Month: March 2005

A Slight Mishap With Chocolate

I have decided my foibles with chocolate milk and the laptop should be combined into one post for posterity. Thus three posts are now one.

Last night I was working diligently on the computer (ok, I was playing games as usual) and drinking a very large glass of chocolate milk. I took one swig too many and the milk went the wrong way and had to eject. My reflexes were not good enough to stop the exploding milk from landing across the keyboard. As quickly as I could I dried the milk. Then I tried my best to clean the keyboard. Everything works properly, thank goodness. However, several of the keys stick, and I have to use great force to get them to type. We are going to a shop Wednesday to have it fixed. Until then I shall be brief in writing since it is a great pain to type. I am unsure how quickly I shall receive the computer back after Wednesday, so I may be completely down for a few days.

Day 2

Besides having the annoyance of sticky keys we now also have a phantom typist. The letter “l” periodically begins typing itself across the screen repeatedly though no one is near it to actually press on the cursed letter. If I am lucky enough to be on a Word document, I quickly receive a page full of “l”s. More likely than not I am elsewhere and thus given more grievance than that. If I am on the internet the mysterious typer causes all other internet functions to shut down so that the “find” function can begin searching the page for “llllllllllllllll….” On other software, the “l” will bring up some unwanted function, or if no function is available, the computer produces an obnoxious repeating error sound.

Kindly enough my French tutor’s husband has offered to take a look at the machine and take it to a local shop to have it fixed.

Day 3

Arriving at my French tutor’s house for my lesson, her husband began promptly looking the sick machine over. After a few minutes, he rushed out of the house and down to the local PC doctor. Back with a frown, he said that not only would he not work on a Dell computer, but that no one in the entire city of Strasbourg would. Not wanting to believe that, we ventured across town to a larger computer shop. Again they said they would not work on Dell computers, because that company does not want to work with them. The kind man behind the counter did relay that Dell had a store in Paris and that they would send someone here for a fee of 78 Euros. Realizing that this was only the fee to get the tech here and that there would be an additional fee for parts and the tech’s time spent working, my heart sank.

We were able to reattach the keys (for they had been pulled off earlier to try to de-stickify them) and keep the phantom typist from typing again. Though the letter “m” no longer works at all. The control keys do not work either so, in order to type “m” I have to copy and paste it using the mouse. Shortly I will go insane of this.

Day 5

After insanely typing using the copy/paste method we have found salvation. Our dear friend, Pamela has let us borrow an extra keyboard that she had. It is a French keyboard so all of the keys are in the wrong place. I was able to configure it to type like an American keyboard, however, all the keys are still labeled like the French version. I am a good typist so I do not need to look at many keys, but a few such as parenthesis, have become a bit of trial and error as I try to remember where they are located. At least we have an “m”.

Midnight Hamburgers

Story # 2 as told to my French tutor, Ann.

The first couple of years at college, I lived in the dormitory, known officially as Burton, but dubbed “the ghetto” by the student body. I lived on the “backside” of the dorm which opened out into a small field on which many an adventure was had.

Once every few months me and the “backside boys” would plan a cookout of magnificent proportions. By the time of this story, we had developed a plan of cooking out that enabled us the greatest amount of grub, with the smallest amount of work and moochers. After cookout #1 we realized that grilled food brings the masses quickly to our lair, with a hand out. So we worked out a plan to have each interested person bring at least one item, and scrounged to find enough grills to cook it all.

Being college boys we typically prowled the evening for other services before our minds were set on food. This particular night the proceedings didn’t start until 9 pm or so. By the time the grills were good and hot and the meat was cooking it was after 10. We had burgers, hot dogs, and shrimp cooking. Lawnchairs were set about and good times were being had by all. Being a private, Christian university, beverages of an alcoholic variety were not present. Though a security guard did stop by to ensure our following of this policy.

Things really got going around 11. Hamburgers were being passed around, the shrimp was cooked, and the pasta was nice and tender. The moochers were present, but we had plenty to go around. James Taylor was rolling through a hot rendition of “Steamroller.” Life was good. There is nothing like spending a warm September night outdoors with plenty of food, drink, and good company.

The party toiled on until late in the evening. Around 2 AM or so a guy from one of the dorm rooms nearby, Jason, came stumbling out. He was in his boxer shorts and a tee shirt.

