1984 - Ignorance Is Strength

1984

Author: George Orwell

Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book has been rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street and building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And that process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the Party is always right. –The Book

War is a way of shattering to pieces or pouring into the stratosphere, or sinking in the depths of the sea, materials which might otherwise be used to make the masses too comfortable, and hence, in the long run, too intelligent. –The Book

The object of power is power. –O'Brien

We shall crush you down to the point from which there is no coming back. Things will happen to you from which you could not recover, if you lived a thousand years. Never again will you be capable of ordinary human feeling. Everything will be dead inside you. Never again will you be capable of love, or friendship, or joy of living, or laughter, or curiosity, or courage, or integrity. You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty, and then we shall fill you with ourselves. –O'Brien

I'm sure I'm not the first person to initially dislike the ending of this book before coming to the resigned conclusion that it ended just the way it should have. Really, a different ending – an ending I would have initially preferred – would strip the rest of the book of its power and terror. Because let's face it, the book is terrifying.

Book description on Barnesandnoble.com (I swear I read this after I wrote this post):

Written in 1948, 1984 was George Orwell's chilling prophecy about the future. And while 1984 has come and gone, Orwell's narrative is timelier than ever. 1984 presents a startling and haunting vision of the world, so powerful that it is completely convincing from start to finish. No one can deny the power of this novel, its hold on the imaginations of multiple generations of readers, or the resiliency of its admonitions—a legacy that seems only to grow with the passage of time.

You could easily dismiss this book by naively stating that this could never happen here. Really? Because there are plenty of things that –looking back now – we can say shouldn't have happened in history (genocide, slavery, blood-letting). But all that happened, and this could happen, too. It wouldn't happen overnight, of course, but ask any conspiracy theorist how much he's sure the government is hiding from us already and you'll realize that it's a slippery slope to altering past newspapers, books and photos. Ask that same conspiracy theorist about privacy and how the government is encroaching upon his, and you'll see it's a slippery slope to telescreens and thought police.

Winston Smith's life was monitored from a young age. His memories have been stolen and replaced with whatever The Party favors at that moment. Even the few things he finds true and holds dear are but dreams under which lie nightmares. When he is finally captured, it is as if he had been waiting for it his entire adult life. But the torture – mental, physical, emotional – does not lose its effectiveness simply because he expected it, for of course he expected it.

Did the Brotherhood ever exist? Does O'Brien reveal a hidden truth to Winston Smith while living an outward lie? Or is his revelation of the Brotherhood the lie? Is this just another level of control The Party has placed on his life? Give him hope, something to believe in, and then crush him for it? I know without searching online that papers have surely been written on this very subject, so I'll leave it alone.

Back to the ending. What I initially wanted to see was Winston Smith beating the system. I didn't want him to give in to the torture, but merely pretend to do so. I didn't want him to give up Julia (though to be honest, I never much cared for her...) and I didn't want him to abandon individual thought. But he did. He did all of those things. When he was thrust back into Oceania and found himself patronizing the same café in which he'd years ago seen three people in nearly the same state in which he now subsists, I felt he was somehow still sticking to his beliefs, only silently now… alone. And I almost got excited.

And then came the news announcement about a war victory… the war in which they were fighting Eurasia (they had always been fighting Eurasia). When Smith instinctively and whole-heartedly begins to celebrate, admitting to himself that he loves Big Brother, I nearly threw the book down in disgust.

But the more I thought about it… the more I really thought, I began to see the importance of having Winston Smith turn into a Party pleaser at the end. He needed to for the sake of the story, for the sake of the power and importance that it holds. You see, if Winston Smith didn't become as brainwashed and obedient as the others in the Outer Party, it would mean that he was above Big Brother. And in order for the threat of this type of society to work, no "everyman" should be able to rise above it. If Winston Smith – for who is he in comparison to Big Brother? – can think on his own despite what The Party tells him to think, then why wouldn't I be able to? Or you? Surely if you or I could rise above The Party, there's no way it could exist in our world; we're all far too strong-willed and free-thinking for that! We're definitely smarter than Winston Smith! And if he'd have beaten Big Brother, we would have had hope that our world will never become Oceania.

And that is why I slowly gained an appreciation for Mr. Orwell's allowing Winston Smith to become a true Outer Party member. This one moment in time reinforces the power of The Party and proves that if we're not constantly vigilant, Big Brother is poised to pounce. Even here. Even now.

My takeaway: Memories are important – sometimes they're all we have in the world that seeks to prove you wrong; don't let them go. And avoid talking in your sleep, for apparently that's when your true nature emerges.

The Hotel New Hampshire - Just Not Big Enough

The Hotel New Hampshire

Author: John Irving

I did not want to be startled by that shape of death again, although I think the shape of death is always startling to us – it is meant to be startling – and not even proper anticipation can prepare us enough for it. 

