Help Me Write My Term Paper

I'm so proud. I received my first "will you write my term paper for me" email! I have truly arrived. It's like having a PhD in film studies!!! Being the helpful reviewer I am, I have decided to post my answers to this budding film scholar's email for all the world to see. Names have been changed to protect the cheater.

Amanda N. writes to me asking about comparisons between Agnieszka Holland's two films Europa Europa and Olivier, Olivier.

i am writing a paper on these two movies for film class. i hope u can help enlighten me on some grounds..

Certainly. Capitalize "I" when referring to yourself, capitalize the first word of every sentence, and please use "you" instead of "u" when asking for help cheating on your paper. Also, avoid an excess of punctuation. A single period will suffice.

these two movies are by holland, and both movies have a repetition in the title. does it mean anything? or is it just holland's style to repeat names for emphasis?

This is easy. Since the director's last name is Holland, but she was born in Poland, she experiences a duality in everyday life. People say, "Oh, you're from Holland," and she has to explain that being named Holland is not the same as being from Holland. She points to Ken Holland, the general manager of the Detroit Red Wings, and Captain America as examples. Then she must backtrack because Captain America is indeed from America; he's the exception that proves the rule. She confuses people with this paradox, and her film titles serve to illustrate that. Please refer to the titles of two of her other films, Total Eclipse and Washington Square, as further examples.

furthermore, can u tell me anything about agnieszka holland as a director? how would you rate her?

Certainly. As a director, she does many things. She directs the actors' performances, shouts "cut" unless the AD does it for her, looks through the camera to approve of shots designed by the cinematographer, and, depending on her control over the set, might make suggestions in things like lighting and sound. There are rumors that she has written 21 films, but you didn't ask about that. I would rate her a 9.32 on a scale of my own devising. If you can guess the scale, you can pass your class.

on the basis of the two movies, olivier, olivier and europa, europa, can u draw a comparison between olivier and solly? who among them is the more sympathetic character?

Oh, but of course. Olivier is probably not circumcised, while Solly is, which is his whole problem. Health professionals have been debating the health benefits of circumcision for ages. While circumcision makes cleanliness easier and has been shown to correlate with lower incidence of penile cancer, it does make eluding the Nazis quite a bit more difficult, especially when you have to shower with them. Add to that the fact that Olivier, Olivier contains a comma, while Europa Europa does not, and you have it: Solly is more sympathetic than Olivier because Olivier's title separates, while Solly's is all about bringing words together. Then there's the whole thing about Solly being a Jew attempting to escape the Nazis, and Olivier being an amoral con man, but that's secondary to the circumcision and the title.

can u point out any symbollisms in both movies?

Hmm. This is a tough one. There's the whole idea of language as a series of symbols (or symbolls, as you would likely write). But I think what you're really getting at is this: Olivier disappears when he is nine years old, while Solly is attempting to avoid being "disappeared." Thus both films about about illusionists—about magic. Look for the magic in both films, and you'll have your paper.

One More Before I Move

A few things before I unplug the computer...

Go to Turner Classic Movies and vote in their DVD Decision. They've got a list of 20 movies that have never been on DVD, and they're going to put five of them on DVD in January.

I worked my second day at the ad agency today. I really like it there. My boss is cool, although she thinks too highly of Yo La Tengo, and there is a lot of variety in the editing. Since I'm just a "freelancer," I don't know how long it is going to last, but I hope it lasts a while.

This Saturday, we're showing The Edge of the World at the LaSalle Bank Cinema, where I'm the projectionist. If you're not busy, come see this gripping drama of tragedy in the Scottish Highlands. Or at least that's what it seemed to be from the two reels I watched out of order. But that's another story. Showtime is at 8:00.

To those of you who won't be joining in the filmmaking fun on Sunday, have a good weekend!

Updates

For all of you who have been hiding from me for fear that I'd ask you to help me move, you can come out now. I hired some movers, two college kids who will have the privilege of carrying my stuff down the precipitous back stairs of my building.

I still haven't heard anything definite on the proofreading job. Hopefully, I will be able to start going in on a regular basis next week. I have to call and find out what's going on.

I have written 17 pages of my paper. I'm having a really hard time working in the secondary research, basically because I haven't done very much of it. I have until next Friday to get it done.

I'm now the main projectionist at the LaSalle Bank Cinema, which shows old movies on Saturday nights. There was someone with whom I was supposed to share the duties, but the departing projectionist doesn't have faith that this other guy can do it.

Rebecca and I are shooting our short film on Sunday, August 1. If you haven't been approached about a starring role (none of which are speaking parts anyway, since it will be silent) but are interested in a cameo, please contact the producers (me or Rebecca).

I guess that's about all. Have a nice weekend!

Rock, Paper, Saddam

http://www.rockpapersaddam.com/index.html

Tee hee. Thanks to Amy for the link.

Boston Wedding

I took my first trip to Boston this past weekend, as Rebecca's escort to the wedding of her longtime friends George and Pat. She had often spoken of George and Pat, but I didn't know until I saw the invitation that they were both men. It actually made me excited and happy to be going, and I usually avoid weddings. It was a chance to spend a weekend seeing historic Boston and witnessing a little history-making ourselves.

