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Month: June 2006

The Lost Book Club: The Turn of the Screw

Good, as in God, the style of Henry, or if I might call him so, Mr. James, author of The Turn of the Screw, who in the late nineteenth century wrote the thin ghost story, is torturous, as a stretching on the rack. One might imagine, if so inclined as to imagine such a horror, a horror beyond compare, the voice of Shatner, William Shatner reading each phrase, set off with a preponderance of punctuation in the form of commas, commas that precede every unnecessary phrase, like a water torture of Chinese design and implementation, dripping prose into one’s mind in an effort to present a story, a tale, of ghosts and other mysteries.

Woof. It’ll drive you nuts but perhaps that’s the point.

An unnamed narrator has been appointed to take care of two young children at an English country estate called Bly. The owner, a gentleman in London, has inherited the children and wants nothing to do with them so he hires a governess who promptly falls in love with the beautiful, innocent, angelic children.

Then she starts seeing ghosts. The apparitions are the former governess and her lover both of whom died under mysterious circumstances. No one else sees them, but it’s clear the children, Miles and Flora, are somehow involved.

At times I wondered if the narrator was seeing things that weren’t there, which caused me to question her sanity, but her spot on descriptions of the former servants whom she never met, led to me suspect that the ghosts were real.

The spirits seem to be engaged in some kind of communion with the kids, but it is unclear (intentionally so, I think) whether they are controlling the children or if the children are summoning them.

Applying this to Lost, the most obvious parallel becomes the story of Michael and his young son, Walt. When Walt’s mother dies and his step-father wants nothing more to do with him (apparently because Walt seems to exhibit some kind of psychic abilities) Michael comes to Australia to take Walt back to the US, which is why they are on the plane. While stranded on the island Michael comes to idealize Walt in much the same that the narrator of The Turn of the Screw comes to idealize her charges.

As with Miles and Flora, there may be more to Walt than meets the eye. Strange things seem to happen around him as if his thoughts alter reality. There are suggestions of this throughout the series, both on the island and in flashback. At times certain characters see ghosts, and Walt himself has been seen in places it’s impossible for him to be. Michael does not know it, but it seems that Walt (or his spirit anyway) is what led Shannon to her death.

Astral projection? Shaping reality? Your guess is as good as mine, but it’s clear that Walt has some kind of profound power that no one – not even Walt – understands.

At one point in The Turn of the Screw, the narrator describes a day spent playing with the kids on the grounds as a day in which she lived in a world of their creation. One wonders how much of the world of Lost might be a world of Walt’s creation in the form of some kind of psychic projection. There are suggestions that this might be the case as well as the ominous pronouncement in the season two finale that the Others do not want Walt because he turned out to be more than they bargained for when they kidnapped him at the end of season one.

The Turn of the Screw, like Lost, is very vague about what is actually occurring. In both stories the living see the dead, there are children who appear innocent but who possibly harbor tremendous powers, and there are adults who are driven to the brink of sanity in an effort to save those children.

Reading Turn of the Screw makes me think of Walt and raises a question about how his presence on the island affects the lives of the other survivors. Is Walt a cause of their problems or is he, like them, a victim of other unknown forces either natural or supernatural. I think Walt is probably controlling, perhaps unintentionally, some of the strange things that happen on the island.

Check out my other Lost book posts at The Lost Book Club.

Monday Movie Roundup

Do long movies count twice?

Munich (Steven Spielberg, 2005)

During the spring of 1994, I interviewed for admission to NYU’s graduate film school. The interview was conducted in a small windowless room where I sat across a long table from three professors. They asked questions about filmmaking, my experiences, my ideas and then they asked me to name my favorite director.

Joel Coen,” I answered truthfully.

One woman rolled her eyes. The man in the middle gave a snarky half-smile and said, “How about someone who isn’t an NYU graduate?”

I had no idea that Coen went to NYU; he just happened to be my favorite director. Still, they assumed I was trying to flatter them.

The three awaited my answer, and I heard myself saying something to the effect of, “Uhhh…..duhhhhh…..ummm…” while my mind promptly emptied itself of the names of every director who’d ever exposed film. Flailing, I finally said, “Steven Spielberg.”

Which is of course the wrong name to give to a group of film school professors. I assume they thought either I was cuaght up in the Shindler’s List hype or that I was just some doofus who liked Raiders of the Lost Ark and Close Encounters of the Third Kind (both of which I do) but either way, I seemed pretty clear that they didn’t think I was NYU material.

The fact is, though, I really do like Spielberg’s films. There are many movies that in the hands of a less accomplished director would not be enjoyable, but Spielberg is a master of his craft, he knows how to lead an audience and sometimes, he really does make films that rise above summer blockbuster entertainment.

Munich is one such film. The film claims to be inspired by true events and so I take it for what it claims to be: historical fiction. It tells the tale of the aftermath of the 1972 Munich Massacre is which several Israeli athletes and coaches were kidnapped and murdered by a group of Palestinian terrorists. After this, a number of PLO agents throughout Europe started showing up dead, murdered by Israeli secret agents.

The film focuses on Avner, a low-level Mossad agent who is tasked with leading a team that will hunt down and kill the people responsible. The film works on two levels. It is first and most interestingly a meditation on the effects of violence on those who commit violent acts. Avner and his team begin their work filled with a spirit of vengeance and a desire for justice. Eventually, the humanity seems to drain away from them as they get deeper and deeper into a world of chaos, paranoia, and death in which they themselves become the terrorists they abhor.

