Film Criticism, Where is Thy Sting? (Part Four)

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Back in the spring of 2010, when Andrew O'Hehir of Salon wrote a piece about the rapid cutting of film critics from various publications, his tone told all of us to get over it. Since we wouldn't and didn't, Susan Green first stepped up to address it. By the next day, everyone wanted a shot beginning with Kevin Courrier. On the third day, David Churchill came to the podium. Not originally planning to write anything, Shlomo Schwartzberg followed after reading the previous days' posts.

Is Film Criticism Dead? #4

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/04/is-film-criticism-dead-4.html

Andrew O'Hehir's recent Salon piece on film criticism has understandably struck a nerve with my colleagues on this site. I agree with both Susan and Kevin that critics losing their long-time jobs on major newspapers, magazines and trade publications is tragic, but I’m not sure it matters all that much. The new generation of film critics coming up the ranks just aren't worthy to inherit the mantle of the relatively few good film critics and film writers we still have.

Long gone are the days when a talented critic like Pauline Kael could tub thump for a favourite movie, like Barry Levinson’s wonderful comedy Diner (1982), and actually turn that film, which was dumped by its studio, into something of a hit. Siskel and Ebert did the same for Carl Franklin’s terrific thriller One False Move (1992), which had been under the radar until they shone a light on it. These days, critics are only taken seriously as negative factors. In fact, some movies are now not even press screened in hopes that the movie can get a decent weekend box office before the reviewers take a whack at it. But since those movies are generally bad, they likely would have been financially unsuccessful regardless of whether the critics were able to pan the movie in advance of its opening.

Film Criticism, Where is Thy Sting? (Part Three)

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Back in the spring of 2010, when Andrew O'Hehir of Salon wrote a piece about the rapid cutting of film critics from various publications, his tone told us to get over it. Since we wouldn't and didn't, Susan Green first stepped up to address it. By the next day, everyone wanted a shot beginning with Kevin Courrier. On the third day, David Churchill came to the podium with some very specific reasons why he left the profession years earlier.

Is Film Criticism Dead? #3

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/04/is-film-criticism-dead-3.html

I wasn't going to weigh into this issue for a couple of reasons. First, both Susan and Kevin had done such a good job here taking the mickey out of Andrew O'Hehir's ridiculous Salon column "Movie Critics: Shut Up Already." Secondly, I've not been a film critic for over 20 years, so I didn't think what I had to say would be timely. But then I read Kevin's piece and it brought to mind why I decided to quit film criticism as a profession in 1989. I guess I saw the writing on the wall for both what the profession was becoming and what I was becoming within that profession -- neither of which I particularly liked.

It all began with a long-forgotten Weird Al Yankovic flick called UHF (1989). Never saw it; never wanted to. One afternoon, I was attending a concert at the Ontario Place Forum (now the Molson Amphitheatre), when a film-critic acquaintance of mine sat down beside me. He will remain nameless to protect the guilty. We shot the breeze about what we were up to for a bit and then he told me a story. He was working for a free newspaper (it no longer exists) writing film reviews. He'd been assigned the aforementioned Yankovic 'classic' which he told me he hated, and wrote a review that basically indicated same. After he handed the assignment in he got a phone call from his editor. It seemed the film's production company was buying a big ad for this film in that week's paper. The editor asked this critic if he'd mind changing his review to something "more positive." And he did.

Let me repeat that: And he did.

Film Criticism, Where is Thy Sting? (Part Two)

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Back in the spring of 2010, when Andrew O'Hehir of Salon wrote a piece about the rapid cutting of film critics from various publications, his tone told all of us to get over it. Since we wouldn't and didn't, Susan Green stepped up to address it. Before long, though, everyone wanted a shot including Kevin Courrier the next day.

Is Film Criticism Dead? #2

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/04/is-film-criticism-dead-2.html

It’s pretty clear from Salon critic Andrew O’Hehir’s article, with its Alfred E Neuman What-Me-Worry attitude, that he really has no grasp of the bigger picture at stake here – as Susan so aptly put it yesterday. But why should he? What’s becoming increasingly obvious today is the manner in which careerism has infected journalism, so much so that O’Hehir (as a critic paid to ask questions) refuses to examine why certain film critics are no longer considered employable while others are.

