Sibling Tragedy

As the media sought to satisfy our morbid curiosity about the Boston Marathon bombers, my mind kept drifting to the fact that these were brothers.  It is another layer of tragedy on an already depressing event.

Tolstoy's insight is applicable here: "All happy families are alike.  But all unhappy families are unhappy in their own way."  In the best families, siblings will make an effort to encourage one another to be better.  They will resist the natural tendency to try to drag others down to their level, or to attempt to find comfort by sharing a weakness.  Where genuine love exists, one is willing to sacrifice personally to motivate and inspire his brothers and sisters to be better and happier people .  Often this is simply a matter of setting an unwavering example, which is at once the most effective and challenging teaching tool known to man.

 It should be the same with friends.  I visited a boy in jail on Sunday--I'll call him Jason.  He was doing a favor for a friend, giving him a ride.  His friend did something stupid and Jason is now facing multiple felony charges.  His friend failed to appreciate and respect the impact he could have on Jason.  He didn't care enough to act in Jason's best interest.  Instead, he was self-centered, with tragic consequences.

And the principle holds true with spouses as well. In the most successful marriages, each is caring enough to want the very best for her or his spouse.  They will both elevate their characters, not simply in a quest for self-improvement, but as a product of love and devotion, a sacrifice freely given, without promise, but with hope.

Somewhere along the way these young men in Boston lost sight of brotherly love.  Instead, they allowed the curable disease of hate to spread virally, from brother to brother, with fatal consequences.


 

From Joe Gould

During my morning workout I was watching Joe Gould's Secret, a movie I saw at Sundance 13 years ago (co-written, directed by and starring Stanley Tucci--who did not make it to the premiere due to the birth of one of this children).

The movie was based on a book and articles about an extraordinary New York bohemian in the '50's who claimed to have written an oral history of the world--transcriptions of what everyday people said in conversation.  In talking about his history (which was never discovered, and probably never existed), he reflects on his obsession:

"The Oral History is my roof, my scaffold.  My bed, my board.  My wife, my floozy.  My wound and the salt on it.  My whiskey, my aspirin.  My rock, my salvation.  It's the only thing that matters a damn to me.  All else is dross."

Reality and judgment aside, I thought is was a beautifully written and touching line.  Joe Gould is played in this wonderful and moving film by Ian Holm.

Roger Ebert

I was sad to hear that Roger Ebert died.  Our lives intersected a few times over the years.  I used to see him at the Sundance Film Festival.  He'd always go to the weekend premieres at the Eccles Theatre and sit in the same seat, like he was superstitious.

I first met him when I was CEO of ClearPlay and embroiled in battles with the studios.  I introduced myself between movies in the Eccles lobby and we talked about the ClearPlay concept.  After some discussion, he asked to take my picture, which surprised me.  It was a new camera and he hadn't quite figured out how to operate it, so it took him several takes to finally get it right.  All the while we were the focus of attention in the lobby.  Everyone recognized Roger, but had no idea who I was, although the mere fact that Roger Ebert was taking my picture gave me an assumed, if undeserved, celebrity status. 

The next morning in his column in the Chicago Sun-Times Roger referred to me as "a candidate for the most hated man in Hollywood."  (It was a moniker that followed me around for some time, and turned out to be good for publicity!) 

That morning I ran into him again at the Yarrow Hotel.  He had just finished breakfast with Darryl Hannah.  I had read his column and so went up to him with a laugh.  He protested that he thought he had been fair.  Then he introduced me to Darryl Hannah.  (I'm not often starstruck, but when the tall comely blonde extended her hand and said "I'm Darryl," I was quite tongue-tied.)  Anyway, I figured that introduction more than compensated for any negativity in Roger's column.

Also in the column he mentioned that the previous night he was asked to take a picture of Bob Dylan, who was there for the premiere of his most awful movie, "Masked and Anonymous."  (He co-wrote it with Larry Charles--it was really quite bad.)  So now I have two connections to Dylan--we both grew up in Northern Minnesota and we've been on the same roll of film.

I'd see Roger again at Sundance every year.  He was masterful talking about movies.  And occasionally I'd ask him about one--I recall us discussing Southern Comfort, about a rural southern transsexual community that we both found fascinating.  

