Seeking unlikely hero who’s good with plants

I realize this morning’s post was probably a bit of a snooze for people who haven’t read The Rise of Silas Lapham (even though the novel itself is not a snooze–I’ve been flying through the last hundred pages this afternoon and evening), so this evening I decided to write something more fun, or something that at least nerds like me will consider fun.

I was thinking earlier about the two fictional characters I’m most in love with.  One, Sam Gamgee, I’ve loved since I first read The Lord of the Rings at age 13; the other, Neville Longbottom, I’ve loved for a shorter time but no less fervently (I have a larger-than-life-sized representation of him in glossy cardboard).  The similarities between the two are significant: both appear somewhat incompetent on first impression but turn out to be undeniably capable and even heroic, and both have a knack for botany (or Herbology, in Neville’s case).  Also, now that I think of it, both are intimidated by angry wizards.  But who wouldn’t be?

Based on these ideal figures, I’ve compiled a list for the reference of any guy who may, for whatever reason, want to impress me.

1. I would be really impressed if you could slay something, preferably something that urgently demands to be slain, such as a squadron of orcs or a snake that’s actually a Horcrux.

2. You need to be able to locate plants with magical properties in case I need them in an emergency.  For example, if I am stabbed by a Morgul blade, I will need you to find me some athelas, also known as kingsfoil.  Or, if I need to spend a prolonged period of time underwater (I was thinking about visiting the Titanic site with James Cameron), I will require gillyweed.

3. It would also be nice if you had some skill with regular, non-magical plants, particularly edible plants like po-ta-toes and strawberries (do you remember the taste of strawberries, Mr. Frodo?).  Here Sam has a decided advantage over Neville.  I guess it’s possible that Neville is cultivating a little kitchen garden next to his venomous tentacula plants, but we know for a fact that Sam cooks (unintentional 1960s popular music reference!).  But if we’re talking about advantages and disadvantages, let’s be fair: Neville owns a pair of shoes.  Also, Neville is human; technically, Sam is not.  But this isn’t a competition.

4. If you have a domineering older person in your life, such as your old Gaffer or your Gran, you will always have someone whose good opinion you strive to live up to or whose poor opinion you strive to prove wrong.  This will play a large part in your emerging heroism.

5. I don’t mind if you say lots of ridiculous things; in fact, I will probably find it endearing.  But try to come up with at least one awesome line to deliver at a tense moment.  For example, if someone asks you how your parents are, try saying, “Better, now they’re about to be avenged.”  Or, here’s one that works in all kinds of different situations: “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”

Well, that should give you something to work with.  If you think you could live up to my exacting standards, and especially if you’ve ever had your Remembrall stolen or gotten excited about seeing an oliphant, please inquire.

The Hunger Games and exploitation

Everybody already knows that The Hunger Games is, in part, a social commentary on a lot of things: surveillance, reality television, extreme body modification, poverty, governmental power, etc.  The morning after I saw the movie (which is quite good), I tried to think of something new to say about it on my blog.  This came to me while I was blow-drying my hair, an activity which seems to generate many good ideas for me:

The Hunger Games is a commentary on the entertainment industry and how you “break into” it.  The Careers from Districts 1 and 2 are analogous to professional actors: They are, in most cases, born to privilege.  They have trained to be performers their whole lives.  They volunteer because they enjoy doing the kinds of things the Games require them to do.

I haven’t found a good analogy for the people in the middle districts–maybe they’re people who play bit parts in movies and television and don’t really get recognized–but those in the outer districts, 11 and 12, are parallel to those who get dragged into the entertainment industry by exploitative measures.  These tend to be people who either need the little bit of money that temporary notoriety might bring them, or have a personal non-conformity that our society’s Gamemakers judge to be potentially good entertainment.  (In the old days, this latter group would have been in circus freak shows.)  I’m talking about the people who appear in shows as widely ranging in subject matter and in quality as The People’s Court, Hoarders, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, The Biggest Loser, and even the audition weeks of American Idol.  To some extent, also, the casts of recent “redneck” reality shows such as Swamp People and Duck Dynasty are in this category, although they seem to be more self-aware and wry than those on the other shows I mentioned.  I’m not saying that all of these shows are purely exploitative, but I am saying that the reasons many people watch these shows are the same reasons the Capital’s citizens watch The Hunger Games.  The reasons are a complex web including identification, sympathy, curiosity, and the attraction of repulsion.  Cruelty may be part of the web for some people, especially in the Capital, but certainly not everyone.