–John Berry

Keep passing the open windows. –Various

Sorry […]. Just not big enough. –Lilly Berry

So we dream on. Thus we invent our lives. We give ourselves a sainted mother, we make our father a hero; and someone's older brother, and someone's older sister – they become our heroes, too. We invent what we love, and what we fear. There is always a brave, lost sister, too. We dream on and on: the best hotel, the perfect family, the resort life. And our dreams escape us almost as vividly as we can imagine them. –John Berry

This book started about how I'd expected it to. There were characters, there was a hotel, and there was a bear. These things I figured I'd find. What I did not expect were the deaths, the incest, and the rape. Had I first read the Wikipedia entry on John Irving  –  and specifically on his recurring themes  –  I would have expected the deaths. But I didn't, so I couldn't have.

Here's the book's description from Barnes & Noble:

"The first of my father's illusions was that bears could survive the life lived by human beings, and the second was that human beings could survive a life led in hotels."

So says John Berry, son of a hapless dreamer, brother to a cadre of eccentric siblings, and chronicler of the lives lived, the loves experienced, the deaths met, and the myriad strange and wonderful times encountered by the family Berry. Hoteliers, pet-bear owners, friends of Freud (the animal trainer and vaudevillian, that is), and playthings of mad fate, they "dream on" in a funny, sad, outrageous, and moving novel.

I'm going to focus on the deaths here. Including animals, there were seven major deaths in the family. I'm afraid I can't really discuss my feelings about these deaths without giving key points away. So let this serve as my spoiler alert for those of you planning to read this. Let me leave you with my overall thoughts: I enjoyed the book, both for its expected plot points and its unexpected ones. It's got some very controversial sections and themes, though it is well-written and overall, a really good read.

That said, let's get back to the deaths. The first bear dies; this is not entirely surprising, though the method is a bit unexpected. Sorrow the family dog also dies. While his death affects the whole family, each of whom loved the dog even if he/she didn't always admit it, Frank takes a particular interest in the dog's passing. To surprise his younger brother, Frank has the dog stuffed, for which he takes up taxidermy, in various stances. While Sorrow is in attack stance and stored in Iowa Bob's closet, he tumbles out, startling and agitating Iowa Bob (the children's paternal grandfather) so much that he also dies. His heart attack is the first unexpected human death; it happens quite fast and he, along with the dog and the bear, do not make it to the second Hotel New Hampshire.

The next deaths are the first ones that really got me. Mother and Egg, the youngest son, die suddenly, in one sentence. If Irving's offing of these two characters was meant to shock and confuse, he certainly achieved his goal with me. I wanted to mourn their deaths, but I simply wasn't given the time. I don't know whether Irving killed them so swiftly just to be rid of them, knowing they wouldn't be needed in the rest of the story, or if he wanted to make the point that people in our lives will die, but that dwelling on those deaths does not allow our lives' stories to go on.

Freud's death was a bit less abrupt, though only a bit. Irving allowed the reader to prepare, for a paragraph or so, for the death and heroism of Freud, who diverted the bomb from the Opera House and sacrificed his own life instead.

It was the final death in the family that was given the most lead-up. It was also the saddest. Perhaps Irving was trying to say something there, too: Lilly's death was the most significant to the remaining family members, to the story as a whole and to the deceased. Her death was the one that tied all the other deaths together: like State o' Maine, Lilly's mood forewarned of her impending doom; like Sorrow, Lilly lived on after hear death – not via taxidermy, but via her writing; like Iowa Bob, Lilly was confronted by her past – Bob saw the "ghost" of Sorrow and Lilly saw the "ghost" of herself, small and unable to grow and adapt fully to her place in the world; like Mother and Egg's deaths, Lilly's came too soon, yet at just the right time; and like Freud, her death was for others – while she didn't save an opera house full of patrons and musicians, in her own way she felt she was saving her family, her posterity and her world.

Lilly's suicide couldn't have been prevented, no matter what John or Frank did or didn't do. It was her time, and she knew it. Yet, she was young and talented and the world would not have chosen her to die then. To Lilly, who had never been quite earthbound – she was compared to a fairy, an angel, a ghost of a person – chose, poetically, to die by finally letting the earth claim her. Sorrow may float, but Lilly only sinks.

