DVD: City of God

This week I finally got around to watching City of God. It had been sitting in its Netflix sleeve for weeks. I had trouble finding a free evening, or at least a free evening in which I was in the mood for something serious.

Two thumbs up--it was really excellent. I liked the way the movie was sectioned off by titles. Really, the entire visual effect of the movie was striking, and those beach and discoteque scenes made me want to move to Brazil with a stock of tank tops and a pair of roller skates. Also of note, Alica Braga, who played Angélica, was also in I Am Legend as well as Blindness, I believe, another Fernando Meirelles film.

Of course, this was not necessarily an entirely happy movie. Drug wars are not a pleasant subject matter; neither is poverty. And while Meirelles is generally applauded for dealing with tough material--in this film and others--other people reacted to City of God the way they're decrying Slumdog Millionaire as "poverty porn."

So. Are Slumdog and City guilty of portraying poverty with a sense of voyeuristic pleasure? Do they treat brutality in a way that illuminates the condition of the world, or are they just capitalizing? I guess it comes down to: Are these films helpful?

Truthfully, I'm not so sure these movies make an enormous difference in the lives of the kind of people they portray. I think people walk out of a movie like The Kite Runner feeling a little more aware and maybe more compassionate, but not necessarily inclined to do much about it. So in terms of raw practicality, that's points off right there.

But I still think we need movies that deal with darker subjects. I need not to go through life unaware of other people's experiences. I need a break in the insulation of my existence. And I think a lot of people need that too.

There's something else at play here. I happen to like movies with tough subject matter. But I'm as guilty as anyone about being all awareness, and all talk, without a lot of action. If half the people who saw Slumdog Millionaire went home and donated the same amount they spent on admission to organizations that fight poverty worldwide . . . well, that would be good.

So if filmmakers like Fernando Meirelles are going to confront us with poverty in Rio de Janeiro, maybe we shouldn't just watch, but also listen, and also act.

Missing Out

On Sundays at 10:00, something wonderful is happening, something in which I am unable to partake. That's when Flight of the Conchords airs on HBO. I don't regret not getting cable; but I sometimes chafe under my restricted access to the Conchords.

According to HBO's episode guide, this is what happens in the latest installment: "Bret becomes a prostitute to pay off his reckless cup purchase." What does that mean? I don't know.

I've heard that this season is sub-awesome, especially compared to the first. And that seems possible. But I, like Mel, am a devoted fan. They can do no wrong, those Conchords. And thus I will wait patiently for the DVD.

Say It Ain't So

A Facebook status I haven't used yet: "Jessica thinks Weezer might be the greatest band of all time." The blue album represents my freshman year in high school more or less completely. And as time has gone on, I've become more and more convinced that Rivers Cuomo is the coolest person ever.

When it comes to obscurity of lyrics, though, they're right up there with Beck. The words to several Weezer songs are unintelligible to me. So not too long ago, I decided to look up the words to "Say It Ain't So," a favorite of mine. And now I like it even better.

Apparently, the word I thought was "hiney" is actually "Heine," like the Dutch beer. "Wrestle with Julie" is actually "wrestle with Jimmy." And "your job is a heartbreaker" is really "your drug is a heartbreaker." All together, this song is apparently about Rivers stumbling on a beer in his fridge in high school and remembering how his parents split up possibly due to his dad's alcoholism.

Great song + Dad issues = awesome. Here's the vid. Check the uber-strong 90s vibe--hackeysack even makes an appearance.



And here's a Weezer bio I didn't know existed. Might have to check that out.

Far as the Curse is Found

The book on my desk right now (there’s always at least one—sometimes eight) is called The Book of Night Women by Marlon James. It takes place in 1800ish on a Jamaican sugar plantation. So there’s slavery. And with the slavery, sundry other terrible things.