“Guys, guys, can you keep it down?” he said. “I’ve got to get up in the morning and go to work.”

“Oh sorry, man.” We all said in unison. “Didn’t mean to bug ya.”

“Wanna burger?”

At this question, Jason leaned his face towards the earth, rubbed his hand across the stubble of his head, and said “Yeah.”

A couple of burgers and nearly an hour later he clamored back to his room, mumbling something about keeping it down.

Khartoum (1966)

khartoumt

One of the fun things about going to the library is that you never know what you are going to get. They have a wide selection of DVDs, but very few are available at any given time. I was surprised this last time when I actually had a choice to pick from. Albeit it was a choice between 2 films (the few others available were either foreign films translated into French or straight French films). The choice was between the Gary Cooper version of A Farewell to Arms and an unheard-of by me Charlton Heston/Laurence Olivier adventure called Khartoum. Not in the mood for Hemingway, I decided a Heston/Olivier picture might be a treat.

To say this is a Laurence Olivier picture is to say too much. Though he gets top billing, and his character plays an important part in the picture, his actual screen time is minimal. He plays a part known only as The Mahdi, who is a Muslim that rose out of the desert to claim his place as the chosen one. I believe Olivier is an African Muslim like I believe Heston is a Mexican cop. But we suspend our disbelief and all that for the sake of the story.

As it is the story is a grand one. Based on historical events, of which, sadly, I’ve never heard a lick of until this film, where the Mahdi attempts to take control of British ran Sudan. The mysterious General Gordan (Charlton Heston) is sent down to help things along. A standoff evolves and it is wit against wit.

It is not a bad film, but neither is it a great one. There are some truly beautiful shots of the scenery. Heston plays Gordan without as much conflict as the character requires, but with enough gusto to make it believable. Olivier is, as always, near perfect. With simple facial expressions, he carries the convictions of a man who believes himself a prophet. The scenes between Olivier and Heston, though historically inaccurate, add a much-needed emotional punch. The direction is a bit plodding, nothing particularly bad, but nothing exceptional either.

When watching historical films such as Khartoum, having some connection with the actual events helps bring meaning to the picture. Films based on the holocaust are often forgiven some of their cinematic sins due to the weight of the history behind the story. Yet, historical films that are not as well known can also entrance the viewer through the weight of their story. Knowing that the events actually happened often stir the viewer to greater emotional depths than a depiction of completely fictional events. It is here that Khartoum failed for me. As I said there was nothing particularly wrong with the production, but it never really captured my emotions. Admittedly I know very little about British history or the struggles of the Mid East beyond the years of my own life. This is a fault of my own, yet a film should be universal in its undertaking. If it fails to move an audience unfamiliar with its history then it will likely fall into obscurity. For those familiar with this particular history, the film may bring more to you than it did me. As for me, it was a mostly entertaining, and an interesting couple of hours in my life, it will be one that will largely be forgotten in time.

Story Number 1

The following is the first story I told to Ann after the lecture and our agreement that storytelling would be the best way for me to improve my language skills. It is first not so much because it is the best, but because is easy to tell with my limited vocabulary.

—

Several years ago I was driving from Montgomery to Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I was driving my old ’92 Volkswagen Fox (the one with a dent in the fender and an odd-colored driver’s side door.) I was accompanied by my friend, who lay asleep for most of the trip. We had miserable driving weather. It was dark, overcast, and raining. It wasn’t the kind of rain that makes you pull over to the side and wait it out. It was the kind that slows traffic, stiffens your neck, and keeps your windshield wipers in turmoil. I simply hate to have the wipers going faster than they need to be. Too slow and you cannot see, too fast and you get that awful skwelk sound of rubber on dry glass.

The normally quick drive took us an additional hour driving. We entered Tuscaloosa and my heart was glad that the drive was nearly over. We were on a heavily trafficked six-lane highway. I was cruising along nicely in the middle lane. I almost always choose the middle lane when driving in cities. You have none of the break riding action you get in the right lane from people entering and leaving the highway. There is also less tailgating from locals who feel they were meant for the race track.

As I said there was a good deal of traffic out that day and we were traveling somewhere near the 40 MPH mark. Suddenly the car in front of me began to fishtail slightly. I pumped my brakes and checked my mirrors to see if I would be able to pass into another lane. No such luck. The fishtailing worsened and the car before me did a 180-degree turn! I was literally looking the driver and passenger square in the eyes.

