May 2005 Archives

According to Jim Curtiss at bookpleasures.com, Basketball in America: From the Playgrounds to Jordan's Game and Beyond, is "an enjoyable book that presents die-hard fans with an alternative to Slam magazine or Insidehoops.com, and might also, with its more thoughtful approach, give would-be fans a firm footing in what is obviously a growing and global cultural phenomenon." Judge for yourself by ordering a copy at Barnesandnoble.com in either the paperback or hardcover edition.

I suppose I have to do it if I don't want to have to turn in my Guild of Nerds^TM membership card, but I'm not entirely sure I want to discuss Revenge of the Sith. It's not that it's so bad--it's better than Phantom Menace or Attack of the Clones, certainly--but there's a certain sad inevitability to the whole affair. It's almost as though George Lucas was fated to create a flawed and disappointing trilogy, as fated as his main character was to fall into darkness and evil.

There are some positives, yes. The thing looks great. Whether it's a Naboo-made cruiser taking off or a cybernetic general menacing Obi-Wan with a four-way lightsaber attack, the toys on the screen are presented in big, beautiful lines and rich textures. The lava flows of the planet Mustafar are an arresting sight, as are the crowded cityscapes of Coruscant. And every lightsaber battle is fast, furious, exciting stuff.

Unfortunately, Lucas keeps insisting on having his characters talk, and he hasn't equipped them with any tools to do the job. The dialogue is stiffer than C3PO's joints and more unnatural than Anakin's right arm. I still can't tell if Hayden Christensen is miscast, because I can't imagine anyone delivering these lines well. When poor Natalie Portman looks at him and says "You're breaking my heart!" she might as well be speaking for all of us who grew attached to Lucas' brainchild back in the summer of '77; we gave him our affection, our promise to be back for all the sequels, and gobs and gobs of money, but how has he repaid us? By ignoring us and focusing on his own desires to the exclusion of all else--the desire to develop truly superb special effects, effects so advanced that they all but eliminate the necessity of working with real actors, has consumed him to the point where he doesn't know what to do with the actors he's got.

This desire to control everything from the reading of lines to the arrangement of eyebrows to the jut of chin is probably present in all directors, but until Lucas, it couldn't be realized; the actors' choices were inevitably slightly unlike those the director would have made, but those choices often provided the series with its best moment. Harrison Ford improvised his reply to Leia's "I love you" as Han Solo was lowered into the carbone-freeze device: "I know." Lucas wasn't directing Empire, or he might have forced Ford to go back and deliver the original (boring) line ("I love you."), to the detriment of the film. By allowing the actors such freedom, director Irving Kushner turned Empire into the best of the six films.

But freedom is not what Lucas is about anymore. It's all about control now: computer-control of the backgrounds, the effects, even the actors' faces. (He reportedly angered Liam Neeson by using CGI to replace Neeson's facial expressions with expressions copied from other takes that Lucas liked better.) And this is of course the irony: the theme of ROTS (coincidental initials? Hmmm...) is the corruption of a good man through the desire for greater power. Because he can't bear the thought of losing Padme, Anakin seeks the power to keep her safe, but in seeking that extra power, that extra security, he destroys his own capacity to love. By seeking to control what he loves, he renders himself unlovable. Worse, to keep order within the galaxy, he destroys its liberty.

And that's basically what Lucas had done. To ensure that the films would hew as closely to his vision as possible, he excluded those who might have helped him most. He could have had screenwriters like Lawrence Kasdan, who might have complemented Lucas' unparallelled gift for updating archetypes and weaving ancient themes into new tapestries by bringing effective and beautiful language into the scripts. He could have let someone else direct, and work with the actors to bring out their humanity. He could have done all this, but to do so, he would have had to let them be free to do things wrong--and Lucas couldn't, in the end, sacrifice his own control for such a chimera as mere freedom.

So the best last word about the second trilogy, ironically enough, is a line Lucas himself wrote for Padme. As the Senate hands power to Palpatine, she actually seems to be discussing the box-office success of ROTS: "So this is how liberty ends--to thunders of applause."

8:04 PM

Graduation's just around the corner, and Father's Day soon after that. Consider the gift of Basketball in America: From the Playgrounds to Jordan's Game and Beyond, featuring PC's essay "Seventeen Things I Learned from Dean Smith," is still available through Barnesandnoble.com in both paperback and hardcover editions.

Your friend and mine Tony Plutonium has put me on the spot with the latest music meme going around the blogosphere; here's my response:

Total volume of music files on my computer:

At home: 15.16 gigs (386 hours), all ripped from CD--we haven't downloaded anything, largely because of our dial-up connection.

At work: 10.8 gigs (321 hours), almost all ripped--I've downloaded a few things to use in classes, but it's mostly just my CD collection in another place.