An example of curiosity about other lifestyles, a curiosity that can become exploitative, is the tradition of dressing the tributes in costumes that stereotypically represent their district’s industry.  The Capital’s citizens can say, “Oh, isn’t that cute (or weird); they’re coal miners!” without really attempting to understand District’s 12’s culture or challenges.  That’s why it’s so important that Cinna gives Peeta and especially Katniss a measure of dignity by designing costumes for them that are truly attractive and represent their district in a subtler way.

I may return to this rather undeveloped post later.  Feel free to chime in.

More thoughts for the Academy

I’m slowly working my way through the Oscar-nominated films that I actually want to see.  I watched Moneyball a couple of weeks ago and really enjoyed it, though I wouldn’t exactly say that my mind was blown.  I just saw The Help this afternoon and liked it in spite of trying hard not to.  I would still like to see The Descendants and Midnight in Paris; the rest of the nominees I could take or leave.

I was looking at the list of nominees the other day and thinking about how few of them I’ve actually seen–and not just in the Best Picture category, but all of them.  I thought, “Did I just not see very many movies this past year?”  That’s somewhat the case; my intense summer of PhD classes didn’t leave me much time for film-going (though I did make an exception mid-July; you get three guesses what the movie was).  But as I reached back into my memory, I recalled that I did see a fair amount of movies released in 2011, and for the most part, they were good movies.  Movies like Crazy Stupid Love, Take Shelter, 50/50, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (yes, I’m a bit biased on that last one, but I’m not the only one who thinks it got stiffed).  Even Winnie-the-Pooh: no, it isn’t a Best Picture, but surely it’s better than at least one of the Best Animated Feature Film nominees?  (I’m talking to you, Puss in Boots.)

What I’m saying is nothing new.  You’ve seen this rant plenty of times already if you’ve been paying attention to Oscar buzz at all.  But I’m going to steer my rant in a different direction.  My admonition to my fellow armchair film critics is this: We can’t influence the mercurial tastes of the Academy.  So let’s stop whining, and let’s stop feeling guilty if we don’t see all the films that get nominated.  As I hope my list has shown you (and this is indeed a partial list; I would love to see your additions), good movies come out every year that don’t get recognized.  We can still enjoy those movies, demonstrate our approval of them by paying to see them, and spread the word about them, as I’ve just done.  Seriously.  You should see those movies I mentioned.  I have good taste. 😉

The Hobbit!

Anybody else excited?

Yes, we Hogwarts folks do enjoy Tolkien.  Why not?  After all, did you ever think about this: Merry and Pippin talk about this great kind of pipeweed called Longbottom Leaf.  Is that why Neville’s so good at herbology–because he had an ancestor who was an innovator in the the cultivation of hobbit narcotics?

God bless us, every last individual one.

What are your favorite adaptations of A Christmas Carol?  Here are some mini-reviews of ones that I experience every year, plus a few new ones.

1. Mickey’s Christmas Carol. Like many people, I suspect, I was first exposed to Dickens’ story through this brief–very brief–cartoon.  Its briefness makes it good for children with short attention spans, but it means that a number of great scenes (the child Scrooge in the schoolroom, the party at Fred’s, the pilferers offering their wares to Old Joe) have to be left out.  Perhaps even more disappointing, this version doesn’t use much of Dickens’ language other than “Bah humbug” and “God bless us, every one.”  But Alan Young as Scrooge MacDuck as Ebenezer Scrooge is memorable.  And I’ll always have a warm place in my heart for Mickey’s Christmas Carol.

