Kansas City falls easily within the bounds of the gangster genre. There’s Johnnie, Blondie, Seldom Seen, a twist at the end, people “offed”, bad gangster imitation dialect, all the things we’d expect, no machine guns, though. Released in 1996, it’s the newest movie we’ve seen. So, it’s easy to see that, at this point, jazz has been canonized but is still squished into the same old types. It is noticeably different in the character of the jazz musician plays only a minor role, almost so small that he is almost lost in the background. We still get a performance by a character identified as Lester Young, but the audience wouldn’t have known this had it not been pointed out to them.
Jazz is, however, distinctly connected to the gang leader Seldom Seen. Most of his scenes are acted within the club or in the back of the club at the gambling tables he oversees. Jazz is still present in the sin filled den of iniquity. I can’t tell if jazz is included to further exemplify the time period, like all the discussion of motion pictures and an entire scene set in a theatre where the audience is watching a Clark Gable film, or if it is some more important part of the characterization of the narrative as a whole. It does seem mainstream, although the movie is supposed to be set in 1930’s.
There is an interesting bit of dialogue where Seldom Seen tells Johnnie he’s still alive because of the music. I can’t decipher exactly what this could mean. But, there’s plenty of talk about race relationships, even politics. In fact, Johnnie gives his race as the reason Seldom Seen should not kill him.
Kansas City is the hometown of jazz greats like Bird, and the soundtrack was heralded as an especially important work of Robert Altman. But, since I don’t know who Robert Altman is, I’ll just have to take that exertion how it’s presented.
Although there is not much call back to the importance of Kansas City to the jazz era, there are plenty of instances where the culture surrounding jazz pops up. There’s swing, gambling, the row of clubs, a cutting contest, and more. There’s plenty of political talk and discussion of race, including a monologue by Seldom Seen that includes the idea that white people are consumed with greed (i.e. they’re good capitalists), kill babies, rape women, colonization culture stuff.
Oh, and there’s the multiple Amos n’ Andy references. I’m sure we’ll discuss them in class.
Adios, guys.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
mo better? i don't think so
Alrighty. this week we take a long hard (hehe!) look at Spike Lee's Mo' Better Blues.
I'll try not to repeat anything explored by Gabbard, but I'd like to talk to a few things he has to say. Before we get there, I'll talk a little about what I noticed about the movie.
Title
Mo' Better equals sex, somehow, in the dialogue (before we hear, "it's a dick thing"). So, we watched a film really titled Sex Blues, which makes a lotta sense right? About a little more than halfway through, i just blurted out "These poeple have a lot of sex!" and they do. After I was enlightened as to the real meaning of the title, the movie, and the sex, made more sense. In fact, this translation makes more sense that the title Gabbard tells us Lee originally wanted. The only place Lee’s title comes up is near the end with the quote, the quote that doesn’t really fit within the film at all.
Wordplay
I went back and forth trying to decide whether the dialogue was annoying or signified something more important. The first few scenes where Giant talks to the two guys outside the club that will later beat him up is a good example of at least three people talking at the same time, talking over each other, not really trying to be heard. It was annoying, and I could never understand what anyone was saying. It happened throughout the film.
In the scenes where the audience was allowed to clearly hear and understand the dialogue, usually those between Bleek and his lovers or between Bleek and Giant, it is full of wordplay. No one clearly communicates and says what he/she feels; for a simple “yes” or “no”, we hear anywhere from a few words to a few lines. And everyone does it. It’s not limited to a few characters who have this has a characteristic. We get lots of slang, street talk, stories, to give something as simple as an answer.
Under other circumstances, and maybe in a few scenes from this movie, I would say this is clearly some kind of encoding of signifying. But, I couldn’t clearly tell what was being encoded or signified. But, I guess that’s the point sometimes, right?
These instances did manage to draw attention to those moments when we could clearly understand the dialogue. In them, we hear repeated conversations on “ignorant black men”, various discussions on “love” and “lust”, how jazz is a black American art form but black Americans are not the ones listening to it, conversations about money, gambling, BASEBALL (Gabbard makes some good points about the presence of this American pastime in the film, but I say it existed outside the narrative completely and didn’t really serve any purpose other than saying yeah, black guys are interested in baseball too), etc.
Maybe it was just Lee’s poor ability to write a script, but we’ll talk about his contributions to the film next.
Poor Directing Skills
Wow, not good. In fact, really bad.
It was distracting. In one conversation, the camera actually panned across the room, back and forth, with no helpful interruptions each time a different person would talk. There were lots of slow motion moves; sometimes, people seemed to be floating down halls and toward groups of people- thinking moments. I get it. Oh, and the room spinning in the background. Classic. For what? Mostly, the directing was just distracting.
Misc.
Venue is no longer the smoky den of iniquity; it’s a class expensive joint.
French are still in love with jazz. In this film’s case, Lefty, a bandmember, has French girlfriend.
Okay, more creepy incestuous stuff. Spike Lee’s filming this right? Well, he’s filming his naked sister having sex. Ewww!
