In a post today over at the Columbia Journalism Review, 'compliment' and 'complement' are cleared up for you. Go take a look and make an effort to avoid this mistake in your future writing classes. I'm offering you this complimentary advice so that if you are able to complement your good content with good grammar, your teacher will toss you a nice compliment.
A mistake I see in student papers about three or four times a semester is the mix-up between 'compliment' and 'complement'. Those two words each have various meanings, so it's a pretty easy error to make. But that one tiny letter in the middle makes a big difference.
In a post today over at the Columbia Journalism Review, 'compliment' and 'complement' are cleared up for you. Go take a look and make an effort to avoid this mistake in your future writing classes. I'm offering you this complimentary advice so that if you are able to complement your good content with good grammar, your teacher will toss you a nice compliment.
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Before I even start this review, let me just put this out there: people from one particular political party are going to HATE this movie. Free State of Jones shows how those from a certain side of the aisle directly violated the 15th Amendment by obstructing black voting rights, founded the KKK, denied integration and miscegenation, confiscated property from citizens for war expenses, and believed that only certain lives matter. Oh, and the film shows how gun rights protect citizens from racist enslavers and their own tyrannical government. So there you go--you've been warned.
Free State of Jones is the true story of a Confederate Army medic, Newton Knight (Matthew McConaughey), who decides to desert his side of the fight after seeing too many young men, including his own teenage nephew who has been conscripted, forced to die for a cause they don't even support. Knight and many like him don't own slaves, and they simply see plantation owners getting richer due to the practice. (This is actually a great historical reminder that the South should not be thought of as a monolith of racists and slavery proponents, and only a tiny fraction of white southerners actually owned slaves.) Knight finds himself hiding with and befriended by other deserters, along with escaped slaves, in a Mississippi swamp. This group of men, which gradually grows throughout the film, begins to fight back against Confederates hunting them down. They eventually declare Jones County a "free state" and desire to govern themselves, white and black together. The rebels declare a few simple laws: every person is a person, no one owns another, and no stealing what others produce. (This is pretty much the basics of classical liberalism.) But when the war ends, Knight and his comrades realize their victory over racism is far from over. Knight is a fascinating character, as is his second wife Rachel (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), an escaped slave herself. However, character development is noticeably lacking in this film. We never fully understand the psychology of Knight (and know nothing of his early life which has led him to this point), nor do we know much of Rachel beyond her terrible treatment at the hands of her masters. We can tell these two love each other, but more domesticity would strengthen their bond for the audience. Rachel needs more screen time here, as do other characters. The film also doesn't exactly have a narrative arc. It simply meanders chronologically from event to event. We are able to see history move, but we are always unsure of people's place in it. And there are distracting cutaways to historical photographs and caption notes, and an awkward parallel plot line in which one of Knight's descendants demonstrates that the racial divide lasts long after emancipation and Reconstruction. But the acting is solid, particularly from McConaughey, who continues in recent films to be able to disappear into interesting roles despite his superstardom. Mahershala Ali, as escaped slave Moses, is also excellent. And the visceral nature of the battle scenes and life in the rural South captures the mood of era with a harsh honesty. But some may find issue with Knight's fight, as it isn't really about racial equality (at first), but rather about his own economics. And some may see him as just another example of a white savior figure. These are valid observations, but Knight's character is indicative of many at the time. And pursuing one's self-interest, while assisting a larger cause, is often how most revolutions begin. Overall, Free State of Jones is a great history lesson. But it's a flawed movie. I was expecting a Civil War Braveheart, but this film has a prominent didacticism that works in some places while falling flat in others. Go check it out for its historical depiction, but don't expect the emotional impact of other great war films. Grade: B- The humor website Funny or Die posted a clever video this week of rocker Henry Rollins deconstructing Dr. Seuss. This is a great example of the absurdist anger you can hope for if you decide to study literature at graduate schools like I did. Beware of some adult language. Have a great weekend! The extraordinary five-part ESPN documentary, O.J.: Made in America, concluded over the weekend. In the aftermath, many have wondered, "Why, after all these years, are we still so interested in Simpson's sordid saga?" Of course, many reply that his case encompassed myriad social structures--race, class, sexuality--that were not only at the forefront of our consciousness in the 1990s, but are still relevant today. Others may say that Simpson's celebrity is why we are so intrigued--as the film states, there is perhaps no more famous person in American history to stand trial for murder. But I contend that our fascination with Simpson the man, his life, and his tragic legacy is rooted in literature. The Greeks have already told us a similar story many times over.