My takeaway: Part of becoming who are you are meant to be is learning to accept your faults, face your fears, recognize your talents and accept your family for what they are and love them anyway. And the smartest bears are women.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner - Racial Tension, Party of 7

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner
Director: Stanley Kramer

You know I've always loved you and you're just as black as he is. How could it possibly be alright for me to love you and wrong for me to love him. Will you just stop and think about that? –Joanna Drayton

She's not at all like anyone I've ever known. It's not just that our color difference doesn't matter to her; it's that she doesn't seem to think there is any difference. –Dr. John Prentice

Well, you made her, Mr. Drayton; I just met her in Hawaii. –Dr. John Prentice

This is not a night for talking about happiness, Mr. Drayton. This is an unhappy night. –Mrs. Prentice

Dad, you're my father; I'm your son: I love you, I always have, and I always will. But you think of yourself as a colored man; I think of myself as a man. –Dr. John Prentice

Netflix description:

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn star as wealthy Californias who consider themselves progressive until their only daughter (Katharine Houghton) brings home her African American fiancé (Sidney Poitier) in this snapshot of race relations in the late 1960s. The film earned two Academy Awards (for Hepburn’s performance and William Rose’s screenplay) and eight other nominations.

The era in which this movie is set is so far removed from the era in which I write about it. Would some families still react to a mixed race marriage the way that Joanna's and John's families reacted? Sure. But it is a far more common thing today than it was then to see people of two different cultures tying the knot. But in 1967, when this movie was made, it was touted as "a love story for our time."

While the attitude of the Drayton's housekeeper Tillie – she accused Dr. Prentice of using Joanna to "marry up" and increase his position – and the use of the word "negro" in lieu of today's more politically correct "African American" served to date the movie appropriately, the story itself is timeless. Parents will often question the choices their children make in love. They will often forget what it's like to be young and so smitten by a person that 10 days, three weeks or two months does not feel like too short an amount of time before engagement. And they will always feel that they are thinking only of their child's best interest, even when the child is old enough that the best interest of their past does not equate to the best interest of their present.

The movie played out almost like an essay on the subject. In paragraph one, the problem is introduced and a little background given. In paragraph two, we get the initial reactions of Joanna's parents (both leaning against the marriage), thus setting the mood of the essay. Paragraph three shows the mother's shift in thought – the setup for the climax; the conflict is further heightened by the division of parental opinion. Paragraph four introduces the Prentice family and their reaction to their son's news, adding momentum toward the climax. Paragraph five deepens the divide among the parents, pitting wives together in viewpoint against  husbands; the tension builds. Paragraph six begins the climax of the essay – when John and his father have a showdown and Mr. Drayton is confronted by Mrs. Prentice. Paragraph seven is Mr. Prentice's speech to the dinner party (the "resolution" of the conflict), when he announces his support of their children's marriage. Paragraph eight is simply, "Tillie served dinner and the families celebrated the upcoming nuptials."

A few other observations of note: This is the first movie starring either Katharine Hepburn or Spencer Tracy that I've seen; this seems odd to me. The movie's entire soundtrack seems to be a single song – "The Glory of Love" – in a varying forms and parts. Katharine Houghton really held her own among three Oscar winners. And I can definitely see myself watching this movie again.

My takeaways: Parents will always try to protect their children and lead them in the way which they feel is best, even if the child outgrows the need for protection. And if you give a priest a scotch…

Blade Runner (Director's Cut) - Four Years to "Life"

Blade Runner
Director: Ridley Scott

Commerce is our goal here at Tyrell. "More human than human" is our motto. 
–Dr. Eldon Tyrell

They're my friends. I make them. – J.F. Sebastian

Nothing is worse than having an itch you can never scratch. –Leon

It's not an easy thing to meet your maker. –Roy Batty

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shore of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to die. –Roy Batty

I was told specifically to watch the director's cut of this movie, which Netflix.com describes as such:

In a smog-choked dystopian Los Angeles, blade runner Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is called out of retirement to snuff a quartet of escaped "replicants" – androids consigned to slave labor on remote planets – seeking  to extend their short life spans. This definitive special edition of director Ridley Scott's classic features his restored and re-mastered version with added scenes, plus an authoritative documentary about the making of the film.

This movie was made in 1982 (great year) and takes place in 2019. As we're now closer to the director's "future" than we are to his "present," it's interesting to see how he chose to depict it. What's more interesting to me is how evident the filming era is in the portrayal of the future. The hairstyles and clothing choices are all variations on what people wore in the '80s – the bright colors, the puffy sleeves, the shoulder pads, the teased bangs.

And like many visions of what the future would be like, there are non-human entities (here called replicants) that threaten to take over our way of life. Another recurring theme in futuristic movies (aside from Back to the Future II, which takes the opposite approach) is the darkness that seems to prevail. Both the scenery and the mood are much darker in this version of the future. It seems to be constant night, and the government and police presence are strong and oppressive. Many of the scenes in this movie take place in a dark, nearly abandoned, leaky old building, in which J.F. Sebastian lives with his toys. Nighttime rain adds to the feeling of dark depression.

