pupil (Randy Quaid).

But Kingpin has a wild card: the pupil is a nice, strapping Amish farmer who is forced to hide his bowling from the disapproving community. This is what makes Kingpin original.

Other stuff – e.g., Bill Murray’s performance as Harrelson’s over-the-top nemesis – is funny, but it’s been done before.

And yes, it’s funny but unoriginal that the Harrelson character is a bowler with a maimed hand. 1996 was a good year for that sort of thing. Happy Gilmore and Shine are two other movies in which a precocious young man is mentored by an older virtuoso with a maimed hand.

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Anyway, what’s wrong with a little recycling? The Farrellies even recycle their own material. There’s a confrontation at a roadside diner that is pretty similar to a scene from Dumb and Dumber. That’s OK: in both movies, it works.

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Some viewers might take offense at the movie’s portrayal of the Amish. I think Kingpin is a pretty good satire of other cinematic portrayals of the Amish. Two of the funniest scenes – the milking scene and the barn-raising scene – are sly digs at Witness.

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I wish to conclude by praising Vanessa Angel. I don’t remember seeing her in anything else, but here she holds her own against Harrelson, Murray, and Quaid. You can watch those guys in plenty of other movies. Kingpin is Angel’s movie.

Yet another reunion

Lots of rain this weekend, and some tornado warnings. I attended another Zoom meeting with my high school classmates. This time we listened to a guest lecture by our English teacher, Mr. Quiring, who talked about biblical allusions in literature, with examples from poems by G.K. Chesterton, Wilfred Owen, Luci Shaw, and (especially) Harry Smart; we focused on a poem of Smart’s called “The Hen and Her Chicks.” I took up the theme of the nurturing male caregiver and said that I had been reading Horton Hatches the Egg to Samuel.

Mr. Quiring called in from Nebraska. The rest of us called in from these places:

British Columbia (2)
California
The Denver airport (but this person lives in Montana)
Indiana
Papua New Guinea
Queensland
Quito
Texas
Washington State

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Samuel loves to play with our fancy TV remote, and, occasionally, he subscribes us to this or that streaming channel without our permission. Tonight he subscribed us to BritBox. No problem: we watch lots of British TV. A few months ago, however, he subscribed us to MOTV (My Outdoor TV). I tried to watch one of the shows – it was about the hunting of wild hogs, with bow and arrow – but couldn’t get into it. Samuel liked it, though.

Then, on Father’s Day, we went to a large gathering with Karin’s dad’s family. Karin’s male cousins were standing around in the yard putting their bows together, and Samuel went over and stood with them. It was a little precious.

House hunting, pt. 26

Yes, we are still looking for a house to buy … I just haven’t been writing about it.

This evening we toured one of the nicest houses we’ve visited so far. It’s listed at about $15,000 less than the maximum that we can bid. Even so, I expect that the winning bid will exceed that maximum. The house appeared on the real estate websites last night, and today shoppers toured it nonstop. When we visited at 5:45, the realtor for the 7:00 showing was outside, shooting a video of the street. Samuel got away from us and ran back and forth in the front yard, so he probably will be featured in the video.

The house appeared to be rented out to some musicians. There was musical equipment everywhere. I scraped my leg on some instrument – possibly, a snare drum.

Too tired to type

Tonight, for the third time this year, I attempted to play soccer.

I wonder if I ought to retire from the soccer.


David is in town. He’ll be here for three weeks.

The mystery of a hansom cab

Since War and Peace is proving too difficult to read at this time, I am aiming much lower. The book I am trying out is Fergus Hume’s The Mystery of a Hansom Cab – “the original blockbuster crime novel,” according to the back cover of the Text Classics edition.

Arthur Conan Doyle did not admire the writing of Fergus Hume. I’m not sure I admire it, but I do like it.
“Well,” said Mr Gorby, addressing his reflection in the looking glass, “I’ve been finding out things these last twenty years, but this is a puzzler and no mistake.”
Mr Gorby is the detective. Other important characters – socialites in Victorian Melbourne – spend lots of time drinking tea, casually discussing the murder (which the newspapers have turned into a sensation), and trying to arrange marriages for themselves. The book reminds me of nothing else so much as Daisy Ashford’s The Young Visiters, which she wrote when she was nine.

The murder is done with poison (chloroform) late at night in a hansom cab. This method has the virtue of noiselessness. Writers of the genre’s later “golden” age would have opted for air-bubble injection – also ludicrous – or strangulation.

June’s poem

A famous one: W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A brush with death; an unnecessary tournament; baseball

Martin told me that I could watch the Euros with Univisión’s free Prende TV app. I kept an eye on all three of today’s games.