Even 2,500 years ago, the key themes of literature (and life) were already being explored. A fundamental facet of Greek literature was a character wrestling with identity. In the opening lines of Sophocles's Oedipus the King, Oedipus says, "I, Oedipus, whom all men call the Great." (In other versions, the line reads, "I, Oedipus, who bear the famous name.") But right from the start, we aren't quite sure of his greatness, and we wonder who this guy is really. Sophocles's drama takes place during the transition between traditional law and natural law (reason of the self). Therefore, how do I know who I am? By which law—by institutions or the self? Also, Oedipus becomes king not through hereditary claims, but through his own virtues—he is a success story, a self-made man, a fixer, a leader. Sound like Simpson? Simpson's entire life was a wrestling match with identity. He grew up black and poor, but became accepted by whites and wealth, much to the dismay of many. He was constantly trying to present himself in the best possible light to whichever group he needed to accept him. There is, of course, nothing necessarily wrong with that (as we all do this), but as the film shows us, a confusion of self can lead to conflict with the very groups to which one wishes to be ingratiated. An unclear identity can be a foundational element in literary and real world drama. Aristotle said that the dramatic protagonist should be renowned and prosperous, so his change of fortune can be from good to bad. This change should come about as the result, not of vice, but of some great error or frailty in a character. This is often called hamartia. Oedipus's downfall is his personal pride that he can solve any problem, along with his refusal to listen to anyone else's advice. Simpson was much the same in his own life, as his character flaw was also over-confidence. He knew he could get away with anything. His belief in his own ability, charisma, and connections blinded him to the dangers that surrounded him. He could talk his way into endorsement deals. And he could talk his way out of domestic abuse charges. Simpson was the ultimate charmer, which is why the public loved him--and also why they enabled him. The documentary does a great job of showing archival footage of Simpson's entire life, from the hero we thought he was in the 1960s and 1970s to the disaster he became in the 1990s and 2000s. The film is distractingly heavy-handed in its racial positions, but such ideas are interesting nonetheless. The analysis of the criminal trial is so intricate and insightful, it's almost cringe-inducing to hear the evidence and arguments presented with such depth. And to see jurors make their decisions based not on facts but on personal preferences borders on sickening. Simpson's demise culminates with him in prison, after being charged with armed robbery in Las Vegas. His last words of the film encapsulate the man's entire life: he just wanted to be remembered. How Greek indeed. Take a closer look at Greek drama, and you'll see that what tends to draw our attention in society is deeply rooted in classic literature. And one more eerie reminder from Greek drama: Sophocles's play is often known by two titles, Oedipus Rex (which in Latin means the king), and Oedipus Tyrannus (which in Greek means the tyrant). Yikes. Many people think the path to success is by natural talent, personal connections, systemic privileges, or just good fortune. But social scientists know there is more to this story. And one researcher in particular has found evidence of a singular quality in determining success.
