My Top 10 Favorite Things of 2012

Hi everyone!

As the clock winds down to the final moments of 2012, I wanted to take a moment to share with you my top 10 favorite things of the year. With the exception of #1, these aren't in any particular order and encompass everything from movies and TV to art exhibitions, musical artists, books, theatre, and food.
So without further ado, here are my top 10 highlights of 2012:

1. Les Miserables: Tom Hooper's massive and massively entertaining long-awaited film of the international musical phenomena is hands-down my pick for Best Film of the Year. Not all of the voices were as big or strong as they might have been, but even the most cynical person cannot deny that this is epic and emotional filmmaking. What struck me most was the passionate commitment the entire cast visibly demonstrates for the material and that in itself was enough to move me to frequent tears. Worthy of particular praise are the performances by the supporting cast: Eddie Redmayne as the love-struck revolutionary Marius, in my opinion, steals the show. His rendition of "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" is all the more wrenching for the quiet sincerity he brings to the song and his voice is absolutely beautiful; Samantha Barks is a perfect Eponine and while her big song "On My Own" doesn't feature the emotional histrionics of Anne Hathaway's much-lauded "I Dreamed a Dream," I found Ms. Barks lovely in her more understated but equally heartfelt turn; Amanda Seyfried is another major surprise as Cosette. While she doesn't have a powerhouse voice, she turns out to be perfectly cast, and more than succeeds in holding her own, particularly in the murderously high notes at the end of the great love trio between Cosette, Marius, and Eponine, "A Heart Full of Love". Ms. Seyfried is indeed a revelation in this role. While I don't think Hugh Jackman's voice is particularly strong (certainly not in comparison to Colm Wilkinson who originated the role of Jean Valjean and appears in the film as the Bishop) and rather reedy, he brings a quiet depth to the role that works. Russell Crowe is rather vocally stiff as Javert, but his acting can't be faulted. His steely determination is affecting. And Anne Hathaway? She'll win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her turn as the doomed Fantine and I admired the courage she brings to the role without necessarily loving her voice. The film is beautiful to watch and the final scene will soften the hardest of hearts. I'm already planning to see it again...and again...

2. George Bellows at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City: a definitive exhibition of the works of the under-appreciated early 20th century American artist George Bellows. I was unfamiliar with his works aside from his vividly rendered boxing scenes that are presented here within the greater context of his artistic oeuvre. His landscapes are stunning. And while there is a certain derivative element to his painting--his influences are rather transparent--one cannot help but be swept up by the alternately sweeping and intimate power of his collective work. This exhibition, which will be traveling to the Royal Academy of Art in London in Spring 2013, is a gem and a major rediscovery of a great American artist.

3. Picasso in Black and White at the Guggenheim Museum in New York City: while I found this exhibition of Picasso's black and white paintings a little monotonous by its end, it was definitely a landmark event that beautifully showcased the evolution of an artist. And the Guggenheim, with its minimalist spiral-like gallery space, was the perfect setting.

4. Jake Gyllenhaal's New York theatre debut at the Laura Pels Theatre in the off-Broadway play "If There Is I Haven't Found It Yet". I've always been a fan of Mr. Gyllenhaal's film work, but he showed a greater nuance and depth to his acting in this overly ambitious and somewhat thematically jumbled play by young British playwright Nick Payne. As Terry, the ne'er-do-well but well-intentioned drifter brother of George, Brian F. O'Byrne's rigid and environmentally obsessed professor brother, Mr. Gyllenhaal succeeded in making his character likable, repulsive, and ultimately sympathetic. His scenes with Annie Funke in the role of Anna, his overweight and emotionally disturbed niece, were beautiful and what's more, he succeeded in commanding the stage in spite of an occasionally garbled Cockney accent and the rather abstract/symbolic destruction of the increasingly water-logged set, which was a wonder unto itself.

5. French Pop Music: 2012 was the year I discovered a host of chart-topping French and Quebecois pop musicians whose music collectively has become the current soundtrack of my life. Christophe Willem's 2012 release "Prismophonic" is one of my top choices for best album of the year: the electronic jams swirl, the beats are infectious, and high above the disco/trance/electronica (or very much a part of it), Mr. Willem's voice soars almost ethereally. You don't need to be able to speak or understand French to enjoy his music, just blast it into your earbuds while you're working out or getting ready for a night out, and you'll be in just the right mindset for clubbing. My favorites: "L'amour me gagne," "Jamais du," "Cool," and "Le temps qu'il reste." While you're at it, also check out M. Pokora, the chart-topping French/Polish pop idol whose music more than holds its own against the better-known (in the U.S.) tracks of Chris Brown and Justin Bieber. And if you're in the mood for a real balls-to-the-wall power ballad, check out Pokora's "Si Tu Pars" (If  You Leave) from his 2012 album "A la poursuite du bonheur".

6. Madonna's MDNA World Tour: netting the Material Girl more than $200 million in revenue, the MDNA tour proved to be the top-grossing concert of the year, not to mention one of the most elaborately staged, hyperkinetic, and jaw-dropping spectacles of the concert year. (I still don't know how those drum majors managed to remain perfectly suspended from the rafters!) I've seen all of Madonna's tours and this proved over and over again that at 54, Madonna is still the undisputed Queen of Pop. And while no one but me seems to have liked her 2012 album "MDNA," I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it is the best pop album of the year. Much of the tour was based around her new material, most of which held its own against some of her better-known and better-loved earlier pop hits.  Okay, the bloody Tarentino-esque massacre that served as the context for her song "Gang Bang" was in poor taste especially in light of the spate of mass shootings here in the US this summer and fall, and I did find her slowed-down Marlene Dietrich rendering of "Like a Virgin" painfully overindulgent. But she more than made up for it with incredible reinventions of "Express Yourself," "Vogue," and "Like a Prayer" along with visually extraordinary performances of new material like "I'm Addicted," "I'm a Sinner," and "Girl Gone Wild." If you missed it live, the DVD/Blu-Ray is coming out soon.

7. The spectacle and grandeur of the Opening Ceremonies of 2012 London Summer Olympics: half of my heritage is British so I'm biased but the opening ceremonies and the Olympics as a whole were a testament to British pageantry and organization. Despite early naysayers, no one does it better. I was proud (and am proud) to be British.

8. "Jerusalem: A Cookbook" by celebrated Israeli and Arab chefs Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, published by Ten Speed Press: a visually stunning and accessible celebration of Middle-Eastern cuisine.  I received this book for Christmas and cannot wait to try my hand at every recipe. A wonderful introductory guide to one of the world's most diverse and flavorful cuisines.

9. "Un Village Francais": a long-running French television drama centered around a small village in Vichy France during the Second World War, this series is in the middle of its run on TV5Monde, a premium channel on Comcast cable. I came into this series about halfway through, and was immediately hooked. Epic--yet intimate--in scale, it traces the lives of French villagers and members of the Resistance, police, Gestapo, and Jews all struggling to survive in Occupied France. This series is exquisitely acted and gorgeously produced and while it certainly has its moments of melodrama, it provides a powerfully distilled portrayal of what life must have been like during this infamous and difficult time in French (and world) history. It isn't available yet for streaming on Netflix and the first four seasons aren't available on U.S.-compatible DVDs, but given the acclaim the series continues to receive, it's a sure bet it'll be available for streaming within the next year or so. If it isn't, it should be.

10. "The Shahs of Sunset" on Bravo TV: my top guilty pleasure pick for 2012. This is a train wreck in every sense of the word and I'm almost embarrassed to include it among the loftier elements of this list, but no reality show (not even "The Real Housewives of Wherever) makes me laugh or cover my eyes/ears in horror as the Shahs do. The first season was good but now we're well into Season Two: Reza, GG, Asa, Mike, MJ, and new cast member Lily shamelessly demonstrate that more is indeed more but it's so indulgent and so ridiculously hilarious you can't help but watch. Where else will you see a self-proclaimed Persian Pop Princess (Asa) duke it out at a pool party with the always volatile--strike that, insane--GG over the fact that GG's boyfriend--now fiance--has a big nose? "I love Omid's nose," Asa defends herself at one point, "I'm totally into the Persian nose business." To which GG screams: "I'm going to toss you like a salad!" And then of course there's the "Persian Barbie" (no, strike that, 'entrepreneur') Lily who tells her make-up artist: "I love that you make me look like I've had a nose job." These people are obsessed with their noses--among other things--and I'm obsessed with this show. Diamond Water anyone? Don't ask...

So there you have it: for good or bad, these are the top 10 things that inspired me, intrigued me, entertained me, or just flat-out made me laugh in 2012. I'll follow up shortly with my list of my least favorite things of 2012. Stay tuned!

Ciao.

Blog Overhaul: Today's Top 5

Hi everyone!

I apologize for not keeping up-to-date with this over the past month. I've had a lot going on, what with my new job as Executive Editor at the Flagship imprint of ABA Publishing, the publishing arm of the American Bar Association, and rehearsals for the workshop of my new play "Children of Privilege" which my cast and I presented last week to some acclaim. I'm still hard at work on both fronts. The new job is going very well and I'm in the midst of some revisions and rewrites on the play. I'll keep you posted as things progress.

So this blog...it's been almost a year since I launched it last Thanksgiving. It's certainly evolved over the past eleven months: from current affairs to cultural musings and reviews. I guess you could say I'm still trying to find the right balance. Today I'm going to try something new--a top 5 list of my favorite things on any given day and 1 thing I'm not so crazy about. Here goes:

TOP 5 THINGS I'M CRAZY ABOUT ON 10/29/12 (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER):

1) Voting early -- I cast my ballot this afternoon: no wait, no hassle, and in and out of the polling booth in under fifteen minutes.

2) "Argo" -- if you haven't seen this film yet, go see it. Ben Affleck does a fantastic job both directing and starring in this historical political thriller that hearkens back in look and feel to the great political dramas of the 1970s. Great story, great acting, great documentary-like camerawork. I was eight years-old during the Iranian hostage crisis in 1979. This film sheds light on a little-known aspect of that crisis and brilliantly captures the tension, fear, and uncertainty of that time. The final half-hour had me on the edge of my seat.