Everyone’s a type. Bookee is Hispanic. Club owners are Italian. Black urban boys. Any questions?
This in an impressive cast. Samuel L. Jackson, Wesley Snipes, Denzel Washington, the detective from Sister Act. Did everyone have to do some hard time in a Spike Lee film when they were young? This guy had to have some credentials in the community.
GAbbard
I can buy that the trumpet is a phallic extension of the self in the film. Hell, Bleek keeps his trumpet in bed with him while he has sex, and he undresses a chick with his trumpet. But, Gabbard didn’t have a lot of important things to say outside of what Adorno already proposed.
See all of you Tuesday, six sharp.
I'll try not to repeat anything explored by Gabbard, but I'd like to talk to a few things he has to say. Before we get there, I'll talk a little about what I noticed about the movie.
Title
Mo' Better equals sex, somehow, in the dialogue (before we hear, "it's a dick thing"). So, we watched a film really titled Sex Blues, which makes a lotta sense right? About a little more than halfway through, i just blurted out "These poeple have a lot of sex!" and they do. After I was enlightened as to the real meaning of the title, the movie, and the sex, made more sense. In fact, this translation makes more sense that the title Gabbard tells us Lee originally wanted. The only place Lee’s title comes up is near the end with the quote, the quote that doesn’t really fit within the film at all.
Wordplay
I went back and forth trying to decide whether the dialogue was annoying or signified something more important. The first few scenes where Giant talks to the two guys outside the club that will later beat him up is a good example of at least three people talking at the same time, talking over each other, not really trying to be heard. It was annoying, and I could never understand what anyone was saying. It happened throughout the film.
In the scenes where the audience was allowed to clearly hear and understand the dialogue, usually those between Bleek and his lovers or between Bleek and Giant, it is full of wordplay. No one clearly communicates and says what he/she feels; for a simple “yes” or “no”, we hear anywhere from a few words to a few lines. And everyone does it. It’s not limited to a few characters who have this has a characteristic. We get lots of slang, street talk, stories, to give something as simple as an answer.
Under other circumstances, and maybe in a few scenes from this movie, I would say this is clearly some kind of encoding of signifying. But, I couldn’t clearly tell what was being encoded or signified. But, I guess that’s the point sometimes, right?
These instances did manage to draw attention to those moments when we could clearly understand the dialogue. In them, we hear repeated conversations on “ignorant black men”, various discussions on “love” and “lust”, how jazz is a black American art form but black Americans are not the ones listening to it, conversations about money, gambling, BASEBALL (Gabbard makes some good points about the presence of this American pastime in the film, but I say it existed outside the narrative completely and didn’t really serve any purpose other than saying yeah, black guys are interested in baseball too), etc.
Maybe it was just Lee’s poor ability to write a script, but we’ll talk about his contributions to the film next.
Poor Directing Skills
Wow, not good. In fact, really bad.
It was distracting. In one conversation, the camera actually panned across the room, back and forth, with no helpful interruptions each time a different person would talk. There were lots of slow motion moves; sometimes, people seemed to be floating down halls and toward groups of people- thinking moments. I get it. Oh, and the room spinning in the background. Classic. For what? Mostly, the directing was just distracting.
Misc.
Venue is no longer the smoky den of iniquity; it’s a class expensive joint.
French are still in love with jazz. In this film’s case, Lefty, a bandmember, has French girlfriend.
Okay, more creepy incestuous stuff. Spike Lee’s filming this right? Well, he’s filming his naked sister having sex. Ewww!
Everyone’s a type. Bookee is Hispanic. Club owners are Italian. Black urban boys. Any questions?
This in an impressive cast. Samuel L. Jackson, Wesley Snipes, Denzel Washington, the detective from Sister Act. Did everyone have to do some hard time in a Spike Lee film when they were young? This guy had to have some credentials in the community.
GAbbard
I can buy that the trumpet is a phallic extension of the self in the film. Hell, Bleek keeps his trumpet in bed with him while he has sex, and he undresses a chick with his trumpet. But, Gabbard didn’t have a lot of important things to say outside of what Adorno already proposed.
See all of you Tuesday, six sharp.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
'round about movie
This week, we watch 'Round midnight. It's round about plot weaves between the bromance of a sax player and his French number one fan. I heard this word, bromance, from an article that discussed the straight couple from Scrubs, the Turk and J.T. characters. A "bromance" is when two straight men are engaged in a relationship together that would, under usual circumstances, be viewed as romantic in nature. I think it's fairly clear that Dale and Francis are a bit more than friends. Francis documents their relationship, watches the film obsessively, ignoring his daughter and gazing into the image of the sax player. He moves Dale in, finds a nicer, better apartment, even leaves his daughter and work to escort Dale back to New York.
Although the plotline consists only of a climax, Dale's death, and includes no rising or falling action, there is a few really lovely cinematograhic moments. The home movies that Francis shoots of Dale are moving, full of emotion, and simply human. They remove Dale from the performance of the Blue Note and its atmosphere. Outside of that environment, where he is incapable of caring for himself, we see him misplaced into a simpler world where he cares for Francis' daughter, playing with her on the beach and buying her treats.