The last CD I bought was:

Tie: The Wall by Pink Floyd, An Evening with P.D.Q. Bach by Peter Schickele. Yeah, the clerk at Schoolkids looked at me kind of funny.

Song Playing Right Now:

At home: "Tailspin" by the Jayhawks, off Rainy Day Music.

At work: "One Angry Dwarf and Two Hundred Solemn Faces" by Ben Folds Five, off Whatever and Ever Amen

Five songs I listen to a lot lately (in no particular order):

"There's No Home for You Here" by the White Stripes, off Elephant - Kelly just brought this album home, and since I ripped it, I've been focusing on this tune. I'd heard "Seven Nation Army" (we actually saw the video, a rarity for us, while we were in Italy) and liked its punky energy in sort of the same way I liked Jet's "Are You Gonna Be My Girl?" I must say I didn't expect there to be so much variety on the album. Cool stuff.

"Willin'" by Little Feat, off Waiting for Columbus - One of the all-time-greatest live albums, recorded by one of the most underrated bands ever. The propulsive side three medley, long one of my favorite sides in pop music, is unmatched for smooth and unstoppable rhythm, but lately I've been dwelling on the chorus of "Willin'" almost obsessively. There's the wonderful alliteration ("I been from Tucson to Tucumcari, Tehachapi to Tonapah...") and the lovely catch right after "Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed..." That and Bill Payne's piano solo--has there ever been a more expressive keyboardist in rock and roll?--make this one a gem.

"Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd, off The Wall - The first two notes of David Gilmour's guitar solo are arguably the finest entrance in rock music. I'll listen to those who insist it's Robert Fripp coming into the Roches' "Hammond Song," and Bryon Settle gives me a little stiffy every time his bendy-note wail kicks up in the middle of "Clean Enough to Eat Off" by the Minister's Cat, but it's hard to argue with Dave.

"Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana, off In Utero - Krist Novoselic's string-bending bass anchors this thing so beautifully, like a thick layer of tar sealing it off from the ocean of cheesy pop. Unsettling and relentlessly catchy--a combination Nirvana did better than just about anyone.

"Switchboard Susan" by Nick Lowe, off Basher - The first time I heard this it was done by Dealer, the band formed by the drummer and bass player of my first band after they decided they could find a couple of better guitarists than me and the bass player's brother. (They did, until Dealer split under the pressures of carefully dividing the lead guitar parts 60/40 between the two.) I kind of liked the song, but had no idea who did it until I picked up this album (mostly for "Cruel to Be Kind," "Skin Deep," and "I Knew the Bride") and got a pleasant surprise. It's catchy as hell and straightforwardly lewd--really, it ought to be an Aerosmith song.

2:34 PM

Father's Day is coming, and Basketball in America: From the Playgrounds to Jordan's Game and Beyond, featuring PC's essay "Seventeen Things I Learned from Dean Smith," is still available through Barnesandnoble.com in both paperback and hardcover editions.

I thought I'd turn today's commentary over to Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid, speaking on the Senate Floor today. (You can read the full text of his prepared remarks at The Daily Kos.)

"Mr. President, I've addressed the Senate on several recent occasions to set the record straight about Senate history and the rules of this Chamber. I'd much rather address ways to cut health care costs or bring down gas prices. But the Majority Leader has decided that we will spend this week debating radical judges instead. I'm happy to engage in that debate, but I want it to be accurate.

"For example, the Majority Leader issued a statement last Friday in which he called the filibuster a 'procedural gimmick.' I took some time yesterday to correct that assertion. The filibuster is not a gimmick. It has been part of our nation's history for two centuries. It is one of the vital checks and balances established by our Founding Fathers. It is not a gimmick.

"Also, Republicans have not been accurate in describing the use of the filibuster. They say the defeat of a handful of President Bush's judicial nominees is unprecedented. In fact, hundreds of judicial nominees in American history have been rejected by the Senate, many by filibuster. Most notably, the nomination of Abe Fortas to be Chief Justice of the United States was successfully filibustered in 1968. And during the Clinton Administration, over 60 judicial nominees were bottled up in the Judiciary Committee and never received floor votes.

"In addition, Republicans engaged in explicit filibusters on the floor against a number of Clinton judges, and defeated a number of President Clinton's executive branch nominees by filibuster. It's the same Advice and Consent Clause - why was a Republican filibuster of Surgeon General nominee Henry Foster constitutional, but a Democratic filibuster of Fifth Circuit nominee Priscilla Owen unconstitutional? The Republican argument doesn't add up.

"And now, the President of the United States has joined the fray and become the latest to rewrite the Constitution and reinvent reality. Speaking to fellow Republicans on Tuesday night, he said that the Senate 'has a duty to promptly consider each...nominee on the Senate floor, discuss and debate their qualifications, and then give them the up or down vote they deserve.'

