Writing the "Taxi" review

I'm Still Tortured by What I Saw in Iraq

Although I didn't take any concrete details from this for my review, it was relevant to the subject of torture and helped soothe the indignation caused by the movie. This ex-interrogations team leader who saw the torture and abuse with his own eyes talks about his team's alternative techniques and the incredible results they yielded . It's relieving to hear a practical argument against torture to reinforce the moral ones that seem to fall on deaf ears, and to know that not everyone was conducting business like the men interviewed in the movie. I highly recommend reading this.

Elements of Style

One of my favorite things about this book is that the writing therein embraces the rules it sets forth by being pithy and vibrant. There are certain suggestions that made me particularly aware of mistakes that I frequently make:

-"Use the active voice." Consequently, active sentences are always shorter than passive ones, which proves the maxim that "brevity is a by-product of vigor."

-"Put statements in positive form." It's much harder to evoke concrete images when you deny the negative instead of asserting the positive. "He was obese" > "He was not skinny"

-"Whether" > "As to whether" I say the latter too often.

-I unnecessarily use "case" frequently.

-I use "claim" as a synonym for "declare, maintain, or charge."

-Didn't know the difference between "disinterested" vs "uninterested"

-Should replace "due to" with "though, because of, or owing to".

-"Farther" = distance, "further" = time or quantity

-I find it nearly unavoidable to use "hopefully", but am now aware of its incorrectness at least.

-I have been trying to eliminate the word "interesting" and "nice" from my writing/speech due to their overall lack of meaning, this reinforced that

-I needed to be reminded of the Lay vs Lie problem

-I hear people use unique on a scale of "slightly unique" to "extremely unique" frequently and am reminded of this book.

-The general philosophy that concise, clear, and powerful writing is the most effective.

"The Critic As Artist"

In "The Critic as Artist" Oscar Wilde argues the bold hypothesis that criticism is the paragon of artistic expression. He writes from the perspective of Gilbert and Ernest, the former with unbridled passion for Criticism and the latter with curious skepticism. This dialogue allows Wilde to use Gilbert as his mouthpiece, which results in a proud, elitist tone that comes off a bit didactic. 

The first thing Gilbert teaches Ernest is that the creative faculty is predicated on the critical faculty. He describes the critical element as "the spirit of choice, that subtle tact of omission" and self-consciousness. A critic must have a keen awareness of what he is including and not including in his work, and it must not be an unconscious accident. "All fine imaginative work is self-conscious and deliberate." Without self-consciousness, "there is no fine art". He makes it clear that no one lacking such a "delicate instinct of selection" will ever be able to "create anything at all in art."

Once he establishes creation's complete dependence upon criticism, Wilde moves to elevate criticism above creation. Gilbert says that "It is very much more difficult to talk about a thing than to do it" because it demands "infinitely more cultivation." And because great criticism "treats the work of art simply as a starting-point for a new creation", criticism can be "creative in the highest sense of the word."

Gilbert seems extremely biased. At one point, he compares the "majestic prose" of a critic to the "sunsets that bleach or rot on their corrupted canvases" of an artist.  I can understand what he's saying about "artistic creation implying the working of the creative faculty", but I don't agree that "It is only by language that we rise above [the lower animals]." Aren't there modes of action such as music that escape language and draw upon forms of emotion that are uniquely human? His idea that language is the parent of thought explains this opinion that writing is the supreme form of expression, but I think that's questionable as well. Could language not be the refinement of the raw, unprocessed thoughts in our minds? Words are like thought crystals.

"Taxi to the Dark Side" Must be Seen

Though challenging to watch because of its incessant displays of heinous human behavior, Alex Gibney's documentary "Taxi to the Dark Side" is invaluable for the information it exposes and forces engagement with. What caused the abuses of prisoners in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay, and who is responsible? Gibney offers such a comprehensive, cogent, and incisive outline of the Bush administation's deplorable decisions during the War on Terror that the death of Afghan prisoner Dilawar actually make sense.  

Interviews with military police and intelligence officers explain how an innocent taxi-driver was taken to Bagram prison and eventually murdered. Blithe descriptions of brutality portrays the men as embarrassingly ignorant of sympathy, compassion, and mercy for their prisoners. Despite nothing but constant cries for his family, Dilawar and the other Persons Under Control are perceived as "evil people that definitely had violent intentions."