3) My iPhone 5 -- I was a fan of the Droid but it's no comparison to the iPhone 5. Enough said.

4) "Monsieur Lazhar" -- another film. This French-language Canadian film was Oscar-nominated this year for Best Foreign Film. I streamed it on Netflix over the weekend. I'm a sucker for teacher/student dramas and this certainly fit that bill: the story of an Algerian asylum-seeker who takes over a teaching position at a middle school in Montreal after a teacher has committed suicide. It's subtle, quiet, heart-warming, and devastating at the same time. Check it out!

5) Manchester United's 3-2 victory over Chelsea at Stafford Bridge yesterday in the Barclay's Premiere League. I'm a fan of both teams but with Robin von Persie and Wayne Rooney on the pitch together, Man U is hard to beat. They could go all the way this year!

WHAT I'M NOT SO CRAZY ABOUT TODAY:

The Steve McQueen retrospective that just opened at the Art Institute of Chicago. No, not that Steve McQueen. This Steve McQueen is the slightly avant-garde British film director, best known for two feature films, the IRA biopic "Hunger" and last year's award-winning "Shame," which was one of my pics for best film of 2011. Suffice it to say this retrospective left me a little baffled. I wandered through the very dark gallery in a state of confusion, pausing every so often to watch glimpses of 12 short Super 8 videos about, well, nothing. The gallery is practically pitch-black. I almost walked into someone...twice. And the docents mostly stood around and laughed at the grainy film of two naked male wrestlers (one of whom was Mr. McQueen) projected on a very large screen. I dunno. I didn't get it. I respect Mr. McQueen very much as a feature film director but was this retrospective really necessary? It's taking up prime real estate at the Art Institute through January.

Ciao.

Film Review: The Master

Hi everyone!

Paul Thomas Anderson's latest film "The Master" is, quite simply, a thrilling piece of film-making with a performance by Joaquin Phoenix that I dare anyone to challenge isn't the best performance by an actor in a film this year. Yes, Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lancaster Dodd, the would-be founder of a religious cult not unlike Scientology, is terrific. Mr. Hoffman just possesses such a natural and magnetic screen and stage presence that I don't think it's possible for him to give a bad performance. And Amy Adams, as Lancaster's cold and eerily indoctrinated wife, gives a thoroughly chilling performance in a role that while not commanding a lot of screen time, is quietly and frighteningly effective. Yet, for me, this is Joaquin's movie. After a bizarre 'performance art' turn in the mockumentary "I'm Still Here"(which may or may not have been a mental/emotional breakdown) and a solemn pledge to give up acting in favor of becoming a rapper, Mr. Phoenix proves in his performance as the disenfranchised alcoholic World War Two seaman Freddy Quell that he is the greatest actor of his generation.

This is a big and beautifully photographed 'event' film. From its Pacific seascapes to a motorcycle ride through the Arizona desert evocative of David Lean's "Laurence of Arabia," "The Master" leaves its viewer in a visual thrall. Anchoring all of this beauty, however, is the tortured and tormented Freddy Quell (Joaquin Phoenix). Freddy's narrative is a little vague. What little we know about him is through a handful of insights the character provides during an early indoctrination session with Mr. Hoffman's Lancaster: during the war, he loved a girl "back home" who left him for another guy; his mother is in a mental institution, he had a sexual relationship with an aunt, and he killed a lot of "Japs" during the war. Interwoven throughout the film are flashbacks of Freddy's story. The girl he loved back home was a sixteen year-old girl who had written letters to him while he was on the Pacific Front. He had actually never met her until after the war had ended. Early in the film, we see Freddy being interviewed by the Navy upon his discharge. He's being told of the difficulties he will inevitably face adjusting to life in the real world after having suffered through the traumas of war.

We then see Freddy drinking his way through a host of meaningless, soul-deadening jobs (photographing wealthy patrons of a department store, picking cabbages, etc) until he winds up in the dubious care of Lancaster Dodd, the creator of a religious organization called The Cause, who takes Freddy under his wing and tries to mould Freddy into something of his own image with rather shaky results. Although Freddy is an alcoholic and probably half-crazy, he's still a fairly sharp guy, at least when he allows himself to be. He observes, he listens, he sees things. He's tortured by his past (however undefined) and despite Lancaster's "best" intentions, Freddy never quite conforms to the Cause's doctrines. As such, he proves a threat, most especially it seems to Lancaster's wife (Amy Adams) who has her own way of dealing with the darker forces that always seem to threaten her's and Lancaster's tightly controlled family unit. I won't go into this here but I will say I found it probably the most frightening (and unexpected) scene in the film.

"The Master" is one of those films that begs to be viewed a second time. The ending, for example, kind of mystified me because, at least upon initial viewing, it didn't feel like an ending at all. I won't give it away except to say that it somehow defused the tension and power and the mesmerizing quality of the preceding two hours-and-twenty-minutes of the film's running time. I sat through the end credits feeling confused and wondering whether the film itself was nothing but an elaborate hoax, much ado about ultimately nothing. I don't think this is the case but I can understand how a casual film-goer is going to be left feeling totally unsatisfied. I need to see it again...

Still, I highly recommend "The Master" if for no other reason than its performances and its visual style. I'm not sure about the narrative or its overall meaning, but then...not all great works of art are easily defined or understood. I believe "The Master" to be a true work of cinematic art. I'm just not sure the mainstream is going to be quite as embracing.

Theater Review: "Sweet Bird of Youth" at the Goodman Theatre, Chicago

Hi everyone!

What to say about the new revival of Tennessee Williams's 1959 play "Sweet Bird of Youth" that recently opened at Chicago's Goodman Theatre starring film actress Diane Lane and Broadway veteran (the recent award-winning revival of "Death of a Salesman") Finn Wittrock?

James Schuette's sets and costumes are beautifully evocative of the Gulf Coast circa late-1950s. Keith Parham's lighting design is equally atmospheric. The show looks great. But for a three-hour-plus production, you can't rely on visuals alone to provide an entertaining and thought-provoking evening of theatre.

I wish I could say the performances lived up to the scenery. Alas, however, I can't.

"Sweet Bird of Youth" is one of Williams's later plays and the last to really experience popular success, coming as it does on the heels of the mighty theatrical triumvirate that is "The Glass of Menagerie", "Streetcar Named Desire", and "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." It's a long and windy play that tells the story of Alexandra Del Lago (traveling under the assumed name of Princess Kosmonopolis), a fading Hollywood actress who is convinced she's just starred in the biggest flop of her career; and 29-year-old gigolo and wannabe actor Chance Wayne. As the play begins, they are holed up together in a luxurious hotel room in Chance's hometown of St. Cloud. They drink vodka and smoke pot. They have sex. They talk and talk and talk about how Alexandra is going to help jump start Chance's acting career. Chance has brought Alexandra to St. Cloud ostensibly to 'rescue' his former girlfriend, Heavenly, and take her away from the rather bigoted clutches of her father, local politician Boss Finley, and her brother, Tom. What Chance doesn't know is that there's a price on his head for giving the once virtuous Heavenly a venereal disease because of which she was forced to undergo a hysterectomy. Heavenly's father, Boss, has vowed to castrate Chance if he catches him in town.

This is a play that should be great fun to watch, if not riveting. What's currently onstage at the Goodman is oddly inert and utterly lacking in any sexual heat between its stars, Ms. Lane and Mr. Wittrock. The hour-long first act takes place entirely in Alexandra's hotel room. It is meant to introduce us to Alexandra and Chance, to understand where they're coming from and what they both want out of life and each other. Alexandra is hung-over if not still drunk. And when she and Chance share from her stash of marijuana, they should be high. They spend most of the first act in bed, half-undressed, and yet there is simply zero chemistry between these two very attractive stars. Hence, the audience never really connects to them or cares about what happens. As a couple, Ms. Lane and Mr. Wittrock simply aren't convincing. Both come across as entirely one-dimensional. Ms. Lane has a tendency to declaim all of her lines to such a degree that she becomes monotonous as opposed to sultry and seductive, while Mr. Wittrock relies too much on volume to get his character's passion across. He comes across as merely petulant and spoiled.

The very brief second act introduces us to Boss Finley and his daughter Heavenly. This is when we learn of her shame and the scandal it's created within the family and Boss Finley's constituents. John Judd as Boss provides a welcome jolt of energy to the production that sticks out like a lightning rod whenever he occupies the stage. As Heavenly, Kristina Johnson is suitably winsome in, as played here at least, a relatively underwritten role.

Act Three parallels the first act in length and while visually the most striking part of the whole production, it is also the most uneven. The highlight of Act Three is definitely Jennifer Engstrom as Miss Lucy, Boss Finley's mistress, and town gossip. The problem however is that Ms. Engstrom almost seems as though she is the star of an entirely different play because her energy and overall stage presence is never matched by those of her colleagues, Mr. Judd excepted. With her bright red poodle skirt and (at times) incomprehensible drunken drawl, you can't take your eyes off of her. She is riveting to watch while being a distraction from the ho-hum quality of all that surrounds her. This of course is problematic because it pulls focus from the events transpiring in the play.

While I praised the lighting design at the top of this review, I have to say though that the lighting was somewhat problematic for me in Act Three. Its relative dimness at times cast strange shadows on the actors--particularly Ms. Lane--that obscured their faces and served to further block the audience from feeling fully engaged with the characters on stage. This may have merely been a technical glitch that will be corrected in subsequent performances. I can't say.

All in all, this is a wildly schizophrenic though handsomely mounted production that lurches from a maudlin kind of ennui to a hyperkinetic energy that is as distracting as it is occasionally welcome. It is still very early in the run (it opened last Friday and closes October 25th) and I'm confident the production will continue to evolve and find some kind of consistent pacing. Still, the chemistry between Ms. Lane and Mr. Wittrock is so non-existent that it weighs and I fear dooms the entire production to failure from start to finish.

This is a shame because, on paper anyway, this could have been something special.

Book Review: The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid

Hi everyone!

