My new friend Meera invited me to attend my first Bollywood movie this week. The film arrived Monday night from India and was screened to an audience of around one hundred I am guessing. I have heard of these movies and seen clips of them in the past, but this was my first experience at viewing an entire film. Since it blended the genres of comedy, martial arts, musicals, and drama (especially focusing in on social issues in India), I wanted to analyze its appeal to the audience. It is not hard to understand why it is popular.
The film Sivaji featured a somewhat aging lead actor paired with a comedic partner and a young, beautiful actress as a love interest. A "formula" film, it showed Sivaji in elaborate musical production numbers with many dancers and singers. In addition, the martial arts sequences were just as elaborate and choreographed, especially the one that took place in a music shop when drums were bonging and cymbals were clanging. The comedy was physical, showing Sivaji dancing wildly around the bathroom after eating a plate of hot peppers and later scratching himself unmercifully after applying various remedies to supposedly lighten his skin. The drama was also affecting as Sivaji rolled down his luxury car window to hand money over to a young woman and her child begging on the streets of India.
Even though the film was not sub-titled in English, I could follow the plot without difficulty. Why does such a film appeal to the wildly cheering audience? I believe it is because Sivaji represents the dreams of all of us. Who has not longed to leave the life of a bus conductor, for example, to become a movie star and producer like Sivaji? Who has not yearned to be rich and to marry the most desirable spouse in the world? Who has not wanted to be seen as the life of the party with a fantastic sense of humor? Who has not wanted to look out into the world and help those who struggle to obtain basic services such as health care? Who has not longed to be a hero, who with his strength and vigor, is able to defeat a bevy of opponents?
Like our American films of Rambo or Rocky, we long to escape for a couple of hours from our own world of reality to imagine we are far more than we ever will become. It is for this reason I believe that these films will continue to attract large audiences in both India and America.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
The Sopranos' Swan Song
I have only been a fan of "The Sopranos" since its January inception on the A & E television network. Not one to be an avid viewer of any series, I have surprised myself with my addiction to the show. I figure that, in June, we are about one-half way through the series since Meadow was 15 at the beginning of the show and is now 19. I could not resist, however, listening to the ending of the series with the immediate analyses on June 11.
Many theories are floating around about the meaning of the blackout scene as Tony and his family sit in the diner. These include the idea that for Tony and crew life simply goes on. Others, however, insist upon moderating the conclusion to have Tony wake up after a long nightmare to express to his wife, Sarah Jessica Parker, his astonishment at dreaming he was a mobster. My favorite, and the one I agree with, is that Tony was killed in the final scene by an unknown assassin; "After all, the best of us never see it coming," one critic said. This conclusion is the most logical, rather than a scenario where he and his family live happily ever after in a witness protection program. After all, Tony is a killer, and sometimes justice can take place on earth. Critics have often commented on the Shakespearean allusions in the series, and I would like to add another comparison to that of King Lear. I believe Tony represents the same type of royalty, albeit Mobster royalty, that Lear does.
Shakespeare begins his famous tragedy with a scene that shows Lear at one of his most prideful moments. He is demanding loyalty and expressions of love from his three daughters. They give him their fealty generally, but one does not utter the words Lear expects. As a result, two daughters are given his kingdom early, and one daughter is disowned. The climax of the play follows the traditional five act structure, and in the middle of the play we see Lear, along with his clown, raving to the heavens about his daughters' mistreatment of him. It is at this point when the audience realizes with horror that Lear has lost his sanity. By the time the play ends, he has ironically realized that the only daughter who loved him was the one he disowned. She and he both die at the play's conclusion.
Likewise, Tony when the series begins is building up his power in the state of New Jersey. The previous mobster Jackie is dying of cancer, and his own uncle, Junior, is becoming weak and irrelevant. Tony demands absolute fealty from his captains and frequently tests their loyalty by having them "wack" the enemies or traitors. One by one as the series goes on, the knights around Tony die. By the series' end, he has an uncle who is so senile that he doesn't remember his days as king of New Jersey; Junior simply replies, "That's nice" when Tony reminds him of his previous power.
For the final scene in the diner, the door opens, and Tony looks up only to have the television screen go blank. Many questions remain, and many have argued writer David Chase has simply left the series open in order to screen a big film later. I tend, however, to agree with Carmela earlier in the series when she says, "Everything's going to end, Tony." I believe it has for this character though we hope for Tony that his daughter Meadow lives (after all she is parking the car and has not entered the diner yet) to become the professional she dreams of being and can somehow make up for all the evil Tony has committed.