The staggeringly dense editing combines interviews footage with zooming in and out on countless photographs, diagrams and news articles. Archival footage of courtroom cases, torture handycams, and suggestive reenactments round out the slick presentation. Statistics are presented, quoted, and analyzed. Weaved throughout the steady flow of facts, condemnations, and horrific accounts is a helpful narration track that focuses the shocking revelations around the questions of "who did this?", "who is actually responsible?", and "how was this allowed?"

Gibney traces the confusion about responsible detention and interrogation techniques from Bagram with Dilawar to Guantanamo to Abu Ghraib, and then goes back to 9/11 to give context for how the rules of war got so murky in the first place. Incriminating footage of Dick Cheney saying he wants to take the gloves off and get rough with detainees gets the sinister snowball rolling in regard to redefining torture in order to get any and all information possible.

No qualms are taken in condemning the primary architects of torture; Gibney relays the scandalous information that Cheney, Bush, Alberto Gonzales, and John Yoo wrote  a series of memos arguing that the Geneva Conventions did not apply to suspected terrorists. Everything is presented logically enough to understand, even though no one wants to: a fog of ambiguity about how to behave in these difficult circumstances coupled with great pressure to produce results led to the "outrages upon human dignity" that Bush says "is so vague."

There are so many jaw-dropping displays of stupidity, inhumanity, and irresponsibility that it's impossible not to get mad, disturbed, and frustrated by this movie. Calling Cheney's comments about water-boarding being a "no-brainer" offensive would be a severe understatement. But it's those exact moments that force engagement with the material. Grappling with what has been done in our name only inspires people to act, or at least talk about it. It is made very clear to supporters of torture that it is inefficient, inhumane, and breeds contempt for the United States.

Two years ago when it was released, "Taxi" was a crushing blow to the American psyche. Things were going downhill and this movie seemingly exacerbated the bleakness. But under Obama's new anti-torture administration, Gibney's film is an educational achievement that will hopefully stand as an important document of how things used to be, instead of how things are today. 

Shooting down an album with logic

In his review of A Cross the Universe, a live album by French electro-duo Justice, David Abravanel utilizes an unusual structure that ends up being very effective. Instead of discussing individual tracks or giving a lead-in to the story behind the album, he simply posits two questions about the purpose of a live album. The entirety of the review is split between frankly answering these two questions, and it's to his credit that those answers also serve to answer the question of "Is this worth buying?"

First, he asks, "what is the purpose of a live album in the age of instant bootlegging?". He lists off qualities that stood out in pre-internet live recordings: sequencing, song selection, sound quality. This perfectly sets up his critique of those qualities in Justice's album, which are all lacking due to evidence he supplies. 

This pragmatic style is simple, yet effective because it's so logical. Due to fact that he is reviewing a live album, which has basic characteristics that need to set it apart from any other bootleg, it is possible for Abravanel to set up a hypothesis for what constitutes an enjoyable listening experience. 

When he tries to fit Justice's square peg of an album into these circle shaped criterion, his position that the album is only barely better than average is made clear. It's also thought-provoking to try and answer the questions he asks on your own, and his insightful answers will also make you ponder your own opinions about the matter. I really enjoyed this review.

"For Intimate Music, the Boldest of Designs" NYT Defense

Herbert Muschamp, the New York Times architecture critic from 1992-2004, was a champion of avant-garde, exuberantly experimental architects like Frank Gehry and Hans Scharoun. His protege Nicolai Ouroussoff was hand-picked by Muschamp's to be his successor in 2004, and since then he has taken up the mantle of applauding bold creativity in architecture quite well. 

His review of the Copenhagen Concert Hall, designed by Jean Nouvel, gives an immediate nod to the past with an evocative lead that alludes to Scharoun's Berlin Philharmonic. "It's usually considered an insult to say that an architect designs pretty packages, let alone that he borrows ideas from a dead genius." 

This is not only engaging because of the images of a sagely ghost and a gift-wrapped building, but because it hints that Ouroussoff really knows the scene. 

The "but" of the article comes literally right after that first sentence. "But Jean Nouvel should be forgiven for resurrecting old ghosts." It's implied that his work is an homage rather than a rip-off, and then the appropriate context for these historical references is given.

He reveals that the cascading balconies of the Copenhagen Concert Hall pay tribute to the similar interior of the Berlin Philharmonic. In a way it seems like Ouroussoff is also honoring the past by comparing one of his favorite ("Looking Skyward in Lower Manhattan" praises Nouvel) contemporary architect's work to one of his mentors'. He even name-drops Gehry in the next paragraph, further establishing his taste for the daringly imaginative.

