Today John McCain announced that his vice presidential running mate is Sarah Palin, current governor of Alaska. Now, keep in mind that I don't know much of anything about her or even about the campaign, but here are my thoughts on it anyhow.
The first thing I wondered when I heard the news was, of course, "Who's Sarah Palin?" which is probably the same question most everyone outside of Alaska asked themselves, I'm sure. The second was, "Why Sarah Palin?" Is this simply John McCain's answer to the Democratic Party's African-American presidential nominee? They've got an historical first, now I've got to have one, too? To listen to Sean Hannity (who I don't not endorse, by the way), Sarah Palin's a perfect selection and John McCain couldn't have done better (of course, Sean Hannity is unbelievably conservative and anti-liberal, so take everything he says with a grain of salt - or a bucket of it).
My next questions is this: Is there anything wrong with McCain picking a running mate simply because she's a woman (if that was, indeed, the case)? Some would say good for him, he's giving the country a chance to see what a woman can do in a major political office. But if that's the only reason he's doing it, I say that's not right! I mean, think about it. If he wins and dies in office, she'll be president and if he picked her only because he needed a Republican Party response to Barak Obama, then he would essentially have appointed a president with no other qualifications than her gender. I hope that's not what has happened here. That's a big responsibility, if you think about it. Picking one's running mate is essentially picking one's replacement should they die.
Is there anything wrong with John McCain picking a woman, Sarah Palin, for vice president candidate? Not at all. As long as he didn't pick her just because she's a woman.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Citizen Kane.
Well, it's time to write again. Actually, it was time to write again a long time ago, but I've been lacking an incentive, a motivation to log-on and try to conjure up some semblance of rhetoric. But at last, my motivation has come, although I still required some coercion on my own part to sit down and put fingers to keyboard. The motivation: Orson Welles' classic Citizen Kane.
Citizen Kane is an old, black-and-white movie directed, co-written, and starred in by Orson Welles (possibly the only thing the average American has seen him in is a cameo bit part in The Muppet Movie - yes, the aged, corpulent studio head at the end of the movie is Orson Welles). The movie, though too "old and boring" to sit through for today's adrenaline-saturated movie audiences, was one of the most controversial films ever made and the pinnacle of Welles' short-lived career (not counting another forty years of low-budget indie flops).
The film is a thinly-veiled semi-biography of pre-Depression era newspaper giant William Hearst. Welles' depictions of Hearst (whose name was changed to Charles Foster Kane in the movie) and his mistress were so unfavorable, even slanderous, that Hearst (at that time, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world) did all within his power to have the movie banned and/or destroyed. Obviously, his efforts were unsuccessful, but the fight contributed in large part to the ruin of both men's' reputations and careers. Sadly, Welles' life ended up being much like the character's that he played.
The movie was hailed by critics at the time of its release as a masterpiece, the next offering from the mind of a genius (Orson Welles' previous radio presentation of H.G. Well's book War of the Worlds had created nationwide panic when listeners became convinced that the story of Martian invaders told through fake news reports was real). Since then, the film has made its way onto many serious movie critics' top 10 lists, even being ranked by a major film organization as the greatest film ever made.
Although I hesitate to give it the same honor (and I know that it would make few layman's lists of greatest movies ever made), I would certainly say that it is one of the best crafted movies of all time. The cinematography, themes, acting, lighting, and (at times) even soundtrack were years ahead of its time, sometimes even decades ahead.
The major theme of the film revolves around a reporter's efforts to uncover the meaning of Kane's final word on this deathbed: "Rosebud" (ring a bell with anyone?). In his journalistic exploration, the nameless reporter talks with many of Kane's closest associates, friends, and family, who, through their on-screen memories, reveal a life full of frantic achievement and unimaginable loss.