"Duty to whom? The radical right wing of the Republican Party who see within their reach the destruction of America's mainstream values?

"It's certainly not duty to the tenets of our Constitution or to the American people who are waiting for progress and promise, not partisanship and petty debates.

"The duties of the United States Senate are set forth in the Constitution of the United States. Nowhere in that document does it say the Senate has a duty to give presidential nominees 'an up or down vote.' It says appointments shall be made with the Advice and Consent of the Senate. That is very different than saying that every nominee receives a vote.

"This fact was even acknowledged by the Majority Leader on this floor last week. Senator Byrd asked the Majority leader if the Constitution accorded 'to each nominee an up or down vote on the Senate floor?'

"Senator Frist's answer? 'No, the language is not there.'

"Senator Frist is correct. And the President should read the same copy of the Constitution that Senator Frist was referring to.

"It is clear that the President misunderstands the meaning of the Advice and Consent Clause. The word 'Advice' means 'Advice.' President Clinton, consulted extensively with then-Judiciary Committee Chairman Hatch. Senator Hatch boasts in his autobiography that he personally convinced President Clinton to nominate Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Stephen Breyer to the Supreme Court instead of more controversial choices.

"In contrast, this President has never ever sought or heeded the advice of the Senate. But now he demands our consent.

"That's not how America works. The Senate is not a rubber stamp for the Executive branch. Rather, we're the one institution where the Minority has a voice and the ability to check the power of the Majority. Today, in the face of President Bush's power grab, that's more important than ever. Republicans want one-party rule. The Senate is the last place where the President and his Republican colleagues can't have it all. And, now President Bush wants to destroy our checks and balances to ensure that he does get it all.

"That check on his power is the right to extended debate. Every Senator can stand up on behalf of the people who have sent them here and say their piece. In the Senate's 200 plus years of history, this has been done hundreds and hundreds of times...to stand up to popular presidents arrogant with power...to block legislation harmful to America's workers...and yes - even to reject the President's judicial nominations."

Give 'em hell, Harry.

7:46 PM

Basketball in America: From the Playgrounds to Jordan's Game and Beyond, featuring PC's essay "Seventeen Things I Learned from Dean Smith," is still available through Barnesandnoble.com in both paperback and hardcover editions.

Well, they've gone and done it.

My parents have finally done what they've long planned on doing: they've moved from South Carolina back to North Carolina. Today they packed up the last of the boxes and rolled out, heading from their house on Cat Island, outside Beaufort, to the familiar environs of Chapel Hill.

This is not entirely surprising to me; as anyone who's lived there for long will tell you, Chapel Hill has a powerful gravitational field, and that field has altered my life in a number of ways.

I was born in Raleigh, but was caught in the Hill's gravity well before I knew it. My folks moved to a house on Tinkerbell Road just after I turned one, so though I'm not technically a C.H. native, I simply can't think of myself any other way. My family came close to leaving twice. Dad had job offers in Atlanta and Dallas, but we were so miserable at the prospect of moving away that he turned them both down. (In fact, I think he actually had to rescind his acceptance of one of them.) Looking back, I realize how much our refusal to move cost Dad; it kept him too long in a position that had grown restrictive and stale over the years, and I feel fairly sure it cost him a boost in salary as well. At the time, all I could do was think about my own desire to stay, but now I sometimes wish there had been a way to do it without subjecting Dad to another fifteen years in the same orbit.

The Hill's pull was strong enough to keep me in town for college, too. Yes, my other option (Yale) was four times more expensive, and it was located in a breathtakingly gritty and not-too-scenic part of Connecticut, but I sometimes wonder if the main appeal of UNC was simply that I wouldn't have to move away. I carted some of my belongings to Old West, kept hanging out with my high-school buddies, and went home to do laundry every two weeks. It was the least collegiate of college experiences in many ways, which is probably why my exchange year at Manchester University looms so large in my life experience. Even today, 22 years later, I think of my time in Manchester daily; it was the most educational time of my life. I was learning who I was, something I'd never been sure about, because in Chapel Hill I couldn't quite separate myself from my surroundings.

But when I got back to UNC, I got confirmation that I'd done the right thing by saying no to New Haven: I met my wife. She'd grown up in Fayetteville, but was as happy as I to be caught up in the pull of the Hill. We lived there happily for another five years, and I think we would cheerfully have gone on orbiting around the Hill forever if not for the need to do things like, y'know, feed our family and stuff. By the time we left, I'd lived there for 27 years. I've been at Woodberry for almost 10--barely a third as long--and I still can't quite call it home.