Aided by his history with Muschamp and serious passion for everything post-modern, he is very knowledgeable about architecture's past, present, and future. He describes trends such as architects striving for decades to create more fluid spaces, declares that "we are in the midst of a glorious period in concert hall design", and gives an example of under-construction buildings that further prove his point. His authority comes from his education and obvious experience in the field. The density of information signals that this is coming from the perspective of an expert. 

The review is logically structured, progressing from the building's roots in history, to exterior descriptions, to cultural criticism, to interior descriptions, to praise of Mr. Nouvel himself. 

Despite his efforts to prove why this building is a step forward or relevant or culturally important, his physical descriptions are what really convinces me that this place is a masterpiece.  And the feelings he invokes from phrases like "the main performance hall wraps you in a world of luxury" complement his rave review quite well.

My attempt to review Gran Torino failed.

Looking over my Gran Torino review, it's actually rather difficult to find the thesis. It hardly works as one, but I'd have to say it's this - "The idea of a 78 year old man brutalizing a young gang member sounds comical, but seeing razor-sharp Walt unleash his elderly wrath commands nothing but awe-tinged respect." This is the first line of actual praise, and conveys my general idea that Walt is entertaining to watch.

But what it doesn't convey, nor does the rest of my review, is that I actually thought everything except Clint Eastwood was either mediocre or laughably bad. Something about my mixed feelings made me feel like I needed to lean more towards everything being good, and because I didn't completely agree with my writing, it came out sounding vague and uninspired. If I revised it, I would go much lighter on the plot summary and focus more on trashing the script/supporting performances. With plenty of evidence, of course. I was lacking on that. Lots more context would need to be given as well.

I think my review deserves a low-mid B, because the thesis is unclear, I use the cliche "Make no mistake about it", and there isn't enough criticism that's actually supported with detailed evidence. 

"Live From Baghdad" Won't Stop Broadcasting

The first casualty of war doesn't have to be the truth. Journalists behind enemy lines have risked their lives to photograph, videotape, and document the important events of war that no one would have otherwise recorded. 

Before the facts can fade into a re-writable history, these beacons of truth can broadcast vivid and permanent accounts of human experience to the world. But they have to risk everything to do it.

On the eve of January 15th, 1991, Robert Weiner and two other CNN reporters became the eyes and ears of the world when they broadcasted live throughout the night on the beginnings of war in Baghdad. The U.N's threat of military intervention in Iraq if the country did not withdraw its troops by the 15th led to a mass exodus of the press and news organizations, and thus created a rare opportunity for Weiner and his crew to be the only source of news for everyone worldwide.  

This is the climax and defining moment of HBO's 2002 movie, "Live From Baghdad". Based on Weiner's book of memoirs from his experience in Iraq, the movie itself is a document of the CNN's news-team's trials, tribulations, and triumphs in Baghdad during the six-month antebellum period before the Gulf War.  

Possibly due to HBO's decision to make the movie for television instead of the big screen, their report of CNN's reporting maintains the spirit of uncompromising news and doesn't distract itself with sensationalism. There are bodies dangling from cranes, flaming car wrecks, and Saddam's ubiquitous face, sure, but the cinematography and soundtrack combine to recreate that disconcerting, portentous atmosphere of early-90's Baghdad with gritty accuracy.

The six months unfold chaotically for the CNN crew, and the whirlwind pacing of the movie reinforces the sense that opportunities are rapidly appearing and disappearing. In order to find the news, the actors are rushing everywhere they go. At points the formula of fast-paced music plus hurried movement can be tedious.

Michael Keaton's performance as Weiner is engaging and varied. He is gung-ho and courageous enough to follow the story wherever it takes him, but witty and sharp enough to offer comedic relief on the way there. Despite his toughness and enthusiasm, the emotionally taxing environment affects him and Keaton knows how to show this.  

When forced to confront the ethics of possibly endangering an American prisoner by putting his face in the news, Weiner declares with uncertainty and anxiety that yes, he does sleep at night. His increasingly haggard face accurately resembles the wearying frenzy of thoughts that must be running through his busy mind. 