Miscellaneous

In addition to sightseeing and the wedding, we did the following, mostly in order: went to a nice cocktail party given by the grooms-to-be; had a nice dinner with Rebecca's mother; rode with a crazy cabbie who didn't know where he was going but wanted to get there as fast as he could; stayed in a Quaker-run sort-of bed and breakfast; and attended a brunch that included the editor of the "Ideas" section of the Boston Globe (Jenny), a film critic who also works for the Globe (Wes), an English professor at Harvard (Leah), an art history professor at the University of Chicago (Rebecca), and my unemployed ass.

The Ceremony

The ceremony was at the Four Seasons Hotel, in the heart of curvy and confusing downtown Boston. It's a swanky joint, and the ceremony was held in a huge, beautiful room lavishly but tastefully decorated. The ceremony was officiated by a theologian friend of the grooms', and it consisted of friends and family either giving speeches, reciting poems and fragments of plays, or performing songs. It was very casual and fun. One man even led us in a singalong of "Let Your Love Flow," which wasn't quite as corny as it sounds. The best part, though, the most emotional and beautiful part, came when the justice of the peace said two little words that gave everybody chills and brought me the closest to tears I've ever been at a wedding:

"legally married."

I don't know the grooms; I'd just met them both the day before. But they've been together for seventeen years, and in my opinion, nobody deserved the right to be married more than they did. Now, thanks to a ray from heaven or some kind of cosmic karma, in the state of Massachusetts, they were able to. I felt like I was witnessing something historic; maybe I was, because who knows how long this will last. I hope it spreads; I hope all people hopelessly in love with each other, no matter what their sexual inclination, get to experience that someday. It was the greatest wedding I've ever attended.

The Reception

The reception that followed the service, in the main ballroom of the Four Seasons, was equally great. Tuxedoed waiters diligently made sure our glasses remained full, and unobtrusively brought out some damn fine salad, chicken or salmon, and chocolatey-heaven dessert. There were speeches, some funny, some moving, most of them both. One woman began by saying "This is my first time addressing the Democratic National Convention," and Pat ended his speech by saying "We've decided to take each others' names: I'll be George and he'll be Pat."

Also at the reception was dancing. Those of you who know me know that I don't dance. I believe that only one regular reader of this blog has ever seen me dance: Shane was present the last time, at my mother's wedding in 1996. But this time it was different. The wedding was so memorable, the reception so marvelous, that, although we had been thinking of making an early exit, when Rebecca's mother came to ask us if we would dance, I had to say yes. I'd like to say I was the second coming of Kevin Bacon, that I put Jennifer Beals to shame—but that would be a big stinking lie. I did the white boy shuffle: shuffle the feet, wave the arms at about waist level or below, roll the shoulders, and bob the head. Don't try anything too fancy, because the top half and the bottom half of the body can't do radically different things or they'll separate and fly across the room.

Sightseeing in Boston

We spent Monday wandering around Boston, getting a sunburn and looking at history. It's a pretty amazing place. You can't spit without hitting a historical landmark, and they're pretty formidable landmarks. We saw the cemetery where Ben Franklin was buried, the one where John Hancock was buried, the one where the Mather clan (Cotton, Increase, etc.) was buried. We saw Paul Revere's house, and the "one if by land, two if by sea" church. I've lost track of the other wonders of American history we plodded past, on increasingly sore feet. Boston is proof of the old saying: if you stick around long enough, something's bound to happen.

The Trip Home

The trip home was uneventful, except for one of the most terrifying things I've ever experienced on a plane. We were exhausted from a busy weekend and a day of marching around Boston in the hot sun. We just wanted to relax on the plane, with the five extra inches of leg room you get if your girlfriend is a United Premier customer and buys your ticket for you. Rebecca was feeling a little sick, and I was engrossed by Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Love in the Time of Cholera, when this cute little kid sitting near us started saying something in a gleeful, sing-song voice as the plane started its takeoff:

We're going down! We're going down! We're going down!

Little kids creep me out, especially when they're making predictions. Filmmakers have known this for some time. The Shining. The Sixth Sense. Even The Ring. "We all float down here!" Etc. When this kid started yelling that we were going down, I knew we were finished. I wanted to smother it with a pillow, and I doubt I was the only person on the plane to feel that way. Thankfully, this kid's precognitive powers were on the fritz, because we made it back safely.

More Famous People

I always see famous people when I'm out with Rebecca. Last night we went to see Fahrenheit 9/11, which I highly recommend. On the way out of the theater, we saw Jesse Jackson standing in the lobby, talking to a bunch of tall people. Rebecca and I walked slowly down the stairs looking at each other, and then we stopped at the bottom. When Jackson came down, we approached him and shook his hand. Rebecca said that she had voted for him in the 1988 primaries, and he said, "Thank you, sir." I guess he was preoccupied.

While I haven't had the nerve to approach famous actors and rock stars, I have no problem bugging politicians. It's their job to glad-hand.

Paper

I started it! I have three paragraphs! After years of waiting, the final paper of my Master's degree, about film censorship in Chicago, is underway! I started it in my usual place: at the end. "What was groundbreaking in 1907 was hopelessly behind the times by the late 1950s and early 1960s." I have less than a month to finish it.

Actually, I have documentary evidence that I already graduated. Since I thought I was going to finish last semester, I applied for graduation in May. They didn't know until afterward that I didn't actually finish, so they printed my name in the commencement bulletin.

Marlon Brando, 1924-2004

A Streetcar Named Desire, On the Waterfront, The Wild One, The Godfather, The Last Tango in Paris, Apocalypse Now. There were few more memorable actors in film history. Where's his freaking parade?