But now Mom and Dad are moving back into Chapel Hill's gravity field, and we'll once again have a place to stay. The boys will get to learn some of its ins and outs when they visit their grandparents, and maybe they'll start to feel that same pull on their hearts and minds. I know I will. Every time I visit, I fall almost effortlessly into the patterns I grew up with. It's comfortable. Very comfortable. In fact, sometimes I worry that it's a little too much like the Land of the Lotus Eaters--so comfortable that escape becomes impossible.

But maybe it's more like the end of a long day sledding. You toil up the hill, your boots full of damp snow, your nose running, your chest sore from the exertion. You can barely remember what you were doing before you started this climb. But finally there you are, at the top, with your Flexible Flyer in hand, and down at the bottom you can see it: home. Toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. And all you have to do get there is quit fighting the pull--just lie down and let the Flyer take you back.

Happy sledding, Mom & Dad. We'll see you at the bottom.

8:18 PM

Order a copy of Basketball in America: From the Playgrounds to Jordan's Game and Beyond, featuring PC's essay "Seventeen Things I Learned from Dean Smith," available through Barnesandnoble.com in both paperback and hardcover editions.

LBJs

*In the rush of excitement over the rediscovery of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, I neglected to mention several recent visitors to my own locale. On April 26th, I was treated to the sight of a Blue Grosbeak (photo here) on my feeder, the first time I've seen the bird in my yard. That night, when I took Harlan the Hound on a walk under the full moon, we were serenaded with a hissy fit. No really, that's what it sounded like--a large and irate critter up in one of the sugar pines near the fourth green of the golf course, firing off a loud and hissing cry every twenty seconds or so. Then it would fly off invisibly to another tree somewhere nearby, then we'd hear another hissy fit. I was quite sure it was an owl, but the call wasn't familiar--not the barking of a Barred Owl, the deep hoo-hoos of a Great Horned, or the quavering whistle of the Screech. As it turned out, it was an owl I'd seen on several occasions but never heard till that night: a Barn Owl (seen here).

Then on Monday, I looked out the window from this very seat--of course I hung my feeder where I could see it from the computer!--and realized that last year's visit was not a once-in-a-lifetime thing: there was a male Rose-breasted Grosbeak (seen here) munching on our seed. He stayed a good while, and in a lovely accident of timing and coloring, the year's first Indigo Bunting (seen here) arrived while he was there, setting off his gorgeous black-white-and-rose scheme with its brilliant blue plumage. Purty.

*I'm re-reading John Varley's masterpiece, the Gaean Trilogy. I discovered the first book, Titan, on my family's 1982 trip to England. I believe I found it in a bookshop in High Wycombe, took it to my room in our B&B in Latimer, and didn't come out for a couple of days. It pretty much rocked my nineteen-year-old world. The sequel, Wizard, took the story in some unexpected directions, adding characters, complications, and a whole host of wild ideas I hadn't expected after reading the first book. Then there came the wait. The third book, Demon, seemed to take ages to come out. I think it was only a couple of years, but man, I was desperate to find out what Cirocco Jones' fate would be. Finally it arrived, and I grabbed it, and I felt sure I knew what would happen, and damned if Varley didn't leave me absolutely flabbergasted, astonished, exhilarated, and delighted. It's been five years since I read the trilogy last, and though I've noticed a few glitches--some of the Titanides (who are, to be fair, semi-hermaphroditic) switch from "he" to "she" or vice-versa between chapters--it's still among the grandest science-fiction entertainments I know. If you haven't read it, find yourself a copy of Titan and enjoy the ride.

*Success! After literally decades of searching, of frustration, and of crushing depression on more than one occasion, I have found a used CD copy of Pink Floyd's The Wall! Because it's a double-disc set, I have long balked at the enormous price tag for a new copy--usually between $32 and $36. Too, there's my long-standing distaste for paying full price for any CD--a preference born of my long years in the music retailing biz, where I could get any disc for less than 60% of the price with my employee discount, and that's not even considering those I got free as promotional giveaways. (Mind you, I still spent a huge part of my paycheck on music during those three years, but that's another story...) With The Wall, though, I was fighting a rough fight by insisting on a used copy. Sure, if I found one, the price would be a lot lower, but I wouldn't find it unless someone got sick of one of the most popular albums in rock & roll history. Some bands don't have a big presence in the used-CD sections--the Beatles, for instance--because almost no one gets rid of their albums. People who'll quickly tire of that Chumbawumba record they bought, or who come to find that the Rolling Stones' Steel Wheels hasn't aged very well, will nonetheless keep right on listening to their old Floyd albums (and their copies of Hot Rocks, which is my new double-disc quarry), which keeps vultures like me from satisfying our used-CD joneses. But someone, at last, got a duplicate copy and sold it to Schoolkids Records in Chapel Hill, and I'm now able to listen at last to a digital recording of Roger Waters wailing, "And the worms ate into his brain..." Now that's music!

1:27 AM