Many theories are floating around about the meaning of the blackout scene as Tony and his family sit in the diner. These include the idea that for Tony and crew life simply goes on. Others, however, insist upon moderating the conclusion to have Tony wake up after a long nightmare to express to his wife, Sarah Jessica Parker, his astonishment at dreaming he was a mobster. My favorite, and the one I agree with, is that Tony was killed in the final scene by an unknown assassin; "After all, the best of us never see it coming," one critic said. This conclusion is the most logical, rather than a scenario where he and his family live happily ever after in a witness protection program. After all, Tony is a killer, and sometimes justice can take place on earth. Critics have often commented on the Shakespearean allusions in the series, and I would like to add another comparison to that of King Lear. I believe Tony represents the same type of royalty, albeit Mobster royalty, that Lear does.
Shakespeare begins his famous tragedy with a scene that shows Lear at one of his most prideful moments. He is demanding loyalty and expressions of love from his three daughters. They give him their fealty generally, but one does not utter the words Lear expects. As a result, two daughters are given his kingdom early, and one daughter is disowned. The climax of the play follows the traditional five act structure, and in the middle of the play we see Lear, along with his clown, raving to the heavens about his daughters' mistreatment of him. It is at this point when the audience realizes with horror that Lear has lost his sanity. By the time the play ends, he has ironically realized that the only daughter who loved him was the one he disowned. She and he both die at the play's conclusion.
Likewise, Tony when the series begins is building up his power in the state of New Jersey. The previous mobster Jackie is dying of cancer, and his own uncle, Junior, is becoming weak and irrelevant. Tony demands absolute fealty from his captains and frequently tests their loyalty by having them "wack" the enemies or traitors. One by one as the series goes on, the knights around Tony die. By the series' end, he has an uncle who is so senile that he doesn't remember his days as king of New Jersey; Junior simply replies, "That's nice" when Tony reminds him of his previous power.
For the final scene in the diner, the door opens, and Tony looks up only to have the television screen go blank. Many questions remain, and many have argued writer David Chase has simply left the series open in order to screen a big film later. I tend, however, to agree with Carmela earlier in the series when she says, "Everything's going to end, Tony." I believe it has for this character though we hope for Tony that his daughter Meadow lives (after all she is parking the car and has not entered the diner yet) to become the professional she dreams of being and can somehow make up for all the evil Tony has committed.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Wouldn't It Be Nice . . .
National Public Radio last week featured a story on the need for recognition that young generation X'ers must have in the workplace. Sociologists tell us that this need has resulted from their parents' constant reinforcement of their children--telling them how special they are, suggesting that all team players receive a trophy regardless of skill, and making sure they know they are the best and brightest children of all times. Psychologically, I think part of this focus is a result of our own generation of war babies or baby boomers not getting this recognition themselves. I know I did not.
My son recently told me in a phone conversation that he was given a plaque at work for recognition of his contribution to the company. Our daughter, who recently left her job at Microsoft after several years, also received frequent recognition and bonus money for her work ethic and projects completed. For myself, however, after working for over forty years in the fields of clerical work and teaching, I do not have a visible reminder of any contribution I made. After finally cleaning out our garage since our move to our retirement home a year ago, I found no evidences of plaques or trophies for me. Our generation, it seems, was just expected to come to work, be loyal to the company (or school in my case), and do our jobs competently. Otherwise, we were let go. The idea of a monthly or even yearly recognition was non-existent.
As I reflect upon the two positions, I believe I would have benefited by the old proverbial pat on the back. I think it says to an employee, "We value the work you are doing for us year after year." Would it have been nice for my generation? I have to reply "yes."
My son recently told me in a phone conversation that he was given a plaque at work for recognition of his contribution to the company. Our daughter, who recently left her job at Microsoft after several years, also received frequent recognition and bonus money for her work ethic and projects completed. For myself, however, after working for over forty years in the fields of clerical work and teaching, I do not have a visible reminder of any contribution I made. After finally cleaning out our garage since our move to our retirement home a year ago, I found no evidences of plaques or trophies for me. Our generation, it seems, was just expected to come to work, be loyal to the company (or school in my case), and do our jobs competently. Otherwise, we were let go. The idea of a monthly or even yearly recognition was non-existent.
As I reflect upon the two positions, I believe I would have benefited by the old proverbial pat on the back. I think it says to an employee, "We value the work you are doing for us year after year." Would it have been nice for my generation? I have to reply "yes."
Monday, June 4, 2007
Star Struck at 62
I have to admit it; I have always been rather nutty around people who have established a reputation for themselves. An example of my lack of finesse occurred in the early '90's when Kimberly, our daughter, was a student at the University of Southern California. After attending a screening with free tickets to an Oliver Stone produced film, I just happened to run into the man himself while trying to find a bathroom. All I could do was to sputter and stumble through a sentence, "I like your work." A similar incident occurred last Thursday night downtown in Little Rock.