2. The Muppet Christmas Carol. I haven’t seen this year’s The Muppets yet, but I’m interested to see whether Jason Segel and Amy Adams can give as un-ironic and moving a performance alongside a cast of Muppets as Michael Caine does in this movie which ranks easily among my favorite Christmas films.  Even though this movie left me for many years with the impression that Scrooge actually had two partners named Marley in the original version, I credit it with instilling in me an early love for Dickens’ style, since it does retain much of the phraseology of the novella.  When I read A Christmas Carol, I hear Gonzo’s voice.  Who doesn’t?

3. A Christmas Carol presented by the Almost Blasphemy troupe at Blackfriars Playhouse, Staunton, VA.  I went to see this American Shakespeare Center production last weekend.  It was decidedly geared toward the groundlings in the audience (in this case, mostly children), as evidenced in particular by the dance number at Fezziwig’s party (It was “Flashdance.”  Yes.).  A purist would not have enjoyed it, but a purist would not have enjoyed seeing Dickens done with Elizabethan theatrical conditions anyway.  I had fun.  As usual with ASC, the pace was brisk, yet the story felt unabridged.  I thought Marley’s ghost was particularly good.  He came out of a trapdoor in the floor!  (And he was a good actor.)

4. The version I have pieced together from a few of my students’ papers.  In which Marley’s ghost and the Ghost of Christmas Past are the same character.  I told them I would be able to tell if they didn’t read the book.

Questions for Hollywoodland

Now that the Golden Globe nominations are out and award season approaches, I would like to throw a couple of rhetorical questions into the vast sea of opinion that will soon begin roiling.

1. We’re going to be seeing a lot of clips from Moneyball over the next few months.  I want to know what the new, trim Jonah Hill thinks when he sees the fat guy in those clips.  Does he hate that guy?  Does he feel sorry for him?  Does he say, “Cheer up, old boy; you’ll be well rid of all that soon enough.”  Or does he think, with a shiver, “There but for the grace of God go I . . . again”?

2. Why can’t the Academy (or the Hollywood Foreign Press, etc.) deign to give one acting nomination to someone from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2?  I know it’s got a lot going against it: an ensemble cast, placement in a series involving multiple directors (instead of a neat, self-contained package like Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings), the fantasy genre, and the label “children’s movie,” which even the last few films haven’t been able to shake.  I also know that I’m just a silly fangirl, but I think even a more objective observer might be willing to admit that Ralph Fiennes deserves a Best Supporting Actor nod for his riveting portrayal of Voldemort, and that Alan Rickman also deserves one for his equ…ally (get it, superfans?) riveting performance as Severus Snape.  (You don’t have to be on screen for more than a few minutes to garner a Supporting Actor/ess nomination; cf. Viola Davis in Doubt.)  And let’s not forget Daniel Radcliffe.  He would have to be in the Best Actor category (duh), which is harder to break into, especially for a 22-year-old who’s been playing the same role for ten years.  But nobody can justly deny that Daniel Radcliffe has established himself as a serious contender in film.  He won’t get nominated for an acting award this year (unless it’s a Tony?), but we haven’t seen the last of him.

Welcome to Ravenclaw Tower.

I don’t have any pretensions to wit beyond measure.  In fact, I doubt I would be able to answer the logic problem in order to gain access to the real Ravenclaw Tower (although I do take comfort in the thought that if Luna Lovegood can get in, maybe I could too.  And by this I mean no disrespect to Luna.)  But I wanted to give my blog a Ravenclaw name because I hope, humbly, to create a place where thoughtful inquiry and the magic of words can thrive.

Don’t expect a post every day.  Don’t expect brilliance every time.  Do expect book reviews (and movie and music reviews too), brief observations and exclamations, paeans to people I like, product recommendations, and sometimes, posts consisting entirely of quotations from those who approach nearer to immeasurable wit than I do.

And yes, Penelope Clearwater is that Ravenclaw prefect who dated Percy Weasley before he became a total git.  Are you aware how deeply into obscurity a potential blogger has to dig in order to find a quality blog name that someone hasn’t already chosen?