Those eyes were like saucers, all white. Panic transferred each car like water over a burst dam. Again I darted my eyes to see if I could get out of the way, and again I was met with traffic on each side. I pumped my brakes some more hoping the wet road would not cause me to slide. After a few terrified moments of staring at the people I might die with, the car turned another 180 degrees to face the correct way.

Control was still not with them. A moment later they skidded into the right lane, barely missing another car before they came to an abrupt stop on the embankment. Traffic had slowed during this and I was able to see that the other car’s passengers were ok.

My friend slept through the entire ordeal.

The Phantom of the Opera By Gaston Leroux

phantom of the opera book cover

I’ve never seen a movie version of Phantom (not the classic, silent Lon Chaney version, and certainly not the new Joel “I should repent of my cinematic sins” Schumacher version). Nor have I seen any stage version of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical, or listened to music from that particular show. What I knew about the material is what everyone knows, what pop culture understands from the spoofs and the chattering fans in the back. I’ve never really been that interested either. What made me pick up the book then? I’m not really sure. Maybe it was the heavy amount of publicity it was getting from the new movie. Maybe it was my wife’s love of the musical, and a faint remembrance of her sending me a homemade card with a lyric from it. Or maybe it was the only halfway interesting book in English the library had.

Either way, I’m glad I picked it up. In a peculiar way, it is a continuation of my fascination with detective fiction. No, this is not Phillip Marlowe or Hercule Poirot chasing down some notorious killer. Gaston Leroux has created a mystery involving a ghost and murderer without the help of private detectives or Scotland Yard. Much of the words included in the book are determined to unmask this phantom, through a series of clues and hints. It is here we find kinship with the likes of Agatha Christie.

I’ll not explain much of the plot, for everyone knows it for the most part (and if you don’t just who are you?) It is a story set in the Paris Opera, a gigantic, intricate building with layer upon layer of subterranean levels masked in noirish, dark shadows. It involves a ghost, or phantom if you will, that lives in the bowels of the opera and makes frequent, and peculiar requests (such as a monthly salary and nightly tickets to the Opera in one of the best seats)to the new management. The old management, it seems, was all too happy to give in to the requests, but the new management is not so sure. Thus begins a series of punishments. There is also a love triangle involving the ghost, an accomplished singer of the opera, Christine Daae, and her childhood friend, Raoul.

Though I am learning the French language, my skill level is nowhere near the point where I have tried to tackle reading a novel in that language. So it is an English translation that I read. What I am learning in my French courses, though, is that translation is often a very difficult thing to do. Though many words literally translate well, often subtler meanings behind the words do not come through in a translation. Also, often words have no exact translation so approximations must be made. The story may come out the same, but the poetry is left behind. Maybe someday I’ll be able to read The Phantom of the Opera in its original language, but for now, I must be satisfied with this translation.

The first half of the novel acts exclusively like a mystery. There are rumors floating around the Opera of a ghost that haunts the lower levels of the building. Random notes appear to the new managers, threatening horror if the ghost’s demands are not met. There are ones who claim to have seen the ghost, others who claim to know him well, or as well as one can know a ghost. It is written from an outsider’s perspective. Our point of view is that of an investigator, someone interested in finding the truth about the ghost and events that happened during this time period. Leroux does a marvelous job making this piece of fiction look like history. After reading I even spent some time researching the events described to see if there was any truth to the story.

It is in the second half of the story that things change. We are introduced properly to the ghost and his madness. From this point, the story shifts from a mystery to a thriller. We know who the phantom is, but we are unsure of what he is going to do. Raoul and Christine are mad to leave the opera and be wed, but the ghost intercedes to create a great deal of suspense. As separate halves I found them both to be exhilarating, and a great read. But considered as a whole they leave a lot of questions. As with any good mystery, Phantom of the Opera begins with a lot of questions. The narrative spends a great deal of time trying to determine what the ghost is, whether it is flesh and blood or a spirit. Whether the events happening are caused by the supernatural, or are just tricks and games. As mentioned, the ghost makes many requests for service, it acts in peculiar ways to add to the mystery. Yet, when the nature of the ghost is revealed, these things go unanswered. The great mystery is revealed, but much of what was mysterious is never explained. This is a small quibble because the story moves along with such gusto it leaves little time to be perplexed.