Now that summer is for all intents and purposes over, I always look forward to the new Fall season in books, film, theatre, television, and the arts. One of the most anticipated film releases of the year, is acclaimed director Mira Nair's film adaptation of Pakistani author Mohsin Hamid's bestselling and Man Booker Prize nominated novel "The Reluctant Fundamentalist." I'd been meaning to read this work for several years and when I heard the film was releasing this fall I jumped on it over the long Labor Day weekend.

"The Reluctant Fundamentalist" is written as a first-person narrative in the voice of a young Pakistani man named Changez who is relating his story of how he's returned to his hometown of Lahore after a brilliant academic career at Princeton and a potentially promising career working as a financial analyst at a top Manhattan business evaluation firm in the months just before and after 9/11. He loves New York and everything that American capitalism stands for. Changez feels like he's king of the world. Not only is he earning a huge salary and is considered one of the best employees at his firm only months out of college, he is dating a beautiful Upper East Side girl named Erica and finds himself falling in love with her.

But, of course, Changez's all-American success story hits a snag. Changez confesses to feeling a sense of understated but smug satisfaction when he watches the planes fly into the World Trade Center. He is disturbed by this response to the tragedy and seeks to cover it up, but as prejudices against him among his co-workers come to light in the wake of 9/11 and with the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan and an escalation of tension between his home country Pakistan and India, Changez's perceptions of his adopted country begin to change in slow but dramatic ways. This runs parallel with a steady deterioration in Erica's mental health. She has never gotten over the death from cancer of her best friend and former boyfriend. And as her relationship with Changez heats up and the world as they'd known it prior to 9/11 becomes utterly foreign to them, Erica retreats deeper and deeper into herself to a point of no return.

"The Reluctant Fundamentalist" is one of those novels that grips you from the first paragraph. Changez proves to be a compelling character and the fact that the novel is written entirely from his perspective gives an immediacy to the seeming halcyon days prior to the attacks of September 11 2001. What makes it all the more fascinating is that Changez clearly represents the "other" and effectively portrays the fear and paranoia that gripped the Muslim and South Asian population here in the United States after that fateful day. Changez's voice alternates between gung-ho youthful idealism and a gnawing slightly off-kilter bitterness that haunts the reader with its sinister undertones. This is a fast read and one that can easily be devoured in one or two sittings.

But it's not without its problems, and these problems don't really come to light until you've finished the book and begin to reflect upon it. I realize that the character of Erica is meant to symbolize the decline and fall of American civilization post-9/11, and while she sort of works as a literary device, it's kind of a stretch. Because we only see Erica through the lens of Changez's experiences, she remains a bit of a cipher. The reader never really gets to know her or find out why exactly she has this, well, fatal attraction for her dead boyfriend. We just see her shut down as Changez grapples with the reasons for her increasing isolation from him. This is not to say that the reader isn't moved by her or by what ultimately happens to her, it's just that she is never closer than arms'-length.

Changez's transformation into the "reluctant fundamentalist" is also problematic, though for a different reason. We're dazzled by his language and the pace at which he tells his story, but the transition itself--while understandable--is undercut by a sense that he is leading the person to whom he's telling his story (an American we assume sitting with Changez in an outdoor restaurant in Lahore) to a certain doom. This sense of foreboding comes to the forefront in the novel's final pages, and the ending itself is deliberately kept ambiguous. In fact, I had to reread the final paragraph at least three times to figure out what exactly takes place, and I'm still not entirely certain.

Despite these flaws, however, "The Reluctant Fundamentalist" is definitely worth reading. The film premiered last week at the Venice Film Festival to decidedly mixed reviews. I am excited by the casting of British-Pakistani actor/rapper Riz Ahmed as Changez. Mr. Ahmed was terrific in Michael Winterbottom's recent film "Trishna" and I'm sure he'll be equally as good as Changez. I am somewhat surprised that Ms. Nair cast Kate Hudson--not exactly known for her dramatic acting--in the role of Erica though this could be a breakthrough performance for Ms. Hudson. Mira Nair is a brilliant film director ("Monsoon Wedding," "The Namesake," etc) with a wonderful visual style that leaps off the screen with energy and color. I look forward to seeing what she can do with Mr. Hamid's problematic but ultimately engaging and topical novel.

Book Review: "1Q84" by Haruki Murakami

Hi everyone!

What can one say about best-selling Japanese author Haruki Murakami's latest opus, the futuristic 1Q84?

1. It sucks you in from the first page and keeps you in its thrall, greedily turning over 900 pages to find out what's going to happen next.
2. It is populated by a cast of characters unlike any you've read in fiction at any recent time: each beautifully drawn without being overly descriptive.
3. It gives the reader a keen appreciation of and an introduction to the urban sprawl that is modern day (or should I say post-modern day) Tokyo.
4. It contains one of the most bizarre (not to mention perverse) sex scenes (or is it a sex scene?) between an older man and a child (children) one is likely to encounter in world literature.
5. It inspires the reader to listen to Janacek's "Sinfonietta" (it pays to be familiar with this classical piece because it plays a rather important role in the novel) and at least attempt to read Proust's "In Search of Lost Time."
6. It poses more questions than it answers: like what exactly is an Air Crystalis and who (or what) are the Little People?
7. It has Little People (literally...these are one of the novel's most baffling creations, see above)
8. It gives the reader an increasingly sinking sense (somewhere around page 700) that the ending is going to be less than the sum of its parts.
9. It ultimately disappoints and yet...somehow one can't help but admire the audacity of Murakami's storytelling.
10. Huh?

Don't get me wrong. I really enjoyed this novel. I couldn't put it down even as my wrists started to ache from holding this doorstop of a book and, as I mentioned above, I started to realize that after 900-plus pages, there's still so much that doesn't really add up. I wonder if Murakami is planning to write a sequel?

Briefly, 1Q84 tells the parallel stories of two thirty year-old Tokyo residents living in the year 1984: Aomame is a fitness instructor who escaped from her parent's religious cult when she was a young girl and has grown up to live a rather reclusive life, teaching a particularly brutal exercise/stretching class when she's not acting as an assassin; and Tengo, a somewhat hermetic part-time cram school math teacher who moonlights as a fiction ghostwriter with literary aspirations of his own. One day, en route to an assassination, Aomame is sitting in a cab on a Tokyo expressway stuck in rush hour traffic. Janacek's Sinfonietta is playing on the radio. Aomame is in a hurry. The cab driver suggests she get out and walk down an emergency staircase coming off of the expressway ramp if she hopes to make her appointment on time. Aomame does and, after a series of bizarre events including the discovery that the Earth now has two moons, she finds herself in an alternative reality called 1Q84. Meanwhile, Tengo has been hired by his editor to rewrite a novella called Air Crystalis by Fuka-Eri, a mysterious seventeen year-old autistic-seeming girl, in order to submit it for a literary prize. The novella becomes an instant best-seller which causes a whole host of problems for everyone involved, not the least of which is that the teenage author Fuka-Eri is another escapee (like Aomame) from a religious cult hell-bent on preserving its rather unsavory secrets. Added to this mix is Ushiwara, de-barred former lawyer with frightful looks and a moss-covered tongue who sets out on his own obsessive investigation of Tengo, Aomame, and Fuka-Eri. 

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Over the novel's 900 pages, the reader is treated to all manner of interweaving narratives, violence, sexual perversion, literary and musical references, the ritualized abuse of young girls for the sake of religious fulfillment, a comic though scary off-camera NHK fee collector who may or may not be the spirit of a comatose character, action-packed set pieces, a kidnapping, rambling semi-philosophical dialogue that occasionally reads like deliberate excursions into dead-ends, semi-celestial entities named "Maza" and "Dohta" (mother and daughter), and (my personal favorite) an Immaculate Conception that more-or-less ties at least two of the main narrative threads together. The result is a thrilling yet ultimately unsatisfying novel that goes around in circles and ends in a manner that is wholly appropriate yet frustratingly disappointing. Nothing is explained. As I turned the final page, I felt as though I had just endured (albeit willingly) a very elaborate and beautifully constructed April Fool's joke. In other words, I felt a bit like I'd been had.

And yet...and yet...1Q84 is a novel that I will return to and reread, probably not any time soon, but it's definitely on the list., right up there with War and Peace.  Does 1Q84 really exist? What's the significance of the two moons? What exactly is an air crystalis? And who (or what) are the Little People?

Film Review: "Trishna"

Hi everyone!

Just watched British director Michael Winterbottom's new film "Trishna." It is his third film adaptation of a Thomas Hardy novel, one of my favorite authors of all time. His previous two are "Jude"which starred Kate Winslet and was based on Hardy's classic "Jude the Obscure" and "The Claim," an adaptation of "The Mayor of Casterbridge" set during the American gold rush.  "Trishna" is loosely based on Hardy's "Tess of the d'Ubervilles" and transposes the story to modern-day India.  As can be expected of any filmed version of Thomas Hardy, the story is bleak and offers little in the way of uplift or redemption for its characters.

"Trishna" tells the story of a poor young Indian woman (played by a fetching Freida Pinto, best known as the co-star of the Oscar-winning "Slumdog Millionaire") whose life is dramatically altered when her father, the family's sole breadwinner, is gravely injured in an automobile accident. As fate would have it, Trishna has recently met Jay (an understated performance by Riz Ahmed, an acclaimed British-Pakistani actor and rapper) whose father owns a string of luxury hotels across India. Jay takes pity on Trishna and hires her to work at one of his father's hotels in Jaipur.

It would seem however that Jay has an ulterior motive. He is struck by Trishna's beauty and innocence and, one evening, he seduces her. Overcome by shame, Trishna returns to her family's village but her fallen status proves too much for her father so he sends her away again. Jay soon finds Trishna and persuades her to join him as his live-in girlfriend in his rented flat in Mumbai. All seems to go swimmingly for Trishna in Mumbai. She is accepted by Jay's Bollywood-aspiring friends (one of whom is played by Bollywood director Anurag Kashyap) who nurture her talent for dancing. But...Trishna has a rather big secret and the moment she confesses this secret to Jay things start to go tragically, though inevitably--this is Thomas Hardy after all--downhill.

