Saturday, June 23rd, 2007
Akutagawa Ryunosuke – Rashomon (2)
This collection of short pieces did not leave me quite as astounded and fascinated as did his longer story Kappa, but there still is an undertone of oddness created by the things, notions and emotions that come natural to Ryunosuke’s characters, yet seem strange and strangely upsetting to me. But the general theme that ties together this book, the isolation of the individual and the fragility and subjectivity of social relations and even accounts of reality, both of which at the same time are essential to life and happyness, is much closer to being universal as, I suspect, his criticism of a specifically Japanese society was in “Kappa”.
What a weird trip. I have to admit, the power of script and acting impress me, but from todays perspective, the sentiments and behaviour just seem strangely affected. Seeing this today suggests not artistic abandon and an emotional rollercoaster, but a dated body language and strangely stale clichees of reckless abandon. The horrible porn soundtrack doesn’t help any.
A fascinating look at animals and researchers surrounding the Great White Shark Project at the Farallone Islands off the coast of San Francisco. On a clean day you can just see these islands beyond the Golden Gate, and I am going to look out there with much more respect and curiosity now I’ve read the book. On the downside, Casey comes across as a somewhat irresponsible girl, whose obsession with untamed wildness and rugged men ultimately leads to severe consequences for everybody involved.
Awesome graphic design, wonderful cinematic visuals, both of which are more to Miller’s credit, of course, than the filmmakers’. The story lacked subtlety or characterization, and the dialogue was horribly cliched in places, which may also be Miller’s fault – need to pick up the book to check. A sad waste of talent and material overall.
After having read much of Lethem’s work, I think I love his stuff more for the abundance of ideas than for the actual execution. There is often something oddly fragmented about his storytelling, creating a disaffected air, but many of his characters and situations are very acute and touchingly observed conundrums of human existence, cast into odd narratives. Oh god, would you listen to me. Or rather, don’t. Read Lethem instead.
The premise is a marvelous riff on the post-apocalypse theme. Starting out as a classic, nuclear holocaust story set in the desert, complete with mutants and vigilantes in old cars. But we soon realize something isn’t quite as it seems, and as the protagonist makes his way from the desert back to San Francisco, we slowly understand that what has happened is much more apocalyptic than the mere destruction of the physical that bombs bring about: mental coherence, the very fabric of reality itself, has somehow been damaged, and dreams, paranoia and neuroses bloom freely and infest the world of the real. In keeping with the very lost feeling that pervades the story, we never learn the truth about what people call “the break”, though several alternatives of it are offered. And this, I feel, is also the shortcoming of Amnesia Moon: the exchangeability of the different narratives robs the story of some of its impact – when everything seems possible, nothing can mean much any more.
Reading Gaiman, I frequently marvel at the way he manages to circumvent my defenses. Things I would normally consider cliche or kitsch, are all right when he does them, and a scenario that reeks of Cirque de Soleil and the fake weirdness of professional quirkers, is genuinely creepy and rings true, when he touches it. Buttons for eyes? Dead children behind a mirror? A talking cat? A blind doorway that leads to a spooky place? Bring ’em on.
A cute book about the trip to Japan of a father and son, to meet some of Anime’s legendary figures, and to be shown, time and again, to be fundamentally wrong about Japanese culture. While this book stays on the surface of the issues a lot of the time, and some of the misunderstandings and oddities seem so naive to make me suspect exaggeration for the sake of the books thread, the subject itself is fascinating to me. Having never been to Japan, but being confronted with how utterly strange and alien the culture there is to Westerners, I find myself very unwilling to buy into it. Language books fuzz endlessly about the different politeness levels of Japanese speech, and what a unique concept that is, as though all words and phrases were applicable in all social situations in English. Likewise, many of the unfathomable quirks that are described in books like these seem to be a mix of different historical backgrounds and skewed perception on the side of the visitor, with some deliberate mythbuilding thrown in on the Japanese side, possibly as a means of establishing unity of the nation against foreign influences.
About two thirds of the way through this magnificent medical thriller, I suddenly realized that the gripping storyline had made me turn the pages way too fast, glossing over much of the amazing artwork and visual detail. I then stopped for close scrutiny of one particularly rich panel – which in act had caused my realization in the first place – but soon returned to flipping the pages as fast as I could read the text. I’ll have to reread it, I suppose. Bummer.
For some bizarre reason that I find it hard to put my finger on, I still like Timothy Dalton’s Bond best. Maybe it was the discrepancy between his effeminate appearance and the supposed tough guy he portrayed. Craig certainly doesn’t have that asset, if an asset it is, but the realism the makers of this movie were striving for, is certainly rewarding. I’m not a fan of product placement, nor of movies that are longer than they should be, nor of the elaborate stunt sequence beginning, that felt like it was tailored for a computer game, but still watching this latest Bond was more fun than I recall the last few attempts to be. And I also liked the surrealist feel of going back to the roots, yet having the plot set in the present, with Dench as M.