V. S.
If Pnin seems to be asking its reader to uncritically enjoy
a few stretches of time spent in Pnin's company, Pale
Fire invites, almost compels interpretation. Its many
layers, its various ways of reading, its multiple narrators
all suggest complexity.
I wonder if on a much simpler level Pale Fire isn't also
Nabokov's attempt to deal with the sense of unreality his
earlier life must have come to hold for him ensconced
in the academic wilds of New England.
Of course Nabokov's father was killed by a real
assassin's bullet; but one must wonder if there were not
times when Nabokov's memories of a Tsarist-tinged
social order - from the estate at Rozhdestveno which
belonged to him for less than year to his father's death
in the futile tumult of Russian emigre politics in Berlin -
came to seem as unreal to him as Kinbote's musings on
his friendship with John Shade or as dream-like as a
deposed king's memory of ruling and
fleeing an imaginary kingdom called Zembla.
V. N.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Letter from Someone Who Nearly Loved You
_ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ _
First off he had sent a letter, and she had replied by email;
but nevermind. He had shared with her all - all he
couldn't with the people around him because of the pain it
might cause. When her reply came he was so nervous and excited
that he was unable to open the communication for several
days. He noticed her user name the day before Thanksgiving,
and he didn't end up opening it until Sunday evening.
At first the letter filled him with gratitude and relief. He
started composing replies in his head. It was encouraging,
even tender. Regret was expressed at the distance that
had grown up between the two. He felt encouraged and
continued thinking about the proper reply - e-mail it had to,
be; it would be ostentatious to return to the post unilaterally -
and the mood lasted for some part of an hour after he left
thc computer. He read nothing after her letter of course.
Slowly, slowly suspicion began to grow on him that
he wished she had not answered him, that it was
her listening which he valued so highly. What
he had loved about her was he knew she heard him
even when she did not respond. He was soon certain
he would have preferred her silence. But how could
that be? She had been so open to him, spoke of facing
her own aloneness as she lost an uncle who had always
meant the world to her. How would she live with him gone?
Suddenly he realized what was bothering him.
Whether she had intended it so or not, her writing
had turned into an acknowledgment of all the people
who meant more to her than he did.
_ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ _
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Indie Film's Week of Winners and (Mainly) Losers
This is the most difficult week of the year for
American Filmmakers, the week Sundance
announces its picks for next year's Festival.
Of course for a few hundred filmmakers,
including those with shorts and documentary
makers, it's a wonderful week; but for thousands
more it's a disappointing week. The chance to
gain a little attention for their labor of love has
been denied them.
And beyond the filmmakers who applied in
a specific year and did not get in, there are
tens times more who applied in previous
years, failed to get in and know their
work is unlikely to ever get even the little
attention an unsuccessful film at Sundance
will get. (Full Disclosure: I do NOT have
a full submitted to Sundance presently. )
Nassim Nicholas Taleb suggested in The
Black Swan that all prizes, such as the
Pulitzer and the Nobel, be abolished,
because luck plays such a large role in
who wins and the prize hurts a much
larger number of worthies who never
win or receive attention than the few
who do. I admire him for admitting the
psychic pain of losing out to others is
real for artists and not pretending it's
petty or doesn't matter.
His critique seems to apply to Sundance
as well, which for many American independent
filmmakers divides the winners from the losers.
And in ways that don't always seem based on
merit. Certainly having well known actors
in your film gives it a better chance to get
in Sundance than any other factor.
Those small films that do sneak in do so on a
combination of factors, including luck.
The year I came close to getting in
with NIGHTINGALE IN A MUSIC BOX -
I know, because I was warned to make
sure my print was ready - I knew someone
who worked at Sundance who made sure
John Cooper looked at it personally.
Still to admit chance plays a role in who
gets in - and how could it not with so
many entrants for so few spots - does not
negate the good Sundance does in widening
the opportunities for lower budget films.
It's only right to admit that it does so at
a high psychic price for myriads of
disappointed American filmmakers who
find the week before Thanksgiving the most
painful of the year.
American Filmmakers, the week Sundance
announces its picks for next year's Festival.
Of course for a few hundred filmmakers,
including those with shorts and documentary
makers, it's a wonderful week; but for thousands
more it's a disappointing week. The chance to
gain a little attention for their labor of love has
been denied them.
And beyond the filmmakers who applied in
a specific year and did not get in, there are
tens times more who applied in previous
years, failed to get in and know their
work is unlikely to ever get even the little
attention an unsuccessful film at Sundance
will get. (Full Disclosure: I do NOT have
a full submitted to Sundance presently. )
Nassim Nicholas Taleb suggested in The
Black Swan that all prizes, such as the
Pulitzer and the Nobel, be abolished,
because luck plays such a large role in
who wins and the prize hurts a much
larger number of worthies who never
win or receive attention than the few
who do. I admire him for admitting the
psychic pain of losing out to others is
real for artists and not pretending it's
petty or doesn't matter.