Why am I writing all this? Well, partly because I don't know anybody else who has seen this movie and this is the only way that I can do my usual rehash/review of every movie that I see, but also because the theme of gain/loss struck me. Here is a man who spent his whole life trying to reach greatness and even to thrust it upon reluctant others, a man seeking the love of the common citizens without being willing to love them back, a man whose own power and riches were his insurmountable barriers to happiness. To paraphrase Kane's own words, he could have been a great man if he hadn't been rich.
Now, I don't want to turn this into a cliche (sorry, my computer won't make the accent mark) about how you can't take it with you or about how power corrupts, but that's exactly what stood out to me: Charles Kane sought desperately for love, security, power, and riches, but in the end it was his methods of obtaining those aspirations that doomed him. I suppose, then, that the lesson to be learned is that the ends do not justify the means.
I realize that this may sound like a lot of philosophical fluff being injected into a simple film experience, but for me, the magic of movies (and the mark of the great ones) is that they meet two requirements: one, they transport the viewer out of their current environment and state of mind to another place in their imagination, and two, that they leave the viewer better in some way. Now, I'm not saying that any good movie has to be an epic fantasy or that it has to have a feel-good, happy ending where the main character looks at the camera and, addressing the audience, says, "Today, kids, we learned about the importance of sharing..." (although I loved that part of every "He-Man" episode). In fact, many of the best films I've ever seen have been dark and gloomy (i.e. Batman Begins), but (and here's the clincher) I learned something from it. Therein lies the value and redeeming quality of entertainment. It doesn't exist (or at least shouldn't exist, in my opinion) simply to provide our brains with somewhere to go when we switch them off. It should make us feel something, think about something, change something. It should elevate us in someway.
So next time you watch a movie or listen to a song or read a book, try looking for the lesson to be learned, and then when it's over, try finishing the statement, "Today, I learned about...."
Citizen Kane is an old, black-and-white movie directed, co-written, and starred in by Orson Welles (possibly the only thing the average American has seen him in is a cameo bit part in The Muppet Movie - yes, the aged, corpulent studio head at the end of the movie is Orson Welles). The movie, though too "old and boring" to sit through for today's adrenaline-saturated movie audiences, was one of the most controversial films ever made and the pinnacle of Welles' short-lived career (not counting another forty years of low-budget indie flops).
The film is a thinly-veiled semi-biography of pre-Depression era newspaper giant William Hearst. Welles' depictions of Hearst (whose name was changed to Charles Foster Kane in the movie) and his mistress were so unfavorable, even slanderous, that Hearst (at that time, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world) did all within his power to have the movie banned and/or destroyed. Obviously, his efforts were unsuccessful, but the fight contributed in large part to the ruin of both men's' reputations and careers. Sadly, Welles' life ended up being much like the character's that he played.
The movie was hailed by critics at the time of its release as a masterpiece, the next offering from the mind of a genius (Orson Welles' previous radio presentation of H.G. Well's book War of the Worlds had created nationwide panic when listeners became convinced that the story of Martian invaders told through fake news reports was real). Since then, the film has made its way onto many serious movie critics' top 10 lists, even being ranked by a major film organization as the greatest film ever made.
Although I hesitate to give it the same honor (and I know that it would make few layman's lists of greatest movies ever made), I would certainly say that it is one of the best crafted movies of all time. The cinematography, themes, acting, lighting, and (at times) even soundtrack were years ahead of its time, sometimes even decades ahead.
The major theme of the film revolves around a reporter's efforts to uncover the meaning of Kane's final word on this deathbed: "Rosebud" (ring a bell with anyone?). In his journalistic exploration, the nameless reporter talks with many of Kane's closest associates, friends, and family, who, through their on-screen memories, reveal a life full of frantic achievement and unimaginable loss.
Why am I writing all this? Well, partly because I don't know anybody else who has seen this movie and this is the only way that I can do my usual rehash/review of every movie that I see, but also because the theme of gain/loss struck me. Here is a man who spent his whole life trying to reach greatness and even to thrust it upon reluctant others, a man seeking the love of the common citizens without being willing to love them back, a man whose own power and riches were his insurmountable barriers to happiness. To paraphrase Kane's own words, he could have been a great man if he hadn't been rich.
