The Speed of Life
British Home Office poster, ca. WW II A person doesn't change just because
you find out more about them
--The Third Man (1949)
--Do you think you could follow
an intelligent conversation for a minute?
--I'll try
--My Man Godfrey (1936)
I'm bored with sitting around.
I'm a dramatic character. I need forward motion
--The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
_______________
you find out more about them
--The Third Man (1949)
--Do you think you could follow
an intelligent conversation for a minute?
--I'll try
--My Man Godfrey (1936)
I'm bored with sitting around.
I'm a dramatic character. I need forward motion
--The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
_______________
Sunday homily: How do you roll?
Today's homily is not the typical fare. It grows out of a conversation yesterday with a dear friend who lives a rather hermetic life building beautiful vegetable gardens.
We spoke of the pace of media entertainment today, and how it has evolved from the 1980's. We mused upon the question: Could such a quick evolution in media feed have translated so swiftly into an animation of our neural circuitry capable of routing and processing the new speeded up transmissions?
This presumes that people are not sitting idly in front of the screen, and are making some sort of interaction with the story. By extension, if they are able to follow such disjointed presentations, how does this affect their real life interactions? Is life speeded up as a result of the programming, or do the programs reflect an inherent quickness in the viewers? Does art imitate life?
Hill Street Blues was probably the first series that introduced "reality" via quick cuts and vertiginous angles. Now that style seems par for the course for most programming. We both discovered that our brains are pained by attempting to watch such things. We have a desire to gaze at the object, to contemplate its totality, or at least as close to 360 as we can.
The quick cut and zig-zag denies that knowability to the viewer. One must be grateful for what one gets, and not look too deeply. Characters are unidimensional.
Sure, one could argue the Third Man had such angles, and My Man Godfrey moved at a good clip. But it was speed with wit and panache, and the vertiginous angles served good purpose in attempting to replicate the experience of character Harry Lime.
Now the shows come out of the gate with camera shifts right and left, quick cuts whirling the head around, shaky shots, at times, to give that on-the-scene videocam look. It all feels like a slick effort at UCLA film night, ca. 2000.
And to what purpose, and what effect? How, if at all, does it manifest in daily interactions? Does this sort of stupefaction mimicked characterize the daily experience of people as they march through life?
I have witnessed the growing clipped speech in some of my compatriots, and the inability to meditate upon a topic for more than a few moments. Everyone seems after the bottom line, and the bottom line is, "How do I get what I need or want in the most expeditious way possible?" Game on.
Not saying that sort of achievement is a bad thing thing. But what if it breeds dispassion and impatience in one's closest relations? What if one doesn't even notice this intrusion? The question centers around two ideas: Has this quick evolution in media translated into an evolution in behavior, and is this a bad thing?
The style of shooting could be called "total voyeur," as one is made to feel one is along for the ride, which it usually is as all the shows involve the police in one form or another, or gurneys rolling down the hospital aisles. Except for those moments involved in the soap operatic hijinks of the players.
It's not like Woody Allen should come out a la Purple Rose of Cairo and engage us, but still, I miss the respect that comes from a well-shot, well-thought story. For me, plotline drives a story; predictability is boring, no matter how pretty the package.
Needless to say, neither of us can countenance most programs and movies. We have been out of it for at least a decade. We admit that t.v. has never been much good. There are a handful of fine films each year which give a satisfying experience; at the end of which one can say, two hours well-spent.
That is your Sunday meditation: media and the fabric of our lives.
Labels: media matters, quick cuts and vertiginous angles, speed of media, the speed of life
posted by Lisa at 9:34 AM
19 Comments:
i was talking with a friend this weekend who is a refugee from feature films to TV. he said he made the jump because tv is the place where the writers are given a modicum of respect and a reasonable measure of control.
we were talking about the old movies and the high level of craftsmanship that went into the making of them.
at one point i pointed out that you could take scissors to the reel of film in a movie by john ford, john huston, or any of those old masters, snip out a random frame and the chances would be that you end up with a perfectly composed still.
in the absence of cgi and the other technical bells and whistles, writers had to have stories which had content to grab and hold interest, actors and directors had to maintain that interest.
he said that it is true, but the producers also have to follow the box office. if what they make now is putting the butts in the seats, they'll keep making them that way.
Yes, supply and demand. Perhaps we get no better because we are no better.
[Delight to get such a speedy reply -- just ate a late breakfast of Irish oats + maple syrup, cream, pecans and blackberries, b/c that's how I roll :)]
I don't know a damn thing about making movies, but I do know that the pace of life today is too hurried. Whether media caused it or whether media is reacting to it, ¿quien sabé?
Communication of all sorts is way fast these days, and folks have gotten used to things being resolved very, very quickly. Take the time to write out a shopping list? Why, when you can go to the supermarket and shop with phone in your ear?
People have gotten used to this and can accomplish many more things in a given time frame. This has good and bad points, but I think they try to do too much sometimes and get frustrated at any sort of delay.
Not me. One thing at a time and things take the time they take, and I like it that way.
If Pearl Harbor had happened last Dec. 7, our societal ADD would have had it out of the news cycle by now.
Gordon,
People are impatient today. As though they're missing out on something (which would be called, "their life".)
I remember grocery lists. Mom stuck it on the fridge, and it would be compiled over the span of several days. It was a process of building and compiling. Moreover, it would be adhered to, more or less. There were dinner "plans"; things were anticipated.
Today, like you say, they shop with phone in their ear, tossing things in as if by rote or impulse.
I wonder how this impacts the ability to really "know" anything. As you say, on the one hand, we can gather tons more info. at lightening speed from the internet; but that is mediated, received knowledge. What do we know from observation and contemplation?
