The Second "R" (or "W," for Gud Spelrs)
That's "Writin," of course. I plan to recklessly tangle with a book and author I have no plans on ever reading and then use the Writer's strike as an entree to a post on some viewing options.
Clear enough? Let's see if I can tangle the warp and weft enough to produce a psychic hairball. We don't want this to be linear and engineering-like, now, do we?
I have come to look forward to Dennis Hartley's occasional posts at Hullabaloo. I've viewed more than a few movies in the last couple years on his say-so alone. His intro tonight, to post entitled "Writer's Block":
As the rerun hell spawned by the Writer’s Guild strike grinds on, morphing Leno and Stewart back into flop-sweating open-mike comics and glitzy awards shows into sleepy press conferences, I’ve been relying more on “deep catalog” for entertainment lately. As I was perusing my media library the other night, I realized that there have actually been a surprising number of great movies concerning the art of writing over the years.
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I'm doing a bit of a spin move here. The writer-less Stewart in question this week featured excerpts from a reportedly 18-minute interview he did with author Jonah Goldberg ("Liberal Fascism" - distinctive red cover with hitler-stached smiley). Even the excerpts were on the edge of uncomfortable. Author was unresponsive and snarky, not prepared to actually engage on his fetid "theories." Jon in closing asked camera if any of this would be usable on camera, or words to that effect. I don't recall the last time I saw JS take it to a "guest" quite like this. I may have to search for on-line access to the cutting floor.
But in lieu of live video, an even more vigorous smackdown of this volume of drivel that gives slime a bad name comes via a post by Dave Neiwert. He's a long-time actual student of fascism and particularly its shameful history in the states. I usually catch Neiwert at his own Orcinus site, but this is a rare post by him at Firedoglake. As is my wont, I will excerpt, but the thinking and reading sorts amongst you should check out the whole post.
Jonah Goldberg has been complaining since before the release of his book, Liberal Fascism: How To Smear Liberals With Classic Right-Wing Projection, that there just weren't any liberals who took it seriously. And it's been a steady patter ever after, joyfully dismissing liberal critics either for being too scatological, or for not having read the book, or for just not being "serious."
And then there's me.
I did read the book, and wrote a review for The American Prospect that was, frankly, quite scathing, but otherwise perfectly serious in its examination of Goldberg's arguments and evidence. Jonah responded, kind of: as I promptly pointed out, while Goldberg expends a great deal of time excoriating and dismissing various details within the review, he utterly neglected to address its central point. Which seemed to me a reasonable expectation.
Since then, Goldberg simply hasn't responded himself, except for a brief dismissal. But hey, the fans keep sending in those cards and letters! And those nasty liberals still won't talk about his book seriously! Meanwhile, I published a detailed counter to his response last Sunday -- but so far, Goldberg has neglected to acknowledge its existence.
I've also e-mailed and asked if he could at least let me know if he'd be responding, and have heard nothing back.
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Well, it's time for this mendacious cowardly and dishonest chickenshit nonsense to end. Let's make it simple. Here are three very clear and very serious questions for Goldberg to answer.
-- How does he account for the continuing presence -- from the 1920s up through the present -- of definably fascist groups, not just American entities like the Ku Klux Klan, the Christian Identity movement, the Posse Comitatus, the Aryan Nations, the National Alliance, Hammerskin Nation, and White Aryan Resistance (to name just a few), but also European groups like Vlaams Belang and Jean-Marie Le Pen's National Front, all of whom are clearly right-wing political entities? Doesn't this lay waste to his claim that fascism is "a phenomenon of the left"?
-- How does he defend his whitewashing of the Ku Klux Klan? Is he seriously trying to argue that the Klan is a "phenomenon of the left"?
-- How does he explain the self-evident inadequacy of his definition of fascism? (Goldberg's definition, as we've explained, describes not fascism -- particularly not any of the traits that make it distinct -- but rather totalitarianism (or authoritarianism, if you will) generally, of which fascism is but a particular species, and a definitively right-wing one at that).