He was an extraordinary scholar of cinema history.  His voiceover commentary on one of my favorite movies, Casablanca, is really wonderful and has deepened my appreciation for the classic film.   It was sad to see him suffer so badly the past few years, and he has not been to Sundance in quite a while.  He will be missed.

The Auguries of Innocence

While working out today I was watching Jim Jarmusch's "Dead Man,"  a strange, profane, surreal, absurd, slow-moving Kafkaesque "western."  I woke up at 1:30 a.m. and remembered a line in the movie that struck me--Gary Farmer, playing an Indian named "Nobody," beautifully quoting a poem by William Blake (the name of Johnny Depp's character, though he's from Cleveland and is not the eponymous poet).

So I looked up the poem, The Auguries of Innocence, and read it through a number of times.  And now, here I am at three in the morning blogging about a few lines which I thought were beautiful and powerful and filled with the kind of truth that beckons me to sit down with a poem to get to know it.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to endless night.

The poem was written in couplets over the course of time and according to one commentator arranged rather randomly for publication.  Blake used several of the couplets as the basis for other poems.  Like all Blake's works, this lyrical stanza has a religious intent; but I prefer it as a simple commentary on the inherent injustices of humanity, the wanton biological means for filling a world with Haves and Have Nots.

Speaking of injustices, my vegetarian sensibilities smiled at this one:

The lamb misused breeds public strife
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

I admit there's a lot more to it than my self-serving interpretation.  Maybe pure allegory, or perhaps some eternal juxtaposition of condemnation, innocence and forgiveness.  I suppose both scholars and preachers could fill a room with opinions on this couplet alone, although I would not want to be in attendance for either one, preferring my private musings.

And another basis for a homily:

A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

These lines leapt from the page and into my soul, partly because they don't fit with the rest of the verses, but mostly because I felt a stinging condemnation, like Blake knew I'd find the poem eventually so put them in there just for me.  For years I thought truth was sufficient justification for saying anything.  One morning I woke in a cold sweat and realized I'd been living a lie.

And the close, with an insight that every missionary learns his first week in the field, sadly first, and then later with rejoicing:

God appears and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night.
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day?

I like poems that ask questions because that is how life reveals herself to me.  I'm neither a learned nor worthy critic, so will reply to Blake's question with a few doggerel couplets of my own, inspired perhaps by the early morning hour.

The morning sun illuminates
What blackened night eviscerates.
Your consciousness, the thoughts you keep,
Depends on when you choose to sleep.

Riddle Me This

I was cleaning out my inbox and ran across this riddle I wrote a few years back:

I’m never at a loss for words
Though silence is my tone.
I’m filled with good ideas,
Though none of them my own.

I like to think I keep my place
Quite neat and orderly.
But you might say I’ve got
A nasty case of OCD.

What am I?

Samurai Movies

I watched a samurai movie (13 Assassins) over the course of a few workouts this week.  I haven't seen many of them, but based on my limited experience, it appears they follow a similar pattern which I have tried to detail in the matrix below. As movie buffs are well aware, the parallels to U.S. westerns are considerable.

Dream On

Two observations I made while dreaming last night:

While watching people dance on a plane: "How high we hold our hands while dancing is hard-wired in us from birth."

While on the receiving end of a sales pitch: "I have decided that opportunities are not worth very much because somebody is always trying to give me one."

I think maybe I'm smarter asleep than awake.

Blogger in Therapy

From the New Yorker.

How Life Works

There's something about this ad that made me laugh. At first I thought it was the pretentiousness of the sponsor's name, How Life Works. And I must admit to being rather impressed by the line-up of information offers: eating whatever you want and staying thin; vacationing in tropical climates while women in bikinis wiggle their butts at you; and remembering more and maintaining your brain.  Gee, it sort of feels like they have most of society's dreams, fears and aspirations covered in one ad.  Nevertheless, I resisted the urge to click.

And then it hit me--the name isn't pretentious at all.  This is something advertisers have known all along--how life really works.  

Success

I just ran across a quote from Seneca: "Failure changes for the better. Success for the worst."

