Window on the West

Personal reflections on my passions: Literature, film, and music; the politics of breastfeeding, parenting, and childbirth; current events; pithy observations.

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Location: North Carolina, United States

40-something college-educated woman with two children, widowed, remarried, employed, professional volunteer

Thursday, April 08, 2010

Welcome to the Grand Reopening!

I have decided to reactivate my blog. I know, there are so many of you waiting with bated breath. Took me a while to figure out my password. I think I gave up on the blog back when Google purchased blogspot and I couldn't figure out how to log on. And yet, here I am.

Looks like my last post was from August 2006. My user profile has disappeared, so I have updated that. Might actually get a curious reader. I uploaded a photo. Blogger responded with the message "Fetching photo...". Aren't they complimentary, lol! There are a couple of drafts still saved, one of them entitled "Men are such fucking idiots." Will have to read that one.

Hmmm, so what has happened since August 2006? My first husband died in June of 2006. Maybe that had something to do with the lack of blogging. I was in a very strange place. We weren't even living together at the time, having been separated for two years, but it was still very traumatic. My children were 6 and 3 at the time, and the six-year-old found the body. Somehow in the hazy months that followed I met someone new, someone really special. We married a little over a year ago. And now I seem to have settled in a whole new place, back to me.

So why activate the blog now? Well, I've been doing a lot of reading lately. And reading does two things. One, reading makes me think, and thinking makes me want to write. Two, reading makes me want to write. Some of what I read makes me think, "I could do that!", or even, "I could do that better!" So either way, reading leads to writing. And thinking. And thinking is a very dangerous thing.

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Friday, August 18, 2006

E.L.F. 2006 - Sunday

I'm afraid I was in a bit of a sour mood by Sunday morning. Some of you are aware that my husband passed away on June 7th. We had been separated for 21 months prior to his death, so while my adjustment has been easier than for some widows, I make up for it with extra guilt. His death was unexpected, and planning the funeral in North Carolina and then flying myself and my two children to New Orleans for the graveside service was, to say the least, stressful. I had already scheduled some ambitious travel plans for July, and decided not to cancel them at that late date. I spent the first week of July at the North Carolina Outer Banks with my mother and my children, and it was not exactly relaxing as I ended up as caretaker for all the rest. A week later, I loaded the kids in the car again so I could attend a seminar at Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina in furtherance of my volunteer career as a breastfeeding counselor. Two weeks later, and we're flying to Newark, so as you can imagine, by Sunday I was really wishing the weekend was over and I was back home in my own bed. Instead, I was faced with a room full of unpacked belongings and the prospect of being a Hobbit all over again. At this point, I was wishing I at least had a change of Hobbit clothes, but hey, Billy Boyd deserves us, so I went to work packing and strapped that corset on one more time.

We stored our luggage and then made our way to the convention area. I had decided to skip the charity brunch with Billy Boyd, so the first item on the agenda was Michael Drout's presentation on "From Beowulf to Middle-earth." I am so thankful I joined an online read of Beowulf this year. I never read it in school, and this reading was done in fits and spurts, and is, in fact, unfinished, but I have made it through Grendel, Grendel's mother, and the dragon. According to Prof. Drout, Tolkien's essay "The Monsters and the Critics" is credited with changing the way Beowulf is taught, from a scholarly extant text to a story about monsters. Michael Drout shared with us in his previous presentation how while reviewing documents in the Tolkien archives, he came across Tolkien's unpublished book-length criticism of Beowulf, from which he drew this essay. Unpublished! Tolkien! It doesn't get any better for an English professor. With the cooperation of Christopher Tolkien, he was able to edit and publish Tolkien's text in 2002 in the middle of the film frenzy. You can see some of Michael Drout's work at http://www.michaeldrout.com/

In his Sunday presentation, Michael Drout discussed philology and linguistics and how languages evolve. For example, the "p" sound in the word "pisces", (Prof. Drout gave us the technical description for this sound but I can only remember "breathless" and "stop") changes to the "f" sound in "fish", an interdental fricative (remembered that one!). By noting the rules for these sound changes, one can reconstruct an ancient language. Tolkien was fascinated by devolving the story behind language, and his fantasy work was an attempt to fill in the cultural gaps.

Prof. Drout then connected Beowulf to Lord of the Rings. You may be aware that the Rohirrim had Anglo-Saxon names, the language in which Beowulf was written. (This is noted in Unwritten Tales in the footnotes.) Furthermore, the legendary ancestor of the Rohirrim, Eorl and his people had Gothic names. The Rohirrim regarded the Elves with distrust, calling them witches and sorcerers, similar to the portrayal of Elves in Anglo-Saxon culture. Beowulf was Geatish, from Geatland (pronounced "yaht-land in Anglo-Saxon), which is generally assumed to be the same as Gotland, thus the land of the Goths or Gothic. Hence one could say that Beowulf and Elves are part of the culture and history of the Rohirrim.

I think Prof. Drout enjoyed his moment of celebrity. Instead of a room full of (possibly) disinterested college students with their Ipods and instant message cell phones, he had a room full of interested and knowledgeable adults, albeit dressed as Hobbits, Elves, and Wizards. He got to shill his website and books. He even got to sign a few autographs. And he told a really funny story about why it is important to learn Beowulf. He asks his Beowulf students to memorize the first few lines of Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon, and he had one student who was very uncomfortable speaking aloud in class and struggled with the language. She was only able to pass the course by meeting him in his office and reciting it there, but not before questioning why she needed to learn this stuff anyway. She got her answer while traveling abroad. She found herself in a pub in Australia, and one of the locals promised a round of drinks for all if anyone could recite the first ten lines of Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon. She was the most popular person in the bar that night! Michael Drout has recorded Beowulf in the original Anglo-Saxon. It sounds perfect for those nights around the fire with your comrades.