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But here's where the backspin comes in, returning to Mr. Hartley. Excerpting here is again a source of personal pain; any with a decision-making role in their viewing (i.e., not settling for role of Stockholm Syndrome Sufferer from repeated subjection to Little Mermaid) might find the whole post stimulating. [A little research suggests that the intriguing Thurber/Windom mis-html'd link is to "My World and Welcome To It."] This takes the form of an annotated list of movies your housemates are very unlikely to have come up with (and some tube material at the end also) that have some thematic connection to the writer's role. As readers, viewers, and perhaps, cough, ahem, even sometimes writers, who wouldn't be interested!
What better way to show your solidarity with those cold, tired scribes on the wintry picket lines than to hold a media room film festival in their honor? Here’s my pick for the “top 10” films about writers (as per usual, in no particular ranking order). I’m eager to hear yours. BTW I’m including novelists, poets and playwrights, as well as TV and screenwriters (print journalists and newspapermen would require a whole other post!):
American Splendor -From the streets of Cleveland, no less! Paul Giamatti was born to play underground comic writer Harvey Pekar, the misanthropic file clerk/armchair philosopher who became a cult figure after collaborating with legendary comic illustrator R. Crumb on some classic strips. Co-directors Shari Berman and Robert Pulcini keep the film fresh and engaging via some unusual choices, like breaking down the “fourth wall” by having the real Pekar interact with Giamatti in several scenes; it’s quite effective. Hope Davis is excellent (and virtually unrecognizable) as Pekar’s deadpan wife.
An Angel at My Table -Jane Campion directed this incredibly moving story of successful New Zealand novelist Janet Frame (beautifully played at various stages of her life by three actresses, most notably Kerry Fox). When she was a young woman, her social phobia and generalized anxiety was misdiagnosed as a more serious mental illness and she ended up spending nearly a decade in and out of institutions (if she were around today, she’d be handed a Xanax prescription and sent home). Not for the faint of heart.
Barfly -It’s the battle of the quirky method actors as Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway guzzle rye and wax wry in this booze-soaked dark comedy, based on the experiences of writer/poet Charles Bukowski. The film is quite richly drawn, right down to the smallest bit parts. Look for Sylvester Stallone’s brother Frank as a bartender who repeatedly beats the crap out of Rourke (betcha Rourke could take him in a real-life alley scrap!). For a perfect co-feature, check out the compelling documentary Bukowski: Born into This.
The Front -Directed by Martin Ritt, this generally downbeat yet politically rousing tale uses the entertainment industry’s spurious McCarthy era blacklist as its backdrop. Woody Allen takes one of his rare “acting only” gigs, and is very effective here as a semi-literate bookie that ends up “fronting” for several blacklisted TV writers. Zero Mostel is brilliant in a tragicomic performance as an archetypal “crying on the inside” funnyman. This was obviously an artistic labor of love (or possibly revenge?) from all parties involved. Anyone who doesn’t get a lump in their throat when it is duly noted in the end credits that Mostel, screenwriter Walter Bernstein and several other participants in the film actually were blacklisted back in the day probably voted Republican in the last election.
Hearts of the West -Jeff Bridges gives a winning performance as a rube from Iowa, a wannabe pulp western writer with the unlikely name of “Lewis Tater” (the scene where he asks the barber to cut his hair to make him look “just like Zane Grey” is priceless.) Tater gets fleeced by a mail-order scam promising enrollment in what turns out to be a bogus university “out west”. Serendipity lands him a job as a stuntman in 1930s Hollywood westerns. Featuring one of Andy Griffith’s best screen performances (next to A Face in the Crowd). Alan Arkin is a complete riot as a perpetually apoplectic director.
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Sorry, I can't help myself. The post also mentions Henry & June, Manhattan, The Owl And The Pussycat, Prick Up Your Ears, and Reuben, Reuben. But it doesn't stop there.
