Anita, Andie and June Cleaver

Watching a melodrama parody from 1940 entitled "The Villain Still Pursued Her," I was struck with the beauty of the lead actress, Anita Louise. She was gorgeous in just the way that a modern audience was sure to appreciate. She had a look that struck me as reminiscent of someone I 'knew' well.

It was her mouth.

She had a lovely high cheeckboned sort of overbite that I could picture on someone . . . I knew I'd seen that unique mouth before. But where...

It took awhile, but then I knew it: Andie MacDowell! OK, I'm not saying they are lookalikes, but they do have the same "type" of mouth. I know it because I've always admired it on Andie. Its focused on the upper lip and upper teeth and seems to lead directly in to high, pronounced cheeckbones. Its the kind of look that makes her seem like she is always on the verge of saying the letter "F".

But then, the most interesting thing happened.

We've been watching "Leave it to Beaver" at our house lately. The show was playing this afternoon and I was noticing Barbara Billingsly, who played June Cleaver. Actually there are several things I've been noticing about June Cleaver that I missed the first time around. First, that she is very very thin; second that she is very very tall, and also that she is actually quite funny. But today I noticed something new: she has that mouth!

Maybe not quite as pronounced as Andie, but its there.

Look:

No dialog necessary here. Best Keaton's films are a treasure for modern audiences.

You must forgive my gushing about Buster Keaton. I do understand that this is not (technically) related to British television. But as I've said, the beauty of having your own blog is getting to write about whatever you want. ... And what I want right now is Buster Keaton. If you don't like that, I suggest you get your own blog  ; - )

My discovering Keaton is like discovering Cary Grant. I did the latter in my teens. How on earth did I get this far in life without knowing the incredible talents of the former!? His work is profoundly good and I feel compelled to spread the word. Any fan of quality film and tv, which you obviously are, should make a point of seeing his work. (Go on; go do that now. Try Youtube. I'll wait. On second thought, you'd best read the post first.)

To those who might not realize this, Keaton was not just a slapstick comedian of the silent age. He was a talented director who conceived and filmed original ideas in movies that are tight, well acted, beautifully photographed, subtle, and touching. Oh, yeah, they were funny too. They present such well-made stories, that even modern audiences raised on a barrage of color, sound, and special-effects will be won over. My younger son asked me a couple of days after watching The General, "mom, did that movie have sound; I can't remember?" A telling complement. The General is so exciting and so very watchable you don't even notice that it lacks dialog. Keaton's films are like that. Treasures for all time.

The four feature films that follow are my personal favorites and those I consider his best work.  They are quite distinct in their characters, plots, pacing and style. Yet they all bear the unmistakable stamp of Keaton. That "stamp," as I see it, is to make reality feel good. His films are rooted in real truths about the simplicity of plugging away through life, meeting challenges that arise, fighting, moving along. And accepting it all with eyes wide open and lots of humor. His world is not perfect by a long shot, but its never depressing -- because, he (through his wonderful characters) lives life so well. He is beautiful in the fullest sense of the world. And he makes me want to live my own life with more precision and grace - he makes me want to jump on things, bend backward, go do something! Buster inspires me and somehow makes me feel as if I could.

The General. 

Few will argue with this selection. It's the equivalent of saying that Imagine is John Lennon's best song. The General places on countless lists of 'the best movies of all time' and was one of the first films to be selected for preservation in the National Film Registry. Sadly, it did not garner such praise when released in 1926. Buster may have simply been ahead of his time, his adoring public appreciating him more in flat-out comedic roles, simpler of plot and less developed in theme. This movie is so much more than that.

Heralded as the next best depiction of the Civil War ever recorded second only to Matthew Brady's photographs, The General watches like a documentary, a comedy and an action adventure film rolled together. Layered over exciting scenes of Buster chasing down enemy soldiers who have stolen his engine (the 'General'), are a sweet story of love (for his girl and for the train) and a simple story of a man who rises to the occasion that duty calls for him.

Because the film was made so very long ago -- blurring our own sense of proper timeframe -- it is easy for the modern viewer to feel as if watching something authentic to its setting. That's remarkable. Especially given that it was not even done in the South, but in Oregon, which, by the way, provides stunning scenery even in black and white.

Against this gorgeous backdrop, Keaton spends most of the movie running... around, in, under and atop two civil war era steam trains. The trains are so enlivened by his clear love and attention that they become movie characters themselves. But the best character is of course Keaton's -- Johnny Grey, who spends the movie alternating between doing things that show incredible strength and skill, with things that feel pitiful. He walks a balance figuratively and literally that is astonishing. In one striking example, the renegades have thrown a long heavy wooden railroad tie onto the track to derail their pursuer. Keaton runs ahead of his train in an attempt to dislodge the tie. He manages to do so at the last moment, tugging it free and falling into the cow sweep.  With barely a moment to rest, he then sees another tie lodged halfway across the track just ahead. With precision that astounds, he heaves the first down onto the other hitting it like a see saw whereupon the whole thing springs to life and off the tracks -- not without nearly smacking him dead in the face first. The modern viewer has to know that shots such as this cannot have been 'faked' the way we are used to. Real logs. Real movie star. Real train. Moving. Real precision. Yet our hero conveys as much awkwardness as skill in having done it! takes it in stride and climbs back into the engine to stoke the fire before the next disaster. You can't help but love this man.

The stunts come fast and furious (including one so stunning it still shocks: the sight of the steam train "Texas" collapsing a burning bridge and plunging into the river below). Underlying the whole is a movie with so much heart that it makes yours ache. In one such scene, our hero has rescued his girl from the bandits and they are hiding out in the woods in the rain. Buster is kneeling on the wet ground next to her when she lays her head upon his chest and tells him he's brave. He puffs with pride and he cradles her to his breast with the look of utmost pleasure. You can feel his heart swell. Light fades and when morning dawns, it dawns on him sitting just there, having held that position all night - clearly unwilling to lose the moment. Only the subtlest attention is drawn to this, by him stretching out those bent legs in the morning.

Buster Keaton's uncanny way of underplaying a moment is his greatest charm. Like his choice to follow that tender declaration with a scene where he stuffs his love into a gunny sack to smuggle her out of enemy camp, and then steps on the sack several times before freeing her. Marion Mack, the actress who plays his love gives a great comic performance. She is game for this treatment and more and really gets to shine in the last half of the movie as she helps foil the bad guys, behave heroically and take her own pratfalls such as getting hilariously doused at a water spout.

The film hits it on all fours - everything a movie should be is wrapped up in one very beautiful package. It should be on any movie lovers 'must see' list.

Sherlock Jr.

The General may be the critical consensus for best, but my favorite Keaton movie is Sherlock Jr. (1924). Profoundly interesting and well made, Sherlock Jr. is simply unique. When you have a lot of experience watching movies (!) and are plumbing the depths of 90 year-old work, you just don't really expect that many surprises. But Sherlock Jr. surprises. It actually astounds.

Our hero is known simply as 'the Boy.' He's unskilled but confident. He works as a projectionist but dreams of being a detective. Keaton gives a great nuanced performance -- imbuing the Boy with dreams and longing, shyness, the desire to step up and be a man, and an overarching fear of failure. He's so timid with his girl that he can't look at her when he gives her a ring. But, he fearlessly tracks his suspect all around town when framed by his rival for the theft of a watch. In this production Keaton wears many hats very well (figuratively in this case.) In addition to the great acting he brings, Keaton the comedian is there, hilariously walking in lockstep with the suspect and performing clever vaudeville stunts. Keaton the director brings pacing, location, style and visual appeal. There are wonderful sweet details to the movie like having "the girl", played by Kathryn McGuire, actually solve the crime herself in a matter of minutes while Buster is out bumbling around. (I'm not going to climb too far out on a limb and claim him as an early feminist, but I do notice that in many of his films, the leading ladies are doing resourceful, intelligent and active things rather than sitting around waiting to be rescued. This makes me love him more.)

All these details come together to cause the film to feel complete and engaging, but the real punch is packed by its technological wonders. When the Boy gets back to his projector and starts the afternoon's show, he dozes off. Several amazing things start to happen. A hazy second-self wakes up, fractions off from the Boy, and walks away. He steps through the audience and orchestra and into the playing movie, with in-camera effects that are so well done that they look beautiful, convincing and evocative even in 2012.

