Directors can treat their audiences like adults or not. Treat them like they can follow a story without an endless setup, Cliff Notes or hand-holding. Director Mark Romanek does not hold hands. He drops you in a world and expects you to follow events as if this is all very normal, as if everything in that world is as it should be, without explanation.
And that’s the only way to tell this story, the one written originally by Kashuo Ishiguro. We’re dropped into his alternative Britain and we’re supposed to keep up and figure it all out for ourselves.
Romanek sticks to this template throughout the movie, and it makes the willing suspension of disbelief possible. Only one false note appeared for me: the coda. It’s the only place in the entire movie that the director loses his faith in the audience to process what has gone before, to see the … Click to continue . . .
Have been reading Harvey’s, The Enigma of Capital, and am learning much from him. His breadth of knowledge is impressive, and his background as a geographer adds an oftentimes overlooked aspect of economic theory. Also reading Terry Eagleton’s Why Marx was Right, which is an excellent response to critics of the 19th century philosopher. Both books are well worth the time, and I’ll be discussing them in more depth later.
The video below is a clear, concise explanation of the recent economic collapse. One of the best I’ve seen. Hard to make “art” out of something like this, but they give it their best shot.
I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head Or polite meaningless words, Or have lingered awhile and said Polite meaningless words, And thought before I had done Of a mocking tale or a gibe To please a companion Around the fire at the club, Being certain that they and I But lived where motley is worn: All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.
That woman’s days were spent In ignorant good-will, Her nights in argument Until her voice grew shrill. What voice more sweet than hers When, young and beautiful, She rode to harriers? This man had kept a school And rode our wingèd horse; This other his helper and friend Was coming into his force; He might have won fame in the end, So sensitive … Click to continue . . .
Robert Mueller has graced our pages before, and in his latest, takes what seems to be a new direction. The rhythm and mood is Shakespearean. But the word mix is a la Language Poetry.
Desi Di Nardo has also graced these pages before, and she has a new book coming out. From Guernica’s blub:
The Cure is a Forest by Desi Di Nardo An element of animism permeates the poems, set in and against the backdrop of Canada’s ecotones, taking us from the city and industry into both the past and the possible.
The Launch Party is April 3rd. For more information, visit this website: Guernica Editions
In the strictest branches and the boughs that pierce with sun- drenched tangs, lonely halting nuthatch and its mating quicken. Is a-cracking is her lance, terrifying is chance that tells the arc’s division, when untold breath escapes, like tottering at the weave, the loom. Hat-pecking strings so griddle even weeping wound. It is even broader nap inducing plastered protection, as absconding wounded-bird inflection. Then a firming far away re-echoes pick-falls parting tables, sensuous laughing flocks of starting felldoms, purpling callers. Then simple starling scripts, dropping little stripling snips, oh no not dangerous at all. Wouldn’t it chuck along the wall? Wouldn’t it append a patch of golden geese? Wouldn’t it ride, set the seam, charm release nigh and augur clear? Scry after? And this apprised blue shoring; and these rippled reticulating laggards swooped in the stillness bell; and the nays are bright and smooth; and observer took to a framing, and it blew … Click to continue . . .
An island because. It would be voluntary. No one would be forced onto it, nor would they be forced to stay at any time. At any time they could leave, come back, leave again. But if they chose of their own free will to live on Egalitaria . . . they would have to abide by its rules, and work toward the benefit of all islanders.
A new economy. No capitalism. No getting rich. For that, one could go elsewhere. Again, it’s their choice.
The island would have no money, no currency, no coins or dollar bills, nothing to hand over in exchange for goods and services and nothing to accumulate. One could not hoard currency. One could not collect currency from others and grow a mountain of old coins and dirty paper. Instead, islanders would carry an electronic card, a debit … Click to continue . . .