But I kept asking myself why is this little white frenchman taking care of this adult man? Especially since I could never really define for myself why Dale needed to be taken care of. He did display symptons of a recovered/recovering alcoholic, sneaking drinks when Buttercup wasn't looking, wanting the drink that worked the fastest, i.e. the one that the guy had that fell out at the bar ( alittle dramatic, eh?). He talks once about noticing that he had bled on his reed after playing. He is also admitted to the hospital almost everytime he drinks, even if it's only a few beers or two glasses of wine. The only thing I could come up with was maybe stomach ulcers, if drinking so little causes so much of a problem that he admitted every time. As far as bleeding on the reed, that could be from stomach ulcers or it could be that he busted his lip while playing. He also talked to a mental health physician at one point, but the guy seems convinced that Dale is ok.
I don't know. I'll be happy to hear how the rest of you interpretted things on Tuesday.
I felt like I spent the whole film trying to figure out the things I discussed above. And, because I was trying to rationale what was happening, I couldn't really see the whole picture until the movie was over. But, hey, I'm still not saying that I get the big picture.
The language and voice of the film was hard to understand too. Gordan's voice was lovely, interesting, and original. It had tons of character. But it was not easy for me to understand what he was saying. I wanted the whole movie to be in subtitles, not just the sections of conversation that were in french. Gordan's voice did remind me of Louis Armstrong's performance voice, though. And, " I cover the Waterfront" was playing in the background of one of the scenes. It was sung as straightforwardly as ever, definitely not a jazz version. Hearing the mainstream version really made me realize the beauty and originality in Armstrong's voice, the command, the ups and downs, the emotion. It changed the song into a new animal for me, an interesting animal.
Even though I couldn't always understand the voice of Gordan's character, I was drawn to his acting. He was this lovable grandpa figure, telling stories of yesteryear (both uplifting and enlighteningly sad), sneaking drinks, still seducing young good looking women. He seemed like a lot of fun. He held himself in the most wonderful way. You could see his weariness in the slump of his shoulder, the way he laid himself on the bed, in the waving of his hand. The evident change in his posture around Francis' daughter showed the effect of youth on him.
But, it was still hard for me to justify his place in the film. Just by the time allotted him onscreen, he seems to be a more important character than Dale, but it his Dale that the story opens up on.
Last week we watched Space is the Place. I was prepared for it because of the setup of the articles, the repeatedly used adjectives like crazy, nutty, wacky. But, the narrative of Midnight was something new. It was trying at documentary with things like the plot simply reflecting a section of a life and the images of the film shot by Francis. But, we don't know what finally kills Dale. We don't know what he struggled with before the film; there's just no context.
That's all for now, I guess. Talk at cha later.
Although the plotline consists only of a climax, Dale's death, and includes no rising or falling action, there is a few really lovely cinematograhic moments. The home movies that Francis shoots of Dale are moving, full of emotion, and simply human. They remove Dale from the performance of the Blue Note and its atmosphere. Outside of that environment, where he is incapable of caring for himself, we see him misplaced into a simpler world where he cares for Francis' daughter, playing with her on the beach and buying her treats.
But I kept asking myself why is this little white frenchman taking care of this adult man? Especially since I could never really define for myself why Dale needed to be taken care of. He did display symptons of a recovered/recovering alcoholic, sneaking drinks when Buttercup wasn't looking, wanting the drink that worked the fastest, i.e. the one that the guy had that fell out at the bar ( alittle dramatic, eh?). He talks once about noticing that he had bled on his reed after playing. He is also admitted to the hospital almost everytime he drinks, even if it's only a few beers or two glasses of wine. The only thing I could come up with was maybe stomach ulcers, if drinking so little causes so much of a problem that he admitted every time. As far as bleeding on the reed, that could be from stomach ulcers or it could be that he busted his lip while playing. He also talked to a mental health physician at one point, but the guy seems convinced that Dale is ok.
I don't know. I'll be happy to hear how the rest of you interpretted things on Tuesday.
I felt like I spent the whole film trying to figure out the things I discussed above. And, because I was trying to rationale what was happening, I couldn't really see the whole picture until the movie was over. But, hey, I'm still not saying that I get the big picture.
The language and voice of the film was hard to understand too. Gordan's voice was lovely, interesting, and original. It had tons of character. But it was not easy for me to understand what he was saying. I wanted the whole movie to be in subtitles, not just the sections of conversation that were in french. Gordan's voice did remind me of Louis Armstrong's performance voice, though. And, " I cover the Waterfront" was playing in the background of one of the scenes. It was sung as straightforwardly as ever, definitely not a jazz version. Hearing the mainstream version really made me realize the beauty and originality in Armstrong's voice, the command, the ups and downs, the emotion. It changed the song into a new animal for me, an interesting animal.