What makes these scenes remarkable is not that Buster Keaton was able to achieve them, technically speaking, but that he was able to weave them, artfully, into a story where they actually matter. Sherlock Jr. is the antithesis of the early sound movies that used sound just to show that they could. These effects are central to the themes of reality, fantasy, dream and hero. When the Boy enters the picture and attempts to interact, he is expelled from the action. Another astonishing editing sequence shows Buster as the Boy in (quasi-)stationary position as the scenery in the movie continues to shift around him -- the background becoming a garden, a rocky outcrop, a jungle, a desert and a snow bank, etc. The effort involved in piecing together this nearly seamless sequence was massive. And it's beautiful work. But what makes it mind-blowing is that it is used to further the story. The viewer learns that the Boy doesn't belong in the movie, which moves mercilessly around him; he's not part of it. Not until he finds a role he can dream himself into, can Buster enter the movie. So when the bad guys on screen concoct their nefarious plot, Buster's sleeping Boy enters the action as the "crime crushing criminologist Sherlock Jr."  . . . As smooth, suave, Sherlock Jr., classy, well dressed, and smart, Buster gets to play an extremely attractive leading man. Its a delight to see.

At this point in the movie the technological thrills give way to ones that come from Buster's physical brilliance, starting with Sherlock shooting a deadly game of pool with stunning accuracy and managing to miss the ball that's been rigged with explosives. Or, my favorite, Buster riding on the handlebars of a motorcycle after the driver has been kicked off. Cars, puddles and men with shovels can't unseat him as he speeds along through the streets of LA and deftly past the still undeveloped hills of Southern California. While on the handlebars, he crosses a gaping bridge by riding across the tops of two trucks moving in opposite directions -- meeting up with them at the very moment that they align creating an insanely dangerous and transient bridge. Its impossible to overstate how well-orchestrated that stunt had to have been! [See my note in the comments below on this stunt]. I've noted before that these scenes play like James Bond (40 years ahead of schedule), so I was thrilled to hear, on the dvd version of the film I recently watched, that Bondesque music was playing in the background. Apparently I'm not the only one making that association.

The movie, at just 44 minutes, is a fast and furious ride. A great comic ending follows the joy ride when our hero reintegrates himself, reencounters his real-life lovely, and re-proposes -- taking his cues from the lead actor in the movie that is still chugging along on screen. Its a wonderful way to wrap the experience.

Steamboat Bill Jr.

This movie is the height, the absolute apex of charm. Pitting rough, river-rat dad and his dandy of a son whom he has not seen for years, Keaton has chosen a theme that has been subsequently and continually worked for laughs by many over the decades. Buster's endeavor in 1928 may not have been the first to attempt it, I don't know, but it certainly has to be one of the best.

Gruff dad, played beautifully by Ernest Torrence, does not do the best job masking his disappointment in how his son has turned out, but he tries to make the relationship work. That is, if by 'make it work' you mean 'force Bill Jr. into being a more suitable son.' Buster was put on this earth to play the role of Bill Canfield Jr.. He is perfection as the foppishly cute, childishly stubborn, but basically moldable son. He follows dutifully as dad pulls him along by the hand. He gamely lets dad call the shots on mustache- and ukulele- removal, as well as clothing and hair readjustment, but when he runs into his college girl friend (who unfortunately happens to be his dad's arch-rival's daughter), he draws the line. Buster's not giving up King's daughter (played deliciously by Marion Byron) and who can blame him; She is the cutest, spunkiest, gamest costar for Buster that I've ever seen. Her talents suit his extremely well and their scenes together are a joy.

The father/son pairing is extremely well done and forms the heart of the movie. The scene that has stolen my heart and that I cannot seem to watch enough times on Youtube, is one where dad takes Buster to get a new hat.  Buster immediately finds one he likes and tries it on for dad's approval. I love the way he thrusts his foot out and stands like a model displaying it. Dad casts it away instantly. Watch how Buster sneaks the hat back on for a try two more times (with no luck). Also watch how he secrets away his own hat into a back pocket when no one's looking. Buster's expressions while dad and the store clerk plunk a wide array of hats upon his head are priceless, but best of all is when the clerk tries a hat of Buster's Keaton's signature "porkpie" look and produces a priceless look of horror. Delightful and utterly self-aware. I love Buster Keaton.

Complications due to dad's underlying feud, disappointment with his son, and eventual jailing keep the plot humming along until the final 10 minute sequence which includes the most jaw-dropping barrage of nonstop stunts I've ever seen. No expense could have been spared during scenes of the town's destruction in a fierce tornado-like storm. The insanity culminates in the stunning scene where Keaton allows a house front to fall on top of him, just gliding over him by the slimmest of margins before crashing hard into the ground. From all accounts, this was entirely real -- with a several ton house front and a upper story window designed to give just inches of clearance around our main man. Buster could easily have been killed had anything gone awry.

Yet. . .  you feel safe watching Buster Keaton because his clear skill and precision allow you to know that he knew exactly what he was doing. Though he does death-defying stunts all the time, they don't feel scary or reckless because of his comedic touch and because of the trust the viewer develops for Buster. His physical skill just simply can't be praised enough. The man was a genius. The movie is a smile-fest throughout. Funny, sweet, physical and charming. Another perfect endeavor.

Go West

A love story about a man and a cow. That alone makes it one of the coolest movies ever.
Go West is not routinely included as one of his best, but it is. Here he matches the slower pace and tone of the movie to the work of a ranch and the heat of the desert.  The scenery and buildings are beautiful and we get to soak it all up at an appropriate pace. I don't want to overstate the point that maybe you have to love the desert to love this picture, but I think it helps. You gotta be able to see the beauty of the wood in the fence boards, the dusty wind, and the windows framing the shots of the hot grey mountains. Leave it to Buster to find both beauty and humor in this landscape.

Buster's character, "Friendless," is brave in unexpected ways. First, he installs himself on the ranch as a hand with no skills to recommend him and no real contributions to make. But he shows up for supper (though it isn't until his third attempt that he gets any food) and goes through the motions. He confronts a man who is cheating at poker and doesn't back down. He is plucky and willing and has the silliest little hand gun that belongs properly in a woman's purse. Getting tired of fishing it out of the depths of his holster when he needs it, he gets smart and attaches it to a watch chain.

I always have thought that you can tell a lot about a person by the way animals and children respond to them. Here we get to see Buster's soul through the eyes of an adoring cow. "Brown Eyes" is beautiful and her clear desire to be near Buster is evident. You have to trust the cow, given that she cannot have cared about the movie biz. ;)  (Another movie demonstrating Buster's winning ways with animals is The Camerman where the most amazing relationship develops between him and a little monkey. You can't fake that.)

Anyhow, there's a scene in Go West where Keaton is hiding behind a building watching the rancher approach his cow. As Buster crouches there, a slight wind picks up and kicks his hat off. He reaches out a hand and grabs it as it starts to blow away. He pops it back on his head almost without seeming to notice it has been blown. That in a nutshell is what's beautiful about Buster Keaton. The scene is small and serves almost no purpose. But these are the kinds of details you get with a Keaton movie. There are literally dozens of small perfect details packed into every  film. This one is special to me not just because its a small detail that shows his care and attention to the way his films came together, but because it symbolizes him in a nutshell. Its shows physical brilliance (lightning quick reflexes) and total unflappability. Life is going on in front of you and around you. Odd things happen. You just keep going. Don't worry about why. Though Buster is uber-present in the world, no one - least of all himself - sees his strength, balance, reflexes, and agility. His enormous eyes are always looking at the world with detached wonderment and interest. And together those eyes and his physical engagement make his trajectory through life fascinating, humorous and ultimately successful (in the broadest, non-sentimental way of living a well-lived life as being the only reason to wake up). But its only the audience who really sees.

His real genius seems to have escaped his contemporary audience. They loved his humor and made him a star, but his very best and most profound work was panned upon release. Buster was making his movies toward a deeper standard -- his own. I am incredibly grateful that he got to do it as long as he could and that I managed to stumble upon it.

The first great 'talkie,' It Happened One Night is a gem.

Its funny how when you begin to write reviews, you get plagued by cliche. Overused sayings just pop into your head of their own accord and you find yourself saying things like "this was a gem of a movie" or it was like "a breath of fresh air" before you know what you're doing. So, in that vein, last night's entry in the film fest, "It Happened One Night," was a little burst of fresh gemmy air - if you'll forgive the expression.

I always knew it was a good idea to work forward in time through classic movies, but now, excuse my vanity, I really see the genius behind the plan. Watching "It Happened One Night" after several weeks of experience with earlier films just blew us away . . . the way it should have. I can fully appreciate why this movie swept the Academy Awards and has gone down in history as the classic romantic comedy of all time, the first screwball comedy, a Frank Capra masterpiece and yet -- simultaneously had been the film NO ONE expected to succeed.

Most involved in the project seemed to think it was a crummy waste of time (Claudette Colbert, at the end of filming, famously told a friend: "I just finished the worst picture of my life;" Clark Gable was given the assignment as punishment). To explain the paradox, you have to set yourself in 1934 when movies just weren't like this. People couldn't easily see the value of doing something like watching two people travel along the countryside taking little quips at each other and falling in love. It must have been hard to picture, until it all came together.

