South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker and pretty smart dudes, and they constantly put important intellectual concepts into their filthy satirical cartoons. One area they understand quite well is free market economics. This brand new video from the Wisecrack YouTube channel shows how (as Carl Menger, Ludwig von Mises, and F.A. Hayek told us many years ago) subjective value is the driving force in all economic interactions. Have a laugh and get smarter today with a dose of SP. Enjoy!
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Writer/Director Christopher Nolan's newest film, the WWII epic Dunkirk, is a masterwork and by far the best film to hit theaters in the last three years. It will win countless awards in the coming months and may go down as the best war film of all time. Dunkirk is actually so good that I saw it twice over the weekend just to make sure my first reaction was accurate. In fact, it's even better upon repeat viewing.
It is the late spring of 1940, and British and French forces have been pushed to the ocean by Nazi invasion from the east. Unable to halt the German conquest of mainland Europe, the Allies are perilously waiting on the beach for evacuation across the English Channel back to Britain. England needs its soldiers to return in order to make a final stand to protect their homeland, but with German fighter planes obliterating rescue ships and bombing the exposed beach, the soldiers' escape grows more desperate by the hour. Unlike traditional war films, such as Saving Private Ryan for example, the story of Dunkirk is not of soldiers attempting to complete a mission, ever moving forward. Rather, this is a film about waiting and retreating. It is not the valiant venture into battle; it is the ominous dread of what could be on the way. The Dunkirk beach is a Purgatory, and we are unsure who will achieve salvation. Nolan's choice in showing this side of war, in which scared boys are just trying to get home, is an important perspective for helping us understand that for every act of heroism, there is also the reality of fear and helplessness. In true Nolan style, he chooses to show us the conflict with non-linear narrative and multiple subjective points of view. We are able to watch these men from the land, the sea, and the air, as well as over the course of several days, one full day, and one hour of battle time. (This isn't a spoiler, but for those who may be confused when watching, just keep in mind that the British fighter pilots have the only perspective in the present. Everything they see has already taken place hours or even days earlier.) This disjointed technique reminds us that everyone has their own interpretation of traumatic events, and some go through them at various intervals or for various durations. No one's participation in war is identical to another's. Nolan employs limited dialogue and minimal character background. We never fully know who these men are, which emphasizes how they could represent thousands of others, their anonymity indicative of just one point in time in a war that involved millions and spanned much of the globe. While we follow several main characters--a Navy commander (Kenneth Branagh), a pilot (Tom Hardy), a civilian boat captain (Mark Rylance), and a young Army private (Fionn Whitehead)--the story is the event itself. And how it is visualized is our real connection. Nolan uses brilliant cinematography and production design to capture both the enormous scope of the outside locations along with the claustrophobia of cockpits and boat hulls. His reliance upon actual effects, instead of CGI, perfectly heightens the realism of what we see and intensity of what we feel. This is a film that deserves to be seen on the largest and loudest screen possible. Nolan is often accused of focusing on spectacle and trickery more than worthwhile storytelling, and some criticism is valid. I was mostly disinterested by Inception, overwhelmed by implausibility with parts of the Batman trilogy, and mostly bored and annoyed at Interstellar. But Nolan's choices are just right here. And while some may find his methods obtrusive or pretentious, choosing cool over coherence, Dunkirk benefits from his singular style. And I definitely applaud his ability here to, uncharacteristically, keep a big film under the two-hour mark. The lesson of Dunkirk is that "survival isn't fair." There are innocent people that perish and dishonorable people that make it out alive. But also that anyone can be a hero. We all can and should answer the call to be useful, and the image of civilian sailors forging into danger is one of the most moving scenes one will see on film. Like the Battle of Bunker Hill or the Battle of Maldon, we speak of what happened on the beaches of Dunkirk, France, not in remembrance of victory. Rather, such conflicts are historical reminders of what value can be gleaned from defeat, how honor and bravery can shine through the darkest of times. As one soldier, feeling a failure upon returning to England, says, "All we did was survive." A grateful civilian replies, "That's enough." In war, as in life, sometimes victory comes not just from winning, but in the fighting itself. And living to inspire others is often the ultimate feat of humanity. Grade: A+ (P.S. This is the first film on English Champion to receive an A+ rating.) English teachers out there will know this is way more common than people know. From Buzzfeed this week...
