Monsters From The Id
Tom Davey's Blog



Subscribe to "Monsters From The Id" in Radio UserLand.

Click to see the XML version of this web page.

Click here to send an email to the editor of this weblog.
 

 

Sunday, June 09, 2002
 

New Jersey: Dead Men Walking

Although they lost, the New Jersey Nets salvaged their honor tonight. For the first time in this series they played as if they belonged on the same court as the Lakers. An impressive run in the fourth quarter, in which they gained the lead for the first since the first minute of the game, made it suddenly seem possible that they could actually win and keep their playoff hopes alive.

'Twasn't to be. The Lakers are unflappable under pressure. The LA bench, not particularly strong, came through in the final minutes — especially Devon George — and secured a 106-103 victory. The Lakers are just one win away from the fabled threepeat, a third consecutive NBA championship. The Nets must take the next four in a row or become an asterisk in the lengthening LA legend. (I'm from LA — it doesn't show, does it?)


11:45:38 PM    

My, Wasn't That Warm-Blooded Thing a Tasty Snack?

Speaking of Theodore Roosevelt, yesterday I took my niece Katherine Ziegler to the American Museum of Natural History. (Roosevelt was a lifelong patron of the Museum, which was co-founded by his father; an equestrian statue of Roosevelt dominates the entrance.) The Museum is located at 79th St. and Central Park West, just 25 blocks from where I live, and I'm ashamed to say that this was my first visit since moving to New York almost eighteen months ago.

The place is of course astonishing. I'll try to catalog its wonders in detail as I pay return visits. But let me issue this warning right off: if you are an anti-enviro creationist you will simply hate the place. The Hall of Biodiversity will especially cause you much gnashing of teeth and rending of your biblical garments. The whole museum takes evolution of granted — Darwin is embedded in the basic arrangement of the exhibits. And the museum's site has just put up a touching memorial page to Stephen Jay Gould.

The Hall of Biodiversity pursues an argument that rightists will fume is purely political. From the rightist point of view, the Hall squanders impressive educational showmanship in order to pillory the usual eco-bogeymen: habitat destruction, species extinction, and the dwindling sustainability of the planet as industrial pollution degrades the Earth. Anyone with an open mind, though, emerges a fervent eco-soldier. The museum is so good at making you feel what's it like to subsist in the natural world that you can't help but undergo the same epiphany that Roosevelt did.
2:43:32 PM    


What I'm Watching: Rear Window

Made in 1954, the overt sexuality of Rear Window must have startled the audiences of the time. Sexuality is certainly the source of the movie's most shocking and emotionally uncomfortable moments. Hitchcock's casual leering commences instantly with the witty opening tracking shot, as the woman dubbed "Miss Torso" rises for the morning and puts on her bra. Had Hollywood ever before shown a woman bend over and put on a bra?

Grace Kelly, in whom Hitchcock persuasively creates a perfect woman, has the sexual confidence and complete allure that any normal man would find irresistible. James Stewart, however, is a self-infantalizing boy-man who'd rather watch than do. His masculinity is up to the job of shooting risky photos in the war zone, but he's without bravery when it comes to handling one of Kelly's kisses. His callowness during their distressing lover's spat made me impatient with the script for its overkill. Okay, he's feckless — would you now please show us what she sees in him?

Stewart in fact has no masculine efficacy at all. He's impotent to protect Kelly when the heavy nearly kills her as he watches, and is almost equally defenseless when the heavy comes directly for him. And his helplessness is infectious. Stewart, Kelly, and Ritter all watch as Miss Lonelyheart prepares to kill herself. Perversely, they choose this moment to allow someone a little privacy, and turn away as if there's nothing they could do.

The most uncomfortable scene is no less so for the fact that Hitchcock deliberately set himself an exercise in brutality. Miss Lonelyheart brings home a man much younger than herself and, as she romantically prepares drinks, the jerk flings himself on top of her. It's a tribute to this "anything-can-happen" film that we are open to the possibility that Hitchcock is going to consummate a rape before our eyes. I have rarely felt such relief at the movies as when Miss Lonelyheart manages to fight the guy off and push him out the door.

The most striking visual (in a movie chock full of 'em) is seen through Burr's eyes as he advances on Stewart in the dark and is repeatedly blinded by Stewart's hand-held flash attachment. The glowing red after-image situates us creepily behind the villain's retina. And the most amazingly contemporary line comes when his magazine editor tells Stewart: "Kashmir — the place is about to go up in smoke!" Stewart replies, "I told you that was the first place that was going to blow!" (Fortunately, as I write this, tensions between India and Pakistan seem to be lessening.)

Disturbing as it often is, ultimately this is a witty movie, a movie whose underlying metaphor is the experience of watching movies. To discern what's going on in this film, we have to peer through windows ourselves, and work hard — as if we were at a silent picture without the titles — to figure out what people are saying and feeling by deciphering only body language and gesture. The way the music is conceived is as brilliant as anything Kubrick later did. Rear Window has no real "score," only the ambient music of what people are playing in their apartments. Ironic counterpoint indeed!

Maybe I wasn't paying attention, but I sure didn't feel that the mystery got any kind of satisfactory explanation. To whom was Burr making the long distance calls? Who was the woman the building superintendent identified as Burr's wife? Who sent the exculpatory post card? How could Burr be so fiendishly clever in murdering his wife and then so incriminatingly stupid in trying to kill Stewart in full view of the neighborhood? The movie would be the greater masterpiece had Hitchcock expended a tiny additional effort and fulfilled the genre expectations he had put in place, as he did so well in Vertigo.


1:08:22 PM    


Click here to visit the Radio UserLand website. © Copyright 2003 Tom Davey.
Last update: 1/19/2003; 2:42:06 AM.
This theme is based on the SoundWaves (blue) Manila theme.
June 2002
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
            1
2 3 4 5 6 7 8
9 10 11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20 21 22
23 24 25 26 27 28 29
30            
May   Jul