The ever-alluring Helena Bonham Carter, who plays his colleague and producer Ingrid, is a versatile support character who can balance Weiner's ego. Their rapport feels like it goes back ages, which creates sexual tension between her and Keaton. In a dimly lit bar at a "We're All Going to Die!" party, the two reminisce about drinking and it comes out that despite never having sex, they've come close on several occasions.

The CNN crew is resilient and resourceful, and eventually they procure a special communications device that will enable them to report 24 hours a day without phone lines. This proves invaluable when they are caught in the middle of anti-aircraft fire and raining bombs, with only the four-wire to communicate with headquarters in Atlanta. 

In a bit of obvious foreshadowing, Weiner declares that, "broadcasting from behind enemy lines is the journalistic equivalent of walking on the moon." At the end of the movie, his achievements are "the envy of every journalist in the world". A gratuitous montage of news anchors lauding CNN and its coverage tries to pound home the idea that Weiner is a hero.

As enjoyable and informative as this movie is to watch, it's also valuable for the questions it raises about war-time journalism. What are the consequences of media censorship?  What kind of information isn't being relayed? What would people know about the night of January 15th, 1991 in Baghdad if Robert Weiner and his team hadn't been there?

In light of the recent explosion of conflict in Gaza, and the Israeli blockade of any and all foreign press entering the area, how will the world know what is going on there? The movie's greatest strength is its relevancy and applicability to current events. It's impossible not to wonder about the implications of a war in which no information can escape after watching this movie.

By promoting Weiner's coverage of the story of a lifetime, "Live From Baghdad" serves as a reminder that intrepid journalism is crucial to the survival of truth. 

Thank you Minnesota

I read an online article from the Minnesota Star Tribune to find that all of the Hmong actors were authentic and had no previous acting experience, with the exception of Doua Moua (Spider).  I also found it interesting to know that Clint Eastwood refrained from talking to the Hmong actors off-screen so they would react to his Walt character more honestly.

Hell Hath No Fury like an Old Man Scorned

"Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while you shouldn't have fucked with? ...That's me." Gang bangers beware: Walt Kowalski is pissed off, has a violent past in the Korean War, and prejudiced enough to make an ACLU member's skin crawl. In his latest directorial offering, Gran Torino, Clint Eastwood plays a surly old curmudgeon boiling with bitter resentment for foreigners, religion, and certainly anything that could be considered "new-school". If he wants you off of his goddamn lawn, he's going to tell you from the other end of his M-1 rifle.

            After the death of his wife, Walt is left to live a lonely life with his dog Daisy and a never-ending supply of Pabst Blue Ribbon. His hardened, stubborn persona leads him to suffer an emotional disconnect from his two sons, and his predominantly Hmong neighborhood only seem to inspire unrelenting racial epithets. Apart from sharing racist jokes at the bar with his old cronies, Walt can always be found mulling around his front porch, muttering angrily to himself about the miserable state of things. 

            It is to Clint Eastwood's credit that this exaggeratedly cranky old man does not come off as a parody of himself. Harkening back to his days as the tough as nails no-bullshit cop "Dirty" Harry Callahan, Clint is the pinnacle of a grizzled badass. The idea of a 78 year old man brutalizing a young gang member sounds comical, but seeing razor-sharp Walt unleash his elderly wrath commands nothing but awe-tinged respect. Hearing him threaten that "things are going to get real fucking ugly" if he ever sees the punk again in that gruff growl is so satisfying that it's reminiscent of watching Anton Chigurh or the Joker. You never want to run into these people, but you can't get enough of watching them on-screen.

            Unfortunately, the rest of the cast can’t match the high standard set by Clint. His Hmong neighbors whom he eventually warms up to all seem wooden, and interactions between Walt and Sue especially end up feeling forced and awkward. But this doesn't end up detracting very much once you know that they are all played by authentic Hmong people, and only one of them has had any previous acting experience.

            The real focus of the movie is on Walt's self-liberation from his haunted past, which occurs through various watershed moments with these people. Their closeness feels sincere and touching from the perspective of Walt, which leads to an inspiring climax in which Walt's actions manage not only to surprise your expectations but also perfectly punctuate the character. The script is smart, serves up some engaging twists, and gives Walt the room to explore his past and figure out the nature of himself.

            Make no mistake about it -- Clint Eastwood is the crux of this movie, and his performance is triumphant and powerful. Whether you're laughing at his ignorance and absurdity, touched by his changes of heart, or just floored by how dominant his on-screen presence is, it's hard not to be impressed by Mr. Eastwood and his accomplishment with this film.