Because this is a Spielberg film, it also works as a cold-war era cloak-and-dagger picture full of the kind of shadowy intrigue and sneaking around in Europe’s great cities that made cold-war era spy novels so thrilling. In Spielberg’s capable hands, Munich is both an action-adventure tale of international intrigue and an unsettling tale of what happens to those whose business is killing.

The film was criticized for excessively humanizing the Palestinian targets that Avner and his team dispatch, but Spielberg’s film carries little sympathy for the Palestinian cause or methods. It simply tells the story of what happens to individuals caught up in events bigger than themselves. Individuals who on both sides must sacrifice the ideals they claim to fight for in order to protect those ideals.

I wonder if Munich had come out when I was interviewing at NYU if I’d have gotten the brush-off the way I did. Still, I must have done better than I thought because I was accepted. Then I came to my senses and decided that paying student loans for the rest of my life wouldn’t be worth it. Instead, I paid in-state tuition to UT’s graduate film school and though Joel Coen never went there, I can say that I don’t owe them a dime.

And though Spielberg isn’t my favorite director, films such as Munich certainly move him up the list.

Starting a New Novel

Last week, I started on what will someday be my third novel. The second one, Try Everything in a Cartoon Romance, is pretty much done, but it’s time to begin a third one while I decide what to do with the second.

When I was in graduate school, I wrote a screenplay called Right of Way that I always intended to revisit and rewrite as a novel in order to explore the characters and issues more deeply than a screenplay allows. I’m using the old script as an outline while I get started on the story and reintroduce myself to the characters.

It starts in Austin in 1995. It’s about Larry and his younger brother, Chip, who has battled cancer on and off his whole life. After relapsing at age eighteen, Chip decides he’s not going to go back for treatment.

He runs away from his home in Houston and shows up at Larry’s doorstep in Austin wanting to “just try living for once.” He’s never really lived except in the books he read in the hospital and so with a head full of Kerouac, Thoreau, Hemingway and London, his own private wish-upon-a-star is to get to know his brother (who is ten years older and was all but forgotten by their parents who were perpetually focused on the sick kid) and travel to see the Grateful Dead, living the kind of adventure he’s read about in books.

Needless to say this is all quite a complication for his more strait-laced and settled older brother who wants to help Chip, but doesn’t know if helping him involves taking him on his grand adventure or getting him back to treatment.

That’s the story in broadest strokes. Even though I’ve already made major changes from the script I do have most of the story plotted out. I am, however, permitting myself to make as many changes as I want. Including the title, which for now is Short Time to Be Here, a modification of a line from the Grateful Dead’s “Box of Rain.”

I’m on page 15. It’s not really flowing yet. That comes later, when the characters truly start talking. The beginnings are always the hardest for me, but eventually the whole thing will come alive and then it just flows. I love when that happens.

Weekend Hound Blogging: Rumbly Tummy

Sometimes you wake up in the morning and your hot water heater is leaking or perhaps, it’s a sink overflowing. Maybe there are pipes in the walls making odd noises because something got flushed that shouldn’t have. Or perhaps one of your greyhounds has a case of rumbly tummy.

Phoebe 

This isn’t Phoebe’s first case of the internal growls, but we think we’ve isolated the cause: canned K/D. Daphne has to eat K/D (that’s kidney diet, by the way) and Phoebe eats it as well. Usually they get kibble, and I mix vegetables in with it. Occasionally I get some canned K/D, which they enjoy, but now, finally, putting two and two together (or is that K and D) we realize that the rumbling noises are probably caused by the K/D, so back to veggies.

Today, though, they enjoyed that upset canine tummy treat: yogurt. After a couple small dishes of yoghurt over the course of the day, all hounds, I’m happy to report, are sleeping well and trying to figure out what they can eat to bring back the rumbles and thus the delicious yogurt.

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Want to make a fast friend by saving a greyhound in Central Texas? Check these pups out. Or go here to find a greyhound near you. You can also go here to find out why greyhounds are running for their lives.

If you have dogs who need proven leadership, go here to find a cat.

Old Photo Friday

From 1979-1982 we were stationed at Subic Bay Naval Base in the Philippines. That was 3rd – 5th grade for me. It was always either hot and dry, or hot and rainy, so everyone’s favorite escape was Baguio City high in the mountains of Luzon. We usually stayed at Camp John Hay an old base that had been converted into a mountain resort.

Baguio 1981

I remember Baguio being a nice place where the air was relatively cool and the mountains were beautiful. Sometimes there was even frost on the ground.

This photo was taken in 1981 with my old Kodak 110 instamatic, which accounts for the bluriness. Looking back as an adult, I’m impressed with my composition considering I didn’t know about such things back then. It’s a wonder my thumb isn’t in this shot as it is in so many others.

Chlorine Summer Days

Chlorine bubbles
Teenage lifeguards
Lap lanes
Sun
He can’t hold his breath that long
She swims, swims, swims
Swim
She can’t hold her breath for him
Holding hands
Holding breath
Chlorine water bubbles
Break like glass
Smiling faces break the mirror
Sun
Swim
Summer
Ten more laps
Five
One
Holding breath
Holding sun
They hold each other
Swimming
Only Labor Day
(so far away)
dispels the dream
Of swimming, sun and
Water love
Chlorine swim
Sun five
Breath one
He will hold his breath for her,
Offering it like sunshine gold
From wrinkled hand
Swimming, she accepts
Breathes the breath
Of summer sun

This one came one summer day a few years ago while swimming laps at the neighborhood pool. Community pools are so ordinary and yet there’s a certain magic as well. Perhaps it’s just the way chlorine smells and warm water feels when it becomes part of memory.