I actually watched most of the Oscars last night. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was to watch those montages of films I HAVE seen. Maybe it is because I’d like to pretend to be an undiscovered actor. Maybe it was because I was too lazy to get up off the couch during that stretch of time and do something a bit more productive.
One of our fellow members has posted in his own domain about the possible lack of relevance in the Oscars this year. This, combined with a tad of residual guilt for spending a certain December evening dissecting the work of others and proclaiming it “not art” led me to yet another sporting discussion for is in the LS.
My challenge:In a more positive, supportive take on things, let’s acknowledge those things which have moved, changed, or otherwise positively effected us in the last year. Post your nominees, and the categories to which they should belong. Don’t feel constrained to those in use by the Academy, or even to the media of film for that matter.
Furthermore, I propose that in a Copernican approach to things, nominations should be based on what WE have encountered in the last year, not what has been produced or published in that time period. Maybe you just got around to reading Genesis this year, or perhaps the Rosetta stone. If so, and that’s what moved you, give it a category and nominate it.
Once one of us has nominated in a category, others are encouraged to add additional nominations in that category. Perhaps once things settle out, we can expose ourselves to the items listed, so as to cast an informed deciding vote. We could, alternatively, think about doing so and never get around to it. Either would be fine. Let the games begin. Nominate your favorites from 2006 for a Georg. Or perhaps they should be Lecti’s. Actually, make that “Lickys”. Yes, “Licky” will do quite nicely. Perhaps someone can design a statue for us to send to the winners…
2006?
The Lickeys. I love it.
Hmmm … I was totally enraptured by “Old Frontiers” by John P. Brown. But I don’t expect that anyone else would be.
I really got caught up in Michael Clayton, as far as box office goes. “I am Shiva, the God of death!” Yes!
Loved Daniel Day Lewis’ performance in “There Will Be Blood,” but had problems with the film … especially the ending.
Believe it or not, I cried during “Enchanted.” I’m such a 12-year-old girl.
Currently reading “The Ancestor’s Tale.” Great stuff.
Immersed myself in the Lomax song collection in “American Memory.” Multiple revelations.
Dunnno … Kind of a strange year for me. A year of transition.
Dang. Dale’s right. I meant 2007.
If I may inquire, Jeff, may I deduce the following from your post?
Best Picture: Michael Clayton
Best Actor: Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood
Best Tear Jerker for 12 year old girls: Enchanted
I’m not sure how you would categorize “Old Frontiers” or the Lomax song collection / American Memory. It sounds like Ancestor’s Tale is 2008? Can’t tell…
I know some of these are older, but again, its the year of my experience:
Best Animated Feature: Spirited Away
Best Tourism Fiction: Under The Tuscan Sun
Best Science Fiction Series: Battlestar Galactica
Best Dialog in a Television Series: Firefly
Best Role Selection: Will Smith in 6 Degrees of Separation
And for some completely different categories…
Most Entertaining Foodie TV: Anthony Bordain: No Reservations
Best Use of New Technology: Nintendo Wii
Best Veggie Food: Cafe Sunflower
Best Southern Cooking: Eats
Best Use of Television Advertising Revenue: Extreme Makeover, Home Edition
Best Technology War: Sony for Blu Ray
It’s funny, but as I age, I am less prone to rank things. I’m more apt just to think of things as “different.” So I wouldn’t necessarily rank Michael Clayton as “Best Picture of 2007.” All I can really say is, “I enjoyed that one particularly well.” Others may differ.
That said, “Untraceable” SUCKED.
Understood. It’s more a conversation starter than any sort of empirical process anyway. For me, there’s an implied “(that I experienced)” in the title of each of my nominations. I don’t feel for a moment that I have nearly enough exposure to any one thing to responsibly select the “best”. My selfish interest in all of this is to see what a respected group of colleagues found worth the mention, so that I can avoid things like “Untraceable”.
Yes, you would definitely want those two hours of your life back.