Despite my agreement, I doubt that I will be pursuing failure as a self-improvement tool.  The price is too high.  Instead, I'll take my chances with success.

Which reminds me of the little boy's prayer: "Lord, if you can't make me a better boy, don't worry about it.  I'm having a real good time just the way I am."

A Little Kutchering

Here's Ashton Kutcher responding to my question at Sundance.  It's actually only about half of his answer, and the rest was more interesting.    The director also responded to it.

Sundance Day Four

Wound up this year's Sundance experience with a couple of Latin-based films in Park City.  Neither one are likely to be recognized as some of the best films of the festival, but they both have their value and I feel fortunate to have seen them.

Narco Cultura

Documentary about the glorification of the drug lord culture in Mexico.  This is so sad it's painful.  Juarez, a city of 1.3 million people, has 3500 murders a year.  It's currently the center of a power struggle (ok, a power war) between two rival major drug cartels.  Those doing the killing are the "Narcos," operatives and drug trade leaders working for their organizations in the local areas.  The government is at a loss, as local officials are frequently bought off by the cartels.  Less than 3% of the murders are even investigated.  Everyone lives in fear.

Tragic. Hopeless.  

Along with the violent realities is the Narco culture which has become popular.  The Narcos are often reverenced like modern-day Robin Hoods--selling drugs to ugly Americans and bringing the money back to impoverished Mexico.  The corrido, a traditional Mexican ballad, has been usurped by the Narco's and is inexplicably popular with the masses.  The music glorifies lawlessness and violence in ways that make Eminem look like Donny Osmond.  The songs are not fictional, but generally told about real people and actual events.  In fact, songs are even commissioned by Narcos to build their reputations.  And then they go mainstream.  It was surreal watching families, old women and children at concerts and dances sing along to lyrics like this:

We take care of El Mayo 

Here no one betrays him… 
We stay tough with AK-47s and bazookas at the neck 
Chopping heads off as they come 
We’re bloody-thirsty crazy men 
Who like to kill.
               --The Komander

I've decided I won't be retiring to Juarez.


No
A fascinating drama about the 1988 Chilean election that threw dictator Augusto Pinochet out of office.  This is a riveting story born at the intersection of history, politics and advertising.  Starring Gael Garcia Bernal (the second movie we saw him in this festival) as an advertising executive that works for the coalition of mostly leftists in what appears to be a hopeless cause.  Pinochet, who led a regime of corruption and oppression, had been put into office largely due to US support and only sanctioned the elections in response to international pressure.  Everyone assumed they were a sham and the results were inevitable.  While television was nationalized, to give the illusion of fairness the opposition was given 15 minutes of television time a day, while the Pinochet government was free to propagandize the other 23 hours and 45 minutes.  What emerged, as much as anything, was a marketing story where the fate of the country hung on advertising strategy and creative genius.

The movie is in Spanish with English subtitles and is shot in low-def, 80's-vintage film, which may be annoying to some.  It will get very limited release in the US, I expect, but may play better in South America.

Sundance Moment: Sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start Rebecca suddenly motions to this lady walking by and speaks to her excitedly in Spanish (without subtitles, meaning I had no idea what she was saying).  Turns out it was a woman she had never actually met, but had seen twice in Chile while attending church, both in December and in 2010.  They are visiting in the U.S. for six months.  The women exchanged contact info and plan to get together. It's a small, small world.

Sundance Day Three

jOBS
Taking the lead from the Walter Isaacson book, this heavily-researched biopic starring Ashton Kutcher pulls no punches in its effort to provide a raw examination of the iconic Apple co-founder and visionary.  Covering the period from college to his vindicating return to Apple in 1997, we see Jobs in all his glory and depravity.  Personally, I found it difficult to assimilate the conflicting reactions.  I felt like I was being emotionally drawn and quartered.  I was fascinated by his drive and vision; inspired by his absolute devotion to originality and greatness; yet horrified at his character flaws and frequent callous disregard for people.

I must admit that I've never been an Ashton Kutcher fan, although I've only seen him in TV, but I thought his performance was powerful and moving, every bit as compelling as Daniel Day-Lewis' Lincoln.