Throughout the weekend, the convention organizers had been showing fan videos. Most were film footage set to pop songs. One of the most memorable was a lengthy "Middle-earth Idol" with "contestants," all the same actress, costumed as various LOTR characters singing Idol-style pop songs intercut with film footage. On Sunday, they showed a trailer for a spoof film, Dork of the Rings. The producers of Dork of the Rings were making the convention rounds last year with their costumed actors and previews. At the same time, Cliff Broadway and Carlene Cordova were making the rounds with their documentary, Ringers: Lord of the Fans. Apparently the two groups got together and made a mocumentary of Dork of the Rings called Dorkers, thereby spoofing their own documentary on the subject of a spoof of their original subject. Got that? It was pure genius, with so-called experts, comic book collectors, the grandson of the Dork of the Rings author, actor interviews, fan tributes, and following the format of Ringers, a history of Dork of the Rings fandom. They even brought in the actress dressed as Gandalf from "Middle-earth Idols." I think the mocumentary may even be better than the original spoof.

Following the videos, I left for my photo-op with Billy Boyd. Sarah and Joseph were still in their costumes. Sue joined us for a wait in line and graciously French-braided Sarah's hair and adorned it with yellow flowers reminiscent of Elanor. When Billy Boyd came through, we got the same wink and nod we'd gotten from Sean Astin. When our turn came, Billy was very gracious. He talked with both the children, complimenting Joseph on his tartan waistcoat. Then he corrected himself and said "you call it a vest." "Today it's a waistcoat," I replied. He then asked Joseph his name, to which Joseph answered "Spiderman," and proffered his temporary arm tattoo of Spiderman. So we bantered like that, posed for our picture, and then to my surprise, everyone in the room applauded. Can't wait to see the picture.

After the photo op we changed into regular clothes. I would be a Hobbit no more! When we got all presentable again, we headed back to the auditorium just in time for Billy Boyd's talk. He was a bit of comic, repeatedly knocking over the mic stands and noting a "hazard" on the stage, a gap in the platform. When someone arrived late, he quickly ran through everything he'd said and done thus far, noting "and there's a hazard on the stage." He's very physical, and someone asked him if he'd ever done stand-up (a couple of times). One of the first questions he took was to name eighteen things he liked about Dominic Monaghan. He reeled off a few, and then said he would add more as he thought of them throughout the show. Eventually, after the umpteenth time he noted the "hazard", he said that sometimes it was the repetition that made things funny, and this was something he liked about Dom. He told a story about how every time they drove by a sheep pasture in New Zealand (and they have a lot of sheep), Dom would yell "resume your positions!" At first it wasn't funny at all, but after a month it was hilarious. Towards the end of his presentation, Billy dropped a leather bracelet, and there were so many gasps in the audience, he offered it up to the highest bidder for charity. When it got to $250, he turned around while the finalists selected a number, and then he called out the winning number. "Sold, for 250 pounds," he shouted. "No, dollars!" we all replied. Hey, we know our exchange rates!

After Billy's presentation, the convention organizers auctioned off Lord of the Rings pictures, posters, and plaques, including all the vinyl convention banners, while Billy Boyd signed autographs. The banners have film publicity photos or a collage of photos plus the convention information, so they are very limited edition. The two stage banners signed by all the celebrity guests went for about $550 and $650. I joined in the bidding frenzy and got an unsigned stage banner for $120, which I promptly had Billy Boyd sign. I already had two autograph tickets myself, but Billy also generously signed a third autograph on a New York City postcard for my daughter.

After that the show was over for us. I know many of the people stay for Sunday night, and if I could get an extra day off, I would have certainly stayed as well. Instead, Sue offered us a ride to the airport, and after a brief side trip to view the Statue of Liberty, we found ourselves stuck in traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike. After a panicky 20 minutes, we finally cleared the construction and approached the airport, a mere 45 minutes before our flight was scheduled to leave. If you've read my journal of E.L.F. 2005, you may recall that we stayed at the convention to get our precious autographs from Elijah Wood, leaving us little time to make our flight. Even though the convention organizers moved us to the front of the autograph line, we made it to the airport only 25 minutes before our flight left. We had missed the 30 minute rule and the airline would not let us on. We re-ticketed for later that evening and didn't leave Orlando until about 11:00 pm, watching our fellow convention-goers come and then leave again. I wasn't about to miss this flight. I can be pretty brazen when I have to, so I went straight to the curbside check-in counter bypassing the line. When they asked who was next I said "I don’t know who's next, but my plane leaves in 45 minutes," and they checked us in. I gave the guy an extra tip, hugged Sue goodbye, and then we raced to the gate like Hobbits running from Ringwraiths. After a brief tangle in security (literally, we couldn't find the opening in the nearly empty serpentine rope line) we made it to the gate to find our flight delayed twenty minutes. Whew! We loaded up on cookies, chips, and drinks for our nutritious dinner and boarded the plane for home, as another E.L.F. weekend faded into memory.

Postscript: After repeatedly vowing in front of witnesses to abstain from anymore fan conventions until my children were older, I found out the next convention was scheduled for Schaumburg, Illinois July 27-29, 2007. Now I was already toying with the idea of attending the La Leche League International convention which just happens to be in Chicago on July 20-23. I may even be a presenter at the LLLI convention. And LLLI is based in Schaumburg, a suburb of Chicago. Hmmmm, maybe I could just take the whole week…

Thank goodness we missed all the new security rules in the wake of the foiled mass airplane downing in the U.K. And thank goodness we missed a mass airplane downing.