Angela Duckworth, a professor of psychology at the University of Pennsylvania, has become perhaps the leading expert on the study of perseverance. Her 2007 article is one I often share with my college students, in which she describes the single most important factor in achievement is grit. Now she has expanded her findings into a new book, Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance. She defines grit as perseverance and passion for long-term goals, and this personal attribute is often the difference between those who are unsuccessful and successful, and between those who are successful and extremely successful. For children in the National Spelling Bee, soldiers attempting to become Army Rangers or Navy SEALS, musicians trying to play in renowned symphonies, or anyone else pursuing physical and mental challenges, grit makes all the difference. Spelling champions aren’t necessarily smarter than other competitors. Elite soldiers aren’t necessarily stronger than other enlistees. Piano or violin masters were not born with more talent than other musicians. Simply put, success is most often found in those who are able to stick it out longer than anyone else. Such people are just more diligent in their pursuit of high standards. Duckworth is clear that successful people certainly have some inherent aptitudes and environment (parenting, schools, opportunities, etc.) is an obvious factor in anyone’s development. But the evidence continues to demonstrate a trend, those who make it tend to be grittier. They are more open to trying new activities. They are less likely to quit when faced with failures. They are more focused on gradual improvement through concerted effort. And they are not only willing to put in the time (and pain) to accomplish a goal, they actually embrace the difficulty. Grit can be taught, and anyone can become grittier, Duckworth says. It just takes some practice, guidance, and willingness to fail for a while. The book expands upon the famous work of K. Anders Eriksson and has echoes of other books, such as Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, Daniel Coyle’s The Talent Code, and Walter Mischel’s The Marshmallow Test. I recommend each of those works as well, but if you are looking for an all-encompassing text that is great for parents, students, and teachers alike, Grit is a great place to start. We constantly hear about “society” and “institutions” and other vague terms that seem to influence life outcomes. But as I’ve said many times on this site, the individual is the difference. You have the power to change your life, pursue your interests, and define your own success. You matter, and you are in control of your circumstances. You just have to use your grit. And this book has the research to prove it. Though this is several years old, I only came across it this week. As a lover of literature, the fact that this exists in the world makes me happy. Enjoy... I'm a big fan of Jonathan Haidt, the NYU professor of social psychology, best-selling author, popular TED speaker, and co-founder of the excellent website Heterodox Academy. Last week, he appeared on a podcast to discuss ideological battles on college campuses and the despicable trend in recent years of silencing diverse views. Haidt is a political independent who analyzes people's beliefs from a dispassionate and scholarly perspective. And he offers great advice here for what universities can do to allow for a more legitimate exchange of varying ideas. Take a listen... I'd like to think I'm reasonably text savvy, but I was happy to learn something new this weekend regarding the evolution of punctuation in text messages. While I abbreviate my messages just like most texters, there are some out there (mostly older folks) that still choose to use periods to indicate the conclusion of a thought. However, as I discovered, this is now considered a big no-no.
A New York Times article a few days ago has given me new insight into the various meanings of that tiniest of grammatical elements, the period. One professor even goes so far as to label it a new form of emoticon. Tone, emphasis, and other subtextual clues are indicated by the use of a period, and we have turned a corner in our technological linguistics in which punctuation is simply unnecessary. Kinda makes you wonder what will be next to go... A history teacher friend of mine once asked me who the most famous person I ever met was. Trying to impress me, he started by saying that he met President Lyndon Johnson when he was in high school. So I said, "Muhammed Ali." With a wry grin, he said, "You win." That was the enormity of Ali. Like a faceless extra in a Tom Cruise movie, the most powerful political leader on the planet at the height of the Cold War was but a shadow compared to the fame of Ali. I shook hands with the champ back in college after attending the world premier of Michael Mann's Ali, starring Will Smith. Since he lived in lower Michigan, he agreed to have the film first shown in my northern Indiana hometown before the nationwide release. He sat about 15 rows in front of us. We shuffled through a long line afterward to quickly greet him. I actually saw him again a