Even though I couldn't always understand the voice of Gordan's character, I was drawn to his acting. He was this lovable grandpa figure, telling stories of yesteryear (both uplifting and enlighteningly sad), sneaking drinks, still seducing young good looking women. He seemed like a lot of fun. He held himself in the most wonderful way. You could see his weariness in the slump of his shoulder, the way he laid himself on the bed, in the waving of his hand. The evident change in his posture around Francis' daughter showed the effect of youth on him.
But, it was still hard for me to justify his place in the film. Just by the time allotted him onscreen, he seems to be a more important character than Dale, but it his Dale that the story opens up on.
Last week we watched Space is the Place. I was prepared for it because of the setup of the articles, the repeatedly used adjectives like crazy, nutty, wacky. But, the narrative of Midnight was something new. It was trying at documentary with things like the plot simply reflecting a section of a life and the images of the film shot by Francis. But, we don't know what finally kills Dale. We don't know what he struggled with before the film; there's just no context.
That's all for now, I guess. Talk at cha later.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sun Ra's Mythmaking
Okay, guys, I'll try to keep it short because I can already see that end-of-semester weariness setting in everyone's eyes.
Our selection for this week, Space is the Place, could have easily been categorized in the nutty crazy section if not for the illuminating ability of Lock. I was also pretty disgusted with the general atitute toward women in the film, i.e. all women are hoes waiting for a good pimp, even women who go to school to become nurses will gladly undress themselves and their sistas' for a good pimp man. But, because I was generally impressed with Sun Ra's philosophy as explained by Lock, I did a bit o' research and found that we were watching the 2003 director's cut of the film. The original of 74 or so deleted the bitches and hoes scenes, with the director calling Ra "prudish". I think Ra's philosophies make a helluva lot of sense. And, how huge! He attempted to rewrite history. Unfortunately, he didn't succeed. But I sure as hell wish he did. The whole call back to Moses thing of slave songs and stories never made sense to me. A call back to Egypt as the mother land, the birthplace of humanity sounds so empowering and a beautiful way for the black community to unite in a new way. It's too bad it wasn't picked up during the civil rights movement. Judeo-Christian worldview was repeatedly used to keep slaves enslaved, to keep blacks on the low end of the social hierarchy. Traditional West African religions, by anyone's standards, more closely resembles what we know of ancient Egyptian religion and worldview.
And, hey, Sun Ra's from my hometown. Yeah!
Alright, that's it.
yip.
summary: awesome readings; movie doesn't give Ra the credit he deserves as a visionary
Our selection for this week, Space is the Place, could have easily been categorized in the nutty crazy section if not for the illuminating ability of Lock. I was also pretty disgusted with the general atitute toward women in the film, i.e. all women are hoes waiting for a good pimp, even women who go to school to become nurses will gladly undress themselves and their sistas' for a good pimp man. But, because I was generally impressed with Sun Ra's philosophy as explained by Lock, I did a bit o' research and found that we were watching the 2003 director's cut of the film. The original of 74 or so deleted the bitches and hoes scenes, with the director calling Ra "prudish". I think Ra's philosophies make a helluva lot of sense. And, how huge! He attempted to rewrite history. Unfortunately, he didn't succeed. But I sure as hell wish he did. The whole call back to Moses thing of slave songs and stories never made sense to me. A call back to Egypt as the mother land, the birthplace of humanity sounds so empowering and a beautiful way for the black community to unite in a new way. It's too bad it wasn't picked up during the civil rights movement. Judeo-Christian worldview was repeatedly used to keep slaves enslaved, to keep blacks on the low end of the social hierarchy. Traditional West African religions, by anyone's standards, more closely resembles what we know of ancient Egyptian religion and worldview.
And, hey, Sun Ra's from my hometown. Yeah!
Alright, that's it.
yip.
summary: awesome readings; movie doesn't give Ra the credit he deserves as a visionary
Monday, March 31, 2008
Holiday's Jazz Biography
Hello all,
I hope the spring "break" went well for everyone. (I know, for most of us, it's never really a break. There's either crazy and/or loud family or a to do list.)
I thought Billie Holiday's memoir was a lovely way to get back into the groove of things. I didn't know that it was in fact a memoir and not a critical piece. I hadn't really looked past the cover and the cd on the back. So, when I started reading it, I was pleasantly surprised to hear what we hadn't heard yet - a written voice from the artist. And, goodness, to get to hear Billie Holiday's. It was strong and personal, full of character. I loved getting to hear about her life, her trauma, the wonderful and interesting people she knew. It was so wonderful to hear about Judy Garland coming to hear her sing. I've thought Garland was wonderful for years. I absolutely fell in love with her in Wizard of Oz. Then, Rhett Butler comes to Billie's roadside rescue. And, she only recognizes him when he punches a guy for insulting her. Fab-u-lous. And, of course, we get to hear a different perspective on the folks we've been introduced to this semester. Lena Horne welcomed her back after she been in prison. Ethel Waters was mean to her. Armstrong was cool. She even discusses Charlie Parker. I felt like, after hearing her voice describe this world, I had a new and better understanding of it, an understanding that I haven't been able to experience in the same way through the removed criticism and film. Holiday's memoir was raw and human, really lovely.