I’ve been somewhat fortunate that I came into the profession in 1981 just as the line started to blur between critical and consumer-friendly journalism. Looking back, I think I've had a pretty satisfying career and accomplished things on terms that I found agreeable. That’s partly because there was a time when you could distinguish yourself from puffery by, to quote one sharp radio producer, treating the audience as voyeurs rather than consumers. In those days, if your goal was to be smart, articulate and informative, it could get you hired. It’s almost the opposite now. I’ve lost three jobs as a film critic in the last few years not because I wasn’t doing my job, or forgot how to write, or talk, or had nothing of interest to say; I was relieved of my duties because I held to the same standards I originally brought to my work – and those standards in the business have now radically changed.

Film Criticism, Where is Thy Sting? (Part One)

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Back in the spring of 2010, Andrew O'Hehir of Salon wrote a piece about the rapid cutting of film critics from various publications. His tone told us to get over it. We couldn't and didn't. Susan Green stepped up to address it. Before long, it became one in a series of volleys.

Is Film Criticism Dead? #1

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/04/is-film-criticism-dead-1.html

Dorothy Parker

Film critic Andrew O’Hehir in Salon recently lamented the end of film criticism with the idea that even if it is on its death bed, and critics are losing their jobs, quit griping about it. Write about movies, he says, instead of your wounded pride.

There are a few of us at Critics at Large who have been at the short end of that ugly stick and we don't feel quite as glib about heading to the dustbin as Mr. O'Hehir does (it's also a lot easier to take that stand when you actually still have your paying job as a film critic). But let's digress no further.

Let's hear instead from Susan Green:

Jeezum Crow! That’s a traditional term used by old-time native Vermonters, a disappearing breed, to express anger but avoid blasphemy. Last week a piece by Andrew O’Hehir on Salon.comtargeted another disappearing breed, film journalists whose work appears in print. His point seems to be that critics who have lost jobs -- such as Todd McCarthy, recently fired by Variety after 31 years -- or are concerned that could happen in the near future should stop discussing this trend.

Red Scare Canuck Style

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Most people know about the 'Red scare' in the United States culminating in the witch-hunting of the McCarthy era Fifties. But Canada had its own witch-hunt finely detailed in Daniel Francis's book which is addressed in this piece from last year by John Corcelli.

The Prism of History: Daniel Francis’s Seeing Reds: The 

Red Scare of 1918-1919, Canada’s First War on Terror

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2011/01/prism-of-history-daniel-franciss-seeing.html

When you look at the world through the prism of history, the events that unfold today can appear luminously connected to the events of the past. In Seeing Reds: The Red Scare of 1918-1919, Canada’s First War on Terror (Arsenal Pulp, 2010) by historian Daniel Francis, this valuable prism comes with a fascinating story.

Francis is an historian based in Vancouver and he’s written over twenty books about Canadian history, including the Encyclopedia of British Columbia. His latest book covers 24 months in Canadian history, namely the post-war years leading up to the Winnipeg General Strike of 1919. His premise is simple. In the years after the First World War, political activism by the masses was at its peak. Led by Unions, people felt the urgent need to achieve economic equality and launched an often highly charged political battle against the Federal government and industry for better rates of pay, better working conditions and more say in the political process. This revolt, leading up to the Winnipeg General Strike, was characterized as the “Red Scare” by the government and media of the day.

Author Daniel Francis

But as Francis explains, it wasn’t an isolated revolt. His worldly analysis helps us understand why the Canadian public was so charged up on both sides of the political spectrum. The rallying call of political activism was in full force in Canada between 1914 and 1919. It was first generated by the war itself as Canadians volunteered to fight. By 1917, after an intense political fight over conscription, Quebec’s independence movement got an early spark. When the war ended, newspapers carried the stories of revolution in Europe that inspired some Canadians who were eager for social change. What is striking about the book is the size, scope and militancy of the Canadian public, made up of a mostly Anglo-Saxon and Eastern European heritage.