"Trishna" is a beautifully made film: gorgeously shot and indelibly acted by two extremely talented emerging actors. Winterbottom does an effective job of portraying two contrasting Indian societies (rural and urban) represented here by Ms. Pinto and Mr. Ahmed. You can't help but be affected by the terrible/naive decisions Trishna makes because you know early on that things can only end badly, and when Trishna finally takes matters into her own hands, the violence is sudden and shocking.

If I have one criticism, it would be that the characters are fairly one-dimensional. You know, this being a Michael Winterbottom film of a Thomas Hardy novel, that Trishna and Jay are meant to be symbols of opposing classes of society. Trishna is meant to represent everything that is wholesome and pure about the underclass while Jay symbolizes lazy Westernized old money, a society that lives well and loosely off of inherited wealth. It's all a bit predictable but compelling nonetheless.

As I said at the top of this review, Thomas Hardy is one of my very favorite late-Victorian novelists. Despite its exotic setting and modern update, in "Trishna," I am pleased to say that the spirit of Hardy survives and thrives.

"Trishna" is currently playing in limited theatrical release as well as on Comcast Xfinity On Demand. Check it out.

Book Review: "Great Soul" by Joseph Lelyveld

Hi everyone!

"Great Soul" by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Joseph Lelyveld is an eye-opening and ultimately surprising (to me anyway) new biography of the late great Mahatma Gandhi. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a bit of an India-phile. I first started taking notice of Indian culture in 2009 when I saw my first Bollywood film "Race" and I have been rabid about wanting to learn more about Indian culture and history ever since.  I was particularly interested to learn more about the life of Gandhi-ji whose campaigns of civil disobedience against British colonial rule were instrumental in helping shape a modern independent India, sometimes it seemed (at least according to Mr. Lelyveld's engaging book) in spite of himself.

Prior to reading this book, the depth of my knowledge about the Mahatma was more-or-less limited to Richard Attenborough's Oscar-winning 1982 biopic starring Ben Kingsley. I haven't seen the film in thirtysomething years so I am not overly familiar with the details depicted within in, though I do remember repeated scenes of Gandhi in jail, the great Salt March, his reluctance regarding the eventual partition of India upon independence, and his assassination at the hands of Hindu nationalists. I also remember how he preached the importance of self-reliance, encouraging Indians to spin their own cloth as opposed to relying on British imports. A more recent Hindi-language film "Gandhi My Father" depicted the troubled relationship the Mahatma had with his eldest son Harilal, a portrayal that wasn't particularly sympathetic to Gandhi-ji, and ultimately is what inspired me to further investigate his life. Philip Glass's opera "Satyagraha" whose title is taken from Gandhi's overall philosophy is also a source of considerable interest.

While Mr. Lelyveld succeeds in conveying the complicated life of India's "Great Soul," the reader is left with a troublesome portrait of the man many consider something close to a 20th century saint. He begins by spending a considerable number of pages discussing Gandhi's life as a young lawyer in South Africa and his establishment of two communes inspired by the great Russian writer and philosopher Leo Tolstoy. Gandhi was particularly active early in his life with the cause of promoting greater commonality and understanding between Moslems and Hindus, and the destruction of the traditional Hindu caste system, a cause that began in South Africa but continued and was further shaped by his years spent back in India.

Mr. Lilyveld doesn't shy away from the less savory aspects of Gandhi's life and philosophy. As portrayed here, Gandhi is a man of singular determination, often at the expense of his family. Gandhi's wife, an illiterate but seemingly well-intentioned woman, quickly fades from relevance as Gandhi develops an ambiguously non-sexual but intensely devoted relationship with a German Jewish body-builder named Hermann Kallenbach. The two remained passionately involved for much of Gandhi's life. Whether this affair was ever consummated remains in question, though letters exchanged between the two might hint at something less than platonic. As part of his Satyagraha, Gandhi swore off all sexual intimacy. In order to be a true pilgrim for the cause, Gandhi believed that one must live one's life with total sexual pureness, though in his last years, Gandhi was known to have had a predilection for young women whom he invited to share his bed, sleeping naked, and engaging in "non-sexual" massages.

As presented in this book, Gandhi is a man of deep contradictions, whose actions were often interpreted as running counter to the philosophies he seemed to embody throughout his work. He is originally ambivalent about gaining independence from Britain, deeply believing that the key to success of India as an independent nation was in abolishing the caste system and not necessarily the ruling British Raj. He was also a champion of bettering the lives of India's Moslems, a cause which ultimately cast him in opposition to the Hindu nationalist movement. I was particularly surprised to learn that Gandhi actively campaigned on behalf of the establishment of a new Moslem Caliphate upon the fall of the Ottoman Empire following World War One. As partition drew near, Gandhi sought to live out his remaining months in an area that became part of modern-day Pakistan, and was the scene of some of the worst Muslim-Hindu brutality at that time. Many Hindus felt he had betrayed them which ultimately prompted his assassination in 1947, an event which Gandhi rather eerily seemed to have predicted.

Mr. Lelyveld's biography exhausted, disturbed, and enlightened me. His narrative style is never less than engaging and I recommend this book for anyone interested in learning more about one of India's greatest and most formative public figures. One needn't have a strong knowledge of colonial history or Gandhi's life to appreciate this book. I don't know how the book was received in India upon its publication last year but I can only imagine it stirred some controversy. Lelyveld's "great soul" is a difficult man, a man of the people despite his upper-caste background. While Gandhi's work inspired and one can argue created a modern nation, he is presented here as only a moderately successful politician, whose greatest contribution to Indian and world history is a demonstration of how sheer determination and force of will can rally a nation's dispossessed and inspire them to an awesome if troubling degree.

Ciao.

Why I Love "Big Brother"

Hi everyone!

At risk of sounding like a total reality television junkie (though I'll admit that most of the shows on my DVR this summer have been Bravo-based) I want to devote today's entry to my newfound love for "Big Brother." I'm late to the BB party. After thirteen seasons here in the U.S. and countless versions overseas, this season (the 14th) is the first I've seen. And I'm hopelessly, unequivocally, irredeemably hooked. Here's why...

"Big Brother" is like a cross-pollination of MTV's "Real World" with a healthy dollop of "Survivor." You've got your standard twelve or thirteen house guests, ranging in age from early 20s to early 40s, living for an extended period of time in a giant set made up to resemble an adult version of Pee Wee's Playhouse. Cameras installed throughout the 'house' are running 24/7. Every week, these house guests are subjected to a series of ridiculous and oftentimes thoroughly humiliating challenges all of which are designed to pit the house guests against each other in pursuit of rewards that include Head of Household, Power of Veto, and the like. Each week, two players are nominated for eviction. In order to maintain their presence in the 'house,' these players must coordinate, manipulate, brownnose, and convince each week's Head of Household that they deserve to stay in the house. The Head of Household, who gets to live in the 'penthouse' and at least so far seems to conduct most of his or her business while lying half-naked in bed, changes each week.

The challenges so far this season have included leaping across giant rotating beds designed to knock them onto the floor; dressing up as giant Dorito chips while fishing for menu items in giant vats of salsa, guacamole, and melted cheese; and (my personal favorite) engaging in bizarre and suggestive workout routines dressed in 1980s gym clothes right out of Olivia Newton John's "Physical" music video.

The current cast includes Shane, an impossibly tanned 'house flipper' who appears to have an unhealthy obsession with his hair and walking around with his shirt off; Ashley, a bleached blond spray tan technician who is actually smarter than she looks or, for that matter, acts; Ian, a likable though nerdy college kid with limited social skills; and Danielle, a registered nurse who for reasons I've never quite been able to figure out has told everyone she's an elementary school teacher.

This season, four returning 'champions' or runners-up--Mike "Boogie", a 40-something master manipulator; Dan, a high school football coach; Janelle, a bottled blonde Amazon from Minnesota with a bad temper; and Britney (my personal favorite), a girl who seems to have a heart of gold and talks in an occasionally annoying nasal whine--have come to the house to coach the newbie house guests. Each coach is in charge of three house guests and are vying for a rather large sum of cash if one of their particular proteges wins the overall competition.

When they aren't competing in physical challenges, the house guests and coaches seem to spend most of their time lying or sitting around the house, strategizing and striking deals, eating inordinate amounts of junk food, and talking trash about their fellow contestants.

While NBC does a good job editing the thrice weekly primetime broadcasts (one of which is a live show on Thursday nights where one contestant is evicted from the house), what's almost more fun to watch (and gives the viewer a better sense of why the show is called "Big Brother" in the first place) is the live broadcast on Showtime 2 that runs from 11pm CT to 2am CT seven nights a week. I've been checking in for an hour or two before bedtime. This is pure unadulterated reality television, completely uncensored. And while it is only intermittently interesting--last night most of the house guests sat around the common room playing with Play Doh because there was nothing else to do and joking about the fact that they doubted anyone was watching the Showtime live feed--the viewer does get a clearer sense of the ongoing personality clashes and rivalries between everyone in the house. There's an awful lot of backstabbing and, especially with the coach Janelle, bitchiness. Last night, for example, Danielle was close to tears as she complained it seemed to anyone who would listen that Janelle told her she was, essentially, too tall and too fat to win the competition. Britney, who has her own issues with Janelle, agreed that "Janelle just likes to hurt your feelings." Also (and this seems more key to the actual competition) the very gay and lovable Wil has apparently had several run-ins and a blow-up with his coach Janelle over something she said to him a few days ago. None of this is evident on the NBC primetime broadcasts.

What cracks me up is when scolding directives pipe over the intercom from "Big Brother" admonishing the house guests for not wearing their microphone, telling them not to talk about production, telling them not to sing, and to report to the Diary Room. You don't hear this on the primetime broadcast, which is unfortunate because what these nightly live feeds provide is a sense that these contestants really are living in a fish bowl, a completely artificial environment utterly removed from the outside 'real' world, dominated by sheer boredom. I almost get claustrophobic watching them.

Tonight we've been promised a 'major twist,' the contents of which have been a source of endless nervous speculation among the house guests all week. I think the coaches are going to be asked to relinquish their coaching duties and become actual competitors with the newbies. I could be wrong but that's the feeling I'm getting.