I guess because I thought the memoir so wonderful, I just couldn't feel the same about the film. In dramatizing Holiday's life, the producers/directors/etc. changed the things I felt were so wonderful about Holiday. Instead of the strong voice of independence and perseverance we hear in the book, we get an unstable drug addict who can't even stand on her own two feet. In the book, Holiday addresses her drug abuse, but she does it head on, repeatedly. At no time, from the narrative, did I feel that Holiday was unable to care for herself or be functional. She was an addict, but the addict portrayed in the film and the one in the memoir were differnent, way different, almost polar opposites. I recognize that we are hearing from Billie and her coauthor in the text; whereas, in the film, we "should" be getting a broader vision of her life from outside herself. But, I feel like, if Holiday had lived to see the film, she would have again felt disowned by the public. I felt that the film was intentionally dramatized, even overdramatized, to make her life more sensational. The really beautiful human moments were either completely removed or so vague that they could have been glossed over or misunderstand by those members of the audience unfamilar with the memoir. For example, we get a clear chronological, psychological narrative following when she was raped at age ten. We have a rational understanding of the things that happen later in her life. The punishment she receives at the hands of society and the catholic church, the "punishment" of spending the night locked in a room with a corpse, both of these instances allow us a greater understanding of her actions later in life, namely each time she again comes in contact with a dead body along with her self proclaimed abstinece. These are just two of the many instances that rationalized Holiday's life in the book but were strangely missing completely from the movie. Another lovely moment that I was upset to see deleted was the moment that she felt her mother's ghost behind her. Her mother's hand on her shoulder was such a beautiful, strong image. It was replaced in the movie by a bullshit scene of Ross trying to get high in her dressing room, being selfish when the hospital was calling. The Holiday of the memoir stood by her mother, helped her mother, worked at making her mother's dreams come true more so than her own. The Holiday of the book was calm about it; Ross' character was snotty annoying mess. Pl-ease.
Okay, I guess that's enough bitching about that for now. No, wait.
I couldn't stand that the film character was completely controlled by men when the character of the book was unaffected by men to a large extent.
I did have one issue with the book. The last sentence really bothered me for the same reason. We end on "my man", which may or may not have influenced the movie. Who knows.
Okay, on to Harlos and Jazz Autobiography.
The idea from page 132, that jazz musicians and writers weren't sympathetic to one another. This, along with the really unknown roots of jazz, contributes to this whole idea of jazz having no master narrative. This lack of a bigger picture seems to influence, wholly, how we see individual artists. The nature of jazz itself is blurry and almost undefinable, much as a black and white discussion of an individual artist, like Armstrong for example, is impossible. The important element of jazz that is definite is its changing nature. No song played the same more than two nights in a row is what Holiday said. To perform in this way, it only makes sense that the artists performing would be everchanging too. I also think that it seems reasonable, but unfortunate, that writers and jazz artists would be asympathetic. Another important element of jazz is that it is an unwritten form. It's improvisation, it's on the spot and emotional. Writing is defined by the fact that it is a written form. It is mulled over. It is revised and edited, many, many times. Even experimental writing is planned out and thought over. I think it makes sense, then, that, when jazz musicians do sit down to give us a written record of their life, it is a mosaic, a montage of moments and memories jammed together in much the same seeming chaos of a jazz set or jam.
I was especially upset, but did expect, Harlos discussion of Holiday's "memoir" (p146-7). It's a complicated setup, a complicated relationship. But, like I said, I expected it, especially with our discussions of performance and control of performance in films, star quality, star power, etc. Harlos assertion on p. 149, that jazz autobiography is a collective form, seems right. I also felt that written narratives, biographies, of jazz musician's lives are directed toward a specific audience. Holiday's "memoir" seemed directed only at her fans, and the Holiday we see characterized in the pages is one even new fans can love.
I hope the spring "break" went well for everyone. (I know, for most of us, it's never really a break. There's either crazy and/or loud family or a to do list.)
I thought Billie Holiday's memoir was a lovely way to get back into the groove of things. I didn't know that it was in fact a memoir and not a critical piece. I hadn't really looked past the cover and the cd on the back. So, when I started reading it, I was pleasantly surprised to hear what we hadn't heard yet - a written voice from the artist. And, goodness, to get to hear Billie Holiday's. It was strong and personal, full of character. I loved getting to hear about her life, her trauma, the wonderful and interesting people she knew. It was so wonderful to hear about Judy Garland coming to hear her sing. I've thought Garland was wonderful for years. I absolutely fell in love with her in Wizard of Oz. Then, Rhett Butler comes to Billie's roadside rescue. And, she only recognizes him when he punches a guy for insulting her. Fab-u-lous. And, of course, we get to hear a different perspective on the folks we've been introduced to this semester. Lena Horne welcomed her back after she been in prison. Ethel Waters was mean to her. Armstrong was cool. She even discusses Charlie Parker. I felt like, after hearing her voice describe this world, I had a new and better understanding of it, an understanding that I haven't been able to experience in the same way through the removed criticism and film. Holiday's memoir was raw and human, really lovely.