Overall, Phantom of the Opera is a fast, entertaining read. There is much to enjoy and think over. It is a well-written, well-plotted, and well-done piece of fiction. It is not a great piece of literature, but this should not keep any fan of the written word from picking up and enjoying this novel.

My French Tutor

It seems I have been a little harsh on my tutor, Ann. So I am posting this to set the record straight. Ann is actually a very nice lady and a dear friend. She and her husband have been incredibly kind to us since we’ve been in Strasbourg. Though she is a qualified, and well-trained teacher, she asks me to pay a very small fee for my lessons.

Even with that she never fails to fill my belly with drinks and cookies during my lesson (which are at her home). In fact, if added up my hungry mouth has probably eaten any profit she might make from me. She is a wonderful teacher. She is kind and patient with me. She never yells at me when I don’t finish my homework, she never agrees with me when I say I am stupid.

I am, in fact, a rather rotten student. Mostly I manage to do my homework, but I rarely do anything beyond that and certainly don’t speak French outside of the classroom. On occasion, she has lectured me, but only because she is concerned with my progress and attitude, which is generally poor. I enjoy her teaching immensely but often hate the learning process. Her lectures come out of me being moody and grumpy during a lesson. Learning this language is painful. There is much I would like to say, but am unable which frustrates me beyond belief.

So my tutor is in reality a very kind person and a good teacher. Sorry if this is schmaltzy, but several people have commented about my grumbles toward Ann. I wanted to ensure that it is understood that learning French frustrates me, not my tutor.

How to Be Good by Nick Hornby

how to be good nick hornsby

How to Be Good is the third book by Nick Hornby that I have read. The other two, High Fidelity and 31 Songs were insightful, well written, and hilarious. Both, happen to also be about music. 31 Songs is a collection of essays about, well, 31 songs. High Fidelity uses the protagonist’s obsession with pop music to discuss his relationships with women. I have not read the book, but the movie version of About a Boy also contains a similar musical theme. Music, is obviously, something very dear to the heart of the writer. With How to Be Good, Hornby seems to be making a real attempt to steer clear of this area. In fact, the narrator/main character, Katie Carr, mentions that her life is completely devoid of music, books, and movies. Unfortunately, her life and this book are almost completely devoid of what makes Nick Hornby’s novels so good.

In choosing to leave his normal type of fiction, Hornby chose to write this novel in the first person from the perspective of a middle-aged, middle-class, female doctor. Whereas he can write articulately, with great perspective, about a middle-aged male obsessed with music, Hornby has no true understanding of how a woman doctor might feel. This character comes off sounding whiny, self-important, rattlebrained, and false. The plot comes off so implausible I spent most of the novel groaning for help.

Katie Carr tries to live a good life. She became a doctor to help people, she tries to love her husband, and raise her two children right. Yet by the books beginning her life is thoroughly messed up. Problems with her husband David, the self-professed “Angriest man in Holloway” have been going on for years, and her she is no longer sure of how she feels about her own children. In fact, she is ready for a divorce and a new life. However, before she is granted this, her husband, healed by some mystical healer changes things around. Instead of the sarcastic, angry man he has always been, suddenly he is a kind, generous, make the world better kind of guy. The crux of the story is Katie trying to come to terms with this change. Having a hateful husband was horrible, but she is not sure having a super husband is much better. What follows is a series of mildly amusing, if highly suspect, adventures, and a great deal of preaching.

There are few scatterings of great writing. My favorite moments are when we get small snippets of the old David. His anger is in the form of sarcasm and we get summaries of articles he wrote for a paper, which are quite hilarious. When Hornby is on, he is able to bring out humor and poignancy in any scene. Here, we gleam a few moments of this brilliance before he bogs us back down into his sermon.

Knowing a little biography of the author, and his own tumultuous marriage, I can’t help but think this is his way of sorting things out. Perhaps he is even trying to see things from his wife’s perspective. There is a lot of cutthroat bickering between spouses here, and one wonders if some of it isn’t autobiographical.

Elsewhere, Hornby has been able to give us a glimpse of how to be good, without overtly showing us. In other novels, he gives us characters who have flaws but are able to sort something out for themselves while remaining true to their character. Here the story seems sacrificed in order to tell the audience how to live. Let’s hope he returns to his earlier form by showing us, and not preaching.