So why do I love "Big Brother"? More than any other reality show on television, "BB" demonstrates the lengths to which people will go to win a lot of money and proves that regardless of age, trash talk and backstabbing seem inherent to human nature. When you get fifteen or so people locked in a confined environment for weeks on end with little else to do, it is amazing how quickly things devolve into a Lord of the Flies scenario. But those kids on that island didn't have Play Doh to pass the time...

Ciao.

7-20-12: Where Are We Going Wrong?

Hi everyone!

I just wanted to follow up on my post of this weekend regarding the shootings last Friday at the movie theatre in Aurora, Colorado. Presumed suspect James Holmes appeared in court for the first time this morning, his hair dyed orange, looking and behaving completely out of touch with the world around him. As more comes out in the press about Mr. Holmes's background, the more disturbing this case becomes. What upsets me most is the fact that over the period of sixty days he was able to amass an arsenal that, according to today's New York Times,  included 3,000 rounds of handgun ammunition, 3,000 rounds for an assault rifle, and 350 shells for a 12-gauge shotgun...all purchased legally over the Internet. This shouldn't surprise me, but it does.

What is even more alarming to me, however, is the continued arrogance of gun lobbyists who continue to spout off in the press to the effect that if Mr. Holmes hadn't been able to acquire the hardware needed to pull of Friday morning's attack, he could just as easily have built a bomb (or several bombs) that would have caused even greater loss of life. As it is, he'd rigged his apartment with tripwires and enough incendiary bombs to blow his apartment building to hell and back. Luckily, the Aurora police were skillful enough to remove the bombs without incident and explode them in an unidentified and remote location away from any population centers.

I'm sure over the weeks and months ahead we'll hear more than we will ever want to know about James Holmes. The question on everyone's minds right now is what could possibly have led a by all accounts intelligent and seemingly mild-mannered young man to plan and carry out such an act of horrific devastation. Clearly, something went wrong somewhere on his life's journey from a quiet, upscale neighborhood outside of San Diego to the Denver suburb of Aurora. What does this say about our nation's ability to detect and treat severe mental illness? How many young men like Mr. Holmes are out there in need of help but perhaps are unsure of where to get that help or are perhaps even unaware that help is needed? Who do we blame for this? Our healthcare system? Our media? Hollywood? The Second Amendment? All of the above? I don't have the answers but I would sure like someone to help me understand.

The tragic irony of all this (or perhaps not irony per se but sheer coincidence) is that the Aurora tragedy takes place just as Norway is commemorating the one-year anniversary of another horrific gun-related tragedy--Anders Behring Breivik's rampage in and around Oslo last summer that killed 77 people. In the past six years alone, it seems the world has experienced one mass shooting after another: the Toronto shopping mall shooting last month; the 2011 Tucson, AZ shooting of U.S. Representative Gabrielle Giffords and eighteen other people; Fort Bragg; Virginia Tech; the list goes on. And this doesn't even begin to take into consideration the murder and mayhem experienced on a daily basis by innocent civilians caught in the crossfire in the world's all-too-many war zones. What have we learned from any of this? Sadly, apparently nothing.

I realize as I'm writing this that I am probably preaching to the choir and that if I can't propose answers then there is probably no point in posing questions. I'm just afraid that as a nation and as a world, we are quickly becoming desensitized, and as the memory of 7-20 slowly fades into memory and we fixate on our own individual lives, it will take another tragedy on the scale of what we just witnessed in Aurora, Colorado to shock and remind us all over again how fragile life is, how we take it for granted, and how preventable so much of this tragedy really is.

Ciao.

"The Dark Knight" Massacre

Hi everyone!

By now we've all heard about the "The Dark Knight" massacre that took place at a midnight showing of the  movie at a cineplex in Aurora, Colorado Friday morning. The latest count has twelve confirmed dead and scores wounded and being treated in local area hospitals. The killer James Holmes, a 24 year-old former med student at the University of Colorado (Denver) Anschutz Medical Campus, walked through an emergency exit at the front of the theatre just as the sell-out crowd was settling down to enjoy the movie. He allegedly announced "I am the Joker" before dispensing a canister of tear gas and beginning to shoot randomly into the crowd. Many initially thought the whole thing was some sort of publicity stunt until it became tragically apparent that it was not. Police arrested Mr. Holmes in the parking lot minutes later who warned them his apartment was booby-trapped to explode. As of this writing, Aurora police are still trying to find a way into Mr. Holmes's apartment.

This horrific event has some personal immediacy for me. Just this past week I was hired as an adjunct professor at the Community College of Aurora. I'll be teaching three classes of Basic Composition at the college Monday through Thursday evenings starting at the end of August. The school is no more than a half a mile from the theatre complex where the shootings took place. As fate would have it, I had planned to drive down to the school yesterday morning to drop off some HR forms to finalize my hiring. Friday was my deadline to do this. The campus was pretty quiet when I got there around ten-thirty. I took care of business and headed out. Before heading back out to the High Country where I've been staying, I wanted to run some errands in Cherry Creek, an upscale suburb not too far from Aurora. I didn't realize until too late that the route I'd chosen to take happened to go past the scene of the shooting. It was all roped off with police cars and press vehicles gathered as far as the eye could see. I stopped at the light and forced myself not to look out the window. I just didn't want to know.

The crazy thing was, my brother and I were supposed to attend a screening of "The Dark Knight Rises" Thursday night. He'd gotten tickets earlier in the week for a viewing in Highland Ranch, another suburb of Denver on the opposite side of the city from Aurora. He didn't realize until later that the tickets he purchased were for a marathon screening of the entire trilogy, with the final installment slated to begin at 12:01am. When we discovered this, we decided not to go. The thought of sitting in a movie theatre for eight-plus hours with a bunch of costume-clad weirdos held no appeal. No, we hadn't planned to see the film in Aurora and our lives were never in danger, but in retrospect, what if we had chosen to see the movie at the Century 16 cineplex? Neither my brother nor I are the type to attend midnight showings, but what if we had been?

I realize this kind of speculation is pointless. But my point is, what makes these kinds of events so horrific is that they can happen to anyone anywhere. And as long as this country refuses to (or is prevented from) enacting tougher gun control laws, what happened Friday morning in Aurora, Colorado can (and probably will) happen again. By all accounts, Mr. Holmes purchased his guns legally at a local hunting/fishing supply store. But that's beside the point. Legally purchased or not, what the hell was he doing with an AR-15 assault rifle, a Remington 12-gauge shotgun, and a .40 caliber Glock handgun? What was the clerk who sold them to him thinking? And what's worse, Friday morning's massacre took place a mere ten or so miles from Littleton, site of 1999's Columbine High School killings. Has this country (not to mention this state) learned nothing in the past thirteen years? Apparently not. The gun lobbies and Second Amendment blow-hards are too powerful.

We go to the movies to escape, to be entertained, to be moved. This is something we all share regardless of race, gender, or country of origin. Perhaps we are naive in our sense of security? After all, our multiplexes don't require us pass through metal detectors or body scans before we head over to the box office and refreshment stand. Perhaps they should? Perhaps this is just the sad state of the world we live in? I know I'm probably over-reacting but I don't know when I'll actually go to a move theatre again. I love movies but if I can watch them in the safety of my own home, at least for now, it seems like a more attractive option. And, thanks to Mr. Holmes, I probably won't see "The Dark Knight Rises" in a theatre or otherwise...at least not anytime soon. Any enjoyment I might have derived from it has been tainted by the thought that the images on screen are what was playing when Mr. Holmes decided to play the Joker and viciously end so many innocent lives.

Ciao.

If I were Vladimir Putin: Russian influence in Syria

Hi everyone!

It's been a while since I've written about current events...and I've missed it. I just couldn't let the ever-evolving situation in Syria continue without saying something about it today, especially in light of  yesterday's bombing in Damascus.

So all the pundits are saying how this latest event which killed Bashar's brother-in-law and deputy chief of staff Asef Shawkat; his minister of defense Dawoud Rajha; and former minister of defense and military adviser Hassan Turkmani, is going to be the defining event in the conflict, the point at which the Assad regime and its cronies and sycophants have no choice but to step down. One can only hope that this assessment proves to be true. Unfortunately, however, I can't help but be strongly skeptical.

The effects of the Arab Spring are still being felt. Only time will tell how these fledgling democratically-elected governments are going to pan out over time. Despite the election of Brotherhood-backed Morsi in Egypt, the country still remains locked in a battle of wills between parliament and the military counsel. In Libya last week, the people appeared to reject political Islam in favor of a more socially liberal leader, thus bucking the trend for the region. In Bahrain, protests continue, though they have been somewhat stymied by Saudi Arabian and covert American influence. Iraq continues to find its way and despite a string of recent bombings, the future is looking brighter there than it has for close to a decade. Iran remains a constant irritant and if it is indeed behind yesterday's Israeli-targeted bus bombing in Bulgaria, one can only surmise how Israel will react. The Palestinians continue to struggle for unity and a defined homeland. Israel's unlikely and short-lived Likud-Kadima coalition government collapsed due to conflict over the ultra-Orthodox conscription issue.

And then there is Syria. Kofi Annan continues to push a pipe dream while the country further devolves into civil war. The U.S. and its allies do little but shake their collective fingers and say "Bad, bad Bashar." Of course, Russia remains the sticking point. Putin and his cronies seem hell-bent on maintaining their only position of influence in the Middle East despite the fact that pretty soon Putin's BFF in Damascus may no longer be around. It really is only a matter of time. If I were Putin--and I'm certainly glad I'm not, but let's pretend--if I were Putin, I'd offer Bashar and his immediate entourage asylum in Moscow in exchange for a handover of power to a transitional Friends of Syria-backed government. The jury is out on whether the Syrian rebels can coalesce into a cohesive, unified entity and it is still anyone's guess whether a greater Alawite-Sunni bloodbath can be avoided, but I don't see another feasible alternative. In a perfect world, Bashar and his cronies shouldn't escape prosecution, but if a relative peace can be established by keeping him alive with some dignity intact and granting him comfortable exile in Russia, maybe it's worth a shot.

It's your decision, Mr. Putin. The ball is in your court. In the long run, what have you got to lose except your best friend in the Arab world? You don't really want that, do you?

Ciao.

Movie Review: Oliver Stone's "Savages"

Hi everyone!