It will be interesting to see how this movie does at the box office.  I'm not sure how the public will react to this often stark and morally ambiguous portrayal of someone who has quickly become a beloved American icon.

The Inevitable Defeat of Mister and Pete
The story of two young boys who are thrust together by circumstance to survive on their own one summer in the New York housing projects.  It is often discomforting and even painful to watch, particularly for those of us not accustomed to the inner-city world of poverty, addiction, crime, prostitution and welfare.  Yet despite this oppressive environment and the ongoing fight for survival it requires, there is enough love, friendship, kindness and fun to bring hope and occasional comfort.

Part of the magic of the film is that we immediately feel for young Mister (an excellent performance by Skylan Brooks) and Pete and are emotionally drawn to their story without having any idea what outcome or end result we are rooting for or might be possible.


I could easily come up with a dozen criticisms of the film.  Many would find the pacing too slow, and some script elements were a little far-reaching.  But I was deeply moved by the experience, more so than any movie I can recall, perhaps because some parts reminded me of a period in my early childhood.

Director George Tillman Jr. (Men of Honor, Notorious) should be commended for making a powerful film.  He spoke after the premiere and explained some of his preparations, including bringing the boy actors from LA to spend time in the New York projects and with the children who lived there.  From listening to the boys, this had a tremendous impact on them.

Fun tidbit: At the Q&A, someone asked writer Michael Starrbury where he came up with the first name "Mister."  He said that former basketball legend Allen Iverson has a little brother named Mister.

Sundance 2013 Day Two

It is the year of the documentary for us at Sundance, at least so far.  Two more movies yesterday:

Salma
As a young Tamil girl in a small village in Southern India, Salma was given to be married at the age of thirteen.  She refused, which was a great embarrassment to her father and fiance, who promptly locked her into a small basement room for nine years, when she finally relented due to her mother's declining health.  During that time she wrote poetry, which was smuggled out of the village and ultimately published by one of the leading literary journals in India.  She became the most popular female Tamil poet.  For fifteen years her husband still did not let her out of the house.

The documentary by British filmmaker Kim Longinotto details her life, including her first return to the village after years away.  It's a fascinating, moving film and Salma (not her real name) is a mythic character, part Ghandi and part Nelson Mandela.

Both Longinotto and Salma were at our screening and we took the opportunity to talk with them afterwards. Longinotto feels privileged to have known Salma and clearly reveres her.  And Salma is a wonderful spirit.  Rebecca asked her several questions and they shook hands, with Salma holding hers for some time, smiling, with her warm, brown eyes.  It was very touching.

Dirty Wars
This movie must be seen.  It is a powerful and disturbing investigation into what has become the leading thrust of our international military strategy--special-forces type quick strikes and assassinations done covertly  and with no oversight.  It would be good to call this an expose, but it hardly is.  At one time, the Joint Special Operations Forces were completely unknown.  Since the successful assassination of Osama Bin Laden, they have been lauded as heroes and made the centerpiece of our strategy.  Thousands of hits happen all over the world, including countries like Yemen and Somalia, where we are not officially engaged in war.  We have even targeted and assassinated American citizens, unabashedly, without a trial.

This type of thing has been happening for over a decade, but Obama has escalated it to a frightening level.  We have even hired Somalian warlords to do some of our dirty work.  (There is a chilling interview with a Somalian warlord who describes in almost reverential terms how proficient Americans are at war.) Yet few in Washington seem to care.  As explained by journalist Jeremy Scahill, whose investigation forms the narrative of the movie, all Washington wants to talk about is how many people are killed--what's the body count.  Simply unbelievable.

Beyond a vitally important story, the movie is remarkably well made and one of the most riveting documentaries I can recall.  Director Rick Rowley said it was picked up by IFC, which means a likely broad release.  Must see.

Now Out on DVD
Two movies now in Redbox that were some of  my favorites of the past year, both from Sundance 2012--Searching for Sugarman and Beasts of the Southern Wild.  Both highly recommended.  Also Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry and Queen of Versailles, which I still haven't seen but are very high on my list.