Out of Sight (1998)

out os sight poster

When I purchased my DVD player, I wanted to only own the old classics and excellent new, indie films. The first DVD I purchased was Steven Soderbergh’s Out of Sight. It had the indie cred I desired, plus it was by a director I admired. And I am the type of person to admire directors over actors, and genres. Plus it didn’t do well at the box office so I could feel justified in my ability to overlook the big blockbusters and snuggle into something small and arty.

I have since realized that trying to impress some film buff that will never show himself at my house is both immature and not very practical. After a few additional classics (2001, Taxi Driver, and Evil Dead II) I came to realize that there are some extremely popular DVDs that are must-haves. It’s hard to claim indy cred when you’re picking up Jaws and Animal House. Plus my DVD player came with free copies of crap like Michael and Basic Instinct. Add that to the odd assortment of movies I keep picking up as gifts and swiping from my brother via Mom and you have a whole heap of DVDs not worth bragging about.

All of this is simply to say I like Out of Sight a great deal. I have watched it every six months or so since I bought it 5 years ago and have never been disappointed. It is a crime story more interested in characters than crime. Though some of the plot points are on the implausible side, the film is so overwhelmingly enjoyable it is easy to forgive such faults.

Soderbergh is a talented artist, though as a director he is a bit of a mixed bag. He has created some truly brilliant films (Traffic, the Limey) but also a few bombs, artistically speaking (Full Frontal, Oceans 11). After starting the indie revolution with Sex, Lies, and Videotape he created the first of several experimental films, Kafka. Thus developing a theme for his films: smart, original films followed by artistic experiments that mostly fail. With Out of Sight, he began what I would call his attempt at being mainstream. It is based on an Elmore Leonard novel, produced by Danny DeVito and Barry Sonnefeld, and stars a couple of up-and-commers looking for a hit. For those of you that scoffed at my labeling, this movie “indie” do understand that this movie was pre-Erin Brokovich, Traffic, or the Oceans series for Soderbergh.

George Clooney was a television star from ER but had yet to have a successful movie. And Jennifer Lopez was still Jennifer Lopez rather than J.Lo, Jenny from the Block, or Bennifer. In 1992 it was, well, not exactly an indie movie, but it definitely was not a sure-fired blockbuster. Point of fact, it rather bombed at the box office.

Soderbergh tends to be his own director of photography in his pictures. By his own admission, this is more because of his method of producing pictures quickly, than of his own expertise at this skill. Though he does do a good job at it. In fact, one of the first things I noticed about the picture, was its use of light. There are two prisons seen in the picture, and both are given a different enough look that you can easily tell them apart. During the scenes in Miami, the lighting is very bright and sunny. Soderburg intentionally over-lighted the windows for interior shots to give the outside a particularly sunny look. Detroit is shot in a lot of blues that give an added feel of cold and separation.

Each character is given a chance to shine. There are no flat characters designed to move the plot along. Rather they are fleshed out and appear real. Clooney and Lopez show real chemistry on screen and you begin to believe that a US Marshall could actually fall for an escaped bank robber. I have never seen an episode of ER and my buddies and I used to make fun of Clooney for his charming good looks and general star quality. This is the film that began to change my mind and understand him for the fine actor he has become. This film also made me believe that Jennifer Lopez was a fine actress and someone to look out for. But, of course, she quickly became a caricature of herself and has not done anything since then to make me a believer.

I love this film. It is a crime drama that pays more attention to the character than the crime. It is romantic, without being schmaltzy. It is funny, without shooting for gags. It is a well-made, competent movie that holds up on repeated viewings. I can still brag that it holds a place on my DVD shelf.

Stories in French

As a compromise with my French tutor (did I mention I got another lecture the other day?) I have promised to talk more. To encourage this, we have decided on me telling her a story at the beginning of each lesson. Back in the day I loved to tell stories and have a stock pile stemming from my experiences as…well, me. In order to round this blog out a little more I have decided to relate some of those stories here. No, not now, for it is late and my wife hogged the computer most of the evening. So blame her! But soon a few shall start to putter out. This will be on top of the normal stories about France and of course the reviews. I have several of those coming shortly. I’ll be reviewing Out of Sight tomorrow and then my recently finished readings (How to Be Good and Phantom of the Opera) after that.

So keep your eyes out.