Last week I gave a glowing review of Don Winslow's novel "Savages," the basis of which forms the backbone of Oliver Stone's new film of the same name that released this weekend. I loved the book. I only liked the movie...and I really really wanted to love it.

Here's what's good:

1. Salma Hayek. Ms. Hayek is brilliant and understated as Elena Sanchez, the somewhat reluctant boss of the Baja Cartel. With saucy wit in abundance and a fair bit of pathos thrown in, the sultry Latina actress dominates every scene she's in...and, for that matter, every scene she's not in. While Elena is certainly an important presence in Mr. Winslow's novel, she appears on the page in more of a supportive role. In the film, Elena is the black widow spinning a complicated web while calling the shots in a hyper-masculine environment. You can't help but smile whenever Ms. Hayek's Elena graces the screen. She has never looked better.
2. Taylor Kitsch and Aaron Johnson. Their characters, Chon--the battle-hardened Iraq war veteran--and Ben--the pot-growing environmental wannabe do-gooder--are what drive the movie forward. Both certainly have their share of screen appeal. They are fun to watch even though no one will be blown away by their acting.
3. The cinematography. "Savages" is big and gaudy and consistently beautiful to look at. The color palates are all over the place--from bright and sunny and very SoCal to grainy cinema verite. What I really liked was the contrast between the gorgeous Laguna Beach vistas to the blood-soaked grimy warehouses where Benicio del Toro and company enact their drug-fueled tortures. And the soundtrack is great too!
4. Benicio del Toro. Crazy, comic, and super-cool, Mr. del Toro (along with Ms. Hayek) is what makes this an almost-great film. I felt myself tense up every time he was onscreen because I never knew which way he was going to go. 
5. Blake Lively. Okay, okay, I may catch some flak for this but Ms. Lively is simply radiant. While her acting isn't particularly impressive, Ms. Lively as Chon and Ben's girlfriend "O" lights up the screen with her distinctive SoCal beauty. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

Here's what's not so good:

1. The ending. I won't give it away but suffice it to say that fans of the book (like me) will probably not be pleased with how Oliver Stone has chosen to end this story. And this doesn't pertain just to the film's final ten minutes. Around the 1 hr. 35 minutes point (of a 2 hr. 10 minute running time) things start to go haywire...and not in a good way. What I particularly loved about the book is its relative simplicity and its economical narrative style. This sadly isn't the case here. Mr. Stone veers radically from the original novel about 95 minutes in, adding more plots and double-crosses that not only don't make sense but reduce the film to a puzzling, disappointing mess, something not far off the mark from the "Fast and Furious" franchise, which I don't mean as a compliment. With about ten minutes left, you think 'okay, we're getting back on track here' but then Mr. Stone decides to veer once again from the book's original ending, leaving me irritated and frankly a little pissed off as the final credits roll. I've been trying to figure out why he chose to change things up so radically at the end to little avail. Perhaps he wanted to give John Travolta  more screen time or bring the story around to a more traditional Hollywood ending? I don't know. It's not a happy ending exactly, but it wraps everything up a little too neatly.
2. The decision to leave Uma Thurman's character on the cutting room floor. Ms. Thurman is purported to have played Blake Lively's character's mother, but all her scenes were cut so what we're left with are a couple passing references to her and nothing else. The relationship and flaky banter between O and her mother in the book frequently had me in stitches. I can only imagine what Ms. Thurman brought to the role. I can certainly understand why the character was excised given the film's already two-hour-plus running time, but without seeing the vaguely troubled relationship O has with her mother, we don't really get a sense of O's identity. Are we supposed to be sympathetic toward her? As is, O remains a cipher. She's beautiful to look at but there's very little depth to her. She demonstrates a certain degree of strength in captivity and it certainly isn't hard to figure out why Chon and Ben are so physically attracted to her, but beyond the surface there's a curious lack of substance. Hopefully, Mr. Stone will restore Ms. Thurman in the Blu-Ray/DVD Director's Cut of the film as has been hinted. 

So, yes...I recommend "Savages" if for no other reason than the film is visually splendid to look at and it provides some powerhouse summer entertainment without really adding up to much in the end. But maybe that's all we want from summer movies anyway--an escape from the stifling heat outside. If that's the case, then "Savages" more-or-less fits the bill. I really really wanted to love this film. It's almost great but settles for being merely pretty good. Disappointing.

Ciao. 

Museum Review: The Clyfford Still Museum, Denver CO

Hi everyone...and continued greetings from Colorado!

I was excited today to finally have gotten a chance to visit the new Clyfford Still Museum in Denver. It opened in November 2011 to great fanfare as it is the first museum anywhere in the world dedicated entirely to the art and legacy of the 20th century American Abstract Expressionist painter Clyfford Still.
My visit today was definitely worth the wait.

The museum is in possession of at least 95% of Still's impressive oeuvre as well as his entire archive of letters, notes, and other ephemera. Currently on view is what is being called the second Inaugural exhibit. It is a chronological representation of Still's work from the 1920s until his death in 1980. What was most interesting to me--who until today had a fleeting exposure to his work at best--was how Still's work evolved from more traditional/representational depictions of American life during the Great Depression and Industrial Age to full-on Abstract Expressionism. In fact, Still was painting in the abstract long before his better known contemporaries--including such luminaries as Rothko, Motherwell, and Pollock--had broken out of their own conventional style and taken the credit for pushing serious American art forward.

Still's abstract paintings are large format. As displayed in the museum, each canvas more-or-less is given its own wall. The color palates are bright--orange, blue, red, green--though often what most strikes the eye are his formless/dimensionless figures boldly painted in wide brushstrokes of black. Eschewing a central focal point, Still's paintings possess no discernible center. Instead, he invites the eye to follow the direction of his colors and brushstrokes across the entire painting, leaving interpretation to the individual. What is also interesting is that Still resisted the convention of giving any of his work a specific title. Each piece in the museum is identified by a number and its date. This is in strict keeping with stipulations imposed by the Still estate. Around the midpoint of his career--at a time when his work was being exhibited and championed by such influential art dealers as Peggy Guggenheim--Clyfford Still withdrew his work from public exhibition. In fact, the last twenty or so years of his life and career (1961-1980) he lived and worked in relative seclusion at his farm in Maryland.

Upon his death, Still entrusted his family with the responsibility of finding an American city that would commit to building a museum in which his works could be displayed independent of any other artist in the manner he desired. Denver was finally selected in 1999 and the museum opened to the public in November of 2011.

The museum itself is a thoroughly contemporary architectural gem of unadorned concrete-walled galleries and natural overhead lighting. As I mentioned earlier, each piece is given its own wall space which allows the viewer to devote his or her attention to a single piece without any neighboring distractions. This is a wonderful way in which to experience the work of an under-appreciated 20th century American master. My only criticism is that because the museum is dedicated solely to Clyfford Still's art (as per the Still estate's request), it is somewhat difficult to place his work within an historical context, or rather in the company of his better-known artistic peers. I would have liked more of a reference point, something to compare Still's genius to. Nonetheless, this is a minor criticism and does not deter one from enjoying, discovering, and/or rediscovering a brilliant American artist.

Given its relatively small (and beautifully manageable) size, I was able to stroll through the entire museum twice at a leisurely pace. I then enjoyed a coffee in the outdoor terrace of the Mad Beans cafe at the adjacent Denver Art Museum before meeting my brother for lunch at the Three Lions Pub on Colfax Avenue. More on the Three Lions in a later entry as I will definitely be returning there as well.

If you find yourself in Denver and have an hour or so to spend discovering the work of a truly great 20th century American artist, the Clyfford Still Museum at 1250 Bannock Street is time well spent.

Ciao.

Book Review: "Savages" by Don Winslow

Hi everyone!

By now you've probably all seen the trailers for "Savages" (see above) the new Oliver Stone film coming next week to a theatre near you. The movie looks like a cross between Mr. Stone's "Natural Born Killers" and any number of Quentin Tarantino bloodbaths--John Travolta included. What you may not know is that "Savages" is actually based on a critically-acclaimed 2010 novel by crime fiction writer Don Winslow, whose newest just-released novel "The Kings of Cool" is a prequel of sorts to "Savages."

"Savages" isn't the sort of novel I typically gravitate to. But I've been so looking forward to seeing the film that I figured I might as well give the book a try before heading to the cineplex next weekend. I was pleasantly--even devilishly--surprised.

First off, this isn't a novel for everyone and it will never be recommended for anyone's book club. It tells the story of Ben and Chon, late-twentysomethings who run a successful marijuana operation in Laguna Beach, California, and their girlfriend O (short for Ophelia). When the Mexican Baja Cartel, headed by the formidable (and lonely) Elena la Reina decides to shift business operations north of the border, Ben and Chon find themselves in the middle of a vicious turf war between rival Mexican drug cartels. Over the course of its spitfire 300 pages, the reader is treated to everything from mass decapitations, double-double-crosses, farcically smart and funny dialogue, wild and often graphic sex scenes, and more than its fair share of semi-precocious pop culture references. Without giving anything away, the novel ends in a brutal old-fashioned Western-style shoot-em-up that is as taut as it is surprising.

Based on the movie's trailer, it seems Oliver Stone has adhered pretty closely to the overall flavor of the novel although it does appear he's taken some liberties with the plot. In the book, Elena (played by Salma Hayek) and O (Blake Lively) never actually meet and they certainly never have dinner together, but this appears to be the set-up for one of the trailer's funniest lines--a comment Elena makes about O's relationship status. I also recently read that all of Uma Thurman's scenes--as O's space-cadet, New Age spouting mother, Paqu--were cut from the film. This is a shame because O's and Paqu's scenes together in the novel, though brief, are often hilarious. This same article said Oliver Stone may restore these scenes in the director's cut to be released on Blu-Ray and DVD. We'll see...

If you're looking for a quick, violent, witty, and utterly unputdownable summer beach read, "Savages" may be one to take a look at. If you're a fan of early Bret Easton Ellis ("Less Than Zero" in particular), you'll love Don Winslow's writing style.

I, for one, will be first in line at the box office next weekend when "Savages" the film gets its national release. Until then, enjoy the trailer!