Enjoy!
Clear enough? Let's see if I can tangle the warp and weft enough to produce a psychic hairball. We don't want this to be linear and engineering-like, now, do we?
I have come to look forward to Dennis Hartley's occasional posts at Hullabaloo. I've viewed more than a few movies in the last couple years on his say-so alone. His intro tonight, to post entitled "Writer's Block":
As the rerun hell spawned by the Writer’s Guild strike grinds on, morphing Leno and Stewart back into flop-sweating open-mike comics and glitzy awards shows into sleepy press conferences, I’ve been relying more on “deep catalog” for entertainment lately. As I was perusing my media library the other night, I realized that there have actually been a surprising number of great movies concerning the art of writing over the years.
-clip-
I'm doing a bit of a spin move here. The writer-less Stewart in question this week featured excerpts from a reportedly 18-minute interview he did with author Jonah Goldberg ("Liberal Fascism" - distinctive red cover with hitler-stached smiley). Even the excerpts were on the edge of uncomfortable. Author was unresponsive and snarky, not prepared to actually engage on his fetid "theories." Jon in closing asked camera if any of this would be usable on camera, or words to that effect. I don't recall the last time I saw JS take it to a "guest" quite like this. I may have to search for on-line access to the cutting floor.
But in lieu of live video, an even more vigorous smackdown of this volume of drivel that gives slime a bad name comes via a post by Dave Neiwert. He's a long-time actual student of fascism and particularly its shameful history in the states. I usually catch Neiwert at his own Orcinus site, but this is a rare post by him at Firedoglake. As is my wont, I will excerpt, but the thinking and reading sorts amongst you should check out the whole post.
Jonah Goldberg has been complaining since before the release of his book, Liberal Fascism: How To Smear Liberals With Classic Right-Wing Projection, that there just weren't any liberals who took it seriously. And it's been a steady patter ever after, joyfully dismissing liberal critics either for being too scatological, or for not having read the book, or for just not being "serious."
And then there's me.
I did read the book, and wrote a review for The American Prospect that was, frankly, quite scathing, but otherwise perfectly serious in its examination of Goldberg's arguments and evidence. Jonah responded, kind of: as I promptly pointed out, while Goldberg expends a great deal of time excoriating and dismissing various details within the review, he utterly neglected to address its central point. Which seemed to me a reasonable expectation.
Since then, Goldberg simply hasn't responded himself, except for a brief dismissal. But hey, the fans keep sending in those cards and letters! And those nasty liberals still won't talk about his book seriously! Meanwhile, I published a detailed counter to his response last Sunday -- but so far, Goldberg has neglected to acknowledge its existence.
I've also e-mailed and asked if he could at least let me know if he'd be responding, and have heard nothing back.
-clip-
Well, it's time for this mendacious cowardly and dishonest chickenshit nonsense to end. Let's make it simple. Here are three very clear and very serious questions for Goldberg to answer.
-- How does he account for the continuing presence -- from the 1920s up through the present -- of definably fascist groups, not just American entities like the Ku Klux Klan, the Christian Identity movement, the Posse Comitatus, the Aryan Nations, the National Alliance, Hammerskin Nation, and White Aryan Resistance (to name just a few), but also European groups like Vlaams Belang and Jean-Marie Le Pen's National Front, all of whom are clearly right-wing political entities? Doesn't this lay waste to his claim that fascism is "a phenomenon of the left"?
-- How does he defend his whitewashing of the Ku Klux Klan? Is he seriously trying to argue that the Klan is a "phenomenon of the left"?
-- How does he explain the self-evident inadequacy of his definition of fascism? (Goldberg's definition, as we've explained, describes not fascism -- particularly not any of the traits that make it distinct -- but rather totalitarianism (or authoritarianism, if you will) generally, of which fascism is but a particular species, and a definitively right-wing one at that).
