Mixing it up

Gleanings from Sunday's NYTimes:

A War on Every Screen, A.O. Scott:

There are other stories to tell and other ways to tell them, and Hollywood, in spite of its reputation for liberal bias, does not like to risk alienating potential ticket buyers by taking sides. This fear may be misplaced, since the highest-grossing Iraq-related movie released is also among the most polemical, Michael Moore’s “Fahrenheit 9/11.” But it is remarkable that nondocumentary filmmakers consistently draw the boundary between fact and fiction in such a way that the most vexed political event of our time has its political meaning blunted.

Instead the movies supply emotion, sentiment, metaphor and abstraction. Even those bloody Iraqis at the end of “Redacted” function as symbols, since we know nothing about who they were or how they died. In other Iraq movies, including quite a few documentaries, the local population is almost entirely invisible. Films set in other contemporary war zones — Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, wherever “Rendition” is supposed to take place — manage to include more Arab and Muslim characters, but their function tends to be symbolic as well.

I think if you want perpetual war in the real world, a good way to ensure that is to pat yourself on the back for making and watching films set in other countries, while continuing to see the residents of those countries as backdrop.

Where Gods Yearn for Long-Lost Treasures, Nicolai Ouroussoff:

When this museum in Athens opens next year, hundreds of marble sculptures from the old Acropolis museum alongside the Parthenon will finally reside in a place that can properly care for them. Missing, however, will be more than half of the surviving Parthenon sculptures, the Elgin Marbles, so called since they were carted off to London by Lord Elgin in the early 19th century.

Britain’s government maintains that they legally belong to the British Museum and insists that they will never be returned. The Greeks naturally argue that they belong in Athens.

Until now my sympathies tended to lie with the British. Most of the world’s great museum collections have some kind of dubious deals in their pasts. Why bother untangling thousands of years of imperialist history? Wise men avert their eyes and move on.

But by fusing sculpture, architecture and the ancient landscape into a forceful visual narrative, the New Acropolis Museum delivers a revelation that trumps the tired arguments and incessant flag waving by both sides. It’s impossible to stand in the top-floor galleries, in full view of the Parthenon’s ravaged, sun-bleached frame, without craving the marbles’ return.

Maybe a more accurate headline for Ouroussoff's piece would've been: Keep Your Mouth Shut Until I Yearn for Your Long-Lost Treasure.

A Teenager in Love (So-Called), Ginia Bellafante:

Television gives us teenage lust exercised or teenage lust repressed but rarely does it evoke the way young people translate their carnal urges into something they understand as a deeper abiding affection. “My So-Called Life” is essentially a study of a young mind processing desire into something less terrifying and more easily justified — substantiating it with false hopes — and in that regard it is more than a good TV show, it is a good TV show that attains the dimension and complexity of literature. The great postwar novels of adolescence deal with innocence lost; “My So-Called Life” deals with innocence sustained, but it offers a no-less-illuminating view of what it is to be young because of it.

The series, created by Winnie Holzman for the producers Ed Zwick and Marshall Hershkovitz, all of whom had worked on “Thirtysomething,” arrived before television began catering so aggressively to teenage tastes. Perhaps its morose and ragged appeal is best appreciated against the backdrop of what followed, an endless stream of teenage dramas — some good, some awful — that both recall and point it up as an essay embalmed in time about a way of being 15 that no one will ever experience again.

The balance of the review is the kind of self-indulgent sloppy valentine that makes you cringe when read in print, even if you happen to share Bellafante's enthusiasm for Claire Danes' "acting". Still, it's nice to see MSCL appreciated all over again, on the anniversary of the release of what sounds like the definitive DVD collection.

She’s Famous (and So Can You), Guy Trebay. Buried halfway through Trebay's uncharacteristically-interesting article--about Tila Tequila not Stephen Colbert (not that you'd be able to guess from the headline)--is this:

By the standards of the new “Jackass” landscape, traditional stardom, with its career building stations-of-the-cross, its rigid talent requirements, its “Entourage” shtick, seems clunky and out of step with a culture so much more fluid now that a hit record — like the recent Internet sensation “I’ll Kill Him,” by Soko — could emerge from a young French woman’s bedroom and MySpace page.

It turns out the song is actually I'll Kill Her--below--and it's pretty good. Although I wonder now that we live in the age of say everything anytime whether the kick of the song's title and lyrics exists for fewer and fewer of us.



Trebay's piece is worth reading; there's this:

When Jake Halpern set out to write “Fame Junkies,” his book about what is now a universal obsession with celebrity, he was surprised to uncover studies demonstrating that 31 percent of American teenagers had the honest expectation that they would one day be famous and that 80 percent thought of themselves as truly important. (The figure from the same study conducted in the 1950s was 12 percent.)

“Obviously people have been having delusions of grandeur since the beginning of time, but the chances of becoming well known were much slimmer” even five years ago than they are today, Mr. Halpern said. “There are an incredibly large number of venues for becoming known. Talent is not a prerequisite.”

And it ends with this:

“Whether you think Tila Tequila is corny or not, she already has a certain legitimacy to her name,” said Roger Gastman, the editor of Swindle magazine, an indie journal and Web site. Its most recent issue has Death and Fame as its theme. Tila Tequila may have “started out very niche, but she has crossed over to the mainstream,” said Mr. Gastman, citing what he termed “a body of work” including a Maxim cover, a hit show, a MySpace page that now links to a site offering guidance on how to become like her. “Tila could probably do signings at comic book conventions forever if she wanted to,” Mr. Gastman said.

And this would undoubtedly suit Ms. Tequila, for whom fame, she said, was never actually so much the goal as was fulfilling her love for acting and dancing and stripping and modeling and singing and, not incidentally, escaping the limited career growth available to someone who not long ago was posing half-naked on car hoods.

“The press and the media have glorified the celebrity thing and brainwashed people to live in that world,” Ms. Tequila said. “People try to stand out for nothing and they end up getting quote-unquote famous. I’m not into that at all. If you’re just into fame for fame, I’m like, ‘O.K., but what are you good at? What can you actually do?’”

Uncredited photo of Tequila via Vietnam.net.

Pay Up, Kid, or Your Igloo Melts, Mireya Navarro:

Like many parents, Mr. Rodriquez, a computer consultant, and his wife, Sarina, 37, a laboratory manager, are adjusting to a world that increasingly requires them to pay for their children’s computer play. Meanwhile, they are trying to figure out whether there is any reason to buy magical powers or virtual sunglasses.

The money-driven aspect of the games, whether involving actual or virtual cash, is becoming a concern for parents and consumer watchdogs as popular game sites like Club Penguin attract millions of new users. The number of unique monthly visitors to Club Penguin more than doubled in the last year, to 4.7 million from 1.9 million, while the traffic on Webkinz.com grew to 6 million visitors from less than 1 million, according to comScore Media Metrix, which tracks online usage.

What a great headline... if you read the rest of the article you find out it's not literally accurate, but it totally captures the story in seven words.