The Dubious Agenda of Julian Assange

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Julian Assange, the founder of Wikileaks, has been in the news a great deal lately including an extensive interview in the current Rolling Stone. While many have rallied to support his stated goals of government transparency, critic David Churchill begs to differ with his ethics.

Pernicious Pacifism: Nicholson Baker's Human Smoke and Julian Assange's WikiLeaks

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/08/pernicious-pacifism-nicholson-bakers.html

While doing research into World War II for a writing project, I came across Nicholson Baker's non-fiction book, Human Smoke (2008 – Simon & Schuster), on the bargain tables at my local Chapters bookstore (it was a second-printing hardcover). Looking for a stand-alone source of quotes and thinking on the war while it was happening, Baker's work looked promising. The book consists of hundreds of short vignettes (the shortest 20-30 words; the longest 1 page) taken from letters, diaries, speeches, books, magazine and newspaper articles published from between August 1892 and December 31, 1941 (the first vignette is a quote from Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite, and the last is by Mihail Sebastian, a Romanian-Jewish writer and diarist). The majority of the book covers the years between 1933 and 1941. Baker's thesis? If the Allies had not been so complicit, so blood-thirsty in their actions, and only listened to the pacifists, a peace treaty could have been established between them and the Axis powers. Because Baker is a pacifist, the book not only repeatedly argues that a peace treaty of some sort could have been established with the Axis powers (thus preventing the war), he also blames the Allies for much of what happened to cause the war to break out in the first place. Although, to be fair, Human Smoke doesn't let the Nazis off the hook, Baker's book does suggest that Roosevelt and Churchill were little different than Hitler.

Nicholson Baker

As I said in my title, the book is pernicious. Nicholson Baker – a writer of several novels – is obviously a talented writer who is using his skills to an ill-conceived end here. For example, during the course of Human Smoke, he suggests the following: If the British had not started the bombing of the German cities in the first place, the Nazis would not have followed suit; if it weren't for a British blockade of Europe, convoys of food destined to feed the starving of Europe would have got through (no, he doesn't mention anything about the Germans just taking the food for their army, which would have likely happened); again, if not for the British blockade, the Nazis could have gone through with their original plan to relocate the Jews of Europe to either Siberia or Madagascar, thus preventing the Holocaust (!); if the Americans had not been so provocative as to give the Chinese warplanes and establish their naval fleet in Hawaii, the Japanese would not have felt so threatened and been forced to attack Pearl Harbour, thus bringing the Americans into World War II. Another bit of finger-pointing he indulges in is looking at the number of American pacifists who were detained for refusing the draft. (Of course, he mentions that these people were imprisoned for a year or two and then released, but he fails to acknowledge that any German or Japanese pacifists in their countries were either shot in the head or shipped off to a concentration camp.)

Bogus Genre: The Chick Flick

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

One of the worst things that can happen in a meaningful conversation is when one side's opinions end up pigenholed in a manner that renders dialogue and disagreement moot (and mute). For instance, when people began defining movies by gender definition, where only women could like romantic and sensitive material and guys simply liked to watch shit blow up, it could suitably end a conversation about whether or not a movie was actually any good. If you're a guy and you thought there was something fraudulent in a weeper like Sleepless in Seattle, it was merely because you were a guy and didn't get it. Kevin Courrier got it alright. And this is what he had to say on the subject.

Chick Flicks: A Bogus Phrase for a Bogus Genre

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/06/chick-flicks-bogus-phrase-for-bogus.html

If ever there was film genre term that I wish would disappear it’s the chick flick. As one who always champions movies as a democratic art form, it’s beyond ludicrous to hear people – usually women – dismiss the opinions of men when it comes to (mostly) romantic stories just because they happen to be a member of the wrong gender. I first encountered this dubious term back in 1993 when I told a group of women that I found Nora Ephron’s romantic weeper Sleepless in Seattle rather creepy. In the movie, Meg Ryan pursues (you could say stalks) a wistful widowed man (Tom Hanks) until he finally hooks up with her. I suggested that I didn’t find the premise the least bit romantic because if the roles had been reversed, and it was Hanks shadowing Ryan, the picture would have been a sleazy thriller. Think Sleeping with the Enemy (1991) rather than Sleepless in Seattle. A few of the women though dismissed my observation and stated that I just didn’t get Sleepless in Seattle because I was a guy and didn’t understand a 'chick flick' when I saw one. (My response: What the fuck is a chick flick?)