I guess because I thought the memoir so wonderful, I just couldn't feel the same about the film. In dramatizing Holiday's life, the producers/directors/etc. changed the things I felt were so wonderful about Holiday. Instead of the strong voice of independence and perseverance we hear in the book, we get an unstable drug addict who can't even stand on her own two feet. In the book, Holiday addresses her drug abuse, but she does it head on, repeatedly. At no time, from the narrative, did I feel that Holiday was unable to care for herself or be functional. She was an addict, but the addict portrayed in the film and the one in the memoir were differnent, way different, almost polar opposites. I recognize that we are hearing from Billie and her coauthor in the text; whereas, in the film, we "should" be getting a broader vision of her life from outside herself. But, I feel like, if Holiday had lived to see the film, she would have again felt disowned by the public. I felt that the film was intentionally dramatized, even overdramatized, to make her life more sensational. The really beautiful human moments were either completely removed or so vague that they could have been glossed over or misunderstand by those members of the audience unfamilar with the memoir. For example, we get a clear chronological, psychological narrative following when she was raped at age ten. We have a rational understanding of the things that happen later in her life. The punishment she receives at the hands of society and the catholic church, the "punishment" of spending the night locked in a room with a corpse, both of these instances allow us a greater understanding of her actions later in life, namely each time she again comes in contact with a dead body along with her self proclaimed abstinece. These are just two of the many instances that rationalized Holiday's life in the book but were strangely missing completely from the movie. Another lovely moment that I was upset to see deleted was the moment that she felt her mother's ghost behind her. Her mother's hand on her shoulder was such a beautiful, strong image. It was replaced in the movie by a bullshit scene of Ross trying to get high in her dressing room, being selfish when the hospital was calling. The Holiday of the memoir stood by her mother, helped her mother, worked at making her mother's dreams come true more so than her own. The Holiday of the book was calm about it; Ross' character was snotty annoying mess. Pl-ease.
Okay, I guess that's enough bitching about that for now. No, wait.
I couldn't stand that the film character was completely controlled by men when the character of the book was unaffected by men to a large extent.
I did have one issue with the book. The last sentence really bothered me for the same reason. We end on "my man", which may or may not have influenced the movie. Who knows.
Okay, on to Harlos and Jazz Autobiography.
The idea from page 132, that jazz musicians and writers weren't sympathetic to one another. This, along with the really unknown roots of jazz, contributes to this whole idea of jazz having no master narrative. This lack of a bigger picture seems to influence, wholly, how we see individual artists. The nature of jazz itself is blurry and almost undefinable, much as a black and white discussion of an individual artist, like Armstrong for example, is impossible. The important element of jazz that is definite is its changing nature. No song played the same more than two nights in a row is what Holiday said. To perform in this way, it only makes sense that the artists performing would be everchanging too. I also think that it seems reasonable, but unfortunate, that writers and jazz artists would be asympathetic. Another important element of jazz is that it is an unwritten form. It's improvisation, it's on the spot and emotional. Writing is defined by the fact that it is a written form. It is mulled over. It is revised and edited, many, many times. Even experimental writing is planned out and thought over. I think it makes sense, then, that, when jazz musicians do sit down to give us a written record of their life, it is a mosaic, a montage of moments and memories jammed together in much the same seeming chaos of a jazz set or jam.
I was especially upset, but did expect, Harlos discussion of Holiday's "memoir" (p146-7). It's a complicated setup, a complicated relationship. But, like I said, I expected it, especially with our discussions of performance and control of performance in films, star quality, star power, etc. Harlos assertion on p. 149, that jazz autobiography is a collective form, seems right. I also felt that written narratives, biographies, of jazz musician's lives are directed toward a specific audience. Holiday's "memoir" seemed directed only at her fans, and the Holiday we see characterized in the pages is one even new fans can love.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Gabbard, Sweet Love, & Bird
Hello all,
Since you will be reading this either going into or recovering from Spring Break, I'll try to be brief although the reading for this week was especially useful in bringing together many of the movies we've already looked at as well as the movies being interesting all on their own.
So,
Gabbard posits to us that white folks and black folks are strategically placed around one another in jazz films. I'm not arguing with this. It seems ovbious in what we've watched so far. But, it seems that, with Sweet Love and Bird, we've come into a new era. Indeed, these movies are much closer to us in time than the others we've watched. I think that they show a more contemporary view of race relations. Sweet Love comes closely after the Civil Rights movement. Bird is a bit more removed. But, there seems to be a change of tone in both these films. Black folks might just be people too. They are treated with humanity, tragic humanity, but humanity nonetheless. And, humanity shines brightest at its bitterest, right? At least with creative types. There's also a change in tone towards the music, the way it's talked about. In both films, the musicians take time to articulate the details of their trade, explaining chords, etc. to wannabes and appreciatives. Oftentimes, these folks are white. We also see a realistic treatment of interracial relationships. Gabbard lends interesting perspective and knowledge about both Bird and Sweet Love. And, in his discussion of the other films we've watched this semester, he raises many of the discussions we had in class, shout out to Nancy with the phallus talk, and adds to them with information about the criticism and technical aspects of the film. I thought Gabbard was helpful in a more expansive understanding of what we've been talking about. He brings it together and shows correlations.