Harrison Ford's character, Rick Deckard, is forced to rejoin the workforce in his old position as blade runner in order to capture and "retire" (read: kill) four of these replicants who seek to prolong their four-year existence. Unexpectedly, he finds love in one of them. And let's talk about these "love" scenes. I know as a viewer, I'm supposed to get that Rick doesn't want to love Rachael, but can't help it. And this, I assume, is why he more or less forces himself on her the first time. Fighting with himself internally causes him to restrain and kiss her despite her struggles. Because I saw little to no chemistry between the two – though to be fair, I find Harrison Ford lacking chemistry with most people, Princess Leia aside – I mostly found the love scenes uncomfortable.

I also wasn't a fan of the music. It seemed like an odd choice to set the tone of the movie, and often seemed out of place with the scene. I was, however, a fan of seeing a young Darryl Hannah in action.

My takeaway: Much like Rick couldn't win the internal battle with himself over his feelings for Rachael, you cannot choose who your heart will love. And in seven years you'll be able to pull out that shoulder-padded neon green blazer you just couldn't bear to toss out in '85!

The People Vs. George Lucas - Solo shot first!

The People vs. George Lucas
Director: Alexandre O. Philippe

I think there was something creatively inspiring in the Star Wars universe that children of the '70s wanted to not just watch it and enjoy it but actually make it. 
–Joe Nussbaum

That guy in his words unlocked a generation’s imagination. –Richie Mehta

You can't overestimate just how important that first Star Wars was. The whole world was blown away. –Todd Hanson

With all due respect to Mr. Lucas, it's not just your dream; it's not just your fantasy: It's a universe that we all live in now. 
–Joe Leydon

People will continue to want to put their fingerprints on the things that they love, and to fix the things about the thing they love that they hate. –Uncredited

Lucas has been, I think, far more gracious to his fans than his fans perhaps have been tolerant of Lucas. –Matthew J. Smith

Netflix.com says this of The People Vs. George Lucas:

Building a balanced but spirited case without taking sides, filmmaker Alexandre O. Philippe sets up the decades-old conflict between Star Wars creator George Lucas and his legions of passionate fans in this "participatory documentary."

I saw the Star Wars movies as a child, sure (on VHS, as they were in the theater before I was born). Everyone with parents alive during the late '70s did. And then I saw the remakes – the enhanced versions – in the theater when they came out in the late '90s. And I liked them more; I enjoyed the better quality, liked the additions and didn't really notice many changes. Apparently, that last line, and the feelings and observations behind them prove that I know nothing about these movies and never really appreciated the originals.

Fans in this movie compared the Star Wars films to the painting of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, the scripts to the Holy Bible, and the creator – Mr. Lucas himself – to a demi-god. To most Star Wars enthusiasts – oh who are we kidding? They're Star Wars geeks, not enthusiasts – the original trilogy was more than just three movies they kind of enjoyed. It was, is, and, despite the bastardization they feel has fallen upon to their beloved series via "remastering," always will be a part of their souls, a part of what keeps them young at heart and gives them hope for the future.

And that is why so many of them – fans and critics alike – were outraged at the changes Lucas introduced in the re-mastered versions – the versions which he said show his true vision. They felt he had violated the movie's purity, along with the sanctity of their memories and emotional attachments to the original movies.

The fans were further outraged when the long-awaited and over-hyped Episode I didn't fulfill all their fanboy wet dreams. Fan after fan sat in front of Alexandre Philippe's cameras and criticized Episode I's script, characters and plot. Once again, they felt as if George Lucas had given them something in direct contrast to what they craved. They felt let down, as if he had created the atrocity as a personal affront to each of them.

This documentary brings up some great points that go beyond the Star Wars universe. To whom does a film belong once it has been created? When it becomes something bigger than a couple hours on the screen, when it is more about a personal experience, a personal lifestyle, a personal obsession, who owns the rights to change it? Who owns the rights to continue it, to build upon it? Does it belong to the people or to the original creator?

It can be argued both ways, and indeed, it is argued both ways in this film. Lucas doesn't object when fans manipulate his works – imitation, flattery, that whole bit. And the fans, as much as they claim to dislike the new additions to the Star Wars collection, find that it is from this anger that their creativity stems. Perhaps Lucas's genius was in creating a film in The Phantom Menace and a character in Jar Jar Binks that inspired original fanboys to create alternate versions that satisfy their Star Wars itch and welcomed the new generation of fanboys-to-be into the Lucasfilm family.

One thing this film showed in tenfold was passion. There was passion in each person who spoke about the films' merits and in each person who spoke about the films' failures. The self-proclaimed experts, geeks, fanboys, critics and filmmakers all agreed on one thing: the words Star Wars elicit genuine reactions, deep-rooted and strong.

My takeaway: The debates over the virtues of the digital remasters and the prequel trilogy will always be heated, will always be passionate and will never end, securing the films a place in fanboy film history. And one should never mention midi-chlorians to a Star Wars geek… er, enthusiast.