Of course I realize that I'm not in a position to declare outright that 'nothing like this had ever been done before,' but I'll do it anyway. Feeling like an expert with over 20 titles prior to 1934's IHON under my belt, I can attest to this being a major leap forward in cinematic style. At this time in history the talkies were really just beginning to seize control of themselves. Prior to this, they were still heady with flagrantly flaunting the fact that they had sound, and hadn't quite figured out how to make the most of it. Many still moved and seemed like silent pictures - often bad ones - done out loud. It took a bit more evolution before movie makers could just work with sound, instead of struggle to make it work.

I'm certain to mess up the details here, so take this with a grain of salt, but early cinematic sound movies (starting with The Jazz Singer and others that came out in the next couple of years) used a phonograph process to separately capture the audio and a standard film camera to capture the video. The two were then linked together so they would play back in sync (a huge breakthrough for commercial viability). There were still many problems including the very loud motion picture cameras that had to be closed off in a soundproof box so that the sound recording wouldn't be fouled, to the fact that many theaters weren't "wired for sound," to the problems of skipping and syncing during playback, to wiring actors or locating them near large microphones that restricted their freedom of movement. And the problems led to reduced film picture quality. All adding up to these movies just not being up to snuff - artistically. It wasn't until the sound-on-film technology (in which the sound and pictures were simultaneously recorded, together -- and yes I realize that's redundant) that the art form could take off. Advances in all aspects of sound recording seemed to reinvent the medium and free up filmakers to think about making movies again and not just think about working with the new technology.

Back to IHON - here is a film that is perfectly positioned to swoop in with total understanding of the beauties of dialog, but not forgetting motion either. It is extremely effective at telling a story fully. Its silly, smart, well-acted, and seamlessly audible. It takes advantage of the full range of cinematic storytelling and probably had a huge effect on everything that came after. It "feels" noticeably more modern in its pace and themes than other movies we've watched. It had to have struck a perfect chord with audiences and critics.

Gable, in an atypical role, and Colbert have wonderful chemistry. Their chemistry and dialog carry the film. The cinematography is wonderful too -- lovingly portraying mostly exterior location shots (in great measure as a means of saving money on sets). The only time the movie slows down is near the end when a misunderstanding separates our leads and we lose their combined charm. Although the film is regarded as the genesis of the "screwball" style of comedy, other films that came later are more screwbally and probably better examples; this one may be better heralded as the birth of romantic comedy. One reviewer on IMDB made a point of noting that this is romantic comedy well before the genre became synonymous with "chick flick". Definitely not a chick flick, IHON relies on the talents of Gable --who is unquestionably a guy's guy -- to keep the film rougher and and just a bit gritty, very appealing to men. I can attest that all of the men at my house loved this film.

Now that we've entered the golden age of Hollywood cinema, I can't wait to see what the next one brings. Keep watching this space :)

Notes from Buster Keaton's Newest Fan

I have been a die-hard Buster Keaton fan for almost a week.

My love of him first started at approximately 7:05 pm on June 1st. My knowledge of him began about 5 minutes earlier -- when I cued up "Sherlock Jr." on Netflix.  Prior to that time, I knew the name and had a notion of him being a film star of the silent era. Beyond that I knew nothing. Thank heavens that while doing research for our family's classic film project, I thought to include something he'd done to our list.

One brief exposure and I was hooked. Keaton grew on me quickly, and now I can't remember film without him. What strikes me most about the man, beyond his achingly interesting looks, is his extraordinary screen presence. Commentators use words like elegance and grace when describing his physicality. It isn't enough. He is almost supernormal in his ability to project a total ease and gentleness upon the things around him. He moves through space with a sweetness and light that I've simply never seen before.

This natural talent for poetry in motion is typified by Keaton's very first appearance onscreen in a movie called "The Butcher Boy." In his biography of Keaton, ("Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat"), Edward McPherson shares the story. Keaton was taken to a Fatty Arbuckle movie set by a mutual friend one day, just to check it all out. The movie was filming and Fatty apparently asked Buster (who had tons of vaudeville and stage comedy experience but no prior experience with movies) if he'd like to appear on screen as an extra. Buster declined. Fatty stopped production for a bit in order to show his friend's buddy around the set and the ins and outs of what was going on; by the end of the tour, Buster had changed his mind and Fatty wrote him in to the production. (Gotta love how the movie biz worked back then.)

The film is cute enough and generally enjoyable, but Keaton steals the show - 6 minutes in with the simple act of tossing a broom. Buster walks in to the butcher shop, inexplicably picks up and inspects a broom from a barrel then tosses it to the ground; he picks up another, inspects it, then tosses this one back into the barrel. Only, those words can hardly describe the act -- how he seems to just invite that broom to sail sweetly back into the barrel on its own. Buster then walks over to the one on the floor and prods it with his foot, at which point the broom joins him in hand, then in barrel - without effort. The motion of those silly brooms and the simple but mesmerizing effect is bizarre. How can something like this be so riveting? I've watched the clip a half dozen times and I'm not sure. But it is apparent to any viewer that it is not all just a fluke because the next moment the broom routine is followed by the tasting of molasses. Which is even better. Yes that's it. Molasses. On shoe, finger, in mouth. Pure entertainment. Whatever star power is, this kid has it in droves.

If you're interested in Buster Keaton, check out the new blog What Would Buster Keaton Do. It features information and writing on his life and films.

The Brilliant Harold Lloyd in "Safety Last!"

Roger Ebert says he is not 'brilliant' like Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Calls him an everyman who was successful through perseverance, not stunning talent. But I think someone who can still connect with viewers 89 years later has something pretty powerful going for him.

"Safety Last!", Harold Lloyd's masterpiece form 1923, has been my family's runaway favorite silent film so far in our series. From the opening scenes we were hooked, and continued to laugh aloud throughout.

Lloyd has a surprisingly modern quality to him. (Maybe this is underscored by the exceptionally well-preserved film. I understand that Harold Lloyd, unlike many other silent era producers, was meticulous about keeping his original prints stowed away safely). His face looks like one you would see today. Fresh, open, humorous, direct, ... not to mention good teeth.  He has a very charming, nerdish, appeal and a fantastic ability to express emotion with his face. (Hmmm... an olden days Jim Carey?)

He had our family in stitches with silly gags like avoiding his landlady who wanted rent, by, along with his roommate, stuffing their arms in their coat sleeves, hopping onto coat hooks and pulling their legs up and under.

The film is famous for Lloyd's stunning feat hanging from a clock on the side of a building. Someone, I forget who -- maybe it was that same Roger Ebert review (too lazy to check) -- said that this is a still-shot that everyone has seen, though almost no one has seen the movie from whence it came. More people should. It is great entertainment and a wonderful choice for dipping your first toe into silent film if that hasn't been your thing.

Although the film's value goes far beyond this iconic shot, the whole climbing up the building scene is simply fascinating. On many levels.

First, most basically, this is exceptionally entertaining comedy. Lloyd's character - through a series of silly setup moments - needs to do a stunt climb up the side of this skyscraper. I think they mention that it is 16 stories high. On the way up, he encounters children who accidentally drop popcorn on him, birds that torment him in order to get said popcorn, painters stuffing a plank out the window as he goes by, a mouse that climbs up his pant leg and a weathervane that has it in for him, not to mention the famous clock scene. (And, yes, from what I read online, this scene did inspire the clock tower dangling in "Back to the Future" and the new movie "Hugo" contains an homage as well).

Beyond the thrills of the plot, these climbing scenes -- give a perspective of historic downtown Los Angeles that is powerful. I am not steeped in that city's history, nor do I know these buildings and locations, but to anyone who is, this would be an enormous treat. An account of the filming, posted by the LA Conservancy, gives exact street locations and is worth sharing here.

Adding even more layers of interest, is the question any grown up watching is sure to ask them-self: "how did they do that!?" Apparently, there had been many decades of secrecy around the filming of these climbing scenes and that -- unlike in today's era where 'the making of' is actively plumbed for additional dramatic value and dvd special content -- it really was not well-known or discussed publicly. At least until many years later, and then there aere slightly conflicting accounts.  One thing that seems sure is that they were filming high in the air and that they were on location downtown in L.A. They apparently built a tower for the camera and a facade/set for the building being climbed. According to Lloyd himself, they built platforms below him and put mattresses on them! Lloyd never fell during this filming, though he states he almost did once. Although Lloyd did most of the climbing and tricks himself, a long-shot of the character seen at distance climbing a real building, was done by a guy they are calling "the Human Fly", Bill Strother, who plays Lloyd's funny roommate. Strother and his ability to scale buildings was apparently Lloyd's inspiration for making this film.