Monday, August 07, 2006

E.L.F. 2006 - Saturday

Saturday morning dawned late for me. I took Joseph downstairs in search of a bagel and a decaf coffee. The coffee shop only had pastries and cookies, so we availed ourselves of the breakfast buffet in the restaurant. They seated the Reeve family right next to us, and Joseph, who has a habit of throwing any object when it is no longer of any use to him, threw his used napkin on Daniel Reeve. Sorry!

Returning upstairs, we donned our Hobbit dress for photo-ops with Sean Astin. Joseph was not particularly interested in looking like Frodo Gardner, and voiced a preference for "Elmo." (When you think about it, "Elmo" does sound like a Hobbit name.) After some struggle, I got him in his short pants and braces and puffy cotton shirt. When he balked at the waistcoat, I decided not push my luck. Sarah and I, dressed as Rosie and Elanor for the day, laced up our bodices and drew on a bit of feet fur with a body crayon. Sarah can draw an excellent poodle upside-down on her leg, so I let her do the drawing for all of us. I packed a bag for the day with camera, cell phone, shunned waistcoat, and shoes for all. We padded off to the elevator, and when we got to the 1st floor, we were greeted by a crowd of women who squealed with delight when they saw my little Frodo Gardner. He was at first taken aback, but when he realized they liked him, he was quite pleased and happy to wear the costume from then on.

We met up with Sue, wandered around the disappointingly spare exhibit room, and popped in the main auditorium for some of the filler programming. Sue stayed for a presentation by Lynette Porter on "Heroic Hobbits" while my crew went to stand in line for our photo ops with Sean Astin. My kids looked just adorable. Joseph drew "oohs" and "ahs" wherever he went. I thought our outfits looked pretty good, even if they were a collection of found and purchased items. While I have grand ideas, I don't have a sewing machine, and I don't have the time to buy fabric and hand-sew something. I'm certainly not going to be distressing leather or making armaments, or even making real furry feet. Even if I could figure out how to make hobbit feet, what are the chances I could get both kids to wear them? Same with the pointy ears – we're only going to be so accurate. Luckily, Sarah has naturally pointy ears.

Joseph's green corduroy pants with attached suspenders came from the bottom of his closet – they had once been part of his Christmas suit from two years ago so they were now the perfect length for hobbit trousers. I picked up his ivory shirt last year at a Renaissance Faire. It was collarless with a single button, and extra puffy because it is too big, but the suspenders helped to tame it. The eschewed vest was part of the same Christmas outfit. (Wait for it, it reappears on Sunday.) Sarah wore a handmade (by someone else) pink and ivory brocade skirt and bodice complete with a bell hanging from the bodice, also bought at the Renaissance Faire. I thought the bell was a nice Hobbitty touch. I wore a cotton poet's shirt with a large lace collar (actually a nightshirt in a previous life), a mid-calf length skirt with a green floral print, a lacy petticoat, and a solid green bodice. The shirt and the skirt were culled from a garage sale I hosted earlier this year. The bodice and petticoat were purchased, but the petticoat doubles as a peasant skirt, and I actually wear it in real life.

After a short wait, Sean Astin made his entrance and the kids got a wink and nod as he went by. Picture taking goes remarkably fast at these things, and Sean was his usual congenial self. He's very good with kids, and last year he put Sarah on his lap. This year we were standing, but he asked them their names and talked to them. The picture turned out great, and as soon as I get a jpeg version, I will upload it.

After the pictures, the babysitter took the children to change clothes and try out the pool (very cold). I headed back to the auditiorium still in costume for Daniel Reeve's second presentation. He mostly discussed projects other than Lord of the Rings this time, King Kong in particular. We learned how painstakingly difficult it was draw King Kong's head on a map so that it resembled a coffee stain.

Shortly afterward Sean Astin made his entrance. He was his usual genial self. He treats his fans like regular people. He thanked some people in particular for some of the gifts they brought him, naming each gift and speaking directly to the person. He talked about his work on 24. Most of you know that he got the job through a chance meeting at his chiropractor's office, no thanks to his agent. He initially signed on for seven episodes, but the scripts kept coming. He'd flip through them to see if he was killed off yet (and, yes, he's been killed off). Someone asked him if he ever had any "Sam" moments, and he answered with a long story about "saving" his family from a very large spider. Autographs went quickly as he had a plane to catch at 6:00.

You may be aware that Elijah Wood had been scheduled for E.L.F. but cancelled in June. I'm sure that many people bought tickets in anticipation of meeting him, and I am very glad that I met him at the previous E.L.F, or I would have been sorely disappointed myself. On the positive side, Elijah Wood's absence meant no fangirl invasion on the day of his appearance, gumming up the convention for the rest of us. The audience by and large would remain the same group of serious fans each day. Another plus, and I mean no disrespect, but though I can be relatively at ease meeting Sean Astin or Billy Boyd, I turn to mush in the presence of Elijah Wood, and if I can manage audible speech, I get all tongue-tied. So I was really ok with his absence. The organizers tried to compensate the fans, first with a "to be announced" slot on the schedule, which became a video, which then became a live video, which then became an interactive live video feed, possibly overlapping Sean Astin's presentation. None of that happened, not Saturday, not Sunday, for reasons we may never know. All ticket-holders did get autographed photos of Elijah, but I'm sure some people felt cheated. Interestingly, no such attempt was made to compensate for John Rhys-Davies late cancellation the week before.