I gotta say, though, it did get on my nerves that Gabbard kept linking films by date, in the same words. but, hey, at least it's not the ultimate or whatever phrase Strasbaugh kept using. Good ole Strausbaugh.
Much of what Gabbard discussions about race relations was also talked about in the two films and was nicely played out in the scene where Eagle's white buddy deserts him and leaves him to the police.
Okay, we'll hit all the many more important points when we get back to class.
Be safe everyone.
Since you will be reading this either going into or recovering from Spring Break, I'll try to be brief although the reading for this week was especially useful in bringing together many of the movies we've already looked at as well as the movies being interesting all on their own.
So,
Gabbard posits to us that white folks and black folks are strategically placed around one another in jazz films. I'm not arguing with this. It seems ovbious in what we've watched so far. But, it seems that, with Sweet Love and Bird, we've come into a new era. Indeed, these movies are much closer to us in time than the others we've watched. I think that they show a more contemporary view of race relations. Sweet Love comes closely after the Civil Rights movement. Bird is a bit more removed. But, there seems to be a change of tone in both these films. Black folks might just be people too. They are treated with humanity, tragic humanity, but humanity nonetheless. And, humanity shines brightest at its bitterest, right? At least with creative types. There's also a change in tone towards the music, the way it's talked about. In both films, the musicians take time to articulate the details of their trade, explaining chords, etc. to wannabes and appreciatives. Oftentimes, these folks are white. We also see a realistic treatment of interracial relationships. Gabbard lends interesting perspective and knowledge about both Bird and Sweet Love. And, in his discussion of the other films we've watched this semester, he raises many of the discussions we had in class, shout out to Nancy with the phallus talk, and adds to them with information about the criticism and technical aspects of the film. I thought Gabbard was helpful in a more expansive understanding of what we've been talking about. He brings it together and shows correlations.
I gotta say, though, it did get on my nerves that Gabbard kept linking films by date, in the same words. but, hey, at least it's not the ultimate or whatever phrase Strasbaugh kept using. Good ole Strausbaugh.
Much of what Gabbard discussions about race relations was also talked about in the two films and was nicely played out in the scene where Eagle's white buddy deserts him and leaves him to the police.
Okay, we'll hit all the many more important points when we get back to class.
Be safe everyone.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sweet Smell of Death
Hello all,
Spring break approaches. I know we all have our to-do lists for the "holiday". But, we're not quite there yet.
Even though we didn't have any readings this week, I gotta say that watching The Sweet Smell of Success could easily be compared to reading an Eric Lott chapter. I wasn't really sure what was going on until I was able to look back at the film. It seems to want to be psychological in nature, but didn't get us close enough to any of the characters to be able to fully understand their psychology. Or, it might have been that there were just too many. Characters, that is.
Even if it is sucky in the way of stars awarded, it does a few things for us, within the context of this class.
The film seems to want to be modern. Almost every scene takes place outside of the home. The city always looms in the background, dark and foreboding. The traffic is suffocating, sometimes hurtful. Poor Sydney gets burned by a muffler and gets his fingers caught in a car door. The city is the setting for the entire movie, New York City, the city to trump all cities.
Sidney is a new kind of capitalist. He is not confined to the workday or the office or factory. We see him at work in the bars, on the streets, in the telephone booth. He has a home office, but it's not your stay at home mom selling Mary Kay cosmetics. The front is a unit, the back a bedroom. All the types of the caucasion world come into play. Women are either cigarette girls, secretaries, prostitutes, dates, or pawns. They're blonde and have children's voices or no voices at all. The men are go-to guys, satiated with/or the want of power, control, and money. Sydney is described as a "prisoner of fear and ambition". The rich are more subtly wealthy. We don't see their mansions and their expensive cars. We see their cleancut, fashionable hair. We see their fur coats and their luxurious hair.
But, the guy at the top of the hierarcy is a radio star. Although we are never privy to his show, I think we are to understand that he is quite a different kind of celebrity than the meager artist of the jazz band that his sister is in love with.
In fact, Sydney is completely outside the main story, a Caraway for our Fitzgerald. Sydney just seems to be all over the place which allows the audience to be there with him.
As for jazz, the band is headed up by this white musician who is unsuitable for the successfull Hunseker's sister (although she gets treated like sister/mother/lover, gotta love the incest of the first half of the century here in our great nation). The band has a token African-American. He seems to be well liked and as respected as anybody else in the band. The drums are prominent during songs. And, of course, the band is situated within a club, this time the Elysian. It's full of whites, which is a bit different from the context of the other films we've watched. It's the same situation in DOA. Are we to take that, by the 50's, jazz is not just viewed as an African American art form, but one good ole upper middle class white folks like to listen to to? I think so. But, I think it's still also clear that jazz is still considered a part of secular and/or questionable society.