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The Critics

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Movies that become cult pictures often become so because they speak to viewers who seek pleasures outside mainstream acceptance. But cult pictures can also draw strong contrary reactions as well. Mark Clamen and Shlomo Schwartzberg, for example, got into a friendly and engaging dust up over one such cult favourite.
  

'Scott Pilgrim' Levels Up

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/08/scott-pilgrim-levels-up.html

Imagine a world which is organized by the logic of video-games and comics. What if life’s painful social situations were staged as epic confrontations between good and evil? Also, while you’re at it, imagine you play bass in an unambitious garage band, live in a low-rent bachelor apartment, and have an unconscious littered with low-resolution exiles from old Nintendo games.

Edgar Wright’s Scott Pilgrim vs. The World opens theatres everywhere today, and nowhere (outside of comic conventions perhaps) is it more highly anticipated than here in Toronto. Based on Toronto native Bryan Lee O'Malley's six-part graphic novel series, Scott Pilgrim is a special kind of triumph. Love it or hate it, you have never seen anything like it before. With its extended dream sequences, balletic fight sequences, and sometimes breakneck pacing, the film is a kinetic roller-coaster ride. The movie is not unlike a Golden Age Hollywood musical—except instead of the characters’ emotions manifesting themselves in song and dance numbers, here they become epic battles to the death.

Role Models

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day. 

We all have role models while we're growing up. But as Laura Warner pointed out in her terrific review of Tina Fey's memoir, you can have role models even after you've grown up.

Always With a Little Humour: Tina Fey’s Bossypants 

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2011/04/always-with-little-humour-tiny-feys.html

I think Tammy Wynette phrased it quite well when she said that “sometimes it’s hard to be a woman.” Despite of how far we’ve come and how some insist that the war on sexism is over, it’s still hard out there for a chick. (Perhaps on planet Margaret Wente it’s already won, but the rest of us are still huddled in the trenches.) In her recent memoir Bossypants (Reagan Arthur, 2011), Tina Fey brilliantly explores how many battles still exist and proves that it is sometimes hard to be a woman. But with the right mind set, it can also be downright hilarious.

In Bossypants, the former SNL writer, actress, and creator of 30 Rock, confronts the trials, tribulations and hilarities of growing up, going for it, getting it, and dealing with the consequences of getting it, in the male-dominated world of comedy-writing and show business. Each of her challenges is approached with a combination of dignity, toughness and, of course, humour. When having to answer those who asked her “Is it hard for you, being the boss?” Fey points out that Donald Trump is probably never asked that same question. Bossypants is part memoir, part self-help guide, and part satirical retort to the absurdities that still exist in gender politics. And Tina Fey rolls it all up into one package. She shows how many of the struggles faced by women can still be dealt with, and overcome, by applying just a little funniness.

Think Again...

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

We all have fond memories of movies from our past that we loved. But what if they didn't either age well (or perhaps we did)? Maybe then we would see and understand things we didn't notice the first time....just ask David Churchill about Diabolique.

Trapped in Amber: Henri Clouzot's Diabolique

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2011/06/trapped-in-amber-henri-clouzots.html

The movies we love (and sometimes hate) don't change. They are static things forever locked on film (or digital imagery). What changes is us. As we grow and mature our tastes evolve. But the movies? They are like the bug trapped in amber. They exist unchangeable. When I was seven, my parents threw a birthday party for me and my friends. After a lunch and some games, we were treated to a matinee in our local cinema to the relatively new movie for our small Ontario town. I loved the 2 ½ hour movie we watched. But don't think I thought it was the 'best film I'd ever seen,' but I sure enjoyed it.

