Memory Lapse

Movie: Shoot the Piano Player (François Truffaut, 1960) (TCM).

Book: William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, ed Kenneth Palmer. 

TV: The Witcher: Dear Friend ... ; Voleth Meir; Family (Netflix). 

I don't usually binge-watch, but when you're down to the last three episodes of a season of a show as entertaining and complicated as The Witcher, it's hard not to sit through all of them at once. I still don't have the backstories of the characters as well sorted out as I might, but I don't have the kind of devotion to the series that its die-hard fans have. Suffice it to say that there's a whole lot about Ciri and Yennefer (and even Geralt) that I don't fully understand, but I'd rather go with the flow of the action than spend my life digging into source material. At least I'm glad that they and my boy Jaskier (who gets a shirtless scene in a season when Geralt mostly stays clad) survived for another season. Too bad about Roach, however. 

Charles Aznavour in Shoot the Piano Player (François Truffaut, 1960)

I watched Shoot the Piano Player almost five years ago, according to this blog, and I'm surprised how much of it I had forgotten. Usually I get an occasional déjà vu when I'm rewatching a movie after several years, but there were only a few moments when that happened this time. Is it a sign of age? I like to think instead that it's because this loosey-goosey tragicomedy never quite goes where you're expecting it to, so it's hard to keep its plot turns and unpredictable characters (other than Charles Aznavour's Charlie/Edouard) in mind.   

I'm trying to give Troilus and Cressida its due attention, so I'm making my way through the play slowly, stopping to read the notes in the Arden edition when I feel the need. It's a better play than I remembered, with well-delineated secondary characters. I'm finding its bitter comedy rather bracing, and wonder why it isn't performed more often. The play's cynicism seems like it would have a lot of appeal to contemporary audiences.

Happy Boxing Day!

 Friday, December 24, 2021

Movie: Cool Hand Luke (Stuart Rosenberg, 1967).

Book: William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, ed. Kenneth Palmer. 

TV: Holiday Baking Championship: Ultimate Holiday Party (Food Network); The Wheel of Time: The Eye of the World (Amazon Prime); The Witcher: What Is Lost (Netflix).

Thursday, December 25, 2021

Movie: Trouble in Mind (Alan Rudolph, 1985).

Book: William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, ed. Kenneth Palmer. 

TV: Money Hungry (Food Network); The Witcher: Redanian Intelligence, Turn Your Back (Netflix).

Jaskier (Joey Batey) is back! The snarky, motormouth bard is just what The Witcher needs to liven it up. One of the things that set The Witcher apart from the other current fantasy streamer The Wheel of Time, whose season-ending episode I watched on Christmas Eve, is the former's occasional lightness of tone. Imagine The Lord of the Rings without the antics of Merry and Pippin, or Game of Thrones without the sarcastic wit of Tyrion and you get something like the heaviness that often makes Wheel a bit of a slog. I will probably tune in to the next season of that series, but I hope its producers find a way to lighten up. Mat (Barney Harris -- the role has been recast for the next season) provided some darkly irreverent humor in the earlier part of the series before he got left behind, and there's some mild comedy inherent in the character of the Ogier Loial (Hammed Animashaun), but the show has mostly focused on establishing its places and characters and the nature of the central quest. 

The Witcher did much of the expository work in its first season, so perhaps it can afford to get a little looser in tone, although there was humor even then, much of it centered on the role of Jaskier as sidekick to Geralt. In this season so far he's paired with Yennefer (Anya Chalotra) instead, which is even more of a mismatch than that of bard and witcher. Even before Jaskier turned up, however, there was some humor evident in the tensions of the relationship between Geralt and Ciri (Freya Allan). Henry Cavill is wonderful at showing Geralt's exasperation with her, as he did with Jaskier. 

I complained about not being able follow the Yennefer plot in the first few episodes, but I'm getting the hang of it now.

Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke (Stuart Rosenberg, 1967)

As for the movies I watched, Cool Hand Luke is one of Paul Newman's signature roles. Looking back at my comments on the movie in Oscar A to Z, I see that I regarded the film as somewhat pretentious in its treatment of Luke as a "Christ figure." I was less bothered by that on this viewing, although there is a shot of the beaten half-naked Luke with arms outstretched and feet crossed that's clearly a crucifixion pose, and a whiff of a suggestion at the end that Luke dies for his fellow prisoners' sins. But what one really remembers about the movie are its raucous moments like the egg-eating wager and of course Strother Martin's "failure to communicate" line. 

Kris Kristofferson and Divine in Trouble in Mind (Alan Rudolph, 1985)

Trouble in Mind is "stoner noir," a subset of neo-noir that also includes The Long Goodbye (Robert Altman, 1973). It's not quite as good as the Altman film, partly because it doesn't have the underpinning of Raymond Chandler's novel. Alan Rudolph, who also wrote the screenplay, tries a little too hard to be cleverly off-beat. Still, it has Divine (out of drag) as its villain, managing to accomplish the film's eccentric aims more fully than its stars do. Kris Kristofferson and Geneviève Bujold sometimes seem like they don't get the joke; on the other hand, Keith Carradine does, maybe because he had worked with Altman and is used to this sort of thing.  

Vivat Academia!

Movie: Wonder Boys (Curtis Hanson, 2000) (Cinemax).

Book: William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, edited by Kenneth Palmer. 

TV: Holiday Baking Championship: Behind the Buttercream (Food Network); The Rachel Maddow Show (MSNBC); Landscapers: Episode Three (HBO Max); The Witcher: Kaer Morhen (Netflix). 