After all, in DOA is the first time we see white women drink, even become drunk. And, it's withinthe context of the jazz club. So, with that understanding, the film still seems to make a clear statement that links jazz to corrupted morals, even within white society.
In DOA, it's Frank's presence in the bar that allows him to be poisoned. You could say it was jazz that killed him.
I don't know much about the film noir genre, but I gotta say it was more interesting to watch than Smelly just because the plot was easy to follow, and there weren't so many main players that they became confusing.
I thought it was interesting that Frank didn't like the noisy jazz bar, that he wanted to leave. It was almost like the moral compass being present.
And, the jazz band in this jazz club is viewed hella differently than any we've seen before. There are closeups on each of the band members' faces, some multiple times. Women are described as "jive crazy". In fact, Frank consistently refers to anything outside of himself or his liking as "crazy". The music drives him crazy. It drives the music lovers crazy. The band's movements are wild and a prominent part of the performance.
Somewhere after the viewer can no longer see the band, a woman's voice takes the place of the band leader and continues in the background throughout the film. The voice becomes more and more haunting as our main character gets closer to his death.
Alright, there's plenty more to talk about, but let's call it a night. See you all tomorrow.
Spring break approaches. I know we all have our to-do lists for the "holiday". But, we're not quite there yet.
Even though we didn't have any readings this week, I gotta say that watching The Sweet Smell of Success could easily be compared to reading an Eric Lott chapter. I wasn't really sure what was going on until I was able to look back at the film. It seems to want to be psychological in nature, but didn't get us close enough to any of the characters to be able to fully understand their psychology. Or, it might have been that there were just too many. Characters, that is.
Even if it is sucky in the way of stars awarded, it does a few things for us, within the context of this class.
The film seems to want to be modern. Almost every scene takes place outside of the home. The city always looms in the background, dark and foreboding. The traffic is suffocating, sometimes hurtful. Poor Sydney gets burned by a muffler and gets his fingers caught in a car door. The city is the setting for the entire movie, New York City, the city to trump all cities.
Sidney is a new kind of capitalist. He is not confined to the workday or the office or factory. We see him at work in the bars, on the streets, in the telephone booth. He has a home office, but it's not your stay at home mom selling Mary Kay cosmetics. The front is a unit, the back a bedroom. All the types of the caucasion world come into play. Women are either cigarette girls, secretaries, prostitutes, dates, or pawns. They're blonde and have children's voices or no voices at all. The men are go-to guys, satiated with/or the want of power, control, and money. Sydney is described as a "prisoner of fear and ambition". The rich are more subtly wealthy. We don't see their mansions and their expensive cars. We see their cleancut, fashionable hair. We see their fur coats and their luxurious hair.
But, the guy at the top of the hierarcy is a radio star. Although we are never privy to his show, I think we are to understand that he is quite a different kind of celebrity than the meager artist of the jazz band that his sister is in love with.
In fact, Sydney is completely outside the main story, a Caraway for our Fitzgerald. Sydney just seems to be all over the place which allows the audience to be there with him.
As for jazz, the band is headed up by this white musician who is unsuitable for the successfull Hunseker's sister (although she gets treated like sister/mother/lover, gotta love the incest of the first half of the century here in our great nation). The band has a token African-American. He seems to be well liked and as respected as anybody else in the band. The drums are prominent during songs. And, of course, the band is situated within a club, this time the Elysian. It's full of whites, which is a bit different from the context of the other films we've watched. It's the same situation in DOA. Are we to take that, by the 50's, jazz is not just viewed as an African American art form, but one good ole upper middle class white folks like to listen to to? I think so. But, I think it's still also clear that jazz is still considered a part of secular and/or questionable society.
After all, in DOA is the first time we see white women drink, even become drunk. And, it's withinthe context of the jazz club. So, with that understanding, the film still seems to make a clear statement that links jazz to corrupted morals, even within white society.
In DOA, it's Frank's presence in the bar that allows him to be poisoned. You could say it was jazz that killed him.
I don't know much about the film noir genre, but I gotta say it was more interesting to watch than Smelly just because the plot was easy to follow, and there weren't so many main players that they became confusing.
I thought it was interesting that Frank didn't like the noisy jazz bar, that he wanted to leave. It was almost like the moral compass being present.
And, the jazz band in this jazz club is viewed hella differently than any we've seen before. There are closeups on each of the band members' faces, some multiple times. Women are described as "jive crazy". In fact, Frank consistently refers to anything outside of himself or his liking as "crazy". The music drives him crazy. It drives the music lovers crazy. The band's movements are wild and a prominent part of the performance.
Somewhere after the viewer can no longer see the band, a woman's voice takes the place of the band leader and continues in the background throughout the film. The voice becomes more and more haunting as our main character gets closer to his death.
Alright, there's plenty more to talk about, but let's call it a night. See you all tomorrow.
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