After getting my autographs, I changed out of my Hobbit costume for an early dinner with Sue and the family. Then it was back to the room to dress everyone again for the costume contest. This time Joseph was happy to wear his vest. Contest entrants included a very realistic Haradrim, father and son Rohirrim warriors, a Gandalf, an Easterling Lady, several Eowyns, miniature and full-size both in courtly white and casual green, a Frodo, various Elves including a trio, though I'm not sure exactly who they were, and a crowd favorite, the Ring. I don't know how the judges decided because all the costumes were excellent, and some were quite detailed. In case you're wondering (or are perhaps looking for Halloween ideas), the Ring costume was constructed out of two hula hoops and a wide band of gold fabric with Elvish writing. The children and I made a nice showing (Sue thinks we should have won), and for our efforts we got a $25 gift certificate and many requests for pictures. Third prize went to Frodo, 2nd prize to the Rohirrim warriors, and 1st prize, a $250 gift certificate, to the Elf trio.

The talent show followed the costume contest, and many of these were costumed as well. Some of the crowd favorites were a young boy who performed Aragorn's soliloquy at the Black Gate, some free-style poetry, a skit involving Frodo, Gandalf and a lawyer for New Line Cinema, and a nice rendition of "Into the West." I'm sure I've forgotten something worthwhile, but the overwhelming winner was a Wood Elf from the costume contest. She sang an original song entitled "I Would be a Wood Elf Myself" while accompanying herself on acoustic guitar. It was very folksy, the microphone wouldn't stay in place, and she forgot some lines and dropped her pick, but it all seemed to add to the charm and humor. Thankfully, I don't have to try to remember all the lyrics, because she posted them here. Wood Elf

After the talent show, Emerald Rose began their set. They are a Celtic Rock band, and they soon had everyone dancing. My kids were like whirling dervishes, but at midnight when Joseph could stand up no more, I finally took them up to the room. Sarah wasn't ready to leave and wanted to return, but it took an hour for Joseph to wind down and fall asleep. By that time the party was over and the remnants had moved to the bar, but for some reason they frown on taking young children into bars in New Jersey. I took the little party animal back upstairs and we went to bed. The next morning she informed me that she would like to have a band at her birthday party.

Coming eventually, Sunday!

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

E.L.F. 2006 - Friday

Well, I'm back.

I survived another E.L.F. Weekend of Wonder. As the saying goes, if 'ya ain't tired, you didn't do it right. I can now say I partied with John Noble and Daniel Reeve. Had a good showing in the costume contest. Danced the night away Hobbit-style. Learned what a voiced inter-dental fricative is. Got winks and nods from fellow Hobbits Sean Astin and Billy Boyd. Came home with lots of autographed memorabilia, including one of the enormous stage banners advertising the show. And of course, no E.L.F. weekend is complete without a missed or near-missed flight and an O.J. Simpson-like post-9/11 sprint through the airport. And I wasn't even late for work Monday morning.

Friday morning started with an early alarm at 5:00 am. An hour and a half later and I was on the way to the airport with two dressed but sleeping children and Erica my babysitter. We arrived at the airport in Charlotte, NC, checked the luggage curbside, parked, caught the shuttle, strolled leisurely through security, got a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and boarded our plane in a calm and orderly fashion. After an uneventful trip we landed at the Newark airport shortly after 11:00. The entire day was still ahead of us!

After settling in at the hotel, I picked up my registration materials while the Erica and the children entertained themselves. Sarah, my six-year-old daughter, and I caught the tail-end of the first session, an entertaining presentation by Daniel Reeve, calligrapher, cartographer, and graphic artist for the Lord of the Rings movies and other projects. Any writing, any map scattered on a table, any inscription you saw in the films, he did it. He showed us all the fonts he developed for the different characters and cultures of Middle-earth. He talked about how demanding Peter Jackson was. Think it's easy to distress a map? You can wrinkle it, tear it, burn it, and stain it. Then make three exact copies. Huh? But he did it. He showed us a few inside jokes. He would display a slide of Tolkien's map of ME, then his, then a map of New Zealand. They are remarkably similar, so he added an island here, enlarged a bay there, until his map of ME looked exactly like New Zealand! He also showed us enlargements of some of the maps where you could see the names of members of the art department or Peter Jackson on islands and such.

Some of the documents are written in Elvish or Dwarvish. Daniel Reeve had to compose plausible text for all these because they knew that someone somewhere would freeze-frame it and try to translate it. No jibberish, cursing, or insulting the management allowed! He also found himself composing a few more verses to the Lay of Beleriand since Tolkien only composed 5 himself and they needed more verses on the page.

Daniel Reeve was followed by Michael Drout, pronounced like"drought", a professor of English at Wheaton college. He came in through a door in the back of the room, yelled "What?", then began reciting Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon. When he finished his short recitation, he explained that Tolkien opened his classes on Anglo-Saxon in the same manner, reciting the first 50 lines of Beowulf (though he only recited the first 11). This he suggested, was an attempt to scare the less devoted students out of the class, thus leaving Tolkien with fewer papers to grade. He then discussed various kings in legend and literature, from King Hrothgar and Beowulf, to King Albert, often regarded as the first English king, to Viggo Mortensen's portrayal of Aragorn. These kings demonstrated modesty, usually coupled with a firm sense of their birthright. If you are familiar with Beowulf, you know that he declined to be placed among Hrothgar's sons, declined to marry his uncle Higlaf's wife (um, eeewww, was Drout's ad-lib comment), and declined to accept the kingship of Geatland until Higlaf's son was killed in battle. Only then did he finally accept the crown, and continued to rule for fifty years, which in Anglo-Saxon, means a long time. Similarly, Aragorn of Tolkien's book would not take the crown through force nor outshine Denethor, but waited until he had the opportunity to prove himself and the people were willing to accept him as king. Aragorn of the books never doubted his right to rule as he carried the shards of Narsil about, but waited patiently for the right opportunity.