The movie? Doctor Dolittle, a movie considered terrible on almost every level (even at the time). And, yes, it is. About 13 years ago, I tried re-watching it with my young niece and nephew; I couldn't make it through an hour. And yet, this loved-it-yesterday-but-not-today experience is not confined to films considered bad. In the 1970s, I finally saw on television a 1955 French thriller by Henri Clouzot called Diabolique. I adored the twists and turns this film took. A month ago, the DVD company Criterion released a pristine version of the film as part of their exemplary collection. I had not seen the film since that night in the 1970s, so I jumped at the chance to see it again. Imagine my surprise when I ended up finding it dull, emotionally icy, dated and on some levels reprehensible. However, to this day, the picture is considered a masterpiece of thriller film-making. It influenced not only Alfred Hitchcock (his film Vertigo is based on a novel by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, authors of the book that was the source for Diabolique), but also, in the current era, Brian Singer's The Usual Suspects and much of the work of M. Night Shyamalan (God help us!), amongst others. Diabolique's plot is pretty simple.

Simone Signoret & Véra Clouzot

A dilapidated private boys' school is run by a dour, vicious, penny-pinching creep named Michel Delassalle (Paul Meurisse). With him at the school is his wife Christina (Véra Clouzot – whose money he used to start the school), and his mistress Nicole (Simone Signoret). Christina knows all about the affair since Delassalle does nothing to keep it a secret. Yet, because he's such a monster, the two women form a bond and conspire to get rid of him in a way that will make it look like an accident. Complications arise. I'll say no more for fear of spoiling the film's surprises. I must say that one thing that puzzled me about the film's conceit, even back at in the 1970s, was why in God's name Delassalle would hook up with Nicole (a woman best described as 'handsome') at the expense of Christina (a beautiful Brazilian). Okay, this might be the old Ginger-and-Mary-Ann Gilligan's Island thing. But I've always preferred raven-haired women to blondes (Signoret was blonde), so I'll admit my bias.

Denying Reality

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

The term 'politically correct' might have now become something of a shopworn phrase that labels rather than explains, but like most definitions, its origins have a basis in fact. Shlomo Schwartzberg, in this piece, brought the definition back to its origins as a means to define some peculiar ideas of casting television and movies.

Do The Right Thing! The Contentious Issue of Politically 

Correct Casting

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/05/do-right-thing-contentious-issue-of.html

There’s been much ado about some casting choices in recent Hollywood projects, not because the actors chosen are necessarily bad but because, say their critics, they’re not the right colour for the roles.

First off, many people are upset that white actor Jake Gyllenhaal (Brokeback Mountain) is the lead in the just-released film Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, since he’s demonstrably not of Persian (or Iranian, as it’s known today) origin. Then comes news that The Last Airbender, the soon-to-be-released movie from M. Night Shyamalan (The Sixth Sense, Signs) -- based on an Asian - inspired TV series, called Avatar: The Last Airbender -- will also be a largely whitewashed affair. This follows on the heels of the announcement that white filmmaker Kenneth Branagh (Hamlet) has cast a black actor, The Wire’s Idris Elba as Heimdall, one of the Norse gods in Branagh’s upcoming adaptation of Marvel’s Thor.

Each of these movies has provoked a backlash. Though, predictably, in our politically correct climate. the Marvel comic fans objecting to Elba’s casting in Thor are deemed to be suspect, if not outright, racist in their concerns. while those protesting the casting in Prince of Persia and The Last Airbender, are deemed to have valid concerns about the casting decisions. Would I be labeled racist if I suggest that they all have legitimate reasons for being unhappy with the choices made in the adaptations of their favorite TV show, comic book or video game (Prince of Persia)?

The Voice of Schmilsson

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day. 

One of the great things a documentary, good or bad, can do for a writer is to give him also an opportunity to delve in the life and work. It's even more enjoyable when it gets to be an artist whose work has never been fully appreciated like pop singer Harry Nilsson.

  

Dreams Are Nothing More Than Wishes: Who is Harry 

Nilsson (And Why is Everybody Talkin’ About Him)?