His critique seems to apply to Sundance
as well, which for many American independent
filmmakers divides the winners from the losers.
And in ways that don't always seem based on
merit. Certainly having well known actors
in your film gives it a better chance to get
in Sundance than any other factor.
Those small films that do sneak in do so on a
combination of factors, including luck.
The year I came close to getting in
with NIGHTINGALE IN A MUSIC BOX -
I know, because I was warned to make
sure my print was ready - I knew someone
who worked at Sundance who made sure
John Cooper looked at it personally.
Still to admit chance plays a role in who
gets in - and how could it not with so
many entrants for so few spots - does not
negate the good Sundance does in widening
the opportunities for lower budget films.
It's only right to admit that it does so at
a high psychic price for myriads of
disappointed American filmmakers who
find the week before Thanksgiving the most
painful of the year.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Claudio Monteverdi, Opera's Dr. Frankenstein
When I taught beginning filmmaking at Columbia College
Chicago, I used to tell my students that making a film was
like making a Frankenstein monster: the important test
was not how pretty the creature looked on the table but
whether life coursed through its veins once the cutting
and stitching were done.
When it comes to opera, it was Claudio Monteverdi
who found a way to breathe life into the new form.
What fascinates me about Monteverdi is that his
letters reveal a very uptight man, insecure, obsessed
with money and titles and at times pinched and
bitter; but in his music he is the least judgemental and
most generous of artists.
In his Il ritorno d'Ulisses a partria, based on The
Odyssey, Homer's villains become two young
lovers experiencing the joy and excitement of
first falling in love. In one of the most powerful
transitions in all opera, the two young lovers
sing of their joy right after Di Misera Regina,
Penelope's cry of anguish at just how painful
love can be. "You thought it so important to
punish the Trojans and have left me all alone."
It's archetypical Monteverdi to run love at its
most painful right into love at its freshest and
most exciting, and let the grinding of the two
coming into contact with each other create
the strongest of emotions within his listeners.
Those who endlessly worry over L'incoronazione
di Poppea, especially its portrayal of Nero and
Poppea as human lovers and not as unconscionable
monsters, do not understand that the unique power
of Monteverdi's work comes precisely from his
unflinching generosity towards the various motions
of the human heart.
Chicago, I used to tell my students that making a film was
like making a Frankenstein monster: the important test
was not how pretty the creature looked on the table but
whether life coursed through its veins once the cutting
and stitching were done.
When it comes to opera, it was Claudio Monteverdi
who found a way to breathe life into the new form.
What fascinates me about Monteverdi is that his
letters reveal a very uptight man, insecure, obsessed
with money and titles and at times pinched and
bitter; but in his music he is the least judgemental and
most generous of artists.
In his Il ritorno d'Ulisses a partria, based on The
Odyssey, Homer's villains become two young
lovers experiencing the joy and excitement of
first falling in love. In one of the most powerful
transitions in all opera, the two young lovers
sing of their joy right after Di Misera Regina,
Penelope's cry of anguish at just how painful
love can be. "You thought it so important to
punish the Trojans and have left me all alone."
It's archetypical Monteverdi to run love at its
most painful right into love at its freshest and
most exciting, and let the grinding of the two
coming into contact with each other create
the strongest of emotions within his listeners.
Those who endlessly worry over L'incoronazione
di Poppea, especially its portrayal of Nero and
Poppea as human lovers and not as unconscionable
monsters, do not understand that the unique power
of Monteverdi's work comes precisely from his
unflinching generosity towards the various motions
of the human heart.
The Animal Sigh
&
I won her heart when she asked,
"What pet would you most like?"
"A black swan of course, and
Whenever she lifted her wing in flight,
She would darken my heart with joy."
She listened to me with a sigh.
I won her heart when she asked,
"What pet would you most like?"
"A black swan of course, and
Whenever she lifted her wing in flight,
She would darken my heart with joy."
She listened to me with a sigh.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Samuel Alito, Leader of the Republican Party
There has been a lot of speculation that Rush Limbaugh
has become the true leader of the Republican party, but
given the Congressional Republican Leadership's decison
to emulate Alito's actions at the State of the Union and
to disrespect the People's elected leader by declining to
meet with President Obama and have dinner, I think it would
be more accurate to identify Samuel Alito as their new
spiritual leader.
He's already giving them quite a bit of help with their
fundraising, both by voting to allow corporations
to contribute as much as they want anonymously to run
political ads and also by attending conservative fundraisers.
has become the true leader of the Republican party, but
given the Congressional Republican Leadership's decison
to emulate Alito's actions at the State of the Union and
to disrespect the People's elected leader by declining to
meet with President Obama and have dinner, I think it would
be more accurate to identify Samuel Alito as their new
spiritual leader.