Aragorn of the films however doubted his ability to rule and was initially reluctant to assert any authority. This Aragorn leaves Narsil in the museum.* (Peter Jackson says this is because it would look silly on film for Aragorn to pull out a broken sword, but I think it fits seamlessly with the character portrayal.) Michael Drout opined that because of relatively recent experiences with dictators such as Hitler, the viewing public regards someone sure of his right to rule with distrust. Thus Viggo Mortensen deflated Aragorn's ego to some extent in order to make him palatable to Western audiences.

After Michael Drout I took a short break, missing some of the filler material like trivia contests and skits. On our way to our room Sarah and I ran into John Noble, who played Denethor, waiting for the elevator. I just happened to have some pictures of myself with John Noble that I took last year at DragonCon in Atlanta (what a coincidence!), so I whipped them out of my purse. We talked briefly about DragonCon. He hated it and told his agent never to book it again. DragonCon put all the celebrities in the back of the vendor room, a hot, crowded, serpentine madhouse of swords, circlets, superheroes, and shackles. To his credit, he autographed my ROTK Visual Companion book after his DragonCon presentation to save me the task of negotiating the autograph room. Anyway, I showed him the pictures and enjoyed this brief conversation until I got to my floor.

Next on my agenda was John Noble's actual presentation. He talked about acting, his career, upcoming projects, and so on. Regarding LOTR, he initially auditioned for both Saruman and Denethor, but agreed that Christopher Lee was perfect for the role. One of the hardest scenes he filmed was where he "sees" Boromir over Faramir's shoulder and then falls backward. He first did a sort of stage fall, but Peter Jackson said it wasn't real enough. So then he did a real fall, to which Peter Jackson said, "Great, let's do it again." They had to get the fall from different angles, so after repeated falls he had a terrible bruise. As a treat for us, he recited Denethor's line about "no long sleep of death embalmed …".

After John Noble's presentation, he and Daniel Reeve began signing autographs. Since I was in row D, and each row had 38 seats, this took a while. I finally got back to my room at about 8:00. I ordered room service for us all and then showered the long day's grime away. Several times that day I had been in touch with fellow message-boarder Sue, who lived nearby. We finalized plans to meet for the first time at the dessert party that night with John Noble. The party was sold out, but I had bought a full pass for my babysitter, and she was going to stay in with the kids, so Sue was going to use my second ticket.

I got to the party late, and all the tables were filled, and all the people at the tables were seemingly engrossed in their own conversations. John Noble and Daniel Reeve were slowly making their way through the party stopping at every table, so not much milling about as no one wanted to miss their turn. While I was pondering sit-down parties versus stand-up parties in my head, my cell phone went off. I expected it to be Sue, but instead it was my security service. My alarm was going off, so that was a little excitement while I spoke back and forth with Security Central, the police, and my next-door neighbor and simultaneously navigated a cocktail party. I found one of my row-mates from the auditorium, Karen, and we chatted a while. I got my table-turn with John Noble where I learned he had a 4:00 am flight to England scheduled the next morning. Then Sue showed up. We had a glass of wine, talked, and staked out the door so she could get a word with John Noble before he left. But neither John Noble nor Daniel Reeve seemed too intent on leaving the party. They just kept coming back. We got pictures. We talked. The party ended. We migrated to the bar. And we shut the bar down. John Noble and Daniel Reeve stayed the entire time, soaking up all the attention. We advised John Noble to forgo sleeping and just stay up until he needed to leave for the airport. Daniel Reeve opened his Saturday session with an apology for being disorganized, but he'd had a late night. Sue and I just smiled.

Coming soon: Saturday!

*My comment, not Michael Drout's.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Jungle Love and the Tarzan Movie Marathon

Out of nostalgia, I recently picked up the DVD collection of the original six Tarzan movies, filmed in the 1930’s and 40’s, and starring Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan and Maureen O’Sullivan as Jane.  So far, I have watched the first three films in the series:  Tarzan the Ape Man, Tarzan and His Mate, and Tarzan Escapes.  I can remember watching these movies as a little girl on Saturday afternoons on TV.  I was as fascinated by Tarzan’s strength and form then as I am now, though I didn’t fully understand the attraction.  Tarzan was beauty and power.  He was protector and provider.  He was innocence and virility.  He was rescuer and fighter.  He was companion and lover.  He was man in his natural, unblemished state.  And Jane was destined to join him in his primitive world.  Some people might think the stories are corny, and I’m sure they strayed from Edgar Rice Burroughs original novel, but the films were an ambitious undertaking, with unbelievable stunts, impressive athleticism, and groundbreaking cinematography.

There is of course rampant racism in the films.  At one point in Tarzan the Ape Man, Jane vouches for Tarzan’s humanity by saying “he’s white,” but this article will not be about the racism in the Tarzan films.  Just know that it is there, that it is a reflection of the times in which it was filmed, but let it not overly mar your viewing experience.  After a brief National Geographic style introduction, the most favorable portrayal of the Africans is that of  superstitious slave-like porters.  The least favorable are the opposing savages who take thrill in the torture and killing of others.  Only one black actor has a role of any consequence, and that is the character of Saadi the overseer in the second film, Tarzan and His Mate.  He sacrifices himself to save a box of ammunition for the white hunters.  Strangely enough, the actor returns from the dead in the third film, but this time with the name of Bomba.  (This also happens with the bumbling Australian hunter Beamish, who returns two years later with the new name of Rawlins.)  Alas, Saadi/Bomba has lost most of his moral fiber as he sells out the white tourists to a savage tribe.  