Maybe the most fascinating question and the final layer of interest is the "why" of it all. It is inconceivable to our modern minds for a major Hollywood picture to film anything that would put anyone - let alone our star! in such actual physical peril. The idea that the scenes unfolding in front of you are not, cannot have been computer enhanced in anyway, and although subject to 'tricks' of perspective and basic editing assistance, are an accurate depiction of people performing is heady. This lends an undeniable thrill to the experience. But what caused people to film actually dangerous things for our entertainment value? I guess, just simply, that they could. Still in in infancy as a medium, film makers were still working out what cinema was going to be, how it would be used to tell a story and what, if anything, was off-limits.

What I don't know about early Hollywood cinematic history could fill a blog, but I feel safe in saying that at this time in history there were at best minimal safety codes, controls on film content, and regulations on working conditions in place. What got made seems to be a function of what someone could dream up. The sky's the limit. Quite literally.

Maybe the reason that Harold Lloyd feels surprisingly fresh and relevant today is that he -- his style, his comedy -- was created for film. He was a product of the film industry, not a performer who imported his trade over to that medium from prior work on stage. He was inventing what worked on screen and his instincts were undeniably good.

Why "Mad Men" is Ultimately Disappointing

Despite its stunning use of period detail and its talented cast, especially the inexplicably appealing lead character Don Draper, Mad Men fails. Or, at least, doesn't quite live up to what is should be, because, in spite of all these tremendous advantages, it, like most American tv, fails to understand what great drama is ultimately about and instead devolves into caricature and simple male fantasy.

In case you aren't familiar with the show, let me backtrack a bit. Mad Men, a show soon to be in its 5th season on AMC and easy enough to find on Netflix, takes its name from a term that was apparently coined in the 1950s or 1960s for the magical talents of the men who populated the high power Madison Avenue advertising world. The show's setting in a very polished 1960s world is a stroke of genius. And its attention to period clothing, music, typewriters, and hairstyles is nothing short of astonishing. If you like the early 60s, this show is worth watching for that reason alone.

Unfortunately, beyond the heady transportation back in time, the show is an example of lost potential -- offering up a far too simplistic and shallow interpretation of gender roles to be able to be taken seriously. Which is sad because I really wanted to take the show seriously! The poorly conceived gender roles are such a huge part of the show, they can't be set off to the side easily.

The office setting is populated with stables of unreasonably jerky sexist men and irrationally simple "girls" who serve them. It is irrational because their interplay is too far beyond what would have been conceivably acceptable in a high-level business environment. The men are beyond sexist -- they are boorish, rude and seriously entitled. The women are worse: simple, shrinking, and servile to the extreme.

I can accept that an office with a male-dominated power structure and pretty young secretaries probably had lots of hanky panky going on in the early 1960s, but it also has to be true that most of the men and women populating that world would have been devoted enough to their jobs and higher life-purposes to have been basically respectful of one another. The problem with Mad Men, as with so many American shows is that is just goes too far toward showing a fantasy male world. If the show were only reasonably balanced in its portrayals I would be in love with it. But instead, it portrays a view of women that is extremely limited.

Disproportionately dismal pictures of the past aren't helpful. Some will watch and say: "oooh, look how bad things used to be and how far we've come" or "well, that's just the way the world was back then." But believing too ill of the recent past diminishes us. Yes, the world was a more limited place in 1960 -- surely women were propositioned at work and treated as less capable than men. But they weren't property. And they did actually have brains, even if many men didn't recognize that. I am disappointed that the women on the show are so accepting of their very limited role. But I am even more dissappointed that the show protrays men as almost uniformly and collectively offensive. I'm not questioning that men had more social licence back then to be horrific to women, but that so many of them would choose it.

A particularly glaring example of this is in an episode where the ad men who are having a difficult time coming up with a slogan for a lipstick promotion gather all the secretaries into a room for a brainstorming session to try out the lipsticks. Although it was their idea to see what the women thought, the men are all extremely condescending. This scene plays out like an X-rated movie with the sexy women all gathered together giggling and talking about how stupid they are -- wondering what it means to “brainstorm” and primping and thrusting themselves about, while putting on lipstick as the men all sit behind a two-way mirror making insulting comments about them.

The part that strains credulity is that the show wants it both ways -- both a vision of women as extremely oppressed and downtrodden (to the point that they don't express opinions or any dissatisfaction) and, at the same time, extremely willing to be sexually promiscuous without much thought as to who with or why. It's not a reasonable interpretation of what people do.

Ironically, it is because the show refuses to allow such an unrealistic fantasy interpretation of one character, Don Draper, that he is the highlight of the program. Unlike Mad Men's treatment of women (painted heavily with a fake male fantasy brush), Draper is painted fairly, and in mottled tones. It would have been very easy to make him a godlike man -- the perfect female fantasy -- if he were also a faithful  and present husband. But he's not. He's real and he's nuanced and he cheats. He's a deeply fallible character and a very real one.

Draper has a Cary Grant-like charm and polish but is also rough and masculine.  At the same time, he is capable of great vulnerability when he's with the women he's with. Its surprising to see such a character be emotional and fleshed out. An interesting and winning combination. And Don Draper has excellent taste in women. He may be horny but he is not shallow or cheap. Even his silly simple blonde wife is very kind, sweet, deep, and sad. She is appealing and likable -- as are his hipster, beatnik, freethinking girlfriend and his intelligent and serious crush.

Oddly enough, I do enjoy the show -- despite its shortcomings, and will probably continue to watch it. I just could have loved it so much better had it made an attempt to produce a more real reality with respect to gender roles. I can't rejoice in a show that makes so little effort to rejoice in women.

I should add the caveat that I'm only halfway in to the first season. For all I know, the producers and writers have learned about and become attentive to these issues -- and addressed them in subsequent episodes or seasons. Because if it simply offered a reasonable mix of happy women and dissatisfied women of loose women and virginal women, as well as men who were boorish and men who were pleasant and respectful, the show would be amazing. As with most things, a reasonable mix really does do the trick.

I can't help but wish that this show had been brought to my screen via my beloved Brits. I am sure they could have done it right. Had Mad Men been produced by people who had a real drama sense underlying it, it could have been amazing.

The Misfortune of Great Beauty and Talent

Whitney Houston had a couple of tremendous disadvantages to deal with in her too-short life. The first: her astonishing gift of a voice and the second, her stunning beauty.

No one can be expected to bear that double burden and come out unscathed. That is, if one has allowed oneself to enter the world of big Celebrity.

The combination of her human failings and the American celebrity machine may be responsible for her untimely demise. Our culture collectively craved her and sought her until the craving and seeking took her over - body and soul. Only the very strongest of people can handle the burden of unbridled fame that celebrities who reach the stature of Houston have to live with and she, well, she was clearly not made of that "sterner stuff" that might have allowed her to endure.

You might (or might not) now be thinking about Charles Dickens. Yeah, probably not.

But, oddly enough, I recently learned that Dickens is someone who bore some measure of the American hunger for celebrity. This, according to a fascinating account of his first visit to America in 1842, recounted in the online BBC news magazine.

"But little by little, the enthusiasm of his American fans began to overwhelm him. When Dickens's boat made a stopover in Cleveland, he awoke to find a "party of gentlemen" staring through the cabin window as his wife lay in bed. 'If I turn into the street, I am followed by a multitude,' Dickens complained in a letter. 'I can't drink a glass of water, without having 100 people looking down my throat when I open my mouth to swallow.'

The article goes on to relay Dickens' complaints about those who tried to wring money out of his fame, such as the barber attempting to sell locks of his hair. How fascinatingly timely to examine the impact of this craving for people that our culture subsists upon. America the consumer: fast food for our bodies and fast consumption of stars for entertainment.

On a personal level, I feel terrible about what happened to Whitney Houston. I remember her from the 80s. I was young then too and envied and adored her -- like everyone else did -- for her apparent poise, grace, stature, and abundant talent. No other singer of the time could do for me what she could do. Hell with Celine Dion or Mariah Carey. They were nothing to Whitney. Her beautiful clear skinned forehead; her enormous mouth that opened to show massive rows of teeth while belting out incredible notes with that most elegant turn of her neck. She was like art in motion.

No one who could have compared the two of us then would have found my life the preferable one: nondescript, short, and unknown, I was an individual while she was an icon. And trust me, no one was sitting around craving me and my soul. But, in truth, there is no doubt that both then and now I walked the better path. From mine, the path of simple stability, I watched her take over the world and then I watched as she little by little lost everything. Actually, that is not entirely true. I stopped watching -- stopped paying attention around the time she married Bobby Brown and appeared in public looking and acting disjointed and out of touch -- using substances and craving public acceptance.