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2011/01/dreams-are-nothing-more-than-wishes-who.html

There couldn't be a more apt title for John Scheinfeld’s engaging documentary on the late singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson than Who is Harry Nilsson (And Why is Everybody Talkin’ About Him)? Despite the fact that Nilsson was both a prolific pop songwriter and a gifted tenor, perhaps what made Nilsson less than a household name was that he didn't comfortably fit into the niche of a traditional pop crooner. It also took Scheinfeld almost four years to get a distributor for his movie about him. But it’s definitely worth the wait.

Who is Harry Nilsson (And Why is Everybody Talkin’ About Him)? examines with both insight and empathy the life of a pop artist whose pining voice cast a larger shadow on a tragic life. While he wrote songs that became hits for The Monkees (“Cuddly Toy”), Three Dog Night (“One”) and Blood, Sweat and Tears (“Without Her”), his only chart successes were other people’s tunes. “Everybody’s Talkin’” (made famous in Midnight Cowboy) was written by Fred Neil, while the Grammy-winning “Without You” was originally a track by the British rock group Badfinger. Nilsson never performed concert tours to promote his albums and his studio work itself became unique in that he did all his own overdubbed harmony vocals. With the help of top-notch players (from Little Feat’s Lowell George to keyboardist Nicky Hopkins), Nilsson became an insolated pop force, someone hidden away in the imagined world of a recording studio. From there, his lovely and quirky ballads and anthems could bring a youthful longing to unrequited wishes.

I'm in Love With My Car

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

There's no argument that the car is now a pervasive symbol in popular culture. But if Kevin Courrier seemed surprised when David Churchill told him he was curious as to why he liked sea chanteys, Courrier was equally amazed to discover that Churchill was a petrolhead.

Petrolheads: Our Love Affair With the Car

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2010/07/petrolheads-our-love-affair-with-car.html

Ever since I played on the remains of my maternal grandfather's one-and-only car back in the 1960s, I've been fascinated by cars and driving. My grandfather owned a Model T Ford that, once it was no longer viable for the road, he had turned into a tractor to work his land. By the time I got to it, it was a rusting hulk that sat on my uncle's property. We kids used to hop on the old seat and pretend we were driving anywhere but there.

Though I've had a life-long love affair with cars, I've actually never, technically, owned one. Both cars my wife and I have owned have been in her name. So it goes. Yet, I love the idea of the freedom that a car gives you; I love the speed and I love to drive fast. Just not as fast or as well as Nelson Monteiro (more on him in a second). Unfortunately, living in the city, with the congestion, incompetent drivers, irriating stoplights and unrealistic speed limits, it's taken much of the joy out it for me. So, I live vicariously through a long-running, very politically incorrect BBC series called Top Gear (BBC Canada, Monday through Friday at 9 pm -- repeats of the 2002 through 2009 seasons; new shows, Saturdays 9pm). The show has been on TV for almost 33 years (with a one-year break between 2001 and 2002 when it was reconfigured into its current format). The show, hosted by three archetypes (Jeremy Clarkson, the tall, paunchy, man/boy; James May, the long-haired, intellectual, musician who's nickname is Captain Slow due to his, by the show's standards, unwillingness to drive fast; and Richard Hamilton, sort of the 'cute Beatle' of the show who's nickname is The Hampster because he's not as tall as the oafish Clarkson), is pretty basic. Using humour of a decidedly 'laddish' variety, they start most episodes by showcasing some sort of super car (usually an Audi, Maserati, Jaguar, Ferrari, Porsche, you get the idea) on their track. All three are skilled drivers, with Clarkson being the best, Hamilton the most reckless and May, well, his nickname is Captain Slow for a reason. Clarkson or Hamilton almost always take on this part of the show. They race around the track while they discuss a 'fast car's' strengths or weaknesses. There's usually a lot of speed, lots of spins, tons of smoke and a bunch of silly showing off.

TV in a Mirror

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Television now has a long enough history to entertain programs that are about the medium itself. How television looks at itself in a mirror is what fascinated Mark Clamen in this thoughtful post.