Like the red-shirted guy in Star Trek, you know most of the black guys will be killed off in each movie, at first by falling off the dangerously high and narrow pathways of the Mutia Escarpement, or eaten alive by an alligator, or shot to death for insubordination.  The rest usually meet a gruesome end at the hand of savage African tribesmen.  The white woman in the film always cringes to see such deaths, but more out of squeamishness and fear for her own safety than any sympathy for the poor African.  

At times the acting and special effects can come across as a bit hammy to the modern viewer.  The damsel in distress emoting seems right out of silent film, but then again, these films are right out of silent film.  The style of acting was probably what the audience expected.  The special effects are actually quite fascinating and ambitious given the technology of the day.  Some of the animals are real and interacting with the humans on the set.  To see them on the screen must have been a real treat for the movie-goer.  Tarzan is shown wrestling a wildebeest and several large cats.  The animals are live, at least in some of the shots, but there may be a stunt double in Tarzan’s place at times.  The documentary included with the DVD’s will hopefully tell.  In one laughable scene, Cheeta, usually a real chimpanzee, is supposed to hold onto Tarzan’s back while he swims across the lagoon, but he is replaced with a puppet that jerks stiffly from side to side as Tarzan swims.  Puppets are used in other scenes, sometimes as animals with real people, and sometimes as people with real animals.  Most of the puppets are obviously fake.

Raging hippos attack the white hunters and herds of zebras run through the set.  There is one scene with a close-up of a zebra, and a part of me is wondering if they used a painted donkey in a zebra wig.  Maybe it was just a zebra with a lot of personality.

The wildebeest incident is particularly interesting in that the same footage is used repeatedly.  In this scene Tarzan goes out to fetch dinner as if he was going to the grocery store.  He wrestles a passing wildebeest to the ground, breaking its neck.  As he is stripping a large piece of flesh from the carcass, he is interrupted by a hungry lion.  Apparently not wishing to fight over dinner, Tarzan quickly leaves, steak in hand.  You’d think eventually the wildebeest would learn they are a walking supermarket.

Crocodiles figure largely in all of the films.  There are several shots of real ones slithering into the water and a well-known scene where Tarzan wrestles an unbelievably large one.  The filmmakers liked the scene so much, they used it in more than one film too.

Tarzan lives with a group of chimpanzees, the ones who presumably raised him, though the backstory is not provided.  Some of the apes are convincing actors in costume, and some are real chimpanzees.  He’s on friendly terms with the elephants as well, helping them out and occasionally hitching a ride on one.  Some of the elephants are on the set, though some scenes incorporate stock footage, and some scenes are reused.  (Why waste film?) The apes and elephants come to his aid whenever he calls, to fight off savages or crush villages.  Tarzan is truly the king of this jungle.  

As blue screen technology is a long way in the future, all of the charging animals are stock footage projected on a backdrop.  In some shots the projection is three dimensional, showing the charge from the front, overhead, and the back.  The actors and the filmmakers do their part to make the scenes as convincing as possible.  I’m sure the target audience was suitably thrilled.  I know my kids, more used to the slick production in the likes of Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Narnia, were just as enthralled with the Tarzan movies.  They didn’t even ask why everything was gray.

Many of the scenes are quite spectacular, fake animal or not, and Olympic champion Johnny Weissmuller is to be commended for his skill.  There is enough movie magic to keep even a Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings fan transfixed, so that the film at least deserves a place in movie history for its ambitious if occasionally cost-effective methods.  Without such films as Tarzan, we might not have ever seen a Star Trek, or a Star Wars or an Indiana Jones.

But the film is not just special effects.  It is first and foremost a love story, albeit one set in a jungle paradise, with wild animals and savages and scheming white hunters.  When Tarzan first sees Jane, played by Maureen O’Sullivan, in Tarzan the Ape Man, he has never seen a human female before, or at least not a white one.  He is fascinated, and deftly steals her away from her father and his company to take her back to his lair in the trees.  Jane is of course frightened and does a lot of screaming and flailing about.  Jane is sure that this mostly naked brute has only one thing on his mind, to steal her virtue and have his way with her.  She quickly realizes that he doesn’t speak, at least not English, which only adds to her fear.  Now she is captive to a naked, dumb, sexually-deprived brute.

But Tarzan surprises her.  He watches Jane struggle somewhat dumbfounded, as if he doesn’t know what to do with her anyway.  After a few minutes, he leaves her there, and settles down to sleep on a nest of branches, stabbing his knife into the wood first, and then clutching the handle as he sleeps.  Jane peeks out, surprised by this turn of events.  Jane seems reassured that the brute has a tender heart, and she does not try to escape.  Perhaps she is reassured that he means her no harm.  Perhaps she is intrigued by this wild man.  

Jane’s companions eventually find her, and I wonder to myself if they question her virtue at the hands of the savage.  In the ensuing rescue, a female ape is killed, possibly the one who raised Tarzan, and he lets out an anguished cry.  This confirms for Jane that the brute feels love, and now they have invaded his paradise and brought him sorrow.  