Ciao.

Book Review: The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

Hi everyone!

Pulitzer Prize-winning American writer Jeffrey Eugenides' newest novel "The Marriage Plot" is one of those books that I want to recommend, yet at the same time I'm hesitant. There is much that is good here--better than good actually. Mr. Eugenides writes beautiful, lyrical prose that is so precisely and perfectly constructed you find yourself continuing to turn pages even as his intellectual tangents (of which there are many) and his all too wise-beyond-their years early twentysomething characters threaten to bore the reader to tears. "The Marriage Plot" is a novel that starts off strong and then proceeds for the next 406 pages to alternately delight and frustrate before finally coming together in the last fifty or so pages in a way that makes the whole thing somewhat worthwhile.

The story isn't particularly original. In the early 1980s Madeleine, a precocious Brown University co-ed with a love for Victorian literature falls in love with an intellectual bad boy named Leonard while Mitchell, another precocious college kid marginally interested in religious studies, pines after her and secretly hopes that one day Madeleine will come to her senses, dump Leonard, and marry him. Of course this is an oversimplification, but what it boils down to is a thematic similarity/parallel to the marriage-based plots of the Victorian novels Madeleine so dearly loves.

Along the way, the reader is treated to discourses on the microscopic mating rituals of yeast cells; semiotics; a deconstruction of the works of Derrida and Nietzsche; Quakers; sex; the charitable works of Mother Theresa; more sex; marriage as portrayed in the works of Austen, Trollope, and Gaskell; Islamic divorce proceedings; and ultimately the symptoms and various treatments of advanced manic depression. This is a lot to pack into an average-length novel centered around characters that aren't particularly interesting and are too clever (or not clever as the case may be) by half. And I couldn't help but wonder as I was reading whether all of these tangents served only to distract the reader from the fact that for much of the novel, there isn't a whole lot going on.

Yet...yet...I continue to admire Mr. Eugenides' writing. By the end, "The Marriage Plot" manages to rise above its characters' pretensions and pseudo-intellectual angst to the point where you actually start to care just a little about what happens to the Madeleine--Leonard--Mitchell love triangle. Will Madeleine overcome her naive and wholly literary belief that love conquers all? Will Leonard overcome the many demons that plague him to allow himself to love and be loved while realizing his full intellectual potential? Will Mitchell find the religious enlightenment that forever seems to be just beyond the grasp of his fingertips? You'll have to read the novel to find out.

I'm a big fan of Mr. Eugenides' two previous novels, the hauntingly beautiful "The Virgin Suicides" and the epic Pulitzer Prize winning "Middlesex." For me, "The Marriage Plot" lacks the emotional impact and heft of these earlier novels, and given the nearly unanimous rapturous reviews "The Marriage Plot" received upon its publication late last year, I couldn't help but be disappointed. Sure, there are moments where this novel soars, particularly when it focuses on Mitchell's spiritual journey across Europe and India. I think this is in no small part due to the fact that of these three characters, Mitchell feels the most fully developed and sympathetic. In my opinion, his is the greatest journey. Madeleine and Leonard remain too steeped in their own intellectual and mental crises to garner much support, though I will concede that I did come to feel a bit sorry for both, particularly in the novel's final fifty or so pages, but not enough to make me actually care about them.

So you can see my dilemma. I want to recommend "The Marriage Plot" because I respect Mr. Eugenides as a writer, yet ultimately its characters and comparatively thin plot undid it for me.  I'm glad I stuck with it but I'd probably have been better off re-reading "Middlesex" instead.

Ciao.

Petition: Free Access to Safe and Sanitary Public Toilet Facilities to ALL Indian Citizens

Hi everyone!

A few days ago I wrote about an article I had read in the New York Times that detailed the woefully inadequate and unsanitary conditions of India's public toilet facilities. I also mentioned that I would be starting a petition on Change.org to raise awareness of this issue. The petition is now live. My goal is to raise at least 10,000 signatures before I contact Jairam Ramesh, India's Minister of Sanitation, to demonstrate international demand that all Indians regardless of gender or socioeconomic status have equal access to sanitary public facilities.

Please click on the link, read the petition, watch Shah Rukh Khan's public service announcement, and add your name to the cause.

I will keep you all posted over the next several weeks as signatures come in and we near our 10,000 signature goal.

http://www.change.org/petitions/free-and-sanitary-public-toilets-available-to-all-indian-citizens

Ciao.

A Call to Action--India and the Right to Pee Campaign

Hi everyone!

I'm en route to spend a few weeks with my brother in the beautiful state of Colorado. It's a long road trip when it's just me on my own, but the end result is worth it!

I want to tell you about an article that really struck me in today's New York Times. Apparently--and probably not surprisingly--there are more people in India than there are toilets. According to this article, the link to which I'll include below, in Mumbai alone there are 5,993 public toilets (with an additional 2,468 urinals) for men and only 3,536 for women. In these public toilets--which are filthy beyond belief--a male attendant collects anywhere from 2 to 5 rupees from customers in need of said facilities. The hitch though is that while men need to pay for the privilege of using a proper toilet, they can use the urinals at no charge. The same is obviously not true for women. Every time a woman needs to urinate, she must pay for the dubious privilege.

While it may not seem like a big deal for many of you reading this blog, when you consider the fact that many of the poorest people in India survive on as little as 29 rupees a day, 2 to 5 rupees paid out every time one needs to take care of one's natural functions really adds up. The article goes on to say that although women in Mumbai comprise half the city's workforce, many of these women do not have access to a toilet in their workplace. Thus, they are forced to use these public toilets and are getting ripped off in the process.

According to a recent article from the BBC, 35 non-government NGOs have organized around a campaign called--quite appropriately--the Right to Pee that in Mumbai alone has already collected 50,000 signatures by activists who have gone door-to-door as part of a movement to raise awareness about this ludicrous double standard. But more than this, the Right to Pee organization is charged with bringing attention to the need for improved sanitation, more and cleaner toilets, and the hiring of female attendants to look after the women's bathrooms.  Mumbai city officials met with a select group of campaigners last week to discuss plans to build hundreds of new public toilets specifically for women all across the city. Whether this initiative reaches any sort of fruition in India's notoriously corrupt public sector remains to be seen. It is, however, a step (however small)  in the right direction.

If nothing else, it further raises the point that despite its miraculous economic growth, the disparity between India's rich and poor remains staggering. The infrastructure--or lack thereof--as it exists now simply cannot hold.

I have looked for a website address for this campaign and was unable to find anything. I recently joined an online organization called Change.org wherein members can write and file petitions for or against any cause that matters to them. The petitions are posted on the Change.org site and anyone can affix their signature to it. Over the course of the next few days, I will be lending my voice to this Right to Pee campaign by drafting a petition on Change.org addressed to the appropriate Indian civic authorities in charge of public sanitation. Any and every human being has the right to clean, safe, sanitary, and FREE toilet facilities regardless of gender.

I will post on here the moment my petition is live and I will encourage you to share this link with everyone you know so we can get at least 100,000 online signatures. The Indian government must be held accountable by its citizens. My petition is only a small step, but it is a step and part of a much larger campaign.

In the meantime, please click below for the New York Times article.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/15/world/asia/in-mumbai-a-campaign-against-restroom-injustice.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all

Ciao.

Book Review: American Dervish by Ayad Akhtar

Hi everyone!

"American Dervish" is the debut novel by Pakistani-American writer Ayad Akhtar. It was published earlier this year to strong reviews from critics who praised it for raising provocative questions around the issues of what does it mean to be a Muslim in a traditionally non-Muslim society and how literally is one meant to take the teachings of the Quran. As a debut piece of fiction, I found the novel to be beautifully crafted. Mr. Akhtar's narrative prose is simple and elegant. His characters come to life off the page through dialogue and graceful descriptions. As readers, we come to care about these characters even as the choices they make are often disappointing and often go against what we would hope from them.

Briefly, "American Dervish" is told from the perspective of twelve year-old Hayat Shah who, for the most part, lives a fairly ordinary Midwestern life in Milwaukee circa early-1980s. His father is a renowned doctor with an affinity for Western women (and a predilection for affairs) and his mother is a very traditional Pakistani woman who despises her husband and sees him as the epitome of everything wrong with Muslim men. One day, Hayat's mother's best friend, newly divorced Mina, comes all the way from Pakistan with her young son to escape from her ex-husband's threats of stealing custody of their son. Hayat develops a schoolboy crush on Mina as she introduces him to the Quran and nurtures his fledgling Islamic study, much to the anger and chagrin of his father who finds Islam antiquated and dangerous, wants nothing to do with it, and doesn't want it anywhere near his family.

When Hayat's father introduces Mina to his business partner, a rather bookish Jewish intellectual named Nathan, with an eye toward them becoming a couple, Hayat's jealousy propels a series of actions that lead to somewhat tragic consequences. These actions cause Hayat to question his religious faith including the very basis upon which Islam was founded.

The issues are weighty and particularly timely considering the way in which Islamic fundamentalism has shaped the past twenty or so years of world history. And despite the heaviness of Mr. Akhtar's subject matter, the novel never feels weighed down by didacticism. By basing the narrative on the point of view of a twelve year-old boy, we the reader are able to experience Hayat's religious awakening and confusion through an unadulterated perspective which, from a plot standpoint, serves the novel well.

However, I suspect Mr. Akhtar has an ax to grind with Islam because it soon becomes clear that Hayat's experience with his native religion is not at all what he initially imagines it to be. Despite Mina's good intentions, Hayat becomes brainwashed and the central thrust of the novel has to do with a certain betrayal based upon strong and virulent anti-Semitism. The local neighborhood mosque is presented as a hotbed of fundamentalist extremism that unfortunately sweeps the young and impressionable Hayat along in its wake. The reader is also presented with an undeniably negative view of Muslim men. They are portrayed as sexist, chauvinistic, and violent towards women, more-often-than-not beating them into submission, though Hayat's mother remains a strong counterpoint to this.

I recommend "American Dervish" based on the quality of the writing and the fact that it raises questions worthy of further discussion. It doesn't provide easy answers and I can imagine many readers might be turned off or offended by its portrayal of Muslim family life and the biases/prejudices that, at least from the author's perspective, seem to be inherent of it.

