Aviva Goes Around

In casual discussions about a given film, there is one word which alerts me to the fact that the person with whom I'm speaking did not understand the piece, or does not possess the vocabulary to interact with it. The word is weird.

In fact, with the exception of Hunter S. Thompson, no one seems able to artfully use the word. Given the chance, I'd gleefully scratch weird, along with its companions, beautiful and something, from the American vernacular. I think that doing so would force my countrymen to think a little more specifically about what they want to communicate.

Point in case: Todd Solondz' weird film Palindromes, which features five different actresses as its main character, Aviva. Aviva, more than anything else, wants to have a baby. As a young teenager, she couples with an awkward young man to achieve this goal. Upon learning of her pregnancy, Aviva's parents force her to abort. After recovering, Aviva hits the road.

Aviva's own name is a palindrome. It starts at the same place it ends up. You can turn it around, travel it backward or forward, start and finish it at either end, and you get the same character. What's more, you can swap ages, actresses, races, places, families, times, and opportunities, and you still come around to the same person: Aviva.

Even if you haven't seen Solondz' other films (Welcome to the Dollhouse, Hapiness), you can probably guess from this cyclical concept that Palindromes is not going to be a story that ends up any happier than it begins. And it begins with a suicide.

So early into the film, as the actors wavered between dramatics and realism, seeming to recite lines, but then seeming to do a good job of acting like the type of characters who would recite lines that way, the word weird came to my mind, and it most certainly fit.

But gradually, as the character became real, as she acted in pursuit of her dream, and as she stumbled from one calamity to the next, I began to realize that every oddity was in the movie for a purpose, and that the film is as artfully symmetrical as its title would suggest, and that, despite the deep despair inherent in its message, this movie is something beautifully weird.

In pursuit of comedic tragedy or tragic comedy (the emphasis chosen might merely reflect the mood of the viewer), Solondz runs from sorrow to sorrow, swapping scenarios, liberally discarding conventions to say to his audience that, despite the conventions of our stories, despite their arcs and twists and reversals, we are who we are.

It would be hard to explain why I felt uplifted by this movie. Perhaps because the vitality of the artistic voice outweighed the gloomy message for me. Perhaps because I enjoy intellectually challenging art. Perhaps because these days I feel so free from the despair the movie plumbs.

Either way, backwards or forwards, tragedy or comedy, Palindromes is a challenging, original, and decidedly weird movie. And I love it for that.

On African Music

So I've been into African hip-hop lately, which I touched on briefly in my recent post on K'NAAN, but a recent YouTube search turned up some great results. I tend to like the artists that employ African-sounding instrumentation and melodies, and my favorite videos show Here are a few of the videos I most enjoyed.

• Justice by Muki Garang and Mwafrika
• Constantly by Kalamashaka
• Sou Mey Rap by Dakar All-Stars
• Mother Africa by Hip Hop All-Stars

I can't vouch for lyrical content or quality, since I don't speak Swahili or French or whatever language these cats are rapping in.

February Media Round-up

February 2010 - probably the first month of my lifetime where the books I read outnumbered the movies I watched. The reason for the drop in movie viewing was James Joyce's Ulysses, which consumed so much time and energy that it began to feel like an obsession, which left very little room for cinematic exploration.

Without further delay, books and movies for February...

Books read in February (with brief reviews):

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - often agonizing, occasionally touching, and always always funny, Nabokov's novel deserves every bit of praise and outrage it evokes. It's wonderfully offensive.

Of Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the New World Order by Robert Kagan - An interesting argument that postmodern, antiwar Europe was able to thrive because America's military did the dirty work of protecting them. I didn't buy it wholesale, but at least now I know a bit of the history of the tension between the US and Europe.

After Dark by Haruki Murakami - This little book felt like a minor work by a major author. It was intriguing, but not all that powerful.

O Pioneers! by Willa Cather - Cather created an interesting web of relationships, but in the end, there were too many melodramatic monologues and boilerplate plot devices for me to really enjoy the book.

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe and Other Stories by Carson McCullers - I think McCullers loses a great deal of her impact in the short story arena, and out of the South, which she evokes so well in the novels I've read.

Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - A lyrical, incisive little novel that explores connections between human sensuality and spirituality. Stuck with me long after I put it down.

No Longer at Ease by Chinua Achebe - A bit of a disappointment after Things Fall Apart. While it uses idiomatic language, the folktale tone of this book's predecessor is replaced by what feels like a conventional morality tale set in the third world.

Blessed Unrest by Paul Hawken - This book, while difficult to get through and occasionally preachy, opened my eyes to the power of grassroots, community-based movements to create positive change. Very inspiring.

Ulysses by James Joyce - So much has been said about this book, but I'd like to add that I felt like reading it reshaped my brain. I plan to revisit it regularly.

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut - Did this book seem a bit lame to me because I read it right after Ulysses? Probably. But still, I get tired of Vonnegut's contempt for his characters, and his snarky tone. Sure, it's funny and insightful on occasion, but I was glad to be done with it.

A Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunningham - Cunningham is one of my favorite contemporary novelists, and this is one powerful book. The characters, rich, broken, and utterly believable, are rendered in such rewarding prose.

Miami by Joan Didion - Poetic journalism. This book is compact, eye-opening, and masterfully written.

Movies watched in February (with brief reviews):

The Hurt Locker - This movie may make it into my top 25 movies of all time. It was visceral, emotional, and ultra-realistic in its portrayal of a squad assigned to diffuse roadside bombs in Iraq.

The Lady from Shanghai - A pretty good film noir from Orson Welles.

The Band Wagon - a musical which my friend recommended to me as one of the best, directed by Vincent Minelli. It was enjoyable, but musicals just aren't my thing.

Journey from the Fall - A Vietnamese-made movie about the plight of refugees and political prisoners. I found it very moving and totally believable.

Paul Robeson: Portrait of an Artist - A short documentary about what it cost a black performer when he spoke out against racism in America.

Casino Royale - A perfect reinvention of Bond for the new millenium. Casino Royale was a popcorn movie of the highest order.

My Darling Clementine - One of the great westerns. Epic, engaging, and character-driven.

Goodbye Solo - Director Rahmin Bahrani might become one of my favorite. Goodbye Solo and Chop Shop both surprised and uplifted me with their unflinching look at what it takes to keep going, and what happens when you give up.

The End.