After the rescue, the white hunters decide to search for Tarzan.  One of them shoots him, and he staggers off injured while Jane is taken by the apes.  Lions attack the injured Tarzan, and he is barely able to fight them off.  Eventually he is rescued by a friendly elephant, and the apes bring Jane to Tarzan.  She nurses him back to health, conveniently ripping her clothes to make bandages.  There is a good deal of flirting and swimming about the lagoon as he recovers.  We know that Jane has given in when Tarzan picks her up and she lays her head on his shoulder in quiet acceptance.  Fade to black.

Jane is remarkably happy with her jungle lover, but when her father finds her, she feels she must leave.  Jungle adventures abound.  Pygmies, who are really Little People, that is, genetic dwarves, in black body makeup, kidnap our white adventurers and their African laborers.  Tarzan must rescue them of course.  When it’s all over, Jane realizes that she must stay with Tarzan.  When her father tries to convince her that he belongs to the jungle, she tearfully blurts out “Not now; he belongs to me!”  She stays behind when her other companions leave.  

If Jane is the worldly Eve, then Tarzan is the tempted Adam.  In Tarzan’s world, he has long been the only man, and all the animals are at his command.  He eats the fruit of the trees, and the flesh of the beasts as needed.  He lacks only one thing, and that is a female companion.  Tarzan and Jane are primal lovers; their home a Garden of Eden in an otherwise forbidden land.  Evil lurks vaguely on the perimeter.  Jane’s white associates repeatedly try to upset the delicate balance.  Each time, Tarzan and Jane affirm their devotion to each other against the outside world.

The female viewer of the Tarzan films gets an uncommon treat as Tarzan swings, flips, wrestles, runs, leaps, and swims through the jungle.  Occasionally he mopes about pining for Jane.  And he does all of this in a teeny loincloth.  His physicality fills up the screen and captivates the viewer.  Johnny Weissmuller, fresh from an Olympic career that included five gold medals and broken records in every event he entered, was embarking on a modeling career when he was cast.  His only prior screen experience had been a small role in 1929 when he appeared clad only in a fig leaf.  He was 28 years old when the first film was released in 1932.  He proved to be very popular with the ladies.

In the second film, Tarzan and his Mate, we are also given the full benefit of Jane’s emergent sexuality.  Though she was flirtatious and proper in the first film, now she has unashamedly abandoned herself to the sexual pleasures available to her.  She wears a loin cloth that is even teenier than Tarzan’s, little more than a flap in front and behind connected by a narrow cord.  Her top is a sort of midriff-baring bra.  In this film, one of her former companions and another hunter try to find her.  They bring her the latest fashions to entice her to return to civilization.  She quickly dons the silk stockings and a beautiful evening gown that is very nearly backless with a plunging neckline even more revealing than her usual bra.  The dialog is sexually loaded, with the white hunters joking about her revealing mode of dress, and Tarzan very obviously turned on by the new stockings.  The scene ends with Tarzan carrying her off, obviously to have sex, though of course, that is not shown.  They wake up side by side the next morning, Jane naked under an animal skin and the evening gown adorning their shelter like a swag.  She puts the dress back on, feeling a need to dress properly now that there are other people around, and they go out for their morning swim.  

Jane’s famous, or infamous, nude scene comes up next.  Tarzan pulls off her dress as she dives into the water.  They then proceed to swim a graceful underwater pas de deux.  Underwater, Jane is as naked and graceful as any odalisque ever painted by a master.  Cut from the release of the film and restored only recently, the scene is both beautifully filmed and shockingly avant-garde.  It’s gems like this that make the film worth viewing.  The skimpy clothing, the morning-after scene, and the underwater nude scene aren’t there simply for titillation.  They indicate Jane’s new status as wife and lover.  Jane even teaches Tarzan to call her “my wife.”

The teeny-weeny loincloths and nudity were not to last though.  With the implementation of the Hays Code for the third film, Tarzan Escapes, Tarzan’s loincloth provides a bit more coverage, though it’s still daringly high-cut.  Jane’s loincloth and bra have been replaced by a high-necked mini-dress with only her arms and legs exposed.  Inexplicably, the first and third films are on the same DVD, so I actually watched #3 before #2.  It was interesting to watch the clothes expand and shrink.  You can also tell when footage from the earlier films is repeated in later films by checking out the width of Tarzan’s loincloth.  

Tarzan and Jane repeat their underwater ballet in Tarzan Escapes, with Jane clothed this time, since it was cut from the prior film.  The filmmakers then take their revenge on those who thought the second film was too racy by filming the most suggestive sex scene yet.  Whereas the sexual encounters in the previous films were merely implied by the slightest glance or movement, here the director wordlessly lingers over the jungle couple, each shown from the other’s point of view.  After a playful swim, Jane reclines on the bank of the lagoon.  Tarzan plucks a water lily and gives it to her.  He climbs out of the pool and stands over her.  His expression changes from happiness to desire, noticeably enough that my six-year-old daughter commented on it.  The camera switches to Jane, bathed in radiant light, her lips parted and moist as she gazes upon Tarzan.  The camera pans to her face, and then follows her shoulder and arm as she releases the flower back into the water.  Fade to black.

Give me a moment.

Ok.  Johnny Weissmuller’s Tarzan was imprinted on my brain at a young age, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to grow up and live in a tree house with a wild man.  Even if I could manage that, it would be hot and sticky, the bugs would eat you alive, and I’d grow tired of killing and skinning my supper.  Eventually I would long for some good conversation and culture.  Meanwhile rebel militias, slash-and-burn farmers, and land developers would encroach on our jungle paradise.  So keep the jungle fantasy on the screen, where the annoying realities of life can be kept at bay.  