The new Christopher Nolan film, a WWII epic called Dunkirk, opens this week. I've been looking forward to it for quite a while, and I hope it will be as interesting as its trailer and cast. What I'm most curious about is how Nolan will approach historical drama when he is so well known for twisty, noir-ish suspense flicks and, of course, Batman. This video from ScreenPrism reminds what usually happens in Nolan's films. We'll just have to see if he sticks to his proven devices or if he ventures into new territory with Dunkirk. Many people are turned off to literature because of its subjectivity, its flowery language, or its hidden meanings proposed by annoying critics and professors (of which I am, sometimes, guilty). But perhaps there could be a mathematical or scientific way of approaching literature. Perhaps statistical analysis has a place alongside close reading.
Ben Blatt's new book, Nabokov's Favorite Word is Mauve is one of the most fun and interesting books about literature I've read in a while. And even if you aren't a fan of classic lit, you will find something entertaining here. Blatt writes a lot of commentary on pop culture, but he has also appeared in the Wall Street Journal, and this book is a blend of both worlds. By using computer analysis, Blatt dissects prominent works of literature, looking for clues into the minds of authors and the public who reads them. He looks for how many times authors use -ly adverbs, how men and women use language differently, and whether page count may influence literary success. He looks for the "fingerprints" of authors like J.K. Rowling and Stephen King to see if we can uncover the mysteries of anonymous authors. And he even explores how often authors use animal cliches, such as "quiet as a mouse," or "sly as a fox." The data? John Steinbeck uses such figures of speech at one of the highest rates, about 15 times per 100,000 words. Edith Wharton has one of lowest at only two times per 100,000 words. Blatt tells us authors' favorite words--as the title states, Nabokov's seems to be "mauve." Ray Bradbury uses a weird amount of "spearmint" and "nutmeg" in his writing, and James Joyce loves "onion" and "lemon." Dickens uses lots of exclamation points; Hemingway uses hardly any. And books on the best-seller list have, over time, steadily employed writing at lower grade levels. Does this mean readers are getting dumber, or that authors are just trying to reach the widest possible audience? This is a book that prompts us to ask different questions about literature, ones that elicit answers that can be just as illuminating as in-depth textual criticism. Nabokov's Favorite Word is Mauve not only has a fun title, it has fun and insightful literary topics to be pondered. If you are looking for a new and scientific take on literary criticism, this is a great read that is enjoyable for all types of readers. Go pick it up! HBO aired its fourth and final chapter last night of the excellent documentary The Defiant Ones. The film tells the story of music producers Dr. Dre and Jimmy Iovine and their growth from humble beginnings to billionaire entertainment moguls. Their relationship is a fascinating example of creativity and unstoppable work ethic. And they have become so prolific that one could play a "Six Degrees of Separation" game through their connections to nearly every prominent musician in the last few decades. These two men are tireless innovators who have changed the music industry forever.