few months later while I was working in a local sporting goods store. He came in with his family on a Sunday afternoon and browsed through the apparel section, as I watched from my shoe racks. Some people approached him. I kept my distance, letting him try to enjoy his privacy. Few people in the twentieth century could claim the level of fame of Ali. His name was known across the world, and still is to this day. And his effect on America was seismic. He was beyond athlete, beyond celebrity. He was a supernatural force of charisma, a pop culture icon of self-promotion and self-confidence. He had the fastest hands, the fastest feet, and the fastest mouth in boxing history. And he was an inspiration to billions--yes, with a b. But superstardom distorts reality. The magic of his wit, his talent in the ring, and the power of his voice has mythologized the man over time, obscuring the human beneath the bravado. When he met with the Beatles, he called them "little faggots." He said that if whites and blacks want to date/marry, they should be killed. Like those he claimed to fight against, he was a segregationist himself. He publicly said, "Integration is wrong," and actually spoke at a KKK rally. He said, "All Jews and gentiles are devils." He was married four times, and he openly cheated on his wives. And there is much, much more. Can we imagine any other public figure saying and doing such deplorable things, yet still being so highly revered? Perhaps worst of all was his treatment of fellow African American and heavyweight champion Joe Frazier. Frazier had a much more difficult early life than Ali, growing up in the deep South in one of the poorest towns in America. Frazier was a tireless worker who refused to blame others for his circumstances, while Ali found blame everywhere. Ali repeatedly called Frazier "Uncle Tom" and "gorilla," the worst words a black man can use toward another black man. He endless mocked Frazier as being dumb, despite Ali's own IQ being 78, only a few points above clinical mental retardation. And this behavior came after Frazier defended Ali's decision to avoid the Vietnam War and fought for Ali to have his license reinstated. While Ali later said he regretted some of his treatment of Frazier, Ali never personally apologized to him. Classy, indeed. And why this, when Frazier defeated Ali in their first fight, is one of my favorite sports photographs of all time. The lesson: when you run your mouth, don't be surprised when someone knocks you on your ass. Ali later regretted some of the rhetoric of his younger years, claiming people at age 50 don't believe as they did when they were 20. Fair point, perhaps. But does anyone think for a second if Barack Obama at age 25 denounced integration and befriended the KKK that Fox News would just attribute those beliefs to youthful indiscretions? Does anyone think for a second that if Donald Trump at age 25 said a black man should be killed if he tried to marry a white woman, MSNBC would simply let that slide? Yes, foolish perspectives evolve, but let's not pretend that such perspectives never existed. Just this week, Hillary Clinton took a jab at Donald Trump in a speech for "reminding us daily just how great he is." Funny, Ali constantly declared his greatness, and his boasting is considered praiseworthy. Arrogance is arrogance and buffoonery is buffoonery, no matter who is doing it. Ali did put his money where his mouth was, choosing to face the punishment of losing his livelihood for avoiding the draft. However, many of the positions he took for which he was deemed so brave were largely illogical, or at least not philosophically consistent. One of the reasons for why he didn't want to go to Vietnam was because he had never been personally harmed by the Viet Cong. This naive statement ignores the fact that the Nazis didn't do anything to America either. Does that mean we should never have stopped Hitler's rampage across Europe? This comment also implies that if something doesn't personally affect you, then you don't have to be involved. But that goes against his reasoning for black justice. After all, if a black person in the 1960s were to have said, "I get along fine with white people. They've never harmed me," then Ali and his ilk would have screamed "Uncle Tom" and been critical of their blackness (as he did with Joe Frazier). The credit he currently receives for his position on avoiding war as a religious conscientious objector is an interesting one as so many others today have tried to rebel against State mandates on grounds of religious objections, yet they have been met with labels as bigots and misogynists. Finally, his denunciation of the draft was a valuable one. But he should have made his case for all people's right not to be ordered by their government to surrender their liberty and march into violence, not just the rights of blacks or Muslims. This is a philosophy anyone could get behind (as I do), but he squandered this valuable opportunity. Therefore, Ali's perceived heroism is actually limited by his own lack of imagination and moral consistency. This post is not to trample on the memory of a beloved figure on the day of his funeral. Ali was