I totally agree on BSG, by the way. S3 comes out on the 18th. What took so long? Did you catch the extended, DVD-only version of “Razor?” The new scenes were terrific. Especially enjoyed the childhood scenes of Helena Cain. I expect S4 to blow the lid off my brain. Sorta like the first five eps of S3 (before we got mired in the “quadrangle of doom.”)
Ok, geek mode OFF.
(Not really. I can’t turn off my geek mode.)
Still working my way through S3. Been no reason to hurry during the strike. Gonna have to get serious now…
Best Memoir: Rickles’s Book
Best Fiction: The Dain Curse (Dashiell Hammett is in my top three favorite writers, but only this year have I begaun to discover the Continental Op.)
Best Bathroom Read: Animation Magazine (For those interested in the art and technology of animation.)
Best DVD Release: Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends Season 1, 2, and 3
Best Non-Fiction Television: Planet Earth (The British version narrated bt Attenburrough, not the American by Sigourney Weaver.)
Best Memoir: Rickles’s Book
Best Fiction: The Dain Curse (Dashiell Hammett is one of my favorite authors, but I have only recently discovered the Continental Op.)
Best DVD Release: Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends season 1, 2, and 3
Best Nonfiction Television: Planet Earth (The British version hosted by Attenburrough, not the American hosted by Sigourney Weaver.)
Best Short Classic Novel I Thought I Had Read Earlier But Hadn’t: Brideshead Revisited
Okay, this is art.
I second Planet Earth for Best Nonfiction Television.
Since it is customary to highjack the post sooner or later, I’ll go ahead and do that:
We should be doing something that links this kind of thing to this.
See, its already working. Now I want to see Planet Earth. With Richard Attenborough. Even though Sigourney Weaver was really good in Ghostbusters.
Best new organization: Do I have to actually say it?
What about Sigourney Weaver in ALIENS? Best action film EVER.
Wow. Where do you find all this great stuff, Dale? You must spend waaay too much time surfing the Internet!
My memory doesn’t contain things for long and so I have been reluctant to participate. Best Coweta County Dance Performance a Year Too Late to be Considered Officially goes to the Martha Graham Dance Company, which I saw last night and is thankfully still in memory. It was a buffet retrospective but very moving. I don’t mind being reminded what a revolutionary force she was. Intense. Masterfully danced by current apostles. I even liked the Noh-like theatricality of “El Penitente.” Didn’t feel dated.
I am currently working on a swell-guy-pop-culture-appreciation to bring me into the fold. Memory problems. Give me a minute or two.
We’re getting older. It happens.
Best pizza and nachos of 2007: Little place in a little town in the NC mountains. Due to “memory problems,” I can recall the name of neither the restaurant nor the town. But I’ve never had pizza and nachos as good as what I ate that night. YUM!
Most creative category for nomination in a spurious awards process: Marc Honea
Garfield without Garfield is AMAZING!
“…The fact that this was a highly articulate group came as no surprise. Graham dancers have always been expected to be aware of the culture around them. Many come from families sympathetic to her endeavor. Among those in the first and all-female troupe in the 1930’s was Ailes Gilmour, who introduced her brother, the sculptor Isamu Noguchi, to Miss Graham; Jean Erdman was married to Joseph Campbell, whose scholarly studies on myth were an acknowledged influence on Miss Graham.”
Had to take a moment to tweak our resident Cambpellian. Where were you? Don’t say money. You know you could have gotten an “enthusiast grant” from the Lichtenbergian Society.
I’m just up to my eyeballs in this Trail of Tears stuff. Not complaining, mind you. Actually having the time of my life. But it dominates my days and nights.
I didn’t know Jeff was a Campbellian. We should talk. I live and breathe by Campbell. We should form a sect of Lictenbergians: The Campbellian Lichtenbergians. There is mythic structure to our procrastination.
The Hero’s Procrastination.
Or The Hero’s Prolonged Journey.
A Prolonged Postponement.
A Postponed Prolongment?
What would Luke Skywalker do?
Eschew postponement.