What we see in their individual projects and in their collaborative efforts is an insatiable desire to seek out new and interesting opportunities for artistic production. While they both have benefited immensely from their financial successes, they also faced their share of failures and continued in a dogged pursuit of purpose apart from monetary windfalls. And by remaining diligently focused on production, rather than compensation, some of the best work of the past 30 years has been the result. The film is also a useful analysis of the intersection between art and free markets. As I've mentioned previously, my particular focus in the field of literature is how it relates to economics. Many people believe corporations (or other large producers) entice customers and coerce them to buy products they never knew they wanted or needed, thus strengthening the power of big business and keeping laborers and buyers beholden to such production and in a lower class. This is essentially the Marxist perspective, which flourishes pathologically in most public university English departments. While this view of market production is sometimes the case, it ignores the tremendous power of consumers. The public always has the most power. The Defiant Ones is remarkably explicit in demonstrating the interests of consumers in shaping production. Dre and Iovine (and other artists and business leaders) repeatedly discuss how if listeners don't like the music you're making, you will definitely fail, and they all have at various points. Creators are entrepreneurs who are never sure if their risk will pan out. Creators must serve the customers. Dre's mother, at one point in the film, describes asking her son why he uses such vulgar language in his raps when he doesn't normally talk that way. Dre responds, because that's what the people want to hear. Dre also says, it doesn't matter how hard you work in the studio; if people don't dig it, it doesn't matter. And when the public wanted streaming music instead of cds, Iovine worked with Steve Jobs and Apple to develop a content delivery service to satisfy them. These are just a few of many examples illustrated in the film. Artists must push boundaries and offer experimental work, but if no one likes it and perpetuates its proliferation, it disappears. The free market is infinitely powerful, and these two geniuses have used it in a way that should inspire people in not only creative industries, but all areas of production. In case you missed The Defiant Ones, go to HBO Go or OnDemand and check it out. As an English professor, I teach students all methods of communication. I tend to focus on written and visual styles, of course, but even though I'm not a speech or communication teacher, per se, I spend a fair amount of time helping students learn to present themselves and their ideas orally too. As someone who is naturally shy and hates being in front of people, this is quite a contradictory life I've built for myself, but when I discovered how important these verbal skills are for functioning in the real world, I had to force myself to become more comfortable with them.
But it's not just getting in front of the class and making a presentation that students should practice. According to a new article in Psychology Today, simply being able to chit-chat properly might hold the key to success. I've discovered over my many years as a professor that young people can be alarmingly bad at carrying a simple conversation. Sometimes at lunch, or in the hallways, or in between classes, I will strike up a chat with a student about a random topic and it quickly dissolves into staring at the floor, incomprehensible "umms" or excessive "likes," and little understanding of how to keep a conversation moving forward. Many people today are hurting their potential to connect with others because they simply can't talk in the most basic situations. Being able to hold your own in an elevator, at a cocktail party, at a work function, in a group of mixed friends, or elsewhere can be vital for future prospects. When I started playing a lot of golf, I had to learn that when I showed up to the course, there would be a strong likelihood that I would be paired up with strangers for the next four hours. That can be a weird and intimidating spot. But just being a lighthearted and interesting conversationalist can do wonders for your enjoyment. A friend of mine, who is an excellent player and almost daily hosts important clients on elite courses, has repeatedly said, "I don't care if you are a terrible player. I just don't want you to be a terrible person to play with." Asking tons of questions, being a little self-deprecating, politely laughing at others' jokes, and having a well-rounded knowledge of diverse topics can improve nearly any situation. And you never know what business opportunities or interesting people you may encounter along the way. Take a look at the article, and practice being more casually personable. You never know what opportunities lie ahead if you can master the art of chit-chat. Because...California. From Reason this week: Amid yesterday's Fourth of July festivities, documentary filmmaker Alexandra Pelosi aired her latest project on HBO, The Words that Built America. Featuring celebrities and politicians, the film is simply a reading of our country's Declaration of Independence and Constitution. This may sound a bit dull, but it was actually somewhat refreshing to watch. The Declaration is roughly the length of a high school essay and the Constitution is shorter than a Cheesecake Factory menu, yet they are the two most important pieces of writing in modern history. It's amazing to think that the entirety of the foundation of our government can be read aloud in less than 45 minutes. I usually spend a little time in my American Literature courses analyzing these pieces of writing with students, often emphasizing what is not found as much as what is. Many students, who have been raised in an era in which everything must be a "right" and the government is like another parent, are surprised to learn that nowhere in our documents are the phrases "minimum wage," "Social Security," "Medicare/Medicaid," "public education," "health care," or others we so commonly hear today from our political leaders. The documents simply outline the very limited responsibilities of those in office, what they are not allowed to take away from citizens, and that defending the people from force/violence is the primary duty. It's quite remarkable how strongly implied the basic message is: "This will be a country that wants people to mind their own business and take care of themselves." Take a look for yourself, and remember this Independence Day just how "independent" our citizens were meant to be. Due to the awful slate of movies playing in theaters the last six months, I have been desperate to see something fun and well made. When I saw the ads for a new heist flick opening over the weekend, I figured I would roll the dice. Though it has one of the worst titles I've ever heard, Baby Driver looked promising. It has some big stars, a hip soundtrack, and fast cars--all the ingredients for a good time. However, a pointless plot, terrible dialogue, an incoherent ending, and a clumsy attempt at postmodern pastiche had me driving away from the theater as fast as I could.