He's already giving them quite a bit of help with their
fundraising, both by voting to allow corporations
to contribute as much as they want anonymously to run
political ads and also by attending conservative fundraisers.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
William Christie & Il Ritorno di Monteverdi
William Christie is in America's opera eye now,
because he is making his Metropolitan Opera debut
with Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutte.
He has conducted Mozart before, but he is better
known for his conducting of early opera, notably
for his conducting of the music of Claudio Monteverdi,
the composer who breathed life into the form.
The Les Arts Florissants production of Monteverdi's
Il ritorno d'Ulisse in patria*, conducted by William
Christie is the greatest operatic video production
I know of for any composer's work. I should make it
clear I am not making this claim based on the vocal
quality of the singers - which is very high - but from
the viewpoint of effective theater.
The Ritorno is perhaps the most neglected opera
in the repertory. It does not have the popularity of
Monteverdi's first opera, Orfeo, or the cache of
his final one, Poppea. I would compare it
storywise to a film noir of the late 1940s or early
50s such as Out of the Past.
To see the Ritorno, especially its stunning four
part duet finale, is to realize that opera could
have gone in a very different direction if the
music had not come to mean so much more
than the acting and the story, and especially
if the da capo aria had not come to dominate
the expression of emotion from the time of
Handel on.
To my unscholared mind, Handel's genius
forced opera away from to theater to the concert
hall. Compare his operas to Dido and Aeneas,
the last opera in the Monteverdian tradition still
performed today, and you can see how much
more direct and theatrical Purcell's opera is
than any of Handel's.
Given the Ritorno's neglected status and the general
dearth of early operas in performance,
Christie's production, admirably directed for
the stage by Adrian Noble of the Royal
Shakespeare Company, is especially important
as it shows the way to present this early music
with power and vitality.
I am linking to the finale. It starts with
Penelope's song of joy at Ulisses's return
follows through a more meditative passage
and back into joy before quieting down
like Joyce's Ulysses into the word, "yes"
as its final word. Monteverdi's is a much more
flexible way to express the changing emotions
of the human heart than the da capo aria,
which sacrifices complexity for hummability.
Monteverdi's sensibility is also much more modern
than traditional opera's. Yes, today our sensibility
is closer to Monteverdi's of 1640 than Puccini's a
hundred years ago. As William Christie said, an
audience comes out of a good production of
Monteverdi not only moved but also "bewildered
by the modernity".
*The production in question is Les Arts Florissants
first video production filmed in July 2002. There
is a very recent production of which I have only seen
excerpts.
because he is making his Metropolitan Opera debut
with Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutte.
He has conducted Mozart before, but he is better
known for his conducting of early opera, notably
for his conducting of the music of Claudio Monteverdi,
the composer who breathed life into the form.
The Les Arts Florissants production of Monteverdi's
Il ritorno d'Ulisse in patria*, conducted by William
Christie is the greatest operatic video production
I know of for any composer's work. I should make it
clear I am not making this claim based on the vocal
quality of the singers - which is very high - but from
the viewpoint of effective theater.
The Ritorno is perhaps the most neglected opera
in the repertory. It does not have the popularity of
Monteverdi's first opera, Orfeo, or the cache of
his final one, Poppea. I would compare it
storywise to a film noir of the late 1940s or early
50s such as Out of the Past.
To see the Ritorno, especially its stunning four
part duet finale, is to realize that opera could
have gone in a very different direction if the
music had not come to mean so much more
than the acting and the story, and especially
if the da capo aria had not come to dominate
the expression of emotion from the time of
Handel on.
To my unscholared mind, Handel's genius
forced opera away from to theater to the concert
hall. Compare his operas to Dido and Aeneas,
the last opera in the Monteverdian tradition still
performed today, and you can see how much
more direct and theatrical Purcell's opera is
than any of Handel's.
Given the Ritorno's neglected status and the general
dearth of early operas in performance,
Christie's production, admirably directed for
the stage by Adrian Noble of the Royal
Shakespeare Company, is especially important
as it shows the way to present this early music
with power and vitality.
I am linking to the finale. It starts with
Penelope's song of joy at Ulisses's return
follows through a more meditative passage
and back into joy before quieting down
like Joyce's Ulysses into the word, "yes"
as its final word. Monteverdi's is a much more
flexible way to express the changing emotions
of the human heart than the da capo aria,
which sacrifices complexity for hummability.
Monteverdi's sensibility is also much more modern
than traditional opera's. Yes, today our sensibility
is closer to Monteverdi's of 1640 than Puccini's a
hundred years ago. As William Christie said, an
audience comes out of a good production of
Monteverdi not only moved but also "bewildered
by the modernity".
*The production in question is Les Arts Florissants
first video production filmed in July 2002. There
is a very recent production of which I have only seen
excerpts.
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