Upper Peninsular Weekend.

Bart?

Eat Your Heart out, Maine.

One with Nature.

Implications.

What are the limits of the things a single person is capable of doing? How do we know of the things that we can accomplish and the things we will only ever glimpse in the rear-view of life? Furthermore, what allows us to accurately assess ourselves without falling victim to the pitfalls of hubris? Human life is an exceedingly insular experience so much so that one can never do better than guess the intentions and thoughts of those around them. Because of this, one stumbles through their days in a gross approximation of what they believe the world around them will be able to tolerate -- how others will assess them. If one cannot properly gauge one's own place in the grand scheme of social consciousness and order, how can they ever make a forward-thinking decision without the larger social contexts that would properly inform them?

Obviously, we all make choices every day. We make them without really thinking about implications. In part, this is likely a mechanism we are trained since a young age to enact subconsciously in order to avoid the confusing and aggravating mental aerobics that result in wordy paragraphs of this nature. Admittedly many of the little choices we make in a given day are of almost nonexistent consequence to anything. What color shirt we choose to wear doesn't really effect the course of our lives in any discernible way. The kinds of decisions that matter are the kind in which it seems most intimidating to confront. Financial decisions and the truly intertwined nature of money in the social context of a human life realistically weigh monumentally. Choice of careers, choice of partners, choice of location and all the logistical and personal ramifications thereof; all of these are so large that they paralyze the logic centers of the brain. Perhaps it is how we react to this phenomenon that defines the paths we choose.

Reaction is key. All the forethought in the world, all the confidence, means nothing if in the end we are unable to act upon it. Some people react to the crushing weight of our own influence on the course of our relatively short lives with ease. They accomplish the goals they need to advance to a state of comfortability within the strictures of social human living. They do this simply because it is the thing to do and it suits the potential possibilities of their lives. Others over analyze (the irony of which does not go overlooked). They let the weight of the realizations freeze them in a perpetual state of unmoving. Some others dislike the idea of adhering to some great and imposing social norm.

The questions posed here are too hard to objectively answer. Everyone needs to choose for themselves -- react. Certain factors can motivate us to change, to envision a better future; the ability to overcome our natural inclinations. In the end, we choose almost without thinking. Our minds are already hard-wired to assess the world in the way we have grown accustomed. Perhaps the real secret to life is to live it. To react and live in the moment. Some would say there is always time to 'stop and smell the flowers', but maybe stopping is the exact opposite of what the nature of time dictates? The limits to our potential are, for the most part, creations of our own designs. Maybe we already have the answers to the questions of decisions and the ways in which they affect our lives. They are already there waiting for us to acknowledge what we already know.

The Accelerating Oblivion Race with no Finish Line.

As I get older the passage of time and the sequence of events that I experience become increasingly perceptively transient. Perhaps it is a symptom of growing older, and maybe it has something to do with the age group of which I am a part. Regardless of the reason, events accelerate more and more and I find myself astounded with how quickly time passes and how trivial the actions of myself and all the people around me seem. All around people live, they get into relationships, they get promoted, they graduate, they move, they achieve and they strive to succeed. Lately all of these endeavors have left me cold in that my mind continually seems to focus on the bigger end goal -- in other words, to what ends do we toil away in our little lives? Do we work towards some benevolent 'greater good'? Are we really furthering humankind by getting a degree and working a 40 hour a week job for the rest of our lives? Is artistic expression of any more value? For every 'Mona Lisa' or 'Sistine Chapel', a thousand thousand artistic expressions will have absolutely zero effect on the rest of the world. Movies are made and given increasing importance, but what does it add? A distraction; a subterfuge to divert attention to the fact that we are all hurtling light speed towards an ambiguous ending?

What's the point?

Perhaps the point is selfish. Maybe life and all of our secret machinations should be geared exclusively towards our own subjective pleasures. Maybe we should travel the world to see everything we can. Maybe we get the degrees so that we have the money to buy all the nice things that we believe we should have to obtain a complete life. Selfishly we can pretty much have it all, or better yet anything that we define 'it all' to be. Maybe. As for me, I find that a subjective existence is perhaps personally rewarding, but ultimately meaningless. As masters of our own destinies, we are in control to the reaches of our own little confined worlds. I can see how that would be enough for some, but personally (and perhaps ironically -- subjectively) it seems hollow. Anyone can be astonishing if they're setting the bar for being it.

If I was being honest, I think I am probably complicating matters far beyond what they should be. Fulfillment is subjective. One man's success is another man's wallowing. In the end, does any of it have meaning beyond the fact that we have satisfied ourselves? Is that enough? I enjoy my life. I do things. I do as many things as I can, but instead of feeling accomplished I wonder if I fill my life with events to ignore the fact that I'm doing it because I can't handle what's left without them.

Life is a series of events chained together to create a personal and unique timeline that ends up defining our existence. What if that series of events are just an unstoppable collection of moments we blindly choose as we miss the fact that time will run out before we ever get close to putting it in perspective? The more we do the faster time ticks away and sooner rather than later we turn around and realize we're just a series of memories that may or may not matter. And by the time we've realized this, isn't it too late to get context? Time is too big and we are too small to ever understand it the way its meant to be. I probably have a lot of life left to live. Still, I can't shake the feeling that the rest of it will play out fairly predictably; universally speaking. I'm racing towards oblivion at the variable speed of time and no matter what I do I can't seem to find how that counts. Is that the point?

A Terrible Night To Have