And there, right there, is the cost of fame, isn't it? Like living perpetually on that pivot point of a bad relationship -- just past the moment of heady glory where you are craved and desired, and instead in the stage of becoming a nuisance or an obligation needing to prove yourself and seek acceptance or what you loosely think is "love." Where everything you do is either ignored or misunderstood by the one(s) you think are important. The tables turned and instead of the public needing Whitney, she became the obligation, the career that was always one step behind where she wanted to be.

What can we, as a society, collectively do to prevent this cycle from continuing to churn up and spit out other young beautiful and talented souls? We must resist the craving for their bodies and their lives. I wish with all my heart that the media and individuals together could begin a transition away form the shallow consumer culture of entertainment. Yes, the media must stop feeding on it. But first the public has to stop caring! We must quit watching E Television. Quit buying People Magazine. Quit wondering who they are sleeping with or what they are wearing, eating or endorsing. Enjoy the talent but leave the people alone.

Many years ago, I transitioned from typical American girl to someone who couldn't care less about pop culture. And I am the better for it. Society is one step better for it too. I now thrive on a diet of excellent quality entertainment brought to me by performers of all sorts whose personal lives are entirely unimportant to me. This may seem shocking, but I now consider my favorite entertainers' private lives to be entirely their own business. And yes, that really DOES extend even to Richard Armitage.

I don't want to know them, be their friend, enter their private space or take their souls. I don't want to feed their addictions any more than I want them to feed mine. I simply pray for them that they never get famous enough to learn what Whitney Houston's life must have been like.

Let it begin today and let it begin with me.

Thanksgiving - Possibly the Only American Cultural Holiday Tradition

Thanksgiving has never been my favorite holiday, for a variety of reasons I won't get into since this post is actually about why Thanksgiving is a great holiday!  This year I had a revelation that gave me a new appreciation and fondness for this day.

I realized that Thanksgiving is truly the only uniquely American cultural-event routinely celebrated by masses of Americans every year. All other major holidays in this country are religious-based (like Christmas and Easter) or political/military/social policy-based (like Veteran's Day or Washington's Birthday). The latter category is interesting and includes most of our holidays -- those designated in order to support some political or social agenda item. Not that it is always a bad idea to support social agendas with holidays, just that doing so makes them a bit different than say, a group of people choosing on its own, to be thankful.

Just to prove it, I did some research. Here is a list of all federal holidays according to USA.gov:

• MLK Day - political/military/policy
• Groundhog Day - close runner up
• Valentine’s Day – celebrated all around the world
• Washington’s Birthday – political/military/policy
• Easter - Religious
• Earth Day – political/military/policy
• National Arbor Day – political/military/policy
• Mother’s Day – enacted in 1914 to support a particular group : )
• Memorial Day – political/military/policy
• Flag Day – political/military/policy
• Father’s Day – enacted in 1909 to support a particular group : )
• Independence Day – political/military/policy
• Labor Day – political/military/policy
• Columbus Day – political/military/policy
• Halloween – an odd duck
• Veteran’s Day – political/military/policy
• Thanksgiving
• Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day – political/military/policy
• Christmas - Religious

Most of these, even Mother’s and Father’s Days, were put into place in order to support some group or idea that the government felt needed supporting. Only a couple of other holidays are spontaneous celebrations of some cultural phenomenon. Thus, only Groundhog’s Day, Valentine’s Day and Halloween come close to what being what Thanksgiving is. But Groundhog’s is hardly a culturally iconic day. It’s cute. And it has a great movie. But no one celebrates it. And Valentine’s Day is actually celebrated all over the world, making it not-uniquely-American. Then there's Halloween . . . well, that's an odd one. There are roots to Halloween that border on religious, but the holiday in its current iteration is really a recent phenomenon, not a deeply embedded tradition. I don’t know what to do about it, so I’ll just disregard it : )

Next consider the religious holidays. It’s not that they too can’t have an overarching cultural significance that binds people and place together. But we have challenges in America with finding deeper cultural connectivity through religion due to our multi-cultural and -religious history. These holidays aren't what I'm talking about.  They do include cultural traditions, but are loaded with Christian significance and meaning that most people would say is (or at least pay lip service to the idea that it is) the more important focus.

So, its just Thanksgiving that has the true power to bind us in a holistic way as a nation. FN

Fn. . . Lets just get some housekeeping things out of the way. . .  First, yes I know there are many other countries and cultures that also have harvest festivals. I even know that “Thanksgiving” is celebrated in Canada and in a smattering of other countries around the world. But I am talking about “our” Thanksgiving – our pilgrims and Indians meeting in friendship and brotherhood (on that one day anyway). I also don’t want to get into how horrible the colonization of this land was. The fact of being thankful for the bounty of the land is not a by-product of evil colonization. It is just lovely and good idea. I also know that the government, at some point, put its imprimatur on Thanksgiving (just as it did with all the others) but that doesn’t convert a cultural tradition into a socio-political act. Lets not get caught up in these technical details.

I have often felt that there really is no such thing as an “American” culture and that Americans are diminished by that lack. Thanksgiving comes the closest to providing a cultural moment – with a tradition that has been celebrated in this land as long as (and longer than) there has been a “United States of America”. That is a wonderful thing to have when we have so little else culturally binding us.

Anyone in this county – anyone – can celebrate Thanksgiving with everyone else. (You don't have to be Anglo, Christian, or rich to give thanks. You don't have to like football and even vegetarians can participate.) Wow.

The beauty of the thought -- the real need that Thanksgiving fills, is in taking the time to be thankful: feeling deeply and truly our good fortune. Feeling it personally and feeling it as a nation. For no matter how bad things may seem we are most certainly among the wealthiest, most comfortable set of people to ever walk the earth.  Be aware of our great good fortune. And Happy Thanksgiving!

Voyager -- Nothing Whatsoever to Do With British Television

No. I've not gone ga-ga in the head. At least no more so than in general. I am aware that Voyager is not British television. Its not even headed by a British actor, nor do I mean to compare it to any British program (as I did recently with Star Trek the Next Generation). There is really no reason for it to be here at all except that someone brought it up on the blog the other day.

And I'm glad they did, because I had entirely forgotten about this show. (I think that lapse must be attributable to the fact that it was on when I was in law school.  Anything from popular culture that entered my brain during that time, seems to have seeped out the back just as swiftly. . . . Only so much room in there, you know.) But I have a few spare brain cells this week, and luckily enough Voyager is on Netflix, so I took another look. And now I remember!

Voyager was better in many ways than the Next Generation. Whereas TNG had a bit more of the big plots and it had the "flagship of the galaxy"-thing going for it, not to mention Patrick Stewart as the powerhouse leader, Voyager has a much deeper cast, more emotional charge and a sweeter, more appealing purpose -- getting home. Sure, exploring the galaxy on the way, but striving toward a specific end goal. These factors give the series a completeness and a structure that other Star Treks lack.

So, in brief, if you need a refresher and don't mind me not being a trekkie and probably screwing up the details, here is the basic plot: Janeway is tasked with finding this rogue band of rebels (led by Chakotay) that has disappeared along with an undercover starfleet officer. She is going to track them down and bring them in and retrieve her officer, but first, to help with the mission, she springs an ex-starfleet pilot (Tom), who had been incarcerated for his foibles, out of the big house. They are hot on the trail when both the rebel ship and the Voyager are attacked and flung so far across the universe that they are well beyond any ability to communicate with the known world or to get back to it. Lots of people die and the rogue ship is destroyed, and they are stuck with just a holographic doctor. They combine their forces to work together with the basic goal of getting back to earth -- which should take about 75 years.

Its really a pretty nice little set up. All alone stranded on the other side of the galaxy with nothing but time and adventure on their hands. Add a pretty good supporting cast and some interesting interpersonal dynamics and this is great stuff.

For this mission and the tv show, Katherine Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) makes a great captain. She balances her power with an emotional awareness suited to the mission they're on. Because they truly are all going to spend the rest of their lives together (they think), the crew needs someone who can be more of a guidance counselor, parent, and captain rolled into one. Janeway is definitely decisive and tough, as befits a starship captain, but she is also approachable and warm and has a fairly well-developed sense of fun. She also has a great husky voice, a lovely smile, some pretty cool retro updos, and a seriously hot first officer.