I've been having flashbacks to my days in academia lately. I mentioned a couple of days ago that some of them had been triggered by reading Anthony Trollope's The Warden, with its somewhat snarky allusions to the Pre-Raphaelites and mild satire on Thomas Carlyle and Charles Dickens. I might have missed those if I hadn't spent so many years long ago trying to become a specialist in Victorian literature and culture. But I really think the nostalgia for the old university scene was touched off a few months ago by the Netflix series The Chair, which had fun with the tempest-in-a-teapot quarrels of a college English department. It brought to mind what's known as "Sayre's law," that academic politics are especially bitter because the stakes are so low. 

My latest surge of academic memories comes from having finished The Warden and turned my attention to re-reading Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida. I had a heavy dose of that story in graduate school not only from a course in Renaissance literature, but also from the earlier version I read in my Chaucer course. But what tugs at my memory is what happened at my Ph.D. orals: One of my inquisitors was the professor from that Renaissance course, for who I wrote a paper about Shakespeare's Troilus. I don't remember much about the paper except that it was something about the self-consciousness of the title characters of the play. But then, a couple of years later, as I stumbled my way through my orals, the professor (who had given me an A, or maybe an A-, on the paper), thought he was doing me a favor by asking me questions about the play. At least I think he did it out of kindness -- I hadn't slept for two nights before the exam, and it must have shown -- but I couldn't remember a thing about Troilus and Cressida. It was agonizing, but somehow I passed anyway. 

Granted, T&C is one of Shakespeare's stranger plays, often rhetorically difficult, with ambiguous, dislikable characters and lots of classical allusions that go over the heads of contemporary readers or viewers of the play's comparatively infrequent performances. But I feel it my duty to bone up on the play once again, which means reading the academic prose of the Arden edition's introduction. I haven't gotten to the play itself yet; I'm still plodding through Prof. Kenneth Palmer's discussion of its parallel structure and other features of interest mainly to scholars -- of which I am no longer one. 

My other dip into academia lately was watching Curtis Hanson's Wonder Boys last night. It's set in a college in Pittsburgh, where Grady Tripp (Michael Douglas), a novelist teaching in the English department's creative writing program, goes through a variety of improbable but funny trials and tribulations, some of which pivot on his affair with the college's chancellor, who happens to be the wife of the English department chairman. The movie was well-received by the critics, especially Douglas's performance, but it bombed at the box office. I had seen it before and remembered being amused by it, but I have to say it feels a little dated. For one thing, the sexually predatory edge to the gay editor played by Robert Downey Jr. looms a bit larger than it might have 21 years, and our ability to respond with laughter to his "transvestite" girlfriend has shifted a bit toward discomfort. Still, it features some good performances by Douglas, Downey, Frances McDormand, and Tobey Maguire, as well as Bob Dylan's Oscar-winning song "Things Have Changed." They have indeed. 

Tobey Maguire and Michael Douglas in Wonder Boys (Michael Chabon, 2000)

I also watched the latest installment of HBO's beautifully performed "true crime" drama, Landscapers, which is being eked out slowly with a new installment every Monday. I don't understand why it's being released this way, as it's not a particularly suspenseful drama. Maybe HBO is just counting on our waiting eagerly for another chance to watch Olivia Colman and David Thewlis create fascinatingly complicated characters. 

On The Witcher, Geralt (Henry Cavill) and Ciri (Freya Allan) make their way to his home, which is full of other witchers who wind up fighting this week's monster, which has possessed one of their own. Great special effects, but I haven't quite figured out what's going on in the other plot of the series that involves Yennefer (Anya Chalotra), who falls in with a bunch of elves.  

Miss Me?

 So on Christmas Eve last year, I gave up movie blogging. A lot of effort for not much return, it seemed to me at the time. But with Christmas looming again, it feels right to re-enter the blogosphere, maybe this time with a wider scope. 

Last night, I watched Death at a Funeral (Frank Oz, 2007), a sometimes amusing, sometimes stupid British farce with some performers I like, namely Matthew Macfadyen, Peter Dinklage, and Rupert Graves. It was remade in 2011, and that version lies somewhere in the queue of movies on my DVR that I've recorded. Dinklage apparently plays the same role -- a gay man who crashes the funeral of his lover after being cut out of the man's will -- in the remake. On the whole, not a total waste of his and the other actors' talents, but not a movie I'd urge upon anyone who hasn't seen the classic Brit farces like Kind Hearts and Coronets or The Lavender Hill Mob or The Ladykillers, all of which do this sort of comic larceny and mayhem with greater finesse.

Matthew Macfadyen and Peter Dinklage in Death at a Funeral

On TV I started the second season of The Witcher, a well-made Netflix fantasy series starring Henry Cavill as some kind of fantasyland soldier of fortune dedicated to killing monsters. The first episode of the season opened with highlights supposedly recapping the first season, which started two years ago. I watched that season and enjoyed it, but I have to admit that the recap didn't really refresh me on what happened then, much of which I've forgotten. No matter, the new season started off very well on its own, and I didn't really need to be au fait with the backstory to enjoy it. 

I also watched the sixth episode of Maid, an often depressing Netflix series about the struggle of a young woman, played well by Margaret Qualley, to make it on her own with her 3-year-old daughter after leaving her emotionally abusive alcoholic husband. The series focuses on the complications and contradictions of the American welfare system, as the heroine, Alex, tries to keep her head above water despite the snares of its red tape. Andie MacDowell is wonderful as Alex's air-headed, gray-haired hippie mother, who hinders more than she helps. The series often seems to be on the verge of sinking into sentimental mush, but it hasn't done that yet. 

I'm also reading Anthony Trollope's The Warden, which takes me back to my days as a Victorian literature scholar. More on that later, maybe.