Smart Guys with Terrible Pick-up Lines

"The female is an impotent male, incapable of making semen because of the coldness of her nature.  We therefore should look at the female state as if it were a deformity, though one that occurs in the ordinary course of nature."
                                                 --Aristotle

"Girls began to talk and to stand on their feet sooner than boys because weeds always grow up more quickly than good crops."
                                                 --Martin Luther

Contract with His Wife:
You will make sure:

- that my clothes and laundry are kept in good order;
- that I will receive my three meals regularly in my room;
- that my bedroom and study are kept neat, and especially that my desk is left for my use only.
  

You will renounce all personal relations with me insofar as they are not completely necessary for social reasons. Specifically, You will forego:

 - my sitting at home with you;
 - my going out or travelling with you.
   

You will obey the following points in your relations with me:

 - you will not expect any intimacy from me, nor will you reproach me in any way;
 - you will stop talking to me if I request it;
 - you will leave my bedroom or study immediately without protest if I request it.

                                                --Albert Einstein

There are probably a couple of lessons here, but one of the biggest is that brilliance in one area doesn't lead to brilliance in all others.  Nor does it suggest ethics or morality.  This belies our misplaced desire to build monuments to talent and dedication rather than character and integrity.

Sundance 2013: Day One

Yesterday was our first Sundance day.  Here's a brief recap of our movies:

Austenland

A romantic comedy about a Jane Austen devotee (Keri Russell) who takes a fantasy vacation to live out a role in an Austen-inspired setting.  The directorial debut of Jerusha Hess, co-author of Napoleon Dynamite and wife of Napoleon director Jared Hess.  This is a really fun movie.  Russell is terrific as the girl next door.  Jennifer Coolidge is fabulous and feels like she's been unleashed to be funny and outrageous and fill up the screen.  Maybe the surprise is Bret Mackenzie, who was great in the Flight of the Conchords HBO series but demonstrated some really impressive acting chops and a magnetic screen presence.  I expect this performance to catapult his acting career.  

Both Rebecca and I really enjoyed this movie and I predict it will get gobbled up by a distributor and play pretty well at the box office.  We ran into Jerusha Hess after the movie and chatted for a few minutes.  She seems quite nice and friendly, down-to-earth and genuine.  Watching the Q& A it was clear that she had created a loose and contagiously fun atmosphere on the set, and the positive energy really showed in the film.

Who is Dayani Cristal?

A documentary about illegal immigration with an interesting performance by Gael Garcia Bernal.  The directors took a fresh approach, interspersing two story lines--one an attempt to discover the identify of a dead body found in the desert, and two a reenactment of sorts of a typical process of an illegal immigration from the Honduras, through Mexico, featuring Bernal.

The movie was quite well done and both informative and easy to watch.  My one criticism might be that despite its efforts to move the audience emotionally, it never manages to quite pull that off.  

Curiously, Rebecca and I saw a very similar movie--Crossing Arizona--in the exact same venue some years ago.

Fallen City

Director Zhao Qi follows survivors of the 2008 Sichuan earthquake as they rebuild their lives while the government rebuilds their city.  Qi is a talented director and the documentary is beautifully shot.  I was glad we stayed for the Q&A, as Qi is very well-spoken and his commentary helped me understand that the destruction and rebuilding of the city is something of a metaphor for the loss of the old ways of China and the government-sponsored replacement of bright, shiny, new materialism. We spoke to him afterwards, mostly with Rebecca asking him questions about the Mandarin dialect she had been trying to understand (he said that even he had trouble with it initially), and a few other observations born from her experience in China.  That really is one of the joys of Sundance--especially the smaller movies.  These directors LOVE to talk about their movies and they are extremely passionate.  It inspires me to feel that.