I guess I just don’t understand how human beings are able to brutalize each other so badly. How could you brand someone? How could you sodomize someone with a white-hot metal object? No one I know is capable of whipping a neighbor’s flesh until their arm gets too tired to continue. And that’s to say nothing of the verbal, nonphysical repression required in order to keep a class of people underfoot.

The thing about living several generations removed from slavery is that from here, it makes no sense whatsoever. Societal acceptance of slavery seems impossibly wrongheaded. I guess it’s the same story with anti-Semitism. (Yeah, sure, the Jews caused the plague. What the heck was wrong with you, 1350? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t know about germs. And you were sort of generally nutso.) It’s all very unsettling, because I don’t think I believe that human society is getting increasingly awesome with each generation. If we sucked before, there’s no reason to think we don’t suck now or won’t suck again.

According to pretty much everyone, raising sugar cane is ridiculously hard work, really back-breaking labor. So I suppose the best way to make a lot of money doing it is to have some people do all the work for you, people you don’t have to pay, just feed (sort of). And I don’t suppose it’s easy to get those people to do that unless you use some kind of force—that and systematically, psychologically break them down. And I guess that’s where the terror comes in.

So maybe it all started with something as simple and timeless as greed.

And if that’s true, maybe there’s more injustice here in this civilized, enlightened society than I realize—and maybe there’s injustice in my own life. Because I’m just as capable as anyone of greed and pride and other deadly sins. And maybe all of us are vulnerable to tacitly accepting injustice—who harvests our sugar cane, anyway? And sews our shoes, and picks our strawberries?

Sorry to open the can of consumer-ethics worms—I know it can be difficult to untangle. But I’m looking at the cover of this book and skimming its pages, and I’m thinking, Let’s not do this again, OK? Let’s just please not do this again.

You Caught Me

I'm watching the American Idol auditions.

I'm sorry.

Lyrics of the Day (I warn you: this might become a recurring post)

Today I had one of those days that are sewn together by snatches of earworm song lyrics. The day sounded something like this:

• "And the truth be told, I miss you / And the truth be told, I'm lying" ("Gives You Hell" by AAR--the new one, Jon!)
• "Well, that is that, and this is this / You tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what you get / You get away from me / You get away from me" (Modest Mouse--can't remember the song title right off. It's the one with the big scary bird in the video. Right? Or am I thinking of "Soul Meets Body" by Death Cab?)
• "He just drove off--sometimes life's okay" ("Float On," also by Modest Mouse, but the version in my head was Ben Lee. He's sweet.)
• "Love, love, love" ("All You Need Is Love" by Los Beatles)

And that's about where it ended. Darn those Rejects for writing one of the most effective earworm songs ever--I practically woke up with it in my head, and it didn't move on until well into the afternoon.

I can't help but notice that these songs kind of flow into each other. The chorus of "Gives You Hell" has, well, "hell," in it, which probably led me to the Modest Mouse song: "For your sake I hope heaven and hell / are really there, but I wouldn't hold my breath." And that led to the next MM song, though my brain picked the Ben Lee version for some reason. The only breakdown is the Beatles track. And I think that one landed in my head because that line is in a book I'm working on.

This one time? I was in a Sunday school class about forgiveness? And as the class disbanded, the guy next to me started singing "Father of Mine" by Everclear. "I don't know why that's in my head," he said hastily. But you could tell it was kind of Freudian. I think sometimes those earworms have less to do with a song's catchiness and more to do with what's going on in our psyches.

Anyway, feel free to post the lyrics of your day in da comments.

Until tomorrow.

Gran Torino, anyone?

I realized today that I haven't seen many Clint Eastwood movies. I saw Mystic River. And then there was . . . and . . . see, I think that might be the only one I've seen. That may be why I'm sort of ambivalent about Gran Torino. I'm sure it's good, probably with a healthy dose of Mystic River grit. But I'm not in any sort of committed filmmaker-filmgoer relationship with Eastwood. I don't know that I'm in love with his ethic. So I won't buy Gran Torino based on his name alone.

Here's a review. Let me know if anyone wants to go see it!