Scaling the Fourth Wall: TV Shows about TV Shows

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2011/04/scaling-fourth-wall-tv-shows-about-tv.html

Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld: Curb Your Enthusiasm

I've always been a sucker for self-referential media: be it celebrity cameos, intentional genre-busting, fictional characters meeting fictionalized versions of themselves, and everything in between. (My favourite Woody Allen film is The Purple Rose of Cairo, I continue to believe that Last Action Hero is an underrated masterpiece, and no-one probably applauded more than I did for Nathan Fillion’s Firefly shout-out in last season’s Halloween episode of Castle, walking on-screen in full “Captain Mal” gear.) And the most popular and entertaining form these stories have taken is the show about a show: films and TV about making film and TV. It’s a conceit that's been around since Shakespeare, and whether it’s A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Dick Van Dyke Show, or 30 Rock, there will always be something especially compelling about a show within a show.

Last month, I wrote about the recent Showtime sitcom Episodes. This dark comedy stars Friends alum Matt LeBlanc as Matt LeBlanc, and tells a story as old television itself: the trials and tribulations of making a television show. In this case, it was the story of a married British comedy writing team who had the misfortune to have a hit series of theirs optioned by an American network. As I wrote, Episodes, for the most part, works well (in large part due to the talents of the BBC television veterans who play the show’s leads), and is definitely worth checking out.

Bring Me the Head of Cinderella

For all the current readers of Critics at Large, we've resurrected the Luna Sea Notes website to publish previous C @ L posts. The idea is to introduce readers to pieces they may have missed from earlier in our incarnation. Since we now have a huge body of work to draw from, the goal is to post articles that may also have some relevance to events of the day.

Laura Warner is always at her razor sharp best when she tackles the popular culture of parenting. Being a mother herself, she's quick to spot material that uncorks some of the cultural myths involved in raising children.

(Not So) Pretty in Pink: Peggy Orenstein's Cinderella Ate My Daughter

http://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2011/05/not-so-pretty-in-pink-peggy-orensteins.html

When I became pregnant, after finding out I was going to have a girl, I was ecstatic. No offense boys, but I had whole-heartedly embraced (and still do) the honour, and challenge, of being the first strong female role model to a new member of the future generation. The one aspect I was not thrilled about – aside from the thought of my daughter turning thirteen – was the impending pinkification of everything. The thought of my baby looking like the Pink Panther was too much to bear. So I, unsuccessfully, forbade all friends and relatives from buying her anything pink. For the first two years of her life, I draped her in a wardrobe much like my own: mostly blacks, browns and burgundies (picture a pile of dead leaves). Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against femininity (many of her dead leaf ensembles were dresses), but I find the frills and feathers all too frivolous, oppressive and often downright ridiculous.

Peggy Orenstein, journalist and author of such best-sellers as School Girls: Young Women, Self-Esteem and the Confidence Gap, shared this disgust with the colour and the girlie-girl culture overall. Prior to the arrival of her daughter Daisy, the thought of having a baby dipped in Pepto-Bismol, and many other stomach-churning issues, made her cringe to the point where she actually hoped for (yikes) a boy. Orenstein opens her latest book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches From the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture (HaperCollins, 2011), with this shocking revelation. Through this work, Orenstein examines the rise of girlie-girl culture and its impact on the women they become.

Princesses, courtesy of Walt Disney

Orenstein cleverly observes how the “Girl Power” of the early 1990s quickly gave way to the hyper-sexualization and commercialization of girlhood. In 2009, sales of Disney Princess merchandise alone hit the $4 billion mark. To make some sense of this princess culture, Orenstein set out to speak with parents, children, marketers, doctors, psychologists and academics. Trying to figure out how we got to this point, her work analyses the evolving image of the damsel in distress from the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales to the Twilight Saga “heroine” Bella. Was it a biological evolution? Was this some kind of post-feminism backlash? Was it a simple marketing ploy? Surely Disney did not pull this off single-handedly. Through her research, Orenstein does discover that children, after turning three, do naturally gravitate toward gender-specific toys. The availability and desirability of these toys, however, did have some (corporate) help.