Now, I don't want to turn this into a cliche (sorry, my computer won't make the accent mark) about how you can't take it with you or about how power corrupts, but that's exactly what stood out to me: Charles Kane sought desperately for love, security, power, and riches, but in the end it was his methods of obtaining those aspirations that doomed him. I suppose, then, that the lesson to be learned is that the ends do not justify the means.
I realize that this may sound like a lot of philosophical fluff being injected into a simple film experience, but for me, the magic of movies (and the mark of the great ones) is that they meet two requirements: one, they transport the viewer out of their current environment and state of mind to another place in their imagination, and two, that they leave the viewer better in some way. Now, I'm not saying that any good movie has to be an epic fantasy or that it has to have a feel-good, happy ending where the main character looks at the camera and, addressing the audience, says, "Today, kids, we learned about the importance of sharing..." (although I loved that part of every "He-Man" episode). In fact, many of the best films I've ever seen have been dark and gloomy (i.e. Batman Begins), but (and here's the clincher) I learned something from it. Therein lies the value and redeeming quality of entertainment. It doesn't exist (or at least shouldn't exist, in my opinion) simply to provide our brains with somewhere to go when we switch them off. It should make us feel something, think about something, change something. It should elevate us in someway.
So next time you watch a movie or listen to a song or read a book, try looking for the lesson to be learned, and then when it's over, try finishing the statement, "Today, I learned about...."
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Freedom.
I just got home Thursday from my wife's family reunion at Otter Creek, Utah and I am amazed at how long it is taking to physically recuperate from what was supposed to be a relaxing getaway. Two days have passed and it always seems like there's something to take up my time. I promised myself (and my wife) that we would catch up on our rest once we got home, but that's not happening. Why is there always something else to do?
Gone are the carefree days of childhood and the hormone-charged days of teenagehood. Now I'm an adult and I can't understand why people younger than me are so anxious to grow up. It's not nearly as much fun as everyone thought it was going to be in junior high and high school. A lot of work and responsibility and too little sleep and relaxation.
I've wondered if the only time that we're truly free is in retirement. When you're a kid, you're too young to do things (can't drive, too short to ride the really cool rides at the amusement park, etc.), when you're a teenager and young adult you're stuck in school, and then you spend the next forty years of your life working for The Man (whoever that is). Then you retire and within a few years, you're too old and tired to do much of anything. And all your money goes to paying for your prescription pills. Guess you're never really free. At least not in the way that we defined freedom when we were kids (the ability to go anywhere and do anything you want to). But the one comfort in all this is that our definition of freedom changes with each stage of our lives. The strongest (and only) prison in life is the one we create in our minds, or so the saying goes. Hopefully we learn to accept the limitations in our lives and begin to see the blessings. Therein lies our freedom. That's the trick to it all....
Gone are the carefree days of childhood and the hormone-charged days of teenagehood. Now I'm an adult and I can't understand why people younger than me are so anxious to grow up. It's not nearly as much fun as everyone thought it was going to be in junior high and high school. A lot of work and responsibility and too little sleep and relaxation.
I've wondered if the only time that we're truly free is in retirement. When you're a kid, you're too young to do things (can't drive, too short to ride the really cool rides at the amusement park, etc.), when you're a teenager and young adult you're stuck in school, and then you spend the next forty years of your life working for The Man (whoever that is). Then you retire and within a few years, you're too old and tired to do much of anything. And all your money goes to paying for your prescription pills. Guess you're never really free. At least not in the way that we defined freedom when we were kids (the ability to go anywhere and do anything you want to). But the one comfort in all this is that our definition of freedom changes with each stage of our lives. The strongest (and only) prison in life is the one we create in our minds, or so the saying goes. Hopefully we learn to accept the limitations in our lives and begin to see the blessings. Therein lies our freedom. That's the trick to it all....
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