And how do those two knowledges differ?
Well, you can contemplate things that are observed as well as things that are not, but you don't have to. I think those things are up to the individual - some are contemplative by nature, some are not.
I remembered a quote from SIASL that may apply to patience and perhaps contemplation:
"When waiting is filled, you will grok its fullness."
Which is right up there with "all things come to those who wait", which is sometimes true and sometimes not, but I think the modern attitude is more like "wait, shit! I want it now!".
A surefire recipe for disappointment and frustration.
with my love of cooking i sometimes will get into one of the "top chef" style shows. too often i end up thinking that what they are doing is slap dash throwdown stuff.
some of my signature dishes can take three days to prepare, four days if you include the fishing trip. there's none of this "here's a table full of ingredients, you have an hour, make me swoon."
you wanna swoon? take a day to make a fish stock, a day to make a vegetable stock, a day at the fishing docks, start tossing stuff into a cauldron, fuss, spice, taste, fuss some more...
bam! emeril, boulliabase to make the tongue spasm and the pleasure centers of the brain to cartwheels.
you can't have food like that in an hour, for the eggplant i grilled tonight was the cumulative result of a few months work in the garden.
slow food. that's how i fucking roll.
lunch tomorrow, chopped raw ahi, minced onion, capers, dollop of sour cream, folded in a blini held like a taco.
I would bet that your recipe for haggis begins, "first, steal a sheep..." ;)
MB,
Did you really have to do this to me? First, the picture of the harbor, now this. Methinks y'are a bit cruel! (You know we like a slow hand. . .)
gordon, the apache side of my heritage, with willing participation from the irish side, firmly believes that stolen sheep, especially sheep stolen from the navajo, are the finest tasting mutton to be found. if we're feeling charitable toward our di'neh cousins, we will leave the skeletons there to be ground into meal for their gardens. we feel that it is only fair. after all, stolen melons have an extra sweetness to the flavor.
Irish and Apache, eh, MB?
Just for transparency, me, German, French, and um...very little native American...very little.
I love to cook too.
My wifes favorite...
Sashmi grade Ahi, sliced 1/8", with a sesame seed infused Soy sauce, with wasabi on the side for those who enjoy a "little" heat.
For the lower grade of Ahi, seared...a little peanut oil, red chili pepper, and garlic pepper in the oil, infuse for about 30 secs on med high heat, a pad of butter in the oil. Lightly salt and pepper the 1" thick Ahi, both sides, when the infusion is done...sear each side for about thirty seconds, or till slightly crusty.
The ideal when sliced into 1/4" pads is a semi-blackened outside, slight gray edge before it's all beautiful red meat inside.
Served with the same sauce as the Sashimi
And that is why I suspect my wife keeps me around because she loves that set up.
Anyway, nice to know there are other cooks around.
"a warm fire, good food, and the quiet of the woods...that is all we need."
Scout master
"Well, a warm fire is good, but meat, and lots of it...that is what I need."
Me
"I was trying to be profound."
Scout master
"Sorry, I was being practical."
Me
if ahi must be cooked, and sometimes it really must, i like the cedar plank method. i soak a cedar plank in seawater for a minimum of an hour. put the plank over the hot coals, as soon as it begins to steam, put the ahi down, cover, when the edges of the plank begin to flame, the ahi is perfect.
MB,
*sigh*.
And do you ever use a chutney as an accompaniment? (I'm growing all misty over your former food postings.)
I really do think Silver Star winner does food would be a winning program. (It would be my favorite.)
Sheerah,
I didn't know you cooked, too :) What a pleasure that men can enjoy that entire process, too -- the tactility of the food, the patience of the preparation, the presentation as a gift, . . .
Cedar plank...never tried that...heard of it, but never met anyone who used it.
Oh yes Lisa, I is cook.
I've done luau's as well, which is a whole lot of work over a few days...but well worth it.
My upcoming plan is for my wife in which I'm going to do a California/Mexico fusion of foods with the center of attention being tequlia chili lime prawns, bacon wrapped prawns in a dos equis beer and pepper sauce, and rum infused coconut-milk prawns.
MB, I'm wondering...what is the flavor imparting of the cedar board to the meat?
the cedar plank brings many things to the table. first, it is a protector of the meat itself. it shields the tuna from direct and naked flame. then, you get the burst of steam which will do a scald (more subtle but more effective than a sear), then, cedar flavor smoke as the plank dries, chars, and finally begins to burn outright.
it's as close to a perfect cooking medium as ever developed. thank the tlingit (apache cousins) of the pacific northwest for the technique.
In my Boy Scout days, we planked fish a little differently. We butterflyed the fish, fastened it to a piece of wood and stood it on end next to the fire.
MB's Apache (Navajo for 'sheep-stealin' skunk') recipe no doubt starts off, "first, steal some cedar shakes off a Navajo's roof...".
It is good to see someone who is faithful to the Old Way. Walk in beauty, MB. ;)
Sheerah,
coconut milk, lime and chile are among my favorite flavors. you have quite a production ahead.
MB,
Thank you for sharing the essence of cedar plank cooking.
Gordon,
You provocateur ;)
the word origin for apache is from the zuni. it means something close to sheep stealing skunks. it means, the enemy. as they were spreading through the southwest the spanish encountered the zuni first. they asked them "who is that who lives in those mountains up there?" the zuni said "the apache." the spanish came and said "are you the apache?" we said "that's what the zuni call us. we call ourselves iindii."
it was the zuni term that stuck.
"Gordon,...You provocateur"
C'est moi! Singlehandedly lowering the tone of the discourse as well. :)
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