2012 Holiday Memories

Some enduring memories from this holiday season, in random order:

1. Playing HORSE on a trampoline court with Merritt and Brandon.
2. Listening to the boys at Wasatch youth prison sing Silent Night on Christmas morning.
3. Floating the Lazy River with MJ at the Westin Kierland Resort.
4. Receiving a touching letter from Lanee.
5. Driving south on I-15 in a snowstorm.
6. An unexpected visit from Dave and Dena Kerr in Phoenix.
7. Watching Rebecca and Dena dance with the Wii.
8. Reading with Weston.
9. Holding Charlotte, our beautiful new granddaughter.
10. Listening to The Gift of the Magi being read at the County Boys Home.
11. Snowboarding in fresh powder at Brighton with Mom, Brandon and Lanee.
12. Listening to (and watching) Liam sing Christmas carols from our iPad.
13. Watching the grandkids have such fun playing together.

Found Money

I put on my ski pants this morning and found a dollar in them.  Knowing that the dollar had been there since last ski season made it seem a little more valuable to me.  This says something about expectation theory.  If I had been looking for a twenty dollar bill from yesterday, and found only a single dollar, I would have been disappointed.  It's not the dollar that matters so much, it's the pleasant surprise of getting it.

As I sit here in the Christmas spirit, I think it would be nice to be the deliverer of pleasant surprises.  It is a habit, I guess.  A matter of slowing down the world and looking about for opportunities.  They shouldn't cost much, perhaps less than the dollar which just brought me a smile.  Seems like a small price to pay.

Some Things Never Change

"But the bad women, those called harlots, (show) no fine feelings; quite publicly they go about chewing chicle along the roads, in the market place, clacking like castanets."
    ---Fray Bernardino de Sahagun, writing about Aztec society in the 1590's

Just a little tidbit I picked up from the book Chicle, about the history of chewing gum, from the ancient Mayans to Wrigley.  One of the funnest parts of writing a book is the research.  Turns out there's a book for everything!

For Whom the Bell Tolls

I had to fight off shame when I found myself strangely unaffected by the recent shooting in Newtown, Connecticut, where 20 children and seven adults were senselessly gunned down. The families and friends of the victims must be suffering in anguish, the community devastated and the surviving schoolchildren traumatized. The event is profoundly tragic. My friends on Facebook expressed their sadness and tears, while I felt mostly emptiness.

I have had the same reaction to similar tragedies in the past. In 2001 I found myself thinking mostly of the  geopolitical impact of the 9/11 attacks. Yes, I was inspired by the courage and sacrifice of so many that were involved and admired their selflessness. And I recall being encouraged by the simple kindnesses and considerations that momentarily surfaced in everyday life. But I did not mourn for the victims.

I'm not proud of that. If one of the victims was close to me I would have been grief-stricken. But I didn't know anyone that died, and so felt only a general sadness at the evil in the world and man's inhumanity to man. After reflecting on my response to this latest tragedy in Connecticut, I attempted to understand why I feel the way I do, or rather, why I don't feel the way so many others do.  What character defect or darkness in my soul steels my heart to the suffering of these innocent people?

It stems from a defense mechanism.   There are times when I contemplate the great inequities in the world.  I have pondered the nearly five million children under the age of five who suffered preventable deaths last year, mostly from disease and starvation in sub-Sahara Africa.  In some of these countries, the mortality rate for children under five approaches 20%.   The magnitude of these numbers is almost overwhelming.  Yet what personally affects me the most is that these are preventable deaths which I am doing nothing to prevent. Instead, when my thoughts drift in that direction, I quietly allow my mind return to my business, rescued from the painful implications of a self-examination that would turn my sadness first to disappointment and then despair. 

Next year there will be more suffering in the world.  Another five million of these innocent children will perish. Their mothers, if alive, will grieve every bit as deeply as those that received the bitter reports in Newtown.  If I refuse to shed a guilty tear for those lives I might be able to save, then I cannot allow myself the same emotions for those for which I feel no culpability.

Things can be done. Steps can be taken. Yet it's hard to know how much of one's life and resources should be devoted to the distant and seemingly unsolvable problems in the world. There are no tidy solutions to this personal calculus.  Still, and not for the first time, I resolve to do more. 

I am reminded of the famous excerpt from John Donne's Meditations, which my daughter Lanee and I have attempted to memorize and occasionally recite together.  It is sadder and more significant to me today:

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Every man is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea, 

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thy friends', 

Or of thine own were.

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore, never send to know

For whom the bell tolls.

It tolls for thee.