There is an innocence to the Tarzan films, a belief that the worries of the world can really be put aside.  Even in this world, the occasional cannibal or white hunter comes along to try to ruin everything, but it all gets neatly put back into place.  There is plenty of violence, but it’s the sort that seems to go with movie adventures.  A remake would risk making it too gory or moralistic.  Greystoke notwithstanding (maybe I should watch that one next), it’s ripe for updating with a light-hearted nostalgic touch like the Indiana Jones movies or Star Wars serial.  Taking out the racist overtones is a must.  Correct some continuity problems.  Improve the biological accuracy, that is, put plains animals on the plains, and jungle animals in the jungle.  Leave in the live animal wrangling where possible because it’s part of the charm of the original movies.  Augment with CG to replace those projected back drops, but keep Tarzan as real as possible.  

For me, no one can improve the portrayal of Tarzan and Jane.  Johnny Weissmuller was cast more for his looks and athletic ability than his acting, but the part calls for an unsophisticated, strong, silent type, so it works.  Maureen O’Sullivan does most of the talking for both of them anyway, and delivers some classic lines.  Their chemistry and their grace more than make up for the complete improbability of the whole situation.  For two hours you can believe that love can create a sanctuary in the midst of a mythic jungle.  For two hours you can believe that love can create an intimate connection between two people that transcends distance.  For two hours, you can believe that love conquers all enemies and vanquishes all ills.  For two hours, you can believe in love.

Johnny Weissmuller, 1932

Johnny Weissmuller, 1932

Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan in Very Tiny Loincloth

Tarzan and Jane from Tarzan and His Mate, 1934

Maureen O'Sullivan

Ralph Lauren Underwe ... Er, No, It's Johnny Weissmuller Again

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Those Elusive Dwarf Women Revealed - Sorry, Totally Different Topic



Readers of J.R.R.Tolkien have long wondered just what the Dwarf women looked like. Some have speculated that there were no Dwarf women, that the Dwarves just sprang up from the ground. In truth, though Dwarf men outnumber the Dwarf women, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that few can tell the difference. There has even been debate about whether or not Dwarf women have beards. Here is a rare photograph of two Dwarf Women, apparently all prettied up for a party.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Friday Night in Hick Town

I just read an article in the local paper about the dearth of singles in my town. Most people said, in so many words, “there’s no nightlife, it’s boring, it was so much better in the large metropolis I used to live in, if it (meeting someone) happens, it happens.” The relationship experts replied that waiting around for something to happen doesn’t work – you have to make it happen.

According to the paper, the demographic breakdown for Hick Town is approximately 15,000 each never-married men and women between the ages of 15 and 44. I don’t know why they stuck the 15-19-year-olds in there, because I wouldn’t expect them to be married, and I don’t know why they left divorced people out, because they’re single too. So those numbers aren’t too helpful, other than to say at least we’re not like Alaska with a 7 to 1 ration of men to women. Hmmmm, … naaah.

One lady’s comment about the local men was “They dip.” No, she’s not speaking ebonics, and dip is not slang for “really bad” or “really good.” She means they chew tobacco, which is just gross. She also added they are uneducated. You’re not making a good impression out there, fellas!

So what am I doing? I tried that eHarmony experiment, which you can read about below. None of my potential matches lived in Hick Town, so I’m guessing there’s not many eHarmony users here. Or maybe guys here just don’t know how to use computers. After eHarmony, I tried meetup.com, which is not a single matching service, but a social network for people with common interests. The only meetup groups in Hickory are for bipolar disorders and Budhism, but hey, at least they know how to use computers. So I set up my own meetup group (30 day free trial, 6 months for $72.00) under the interest Renaissance Faire hoping to attract people who like to have a good time and know how to read.

I also had one of my better Friday nights last week. I don’t go out very often because I am trying to maintain an “aura of mystery.” I have changed the names to protect the guilty. Some man with yesterday’s 5:00 shadow immediately glommed onto me and insisted that I needed to have fun and another drink. “Bill” was a bit of a drunk, and a bit of an arrogant asshole, but I took him up on the drink part. His buddy was much more interesting, but I couldn’t get rid of “Bill” to talk to the buddy. And though I have delusions of youth, he was definitely too old. But I talked to them, and “Bill” gave me his phone number and insisted that I call him. I did not.

While I was talking to Bill and his Buddy, an acquaintance of my husband’s came up to say hello. “Cliff” has a little beard, a knit cap on his head, and tattoos up both arms – total opposite of “Bill.” Eventually Cliff invited me back to his table, and I realize tattoo boy is actually interested in me. I think I was intimidating his friends so I didn’t linger. Perhaps if I could get tattoo boy alone…. …. ….

Anyway, by now I’m on my 3rd drink, which means I will say anything to anybody, so I sidled up to the 3rd and final prospect of the evening. I would give you a fake name, but after 3 drinks I don’t remember names anymore, so his fake name could actually be his real name, so I will just refer to him as “out of my league.” “Out of my league” had been talking with a friend of mine, so I felt we were practically introduced. I had gleaned that he had played football for a large state university, and we had a nice conversation about football rivalries, rap music, and probably some other stuff I don’t remember. He was tall and good-looking, probably too tall for my 5’2” frame, and probably too young, but I as I said, I have delusions of youth. Isn’t “trying” the whole point of this? He even said he would meet me the next Friday night at the same place, but that day has come and gone and I couldn’t get a babysitter. So I am either playing hard-to-get, which they tell me is the thing to do, but it always seemed counter-intuitive to me, or I have screwed that opportunity up.

Guess I will have to wait another 4 weeks before I find out. Got to maintain that “aura of mystery.”