Chakotay (Robert Beltram). Now I do like to keep my blog gender-friendly and avoid gushing about cute guys, but my goodness, Chakotay is crush-worthy. He is new-age, tatooed, tough and rebellous, but willing to completely bend to the captian and the federation and serve them -- though he was thrown into a situation where he needed to do that against his will. He keeps his own needs under control and and emotions in check, but he is full character with deep thoughts, intellectual curiosity and spiritual grounding. A real man. He is also extremely handsome. He and Janeway share an excellent friendship with great chemistry. They make an interesting "couple" (though never really a couple of course because that would be far too gratifying and tv producers just can't give us that. Oh. Am I ranting? Sorry).

Because Chakotay is a very strong and manly man, but is also a subordinate to the really quite feminine captain, they have an unusual power balance in their friendship that is interesting and very appealing. On the surface Janeway is totally in control. But she looks at him often with big eyes that suggest that she is just a hair's breadth from giving herself to him totally. He ends up being quite the heart of the crew - a calm and centered presence -- who is in love with the captain but willing to ignore it and live a full life anyway.

One of my other favorite characters from this show is Tom Paris (Robert Duncan McNeill). Tom is a "Guy" with a capital G -- youthful, libidinous, cool and and friendly, with a past and a chip on his shoulder, a dad who is high up in the federation and misdeeds that cost him his career, until a field commission from Janeway restores them. He isn't trusted fully by others, but is proud and trusts himself. He wants to serve his captain, but, with his juvenile charm, is not your typical starfleet officer.


Better still is Robert Picardo as the Doctor, he's a very strong actor who makes this part feel central and important - even though he is playing an emergency medical hologram -- basically a computer program. He's dignified, flustered, proper and very appealing. If I recall correctly, he gets more and more interesting as the series grinds on and even gets quite friendly with Seven of Nine. Not bad for a EMH.

And having brought her up,  I have to discuss Seven of Nine, a cultural icon who has to be one of the hottest women ever to grace the small screen. Though she clearly joined the cast of this show several seasons in for the sole purpose of her sex appeal, and I should be disapproving for that reason (on principal), I can't. I am totally won over by the ex-Borg Seven. I find Jeri Ryan's performance absolutely endearing -- funny and wooden, cute as hell and of course gorgeous to look at, she adds a touch of humor and manages to be childlike and warlike at the same time. She makes getting assimilated seem like a really good idea. . .

If you haven't seen it lately or haven't seen it at all, it would totally be worth your time to check out Voyager. (And yes I'm aware that this could just be the Spooks withdrawal talking).

A King is a Queen is a Princess is a Prince

One of the problems (if you can call it that) with being American is that we really just don't "get" Royalty. Oh, I'm not denying that we enjoy what royalty (see, look at that, I don't even properly know whether to give it a capital "R") provides in the way of interesting drama and great castle-touring. Top notch stuff.

But it isn't deeply entrenched in our understanding of politics.

I read today that the succession rules for British monarchs have been modernized to a nice, egalitarian, "girls can play too" approach. That sounds awesome to me. The article I read on NPR online had a nice little piece about this, but once the piece launched into the "what if" section, playfully speculating on how this new rule would have affected world events, I glossed over.

I just can't keep this stuff straight. And I have a fairly decent working knowledge of British royalty and the chains of succession. That is, I brush up on it anyway prior to watching The Madness of King George, Young Victoria or The Tudors. But when I turn off the TV it evaporates, so when people talk about Queen Victoria's daughter and Kaiser Wilhelm the Second, I find that I can't keep it all straight.

Who did she marry again? And why were they German?

Its not that my American private school education was really that bad. I think chances are pretty good I was exposed to all of this both at high school and later at college, its just that these royal change events don't catch fire in my imagination. I don't have an intuitive grasp for when "we" switched from Tudors to Stuarts (or was it the other way 'round) or why.

Royalty to Americans is like the periodic table to non-Chemists. I am absolutely sure that it all makes sense and I'm even sure that it is potentially comprehensible and possibly useful. I'm just not sure it will ever come freely and naturally to me.

But good luck to all those future princesses. I know this will all be second nature to you.

A Series, a Season, a Show. A Word (or Two) About TV Semantics.

Before I started watching British television, I never gave any thought to whether the word "season" was an appropriate or useful term to denote the set of shows that airs in a given year. It's just what it's called, right? As in "The new season of Hill Street Blues is coming up!" Or "Are you watching Cheers this season?" It all made perfect sense.

For the sake of argument, I suppose that a string of shows might be better served by being called a "series" in that, well, it is a string, of shows, all shown in a nice little row, you know, in a series . . . It's just that we already have a use for the word "series". It means the program, on the whole -- the show (as in, "Little House on the Prairie is a good TV series, isn't it?") But, if series means the show, then why can't we all just call the series a "show" and be done with it?

Because "show" is already taken. It also means the particular program, ... you know, the "episode."

Wait. This is getting hard. ...if "show" can mean "episode" AND "show" can mean "series", but "series" only means "show" to people in America, whereas in Britain, "series" means "season", how can I ever write a meaningful blog post about the show I watched last night in the series that I've been watching this season??

Figure it out and let me know. Until then I intend to freely use whatever words come off my fingertips while typing and hope that you can make sense of it.

Top Five Reasons Why Brtish TV is Better Than American TV

It is no secret that I enjoy British TV and find it much more satisfying than the fare offered in the U.S.. Which is not to say that I don't like any American programs at all, but my impression of it is the reverse of British TV. In short: with American TV it is the rare program that I like and with British it is the rare program that I don't. Why is it so much better over there? I'll tell you, with my Top Five Reasons Why British TV is Better Than American.

1. Women are Routinely Portrayed as Rich Multi-Dimensional Characters.

  British TV shows portray women in a much fuller deeper light than American shows do. Even in shows like Spooks where the women are all gorgeous . . . they're not objectified the way American women are, focusing heavily on their beauty and sex appeal. They aern't strutting around in flashy clothes and primping as if their "look" is what they are all about. They are real - dressed in reasonable clothes, with flaws showing, with figures that are not perfect, and with no problem in showing that. They get to be fully developed characters who are interesting, inspiring, powerful, and multi-faceted.

And almost cooler still, though flawed and imperfect, these women are treated and viewed by other characters on their shows as if they are beautiful and attractive! So refreshing and so unlike American screen characters where the less-than-perfect women are viewed by the other characters as "plain" or relegated to the role of "fat friend" or "funny sidekick". British women on TV get to be real AND beautiful. They get to be interesting, intelligent AND desired.

2. Grown-ups (and Retirees) are People Too.

Most Amercian shows cant manage to show mature people in a sympathetic interesting light without it feeling condescending. But in British TV, middle-aged+ characters get to have a full array of interests and feelings -- including romantic feelings that are not just based on lusting after their youth and what young people have. They're not just doddering old fools and points of humor - at least no more so than the younger ones are.

Astonishingly, this British approach to maturity holds for women as well as men. And it is amazing to see someone like Auntie Joan running her farm with a full and happy life, having friendships, personal struggles and even romance. And its all just done as a matter of course, not as a "touching story of the week" approach that we get in America so everyone can sigh and feel good about the old people before getting back to business as usual.

3. In Casting, Acting Talent Takes Precedence Over Beauty.

No intent to cast aspersions on the attractiveness of British actors, but rather to praise their talent.
The way the Brits rank talent above beauty when casting parts for TV and film seems more like what we do here with stage productions. On the stage, Americans' accept less than perfect people in title roles, because on stage you have to be able to sing and dance -- so talent wins out over anything else. But on screen, American casting directors seem to be searching for that balance of talent/looks that favors attractiveness and body above all else. In British shows, the balance seems to fall on the talent side.

The British actors are also good looking most of the time -- its just that "good looking" takes in a broader range of physical attributes than it does here and won't be sought above basic acting skill. Recently listening to commentary on a Spooks dvd, I was struck by one of the director's comments about Adam and Fiona: "that they just look so good." What he meant and went on to explain was that they were interesting, engaging to look at. Its a subtle difference from what looking "good" means here, but an important one. It means having something in the character or structure of the face that is interesting to look at. Obviously the two qualities often overlap (as in the case of Adam and Fiona who are both very pretty). But I liked the idea that looks were spoken of in a subtler deeper way than I'm used to hearing.

To look "good" in British TV, a face has to have the capacity to express ideas and emotions, to convey deep meaning and serve the story. ...not just to look pretty while reading ones' lines.

4. The Fact that Often Fewer Than 10 Episodes Comprise a "Series" (What we Call a "Season").

So much less of a committment. One of the reasons I stopped watching American shows was that it was just too much of a committment to find an hour a week for 20 or so weeks. I could just never do it. :)

With a much shorter run of shows in a season, there's so much more flexibility to try out different shows or to catch up with a show you've never seen before its current run starts.

And, I think a byproduct of making fewer episodes is that the episodes that are made can have more resources directed at each so the production dollar per episode is higher overall. ...though maybe not higher than in America where we have the deep pockets of the advertising dollar to throw at our inane TV shows.