-clip-
But here's where the backspin comes in, returning to Mr. Hartley. Excerpting here is again a source of personal pain; any with a decision-making role in their viewing (i.e., not settling for role of Stockholm Syndrome Sufferer from repeated subjection to Little Mermaid) might find the whole post stimulating. [A little research suggests that the intriguing Thurber/Windom mis-html'd link is to "My World and Welcome To It."] This takes the form of an annotated list of movies your housemates are very unlikely to have come up with (and some tube material at the end also) that have some thematic connection to the writer's role. As readers, viewers, and perhaps, cough, ahem, even sometimes writers, who wouldn't be interested!
What better way to show your solidarity with those cold, tired scribes on the wintry picket lines than to hold a media room film festival in their honor? Here’s my pick for the “top 10” films about writers (as per usual, in no particular ranking order). I’m eager to hear yours. BTW I’m including novelists, poets and playwrights, as well as TV and screenwriters (print journalists and newspapermen would require a whole other post!):
American Splendor -From the streets of Cleveland, no less! Paul Giamatti was born to play underground comic writer Harvey Pekar, the misanthropic file clerk/armchair philosopher who became a cult figure after collaborating with legendary comic illustrator R. Crumb on some classic strips. Co-directors Shari Berman and Robert Pulcini keep the film fresh and engaging via some unusual choices, like breaking down the “fourth wall” by having the real Pekar interact with Giamatti in several scenes; it’s quite effective. Hope Davis is excellent (and virtually unrecognizable) as Pekar’s deadpan wife.
An Angel at My Table -Jane Campion directed this incredibly moving story of successful New Zealand novelist Janet Frame (beautifully played at various stages of her life by three actresses, most notably Kerry Fox). When she was a young woman, her social phobia and generalized anxiety was misdiagnosed as a more serious mental illness and she ended up spending nearly a decade in and out of institutions (if she were around today, she’d be handed a Xanax prescription and sent home). Not for the faint of heart.
Barfly -It’s the battle of the quirky method actors as Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway guzzle rye and wax wry in this booze-soaked dark comedy, based on the experiences of writer/poet Charles Bukowski. The film is quite richly drawn, right down to the smallest bit parts. Look for Sylvester Stallone’s brother Frank as a bartender who repeatedly beats the crap out of Rourke (betcha Rourke could take him in a real-life alley scrap!). For a perfect co-feature, check out the compelling documentary Bukowski: Born into This.
The Front -Directed by Martin Ritt, this generally downbeat yet politically rousing tale uses the entertainment industry’s spurious McCarthy era blacklist as its backdrop. Woody Allen takes one of his rare “acting only” gigs, and is very effective here as a semi-literate bookie that ends up “fronting” for several blacklisted TV writers. Zero Mostel is brilliant in a tragicomic performance as an archetypal “crying on the inside” funnyman. This was obviously an artistic labor of love (or possibly revenge?) from all parties involved. Anyone who doesn’t get a lump in their throat when it is duly noted in the end credits that Mostel, screenwriter Walter Bernstein and several other participants in the film actually were blacklisted back in the day probably voted Republican in the last election.
Hearts of the West -Jeff Bridges gives a winning performance as a rube from Iowa, a wannabe pulp western writer with the unlikely name of “Lewis Tater” (the scene where he asks the barber to cut his hair to make him look “just like Zane Grey” is priceless.) Tater gets fleeced by a mail-order scam promising enrollment in what turns out to be a bogus university “out west”. Serendipity lands him a job as a stuntman in 1930s Hollywood westerns. Featuring one of Andy Griffith’s best screen performances (next to A Face in the Crowd). Alan Arkin is a complete riot as a perpetually apoplectic director.
-clip-
Sorry, I can't help myself. The post also mentions Henry & June, Manhattan, The Owl And The Pussycat, Prick Up Your Ears, and Reuben, Reuben. But it doesn't stop there.
Enjoy!
posted by Sir Gumbo at 10:55 PM
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