"American Dervish" is a troubling novel for our troubling times.

Ciao.

Video Review: "Don 2" (2011)

Hi everyone!

If you're a Shahrukh Khan fan, then you won't want to miss "Don 2" Farhan Ahktar's rousing and rollicking sequel to the hit 2006 Bollywood action-thriller "Don." SRK and the lovely-as-always Priyanka Chopra are back. This time around, the action centers on a very elaborate bank heist in Berlin. I won't give away too much of the plot because 1) I don't want to deprive you of experiencing the many twists, turns, and surprises it holds in store, and 2) the whole thing is put together so slickly and moves so fast that I don't think I even grasped everything that was going on, at least not on a single viewing.

"Don 2" is big old-fashioned popcorn movie fun. The production values are top-of-line and are more than comparable to any Hollywood film of a similar genre. There are car chases, shoot-outs, jaw-dropping action sequences, and cheese galore. SRK clearly is having the time of his life. It's evident why he is India's biggest film star, (he has mass popular appeal), though I have to admit, I've never really found him all that great of an actor. If we're talking Bollywood I've always preferred Aamir Khan and Saif Ali Khan. I recently saw Saif's latest spy caper "Agent Vinod" (2012) which I admit I actually liked even more than "Don 2." What appealed to me most about "Agent Vinod" was its tongue-in-cheek send-up of 1970s action movies and, most obviously, James Bond. I also think Saif and Aamir are more subtle and understated in their acting approach. While SRK genuinely moved me to tears in "My Name is Khan" and "Kal Ho Na Ho" (Tomorrow May Never Come), typically I find him a little too emotive for my tastes...and he certainly chews the scenery in every scene he's in, although it works for him in "Don 2."

And while Priyanka Chopra is a better actress than what she's given to do here, she is more than adequate as Roma, the Interpol agent betrayed by Don in the first film who is now hell-bent on putting him behind bars. Lara Dutta also appears in a smallish role as Ayesha, Don's moll, and her item number with SRK 'Zara Dil Ko Thaam Lo,' is not only fun to watch but it kind moves the plot along, which is more than you can say for most such numbers.

At its best, "Don 2" recalls such Hollywood franchises as "Mission: Impossible" and especially "Ocean's Eleven." At its worst, it's a fast-paced, gorgeously shot 2-1/2 hour's entertainment. Don't try to figure it all out. Just sit back and enjoy. And yes, the ending leaves room for another sequel.

Ciao.

Birds of Dreams: Free downloads throughout the summer

Hi everyone!

I haven't done this in a while--a shameless pitch for my novel "Birds of Dreams"--but I just wanted to let you all know that I am uploading the entire novel to Scribd.com, a new chapter/section every day through the summer. You can click on the links below and access it for free.

While it is nowhere near as steamy as "50 Shades of Gray," it is a fun summer beach read and I certainly wouldn't mind replicating the online success of "50 Shades" prior to that book's print publication. A salesclerk at my neighborhood 7-11 just told me that she's not only missed her train stop because she's been so engrossed in "50 Shades," she's walked into things because she can't put it down...much to her grown son's embarrassment. And mine, for that matter...though it does have me curious.

I continue to be delighted by the fact that to date the majority of Facebook likes for "Birds of Dreams" (not to mention downloads) have been from college-aged kids all over India. It probably has to do with the fact that Bollywood plays a fairly significant role in the story.

At any rate, click below and check back daily for the latest installment.

Part One:
http://www.scribd.com/doc/96068324

Part Two:
http://www.scribd.com/doc/96160750

And "Like" the page on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Birds-of-Dreams-A-Novel/265750846787433

I'll be reviewing Ayad Akhtar's beautiful debut novel "American Dervish" and Ridley Scott's latest sci-fi blockbuster "Prometheus" at the weekend. So stay tuned!

Ciao.

Book Review: "In One Person" by John Irving

Hi everyone!

John Irving is unquestionably one of the greatest American authors alive and writing today. "The World According to Garp," "A Prayer for Owen Meaney," and "The Cider House Rules" are considered classics of contemporary American literature, as well they deserve to be. Mr. Irving is one of those writers whose prose is so effortless, whose characters jump off the page with humor and humanity, and whose dialogue is so witty one cannot help but laugh out loud while being struck time and again by an underlying sadness and the struggles of characters whose misfit status prevents them from being fully accepted in a harsh and rather cruel world.

Mr. Irving's thirteenth and latest novel "In One Person" is no exception. Spanning roughly fifty years and set predominantly in a rural Vermont town told from the perspective of a young man named Billy, "In One Person" touches on many themes familiar to those who have read Irving in the past. What sets this novel apart though is its theme of bisexuality and what it means to be gay in a tradition-bound fish-bowl society. The narrative focuses on a community of townsfolk who live and work on and around the campus of a private all-boys school circa 1960. As it turns out, nothing and no one is at all what he or she at first appears to be especially as Billy digs deeper into his family's past and his relationship with a Miss Frost, the town's mysterious librarian.

The novel is populated with a cast of superbly eccentric personalities--from the prudish Aunt Muriel to the  cross-dressing Grandpa Harry to Kittredge, the menacing and slightly ambiguous school bully and wrestling champ--all of whom and more play significant roles in shaping the man Billy becomes through the ensuing 50 years as well as adding to the central mystery of the identity of Billy's biological father and his seeming disappearance.

"In One Person" is and was a joy to read...at least until the final third when the narrative takes a grim though wholly necessary turn, punctuated by a scene where a mother, grieving over the death of her son from AIDS, injects herself with a syringe of her son's infected blood, thus assuring her own slow and painful death five years later. I found this final section of the novel almost too painful to read at times, and without taking anything away from the power of the story Mr. Irving is telling, I found the almost endless graphic descriptions of HIV-related symptoms and illnesses a bit heavy-handed and repetitive, almost as though the author is beating us over the head by emphasizing the devastation of the AIDS epidemic, particularly at its inception through the 80s and 90s. The novel becomes almost elegiac at its end and I couldn't help but feel that in this case less could really have been more.

Added to my dissatisfaction is the fact that these last 150 pages or so seem to move at a breakneck speed that doesn't quite gel with the folksy pacing of the previous 300 pages. It is almost as if Mr. Irving had written a much longer novel (though at 425 pages, "In One Person" is already quite hefty) that he was forced to trim at his editor's request. Because of this, scenes that should have more power pass the reader without their deserved impact. The fates of certain important characters, whom we've grown to know and even love, collide into each other and then pass by without pause for reflection. While much of the narrative is a mystery of sorts that succeeds in keeping us turning the pages, the resolutions are more often than not underwhelming and not overly surprising.

Still, I give "In One Person" a good recommendation if for no other reason than overall Mr. Irving's writing is impeccable and the themes he touches upon here are nothing if not timely and poignant. Is it one of his best? Probably not though I would say it is his best since "Cider House Rules." Billy and company are wonderful characters and all the more wonderful for being deeply flawed and not always particularly likable, much like ourselves.

Ciao.

Film Review: Snow White and the Huntsman

Hi everyone!

Hope you've all had a good weekend. I certainly did as I gear up for my 'move' out to Colorado in just over a week. I'm giving myself the summer to get situated out there. My brother lives in Dillon which is about 70 miles outside of Denver, smack dab in the middle of the mountains and ski country. It's beautiful up there but as I am more of an urban person, I'm looking at staying in Denver/Boulder area though I will be living with my bro for the time being. I can't wait. I've lived in and around Chicago most of my life. It's time to get out of the Midwest!

"Snow White and the Huntsman" is the surprisingly rather excellent adaptation of the classic Grimm Brothers fairy tale. The movie has more in common with "Game of Thrones" than Disney's animated classic and it's so much the better for that. First of all, kudos must be given to the director Rupert Sanders in his feature film debut. The film's two-hour running time skips along at a breathless pace, idling only briefly for a visually rapturous sequence in an enchanted garden replete with fairies, bizarre flora and fauna, and a multi-antlered white hart, not to mention Bob Hoskins and Ian McShane leading the charge as Snow White's seven dwarfs.

From start to finish, "Snow White" is a stunner. From the dark and Gothic confines of Queen Ravenna's (Charlize Theron) throne room to the terrifying blackness of the haunted forest, everything about this production is meant to keep your eyes glued to the screen and gasping at the magnificent wonder of it all.

The visual effects rival anything James Cameron came up with in "Avatar" -- albeit without the 3D element, which frankly is rather refreshing. The battle scenes are epic and brutal (without being particularly bloody, hence its audience-friendly PG-13 rating) and the performances by-and-large are more than adequate. Special commendation must go to Charlize Theron, whose evil Queen is the nastiest piece of work I've seen on-screen in quite some time. She almost (but not quite) dethrones "Game of Thrones" Queen Cercei (a fabulously icy and somewhat vulnerable Lena Headey). I'd love to see the two of them in a battle to the death! Chris Hemsworth ("Thor" and "The Avengers") as the titular Huntsman is terrific as well and manages to bring an understated bit of levity to the rather gloomy proceedings.

And Kristen Stewart? As one critic said in his review, her acting ability doesn't live up to her box office appeal. I have to agree with him, though Ms. Stewart delivers what's required of her here as Snow White. Fortunately, the surrounding ensemble and production values distract from what is a rather one-dimensional leaden performance. As in the "Twilight" franchise, it seems Ms. Stewart possesses only one facial expression and her line deliveries are equally bland especially when compared to Ms. Theron's evident passion for the material. Still, the overall film is so good that I can give Ms. Stewart a passing grade though in future I'd recommend more acting lessons.

A cautionary note: this is NOT a film for children. I can imagine it being terrifying for any child under the age of twelve and the hint of incest that creeps into the second half of the film, while being more suggestive than overt, is definitely not appropriate for kids.

"Snow White" proved itself to be a hit at the domestic and international box offices this weekend, assuring it a place in movie theaters around the world for some time to come. For a quality summer blockbuster, "Snow White and the Huntsman" will be hard to beat...

...at least until Ridley Scott's eagerly anticipated "Prometheus" opens on Friday...

Ciao.