OWEN: Where are you going?
LUKE: Nowhere, it looks like.
Or words to that effect.
If only some of us were not Campbellians, we could have our first schism.
Maybe we could split between those who think Campbellian Lichtenbergians should discover the mythos in their lives and those who think we should create the mythos in our lives. That might work.
But I was just going into Toshi Station to pick up some power converters!
I think this R2 unit has a bad motivator.
for Jeff
It’s a trap!
Here’s a boast:
“I was Campbellian when Bill Moyers was just a Press Secretary!”
Not a boast I can make, mind, but a fun boast.
Or:
“I was Campbellian when George Lucas was stealing hubcaps and papering houses.”
Jeff can plug in more authentic geeky adolescent activities taken from the authorized biography.
How bout: “I was Campbellian when Esalen was where you got gas after leaving Big Sur.”
I have no idea why I’m going on like this.
Search your feelings.
When was Bill Moyers press secretary? I might could make that claim.
Never mind. Just missed it.
If you missed it, I KNOW I missed it. Laugh it up, fuzzball.
The possibility of successfully navigating this data field is approximately 3720 to 1!
Oh, wait.
Never tell me the odds!
I’m at work, which means I have some avoidance issues, so let me tell y’all about how I was first introduced to Campbell.
I was at UGA, between my sophomore and junior years. I was a little depressed at the time. I had dreams of becoming a screenwriter, but those hopes had been dashed by my own hubris. Even though I had won the annual screenwriting competition sponsored by the drama department, even beating out some upperclassmen, I had put off some required rewrites. So TPTB decided to produce the runner-up’s work, instead. I was devastated, because I had already told all my family and friends that I was going to have a short film on A&E. I went to talk to Charlie Eidsvik about it. He was the “film guy” at the drama dept. at the time. He gave me little to no sympathy. In fact, he seemed to get some kind of evil glee from puncturing my admittedly enormous ego (hyper-inflated from gaining national recognition from my journalistic endeavors during high school). “You’ve got talent, and you’re bright, no doubt,” he said, “but you’re illiterate.” What? What did he just say? “You are ILLITERATE,” he repeated. I couldn’t believe my ears.
It’s not too late for you, he said. He handed me a VHS tape from his drawer. It was called “Shoot the Piano Player.” I’d never watched a film with subtitles before. “Start with that,” he said. “And read this.” He handed me a book. It was a French book called “Going Places.”
“You can remain illiterate,” he said, “or you can start working to change right now. It’s all up to you.”
Naturally, I was pissed. Pissed and sad and mad and just about every negative emotion you can summon up. But I read the damn book. And I watched the movie, despite the fact that it was black and white and had subtitles. And then I watched it again. Then I went to the Tate Center and watched the film version of “Going Places,” and then Godard’s film, “Weekend.” For someone whose literay forays had been limited mostly to Star Trek and Star Wars tie-in books during high school, and to seeing one movie a year (on my birthday), this was the doorway to a whole new world.
School was about to let out. Newnan, I decided, was poison for me. Plus, it was embarrassing to return home on such a down note. So I subleased a room for the summer at some run-down, government-subsidized roachtrap (I shared the apartment with two other guys). I had ZERO money, making only 75 bucks a week or so at the Athens Banner Herald-Daily News on a summer internship. I ate mostly tuna and Ramen. The room had been completely cleaned out, except for one small item. One night as I was strumming my guitar on the floor (I’m sure I was trying to learn “Strange Kind of Love” by Peter Murphy) I bumped up against something under the bed. What I pulled out was “The Power of Myth.” Luckily for illiterates like me, it was the version with the pictures in it. Star Wars pictures. Lots and lots of Stars Wars pictures.
So I read the book.
That was my springboard to literacy, my friends. After reading that book, I wanted to read the things Campbell had read. I wanted to be inspired by what had so inspired him. I developed a thirst for knowledge and a sense of wonder that had been sorely missing in my life.
And so my journey began.
And so, two decades later, here I am, back in Newnan, back in journalism. Back at the Times-Herald, even.
The circle is now complete.
Only now I know who Wittgenstein was.
That and five bucks gets me a cup of coffee.
I suppose now at least I can hold an interesting conversation while drinking the coffee. Only there’s no one else to talk to about these matters, save for fellow members of the Lichtenbergian Society.
Damn you, Charlie Eidsvik.
Great story! Especially the sad ending. That really resonated. Alas.
Charlie Eidsvik was, to put it in terms he would like, one tough son of a bitch! What a guy. I was a constant source of disappointment to him because I never actually finished papers. Oedipal as hell, that. A great inspiration. I took Intro and Film History I&II with him.
Anyway,great story. May I have a witness!
Somewhere out there is Eidsvik’s made for video version of Handke’s The Ride Across Lake Constance. And you know he had to love assembling every inscrutable second. Let the bastards chew on this!
QUESTION FOR TURFF: I would like to find a comprehensible tutorial on the use of logic circuits in digital audio processing and on the use of fast Fourier transforms. Any suggestions? So far I have not stumbled across online stuff that I can even begin to comprehend. Too theoretical. I just want to lay out some processing circuits with Sonic Birth.
I forgot about an independant study I did with Eidsvik. The mention of him is bringing back all sorts of things. As if there was something new I could say about Bunuel’s Viridiana. Another unfinished paper. Hah! JB, was he still using the intro text he wrote? I seem to remember it had this long chapter on Blow Up that blew my mind.
Time for some obligatory Tarentino bashing. I would like to think Eidsvik would have little to no use for Tarentino, who emerged years after I had left UGA. I would especially like to think, prompted by JB’s reference to Eidsvik pointing him toward the Nouvelle Vague, that Eidsvik would be pissed off over Tarentino referring to his production organ as “Bande a Part.”
Eidsvik was pissed by a LOT of things.
Thankfully I also had Stanley Longman as counterpoint.
It’s funny, but even though I technically majored in journalism at UGA, I actually took many more drama classes than journalism classes. I just didn’t take the correct ones to walk away with a degree. But those classes were much more meaningful and memorable to me than the J school classes. I don’t think I could even tell you a single teacher’s name from the J school.
I did the same thing. Not only did I major in Journalism while minoring in Theatre, I majored in the bogus Radio/TV/Film sequence. I think the only real Journalism class I took was Media Law. In fact, and this is a real impostor story, I foolishly went by the Times-Herald to apply for who knows what soon after I graduated. Marianne Thomason gleefully asked me what a Pica was (Dale had to feign sympathy when he heard this story since he and Marianne are charter members of the Gleeful Club). I did not disappoint and muttered something about it being a larger typewriter letter size. That was not the Pica she had in mind. I was exposed as a fraud.
My two final projects for film production II (with Al Wise–only instructor name I remember) were a trailer for a non-existent existential action thriller (titled with a gerund, thank you very much) and an experimental meditation on rivalry and murder that would have made Maya Deren proud. They both figured prominently in my Journalism Portfolio.
I, too, took the “bogus” Radio/TV/Film sequence. This was the closest I could come to getting a “film degree” at UGA.
I hate that Marianne was that hard on you. That’s a tough thing to do to a poor kid fresh out of J school. She should have cut you some slack. I didn’t take any “real” journalism classes at UGA, not even news writing, but I did work for newspapers as an intern all through high school and college, so thankfully I could answer the pica question. But I don’t think she asked me the pica question. I don’t even remember being interviewed. I don’t think I ever was. My internships gave me a free pass.
It’s the groundskeepers job (and gleeful obligation, apparently) to pull up the weeds. It was instructive. And I imagine if I had been a clever young whipper snapper and fed her a fast and loose and gifted retort, who knows, I might have been given an opportunity anyway. I, however, did not roll that way. I just rolled over. I have the consolation, now, of sitting here concocting fake witticisms in an attempt to pass myself off as a clever old whipper snapper. So there.