There was a harrowing episode: Denmark’s Christian Eriksen collapsed on the field, apparently due to cardiac arrest. CPR was administered to him. Players, fans, officials, commentators, Eriksen’s wife – all seemed traumatized (as Karin & I were, at home).

I was affected to see the Danish players, clearly anguished, forming a privacy wall around Eriksen and his caregivers.

Eriksen survived.

After a long delay, play was resumed, and the Finns earned their first victory at a major tournament.

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Another edition of the Copa América is due to commence. I am not interested in this. The Copa was just played in 2019, in Brazil; this edition also will be held in Brazil. The venue was switched over from Colombia and Argentina. Why those countries should have been chosen is mysterious to me.

All the CONMEBOL countries take turns hosting, and the next turn should have been Ecuador’s. Ecuador might host the 2024 tournament, but this year’s tournament is unnecessary.

Whatever happens in 2024, all I hope for this competition is that it somehow helps, rather than hinders, Ecuador’s quest for World Cup qualification.

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We took Samuel to his first baseball game, at the South Bend Cubs’ stadium. We were in a club box with Karin’s coworkers. Samuel wouldn’t sit still, of course, so I spent most of the evening trailing him back and forth in the (rather crowded) club box.

How to disqualify your textbook from the Christian college market

Ecuador, one goal; Peru, the last-placed team, two goals. The manner of the defeat left little to be hopeful about.

Due to other results, we’re still in third place. But we were similarly lofty at the beginning of the previous World Cup cycle. I’d say, we’re about to go into another tailspin.

It takes just one really poor game, and we’re in big trouble.

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No libertarian myself, I enjoy reading philosophy by libertarians and classical liberals (and by other fans of liberty-as-noninterference). These writers can be refreshingly plain-spoken. Jason Brennan is like this. So is Michael Huemer. (I assigned a chapter by Huemer when I lectured at Bethel a couple of months ago.) So, I was excited to read Brennan’s endorsement of Huemer’s new self-published book.

The best intro textbook ever, Brennan raves.

So, I gave the textbook a look.

It may be a good book. It may be a good textbook for a secular college. But it could never be used in a conservative Christian college. It has too many swear words, and the acknowledgments page includes this line:
I’d also like to thank … God, if He exists, for creating the universe; and Satan for not maliciously inserting many more errors into the text.
I’ll say this for Huemer: his writing is not obsequious; it doesn’t pander to anyone.

Except, maybe, to the agnostics and the Satanists.

Brazil 2, Ecuador 0

The Brazilians labored, but their victory was never in doubt; clearly, they were the better team.

Although the result was just, the second goal was questionable. The VAR officials permitted Neymar to re-take a penalty kick because of a minuscule encroachment by Alexander Domínguez.

This greatly irked the Uruguayan commentators (who are as sober as any commentators I listen to). Throughout the game, they had lots of choice words about Neymar, which I appreciated. Afterward, I watched another hour of Uruguayan TV. What a good little country.

The Brazilians are massively talented, but as long as they continue to run 85–90% of their attacks through Neymar, they are doomed to lose against the best European sides.

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In Mishawaka, temperatures have been in the low nineties (F). We bought a garden hose and a kid-friendly sprinkler. The sprinkler is shaped like a fish; when water spurts out of it, it thrashes in a disturbing fashion. Karin & I showed Samuel how to run back and forth through the spray. At first, he stood just outside of its reach, yelling and waving his arms; eventually, he made a few passes.

Now the lawn is watered, and so it will be longer at the next mowing.

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Edoarda & Stephen are buying a house at the other end of our block. Of course, we also intend to buy a house, and it probably won’t be right here; but it will be nice to live near them for a short time. And when my parents move into the house where we are living now, they’ll be near to Edoarda & Stephen.

In the meantime, Edoarda & Stephen are allowing me to use their new battery-powered mower. It’s quiet; but, on certain terrain, it’s extremely quirky.

The perils of routine

Samuel constantly asks to be read to. Is this such a good thing? He seems rather desperate. If I’m not reading to him, he brings a book and slaps it down hard on my lap or face or computer; if I refuse him, he cries; if I begin to comply, he hyperventilates until I’ve picked him up and set him on my knee.

I wonder what I’m doing wrong with the child. He has good objectives, but his methods are terrible.

Today we read the original Madeline four times. We also read three of the sequels, and several books unrelated to Madeline. It must have been over three hundred pages – just of Madeline.

This can’t be good for him, can it?

His diet also needs more variety.

Repetition suited him well enough during his first year and a half outside of the womb. Lately, though, it seems to be making him bored and obsessive.

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World Cup qualifying has resumed in South America. Ecuador will play in Brazil tomorrow night, and at home, against Peru, on Tuesday.