The occasion was the appearance of poet Robert Morgan for a reading. I have liked Morgan's work for many years since I taught both Modern Southern Literature and Contemporary Literature. Many Southern writers and filmmakers feature some of my favorite images: drinking sweet tea on porches, feeling cool breezes blowing through one's hair, eating peaches and fried chicken, and admiring sturdy oak trees and magnolia blossoms. My favorite poem of his is one entitled "White Autumn," in which he speaks of a nearly 100 year-old woman who dies in her favorite chair surrounded by coffee, cookies, and her favorite books.
Since I arrived early for the event, as usual for me, I was startled to hear the librarian say to me, "This is Robert Morgan." I turned around to see him there beside me in person only to once again lose my composure. I began sweating profusely under what I perceived as extremely hot lights shining directly in my face (reminiscent of Albert Brooks in the film Broadcast News), my right eye began to twitch repeatedly, and my head kept bobbing up and down rapidly in ascent to everything he was saying. He was gracious, however, and did not seem to notice.
Later, he read my favorite poem.
The occasion was the appearance of poet Robert Morgan for a reading. I have liked Morgan's work for many years since I taught both Modern Southern Literature and Contemporary Literature. Many Southern writers and filmmakers feature some of my favorite images: drinking sweet tea on porches, feeling cool breezes blowing through one's hair, eating peaches and fried chicken, and admiring sturdy oak trees and magnolia blossoms. My favorite poem of his is one entitled "White Autumn," in which he speaks of a nearly 100 year-old woman who dies in her favorite chair surrounded by coffee, cookies, and her favorite books.
Since I arrived early for the event, as usual for me, I was startled to hear the librarian say to me, "This is Robert Morgan." I turned around to see him there beside me in person only to once again lose my composure. I began sweating profusely under what I perceived as extremely hot lights shining directly in my face (reminiscent of Albert Brooks in the film Broadcast News), my right eye began to twitch repeatedly, and my head kept bobbing up and down rapidly in ascent to everything he was saying. He was gracious, however, and did not seem to notice.
Later, he read my favorite poem.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Creator Therapy
I was watching Bill Moyers' "American Journal" on PBS last week when I heard him interviewing writer Maxine Hong Kingston about her latest project. It was to edit a book written by veterans and peace activists entitled Veterans of War, Veterans of Peace. In the interview she spoke of the process of editing and writing as being therapeutic. It was therapeutic not only for the contributors but also for herself. Evidently, she had lost her house to a wildfire some months before and equated the experience of walking through the charred ruins to that of a bombed village. I started again to think of the relationship between the creator and the created, which of necessity, must be quite complicated. As I thought of God Himself, I began to wonder: Did even God need to write the Bible as therapy for Himself?
As Christians we believe we are made in His image. Could He have also experienced some type of post traumatic stress syndrome after the big event in heaven when Satan was cast out, along with his demons? After all, if having one's compatriots turn against the Creator would not have created stress, I am not sure what event would. After the creation of Adam and Eve, would He have also experienced stress when the proposed fellowship did not go exactly as planned either? We all know the story: Eve ate the forbidden fruit, and Adam followed her lead. They too were cast away from the Garden of Eden.
Depending upon one's theological belief, we take these Old Testament events either to be literal or metaphorical. Regardless of interpretation, however, it is clear that writing does lead to psychological healing. It opens the door into the recesses of one's mind to explore the answers to life's big questions, especially regarding the fairness of this world. The Bible is God's writing to the world to explain who He is and the logic behind His plan to send Jesus as the world's Savior. I believe it could perhaps also be His vindication in many ways of His own psychological needs.
As Christians we believe we are made in His image. Could He have also experienced some type of post traumatic stress syndrome after the big event in heaven when Satan was cast out, along with his demons? After all, if having one's compatriots turn against the Creator would not have created stress, I am not sure what event would. After the creation of Adam and Eve, would He have also experienced stress when the proposed fellowship did not go exactly as planned either? We all know the story: Eve ate the forbidden fruit, and Adam followed her lead. They too were cast away from the Garden of Eden.
Depending upon one's theological belief, we take these Old Testament events either to be literal or metaphorical. Regardless of interpretation, however, it is clear that writing does lead to psychological healing. It opens the door into the recesses of one's mind to explore the answers to life's big questions, especially regarding the fairness of this world. The Bible is God's writing to the world to explain who He is and the logic behind His plan to send Jesus as the world's Savior. I believe it could perhaps also be His vindication in many ways of His own psychological needs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