5. A Self-Depreciating Self-Awareness and Subtlety.
 
The Brits seem to be so sweetly in tune with what makes them British. Although not an emotional people, they seem to be an introspective people. I like that.

They are not unemotional out of lack of understanding, but more or less by choice. Their shows are touching, if lacking in crying and ranting. There are plenty of moments with an emotional punch, but they are also intellectual moments. Although maybe not effusive, flailing around in anger or in hugs, these shows demonstrate fully human characters attentive to each other and the reality around them. Characters can be hurt but are more likely than not to suck it up and move on.

I am now realizing that this emotional subtlety may be at the core of why the acting coming out of Britain, seems so good. From a restrained people, the power of a lifted eyebrow or a tensing of the mouth can be amazing.

Shame and Regret, Satisfaction and Relief

The post is about blogging. The title doesn't really have to make sense.

These are simply two phrases which popped into my mind simultaneously last week. They are nice word pairings, and somehow, by the end of this post, they will have something to do with the topic. I'll figure it out. You go ahead and read.

"Satisfaction and relief" comes from a scene in Pride and Prejudice when Elizabeth Bennett is chatting with her then-boyfriend, Mr. Wickham, and explaining that Mr. Collins is now going to marry Charlotte Lucas. Wickham says he thought that Collins' affections were inclined elsewhere (i.e. toward Lizzy herself). She tells him that "they took a turn, to everyone's satisfaction." ... "And relief" he adds with a fair amount of self-awareness. Trigger momentary stomach flips; the other suitor is seeking romance elsewhere. Woo hoo! . . .  The "shame/regret" pair comes from a similar stomach-flips moment. In Spooks our resident almost-couple Harry and Ruth have a lovely moment on a bus. Harry has been (temporarily, it turns out) removed from his job as head of the spies. Ruth is riding home from work. He sits down and she wonders how he knew she'd be there. He explains that one night while being driven home he passed her waiting for the bus in the rain. He says that "to his shame. . . and now regret . . . he drove past." Its a sexy moment. His eyes are opening to Ruth and he can imagine that night ending much differently. . .

Meanwhile back at the blog, last week I hit a milestone I'm excited about: 2000 pageviews. And since I don't track my own activity and I don't have a grandma in Iowa happily clicking away, I know that's a fairly real stat that feels great. In fact I had a great month in many bloggy ways -- a lot more consistently good traffic with fair numbers of people finding me by searching on topics I write about. Which means I have already realized the main goal I set for myself when I began writing this a couple of months ago: to be searchable enough that interested readers might conceivably find me.

Yes its a modest goal, and I'm aware that there's probably a much greater likelihood that a person seeking a discussion of "He Knew He Was Right" won't come across my post than that they will. But they might. And that's cool. I guess thats the satisfaction part of this post. And maybe the relief too. Like Wickham, its nice to know that this little experiment hasn't been a waste of time.

Yes it feels odd to put thoughts out there and ask people to read them, which they obligingly have :) and simultaneously wondering "what is my job here?"...like Harry, adrift on a bus. What do I have to add to the world's knowledge that makes me arrogant enough to blab about it?

I've been thinking about that question a lot, given that others have far more in-depth and intricate knowledge, and it makes me feel weak and ineffective chatting about my TV preferences when I'm a self-described dilettante with no particular knowledge of directors, behind the scenes, locations, or the recent gossip, or any other thing that can electrify my topics with heretofore untold meaning. I think this is the shame part of the post.

I realize my strength though, is in finding relationships, connections and viewpoints -- sometimes out of nothing, like I'm doing with this post here (lol). Connecting life to TV, thoughts to one another, finding shows that are similar or performances that are not -- is something I can do and add to the blogosphere. And, along these lines, can conclude that while blogging has brought satisfaction, relief and shame, I have no place for regret either in this post or in life. As long as I can live each day in an exploration of ideas that are stimulating and in pursuing actions I am proud to own, then there is no place for that.

Sorry Harry you're on your own there. (If I had been in the driver's seat that rainy night you would have definitely stopped for the girl, and probably gotten invited in for a nightcap.)

Why Can't Americans Watch British TV While it is Happening?

I've never been in this position before. There are two television shows that I love that are both premiering new seasons in a couple of days, but that I will simply be unable to watch. Period.... or at least for some unknown and protracted amount of time. I can't dvr them, tape them, see them on youtube, view them online, or think of any other possible way to "get to" them.

They're just out of reach and it's killing me.

I haven't been in this position before, because in the past, I've always discovered my shows after they had run their course and were available on dvd. But with Downton Abbey and Spooks (MI-5), new episodes are coming out now on British TV. But not here in the states. Why!?

Trying to figure out the intricacies of trans-Atlantic cooperation with respect to TV copyrights would be challenging to much smarter people than I, and it is taking nearly all my brain cells to simply summarize it thus:

Downton Abbey airs on the British network  iTV1, which graciously makes programs available online to those in the UK. Same with BBC One, the network that broadcasts Spooks and which has a lovely website full of wonderful content if you are in the UK. You can't view video from these sites if you're in America because, as I understand it, international agreements aren't in place. I get that. Someone wants  money in order to secure distribution rights. That would be fine with me, if they'd just get on with it and distribute them.

I've looked into other ways of getting these shows. A nice little iPhone app called "FilmOn TV" offers live streaming of TV from a hodgepodge of stations in various world markets. I got excited when someone told me that iTV and BBC are on it, so I got the app which is free, easy to use, and works well for the roughly 60 channels I get (ranging from Dubai to Pentagon TV), but does not come loaded with BBC or  iTV. People in Europe say it works so I'm guessing that the channels must vary based on where you are and what distribution rights have been secured in that place.

Another alternative seems to be to trick the internet into thinking you are in the UK when you are in fact not. There are a few websites that promise services that mask your true location and make it appear that you are accessing the British network from a UK IP address. I have several problems with these ranging from (1) some charge too much (2) some don't work with Macs (3) most are too hard for techno-morons like me to understand and feel comfortable with and (4) I kind of doubt they are actually legal.

Another thought: sometimes people post bits of television shows on YouTube. But I've noticed that when people do this for whole episodes they seem to get removed. (The, ah, episodes, not the people), or they create "fake" posts that just link you over to other sites that fill your computer with viruses and such. So while I'm hopeful that some real person in the UK will take pity on the rest of us and post some episodes of Downton and Spooks -- and that I'll be lucky enough to find them. I'm not counting on it.


So its a waiting and wondering game.

Yes, I know, I'll get there someday. Downton Abbey is on Netflix. But I have no idea when the new episodes will show up. The rights to air the program in America are with Masterpiece Theater which doesn't have plans to do so until January. Seriously.

It's even worse with MI-5 which is also on Netflix -- with the same unknown lag time -- but for which I have truly no idea who has broadcast rights to show the new season in America, if anyone. (BBC America and A&E both show it sometimes, but not the more recent seasons.) Until MI-5 comes out on dvd, I may be out of luck. Season 9 didn't come out till this past June. Yikes! I better not have to wait until June 2012 to find out what happens with Harry and Ruth. (And the corollary to this problem: how on earth am I going to avoid hearing about what happens with Harry and Ruth if I have to wait a year?)

OK, I think I've done my venting.

I wish all you lucky UK viewers joy as you plunge into an amazing fall TV season! (Don't mind me, I'll just be sobbing quietly in the corner watching the Duchess of Duke Street.)

I'm Feeling Very American This Week

I realize that the notion of American-identity may be as varied as Americans are, but my idea of what it means to be "American" is:

Being just a bit childlike. Blundering out in the world with confidence and certainty, though beneath it all just wanting to weakly hand over the gun when the guy in charge walks in.

It means feeling still a bit like an outsider who doesn't quite know how larger world traditions really feel deep inside a culture's soul.

It means feeling incredibly talented and powerful -- able to do great and amazing things if people would please just stop questioning my motives.

It means crying when I hear the national anthem.
   . . .  and being embarrassed that my education glossed over the War of 1812 to the point that I had no idea what this song was about until I was a grown woman.

It means owning what I do. Even if everyone is staring at me.

I means knowing with gratitude that, though I may not like everything about my country (including its television, pop culture and fast food), my powerful sense of self and my endless personal freedoms are a gift.

It means I listen to Lyle Lovett and Michelle Shocked and through their music realize that I really can abide Texas quite well.

It means I can reach out my hands and spin and spin as far as my arms will reach and I will touch nothing under the great blazing sky. And if the great blazing sky above me ever starts to feel like it's not quite enough, I can move to Montana.

Or Alaska.