Baby (Ansel Elgort) is young getaway driver with a tragic past who gets in too deep with Doc, a criminal mastermind (Kevin Spacey). Along with a motley crew of volatile thieves (including Jon Hamm and Jamie Foxx), they plan bank robberies and armored truck heists. But when Baby wants out, the crew won't let his talents go. And when he meets a nice waitress named Debora (Lily James), his desperation to escape his life of crime and take his sweetheart into the sunset leads to a deadly battle of wills with the rest of his team. The film dangerously attempts to portray every cliche from the history of heist movies in what seems to be commentary on the genre, but it's unclear what exactly that commentary is. Of course, there's the mysterious leader, the angry and suspicious wildcards, the sexy vixen, the demure and innocent love interest, the "one more and I'm out" device, the industrial warehouse hangout, the bad guy who won't die, and the cooler than thou competition among nearly every character. And while even the best directors (Tarantino and Soderbergh come to mind here) do plenty of borrowing, both on purpose and subconsciously, director Edgar Wright's incessant winking at the audience just doesn't work here. The film is so self-referential, it almost becomes a mockery of itself by the end. Wright's attempt at pastiche could have been clever and valuable, but instead it comes off as a labored attempt to look cool rather than focusing on story, dialogue, and character. The film also suffers from an inconsistency of tone. The first two scenes, a brilliantly executed car chase and then a whimsical long-take walk/dance through the city streets, sets up the audience for something exciting, yet lighthearted, something with a feel of the Ocean's Eleven films. But with jarring switches to intense violence and morose character turns, the film doesn't quite know what it wants to be. It tries to be Heat, Reservoir Dogs, Drive, Gone in 60 Seconds, The Italian Job, and with a splash of La La Land. Yet, it's simultaneously none of them. It's like Wright and the actors got together and said, "People love pizza. And they love ice cream. Let's make a giant batch of pizza ice cream!" Yuck. Perhaps the saddest part of this project is the emptiness of Debora's character. She is simply a lonely Cinderella waiting around to be saved by a bad-boy Prince Charming. I'm amazed anyone approved such a flat and uninteresting portrayal when she could have been so much more. But this is a film about Baby, in what is clearly intended to be a star-making turn for Elgort. Unfortunately, he is a composite of everything insufferable about people under 24. He borrows lines from television soundbites, throwing around quotes as if he's being insightful. He has ridiculous sunglasses stashed in every pocket. His earbuds (because of tinnitus) are a gimmick for giving the audience a fun soundtrack, but they epitomize the "look at me, but don't talk to me" mindset of countless college kids I see walking across campus every day. He lives in his own world where nothing is original to him. He is a blank slate in which culture is imposed upon him and nothing is original. Even the funky tapes he makes come from the dialogue of other people. And this is the essence of Baby Driver as a whole. It's an unending exercise in trying so hard to be clever. But there's so little of substance. Perhaps Baby Driver is an attempt to show us what a 21st-century ipod/Netflix/On Demand/Numerous Sequel world has brought us, where everything is a personalized amalgamation of everything else. While that may be a valuable critique, I just wish such an insightful assessment were more interesting to watch. Grade: C- |
AuthorDr. Spivey is a college English professor and lives in Scottsdale, Arizona. Archives
October 2017
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