one of the greatest athletes is history, and he should be remembered as such. He was an admirable philanthropist, for which he deserves respect. He was a voice against the draft and for civil rights, which everyone recognizes. These are the reasons I chose to shake his hand all those years ago. But we must be careful with idolizing. Ali was a tremendously flawed person, as we all are. He did great things, and he did awful things, as we all do. He was himself. However, sadly, a strong argument could be made that that was what he cared about most, at least during his boxing years. When I was a kid, a basketball coach of mine used to tell us a story of how his childhood sports hero let him down and to this day lives a legacy of disgrace (his favorite athlete had been Pete Rose). The point was that we should not exalt athletes. We should not pretend that they are larger than life, more important than the rest of us, that they should be our guides for how we should live. This was a cynical lesson to learn as a pre-teen, but my coach was right. Just look at the myriad scandal-ridden athletes we've seen in the last 20 years. Celebrities--be they athletes, musicians, politicians, or anyone else--can only be role models to a limited extent. There are more important people in our lives for that. Muhammad Ali will be missed, and his talents as a boxer will never be forgotten. But let us remember that taking a stand for our beliefs is one thing. But doing it with grace, humility, and integrity is quite another. Be very careful upon whom you place your admiration. For an excellent analysis of Ali's complicated and not-so-admirable life, and his turbulent relationship with Joe Frazier, check out this brilliant HBO documentary from a few years ago: While I teach composition classes every semester (along with a variety of other courses), much of what I teach in those writing classes is actually thinking. Probably half of the course time is spent developing pre-writing strategies, working on drafts, and making lots of revisions--you know, writing stuff. But the other half of the class in fact requires very little actual writing. We spend many classes just talking through ideas. We explore logic. We dig into cause and effect. We clarify premises to pinpoint positions. We organize thoughts so conclusions may be drawn. The reason for this is that the most important part of writing is content.
Yes, I spend my fair share of time harping on grammar, formatting, and overall structural presentation. Details do matter, to a certain extent. And those things can mostly be taught. What is much harder to teach (and learn) is the complexity of coherent and interesting concepts. You can be an amazing writer with perfect technical skill and a nimble vocabulary, but if you don't have anything important to say, then it really doesn't matter. A new piece today over at Voice of America offers great advice for improving your critical thinking skills, so you can then become a more effective writer. Remember this: your readers don't want their time wasted by trying to read a piece that doesn't make sense or offer useful content. They may appreciate your grammatical clarity or fancy language, but getting people to believe your words and respect your ideas requires tremendous effort in getting the thinking right. Spend just as much time thinking about your topics as you do writing your papers, and you will have much happier readers. Hollywood doesn't do comedies very well anymore. With the plethora of comic book action and torturous horror genre pieces littering theaters today, it's hard to find something that is genuinely funny on purpose. But Popstar does the trick. It is uproariously funny and offers great satirical commentary on the ever-increasing absurdity of celebrity and pop culture in the 21st century. And, most importantly, I haven't laughed this hard at a movie in a long time.
Popstar is a mockumentary in the style of This is Spinal Tap or Behind the Music, with a camera crew following and various sit-down interviewees discussing the exploits of mega-star musicians. Connor (Andy Samberg), Owen (Jorma Taccone), and Lawrence (Akiva Shaffer) were once a power-pop trio, Style Boyz. They were beloved by other artists and made millions. But the band has a falling out and Connor pursues solo projects, with his music and live shows becoming ever more experimental to keep up with the rabid demands of fans obsessed with whatever is the next new thing. The plot here is run-of-the-mill for these types of films. Superstardom gets the best of Connor, he breaks away from his friends and what made him successful, and he must discover that getting back to his roots will give him ultimate happiness and pop music respect. But it's the countless cameos and endless inside gags that make this film work. The fact that Samberg and Co. were able to get Mariah Carey to say on camera with a straight face, "I'm probably the most humble person I know," should win all of them some sort of award. There is a brilliant mockery of the clowns at TMZ which is performed with the nuance of a sledgehammer, just as it should be. A joke about Seal's singing that makes animals insane is spot on. And an obscene bit with a limo window had me in tears for a solid ten minutes. Sure, much of the film is sophomoric and raunchy, with humor that will delight the under-22 crowd. And if you are squeamish about such vulgarity, this movie probably isn't for you. But I do think there's something quite valuable in Popstar that may get lost amid the weed smoking, language, and nudity. The film holds an enormous spotlight (and mirror) upon the ridiculousness of our culture. The lyrics of Connor's songs are horrifically filthy, but that isn't the joke. The joke is that musicians every day have equally awful lyrics, and people devour them and turn them into hits. Do a simple Google search for "dumbest pop/rap lyrics." Seriously, go do it. You will find more insanity than in a mental hospital. The fact that Lil Wayne is a bazillionaire is a testament to this. Stringing together f-words and calling it rap or harmonizing incoherent drivel, like this from boy-band LFO, "Sometimes we swim around / like two dolphins in the oceans of our hearts," is actually normal nowadays. Connor's music (along with Style Boyz) is not far off. And that's the saddest joke of all. Connor's publicist (played by Sarah Silverman) at one point says her goal is to make Connor "everywhere." Being a singer or a movie star or an athlete isn't enough in our current culture. Fame means being a pervasive presence in the American consciousness. This is how the Kardashians, who have no actual talent, have become icons of television, fashion, social life, and technological media. They are everywhere. And this everywhere-ness is the monster we all have contributed in creating. This film is filled with clever (and many not-so-clever) jokes. But perhaps the ultimate joke is on us for allowing this to happen. Popstar is truly one of the funnier movies to appear in quite a while. But don't ignore the serious reality of the pop it presents. Grade: A- Thought this clever blend of pop culture and mind-numbing political chatter from a Detroit News cartoonist was appropriate for a Friday...
I recently finished reading Movie Freak, by Owen Gleiberman, the former lead film critic for Entertainment Weekly. The book itself was mostly a narcissistic rumination on himself, his troubled relationship with his father, and his various awkward sexual exploits. Oh yeah, and how he developed his love for movies. I don't recommend the book, but in one chapter he did bring up an interesting thought for discussion.
Gleiberman described 1986 as a seminal year in his awakening to film. There were several movies out that year that helped shape his love for the physical act of movie watching, as well as his understanding of taste and criticism. So I got to thinking, "What year was that for me?" I've loved movies for as long as I can remember. Watching Return of the Jedi, Beetlejuice, The Goonies, and Big on the big screen and worn VHS copies of Back to the Future, Rocky III, The Empire Strikes Back, Hoosiers, and Top Gun on our tiny television helped define much of my 1980s childhood. But it wasn't until later that films really clicked for me on an artistic level. The year in which I realized films were something different for me, more than just popcorn spectacle, would probably be 1995. That was the year I turned 16 and got my driver's license, which offered an entirely new opportunity for hitting the theaters. No longer did I have to wait to see something with my parents, or agree to see something with a friend I had no interest in for the simple pragmatic fact that he or she had a car. I was free. And I started watching more than ever before. Three films that would soon be on my favorites list, Pulp Fiction, Quiz Show, and The Shawshank Redemption arrived in the back half of 1994, but I didn't get a chance to see them until they made it to video in 1995. That year was also a quasi-turning point in modern film, as it came to exemplify the types of films that would be prevalent for the next decade and would define my taste from then on. The neo-noir stylings of Se7en, Heat, The Usual Suspects, and Twelve Monkeys all came out in 1995. The epic violence of Braveheart came out in 1995. The historical suspense of Apollo 13 came out in 1995. Gangsters were revered in Casino and mocked in Get Shorty when they came out in 1995. Toy Story and Babe, films that forever changed animation, came out in 1995. Genre-benders like To Die For and Before Sunrise came out in 1995. Era-defining, snarky comedies like Clueless, The Brady Bunch Movie, and Billy Madison came out in 1995. Even famously terrible films like Waterworld, Batman Forever, Cutthroat Island, and Showgirls came out in 1995. That year had everything a film fan could ask for. And it turned me into the person I am today. 1995 helped me separate the quality from the shlock, clarified for me what great writing and directing look like, and it made me appreciate 1999, perhaps one of the greatest years in the history of film releases, that much more. I would imagine we all have a defining year in movie watching. What's yours? |
AuthorDr. Spivey is a college English professor and lives in Scottsdale, Arizona. Archives
October 2017
Movie Reviews |