It means I recall how 20 years ago I moved to the desert and heard Nirvana for the first time. And though others revolutionized music before them and others will do so again, at that time and in that moment we were all American youth.

And it means I now recall a date ten years ago when I was woken up in a terror that has truly not since vanished.

Country is like your family. You may seek out lovers or friends who will like you for who you are, but your family is yours regardless of who you are. And they don't have to like you. (Though mine do thank God). I may go knocking at other doors and ask for admittance or indulgence or even acceptance, but I never have to ask America for that.

Traveling Through the Midwest on a Laura Ingalls Wilder Journey! Something Distinctly Non-British

I've been doing something distinctly non-British in the last couple of weeks: a road trip through America's heartland. Taking in 14 states and tourist destinations that primarily involved pioneering Americans, especially Laura Ingalls Wilder, another idol of mine, we drove over 4500 miles.

Just as Harry Potter books aren't only for kids, Laura's books are more fascinating to me now as an adult, then they were when I was young. And I loved them then. Her books explore American history from the point of view of someone who experienced firsthand many of phases of westward expansion (pioneering, homesteading, relocation of Indian tribes, the building of the railroad) and lived it in a number of different landscapes throughout the Midwest.

Her writing has helped me understand history better and brought it vividly to life. Her story is peopled with incredible events and individuals like Pa, who enlivened their simple poor existence with drive, intelligence, music, and a wandering foot. He is utterly devoted to his wife and girls and carves out for them one of the coolest forms of existence I can imagine. He can single-handedly build a log cabin and also plays the fiddle. Ma has little choice but to follow him, though she would clearly rather have lived a civilized life. She loves him and respects him. She lives her life with great dignity and insists that the girls are brought up with refinements and decorum she sees as necessary. Thus, they are shockingly literate for a set of pioneering children, reciting lengthy passages from literature, performing mental arithmetic, spending long nights memorizing history. I also happen to think she’s beautiful and looks a bit like Vivian Leigh. But that’s neither here nor there. I find her fascinating.

Our first Laura site on the road trip was De Smet, where she and her family were the first white settlers to stay. Some of her most interesting stories take place as she watches the town of De Smet spring into being around her, beginning with her family witnessing the construction of the railroad while living amid the workers in the railroad camp. She paints vivid pictures of life in that town that bear little resemblance to the TV show loosely based on her books.

She describes how Pa had to literally fistfight his way into getting a claim on the 160 acre parcel he wanted, how during the town’s first winter -- the harshest, longest winter imaginable, when the train line was still just a year old -- De Smet sat without provisions and nearly starved, how she later went to work as a seamstress and then a teacher in the area, and how she met and married a young farmer named Almanzo Wilder.

As it happens, the places that Laura lived are sprinkled around the Midwest in a way that makes it fairly easy to get to most of them while taking in our own relatives, so we threw caution to the winds and took in them all.

Next on the itinerary was Walnut Grove, MN, where we stopped On the Banks of Plum Creek. The chief attraction of this place was her home site where at one time she and her family lived in an earthen dugout. The dugout had long ago collapsed, but the site where it had sat was marked and the creek, in which Laura had learned for the first time about leeches, still flows muddily through the farmland.

Plum Creek is where her family was living when a massive grasshopper plague descended over much of Minnesota. I learned recently, that the state had instituted an early form of welfare assistance -- exchanging foodstuffs for bags of grasshoppers to help the farmers who were devastated by that event.  Pa himself may have taken advantage of that assistance, but also walked hundreds of miles east to labor on farms in Wisconsin in order to send money home and support the family.

Pepin Wisconsin, across the state of Minnesota, just on the east bank of the Mississippi, is a small town and the site of Little House in the Big Woods.  A reconstructed cabin sits on a pretty little wayside spot from which it is nearly impossible to imagine the deep big woods that would have existed when Laura was very little. Here is the spot where her engaging series of stories begins and I am surprised to see that we are by no means the only ones coming by on a random Sunday evening to check out the spot where Laura was born. 

All of the Little sites are heavily visited by tourists and it astonishes me to think of it. While at Plum Creek I wondered what Laura herself would have thought of this crazy spectacle of people (there were tons of folks at both Plum Creek and De Smet) making pilgrimages to the sites she had lived. I think of it as a testament to the everyday life of the little people, for Laura is famous, and near the hearts of so many, for having done nothing more than live her life . . . then write about it.

It is amazing when you stop to think of it. Her books are special for such things as the stories Pa told and the fiddle music he played, for describing how Ma made butter and how Laura and her sister walked to town and bought a slate. Its not that her family was extraordinary (though in key ways I think they were a cut above the rest), but that they were simply living their life. She is special and amazing because she was able to effectively record and share a life that was typical.

We proceeded onward, with a stop in Burr Oak, Iowa, pronounced “baroque” by those in the know. Though it is considered a ‘second tier’ site, not being written about in the books at all, we stopped because it was easy to take in on our way to visit relatives. Burr Oak is interesting in that it represents a chapter in her life that Laura did not write about. Her family lived there for a short time under unpleasant circumstances when life on the farm in Plum Creek became untenable due to grasshoppers and also a sad time due to the death of their baby boy (Laura’s little brother) who is never mentioned in the books.  The town was really sweet and our tour guide very accommodating of our desire to have just a quick tour of the hotel where Laura and her family lived and worked.  But then, I have observed that people in Iowa do tend to be excessively kind and accommodating. Once again, it was crazy crowded there and a nice place to stop.

Just a bit further up the road is Vinton Iowa where Mary went to a college for the blind. I think Mary is an incredible character in this series. She starts off as a pretty, slightly vain, prissy girl who is very smart and accomplished and has the world in front of her. Laura is clearly jealous and almost defined by that jealousy at times. Laura is spunky, sometimes devious, very strong, and usually loving, but her relationship with Mary seems to bring out the worst in her.   After a bout of illness, Mary becomes blind at the age of 14. This is a defining moment and it changes Laura’s life as well as Mary's. I would argue that it is Mary’s blindness that has given the gift of Laura’s writing to the world, because it is Mary’s blindness that caused Laura to “see out loud” for her. I think the observational skills Laura developed and honed for Mary’s sake are what caused her to later recall and tell details with such sweetness and precision things that might have otherwise been lost forever. In a way Mary gave her vision so that Laura could see for the world.

Although Mary’s options were severely hampered by the times in which she lived, Ma and Pa weren’t willing to just let her sit at home and live a limited life. They wanted the most that was possible for her. When you think of a poor family barely eking out subsistence, but still saving and striving for Mary to get an education . . . sending her off to Iowa in order to improve her life, it is staggering. The school there is impressive, it must have been comforting to Ma and Pa to drive there with Mary and see the quality of the school they were placing their beloved daughter in.

The next spot was Rocky Ridge farm in Mansfield MO. Its chief attractions are the homes, where Laura lived most of her adult life with Almanzo and wrote all of her books, and the museum, which houses the very fiddle that Pa played and that figures so prominently in the books and the few artifacts that remain from Laura’s childhood.

Almanzo built their house slowly over time, adding on additions to meet Laura's height (small) and to accommodate her designing skills (in part). They loved it there. 

I enjoyed the story of how Rose Wilder Lane, Laura and Almanzo's grown daughter who had become a successful author and wanted to make her parents more comfortable, had an "English cottage" style house built for them at the farm. She ordered this house from a catalog and then helped them move in to comparative luxury while she stayed at the farm house.  Several years later, Rose moved away from the farm to live on the east coast and immediately Laura and Almanzo moved back into their house.

An easy 4-hour drive later, we pulled into the site of the Little House on the Prairie. A recreation of the tiny log cabin Pa built in what was actually Indian country at that time sits on this site. Out of all the sites we visited, it is this one where you can most readily picture yourself in the past. The country is still wide open prairie farm land. There is a beautiful peace to the air that makes it easy to see why Pa had finally thought he’d found heaven on earth where he could stay forever. You can see the well that Pa had dug by hand.

But the Ingalls family did not get to stay there; they were kicked off of it by the U.S. government in one of few acts that seemed to have been done in protection of Indian rights, although of short duration, as the Ingallses probably could have settled it if they'd waited another year.

This is the only of the sites that we saw without other visitors around . . . and that might have been due to a fierce storm brewing outside.  We were glad to see it quickly and then head on our way home.

A Laura pilgrimage is an excellent way to get glimpses into American history and it gives you extended driving periods in the car in which to listen to all of Laura's books on CD. The audio series is read extremely well by Cherry Jones. She reads them so beautifully, I'd be surprised if even the hardest heart wouldn't relax and start to listen. 

"Traveling Through the Midwest on a Laura Ingalls Wilder Journey!  Something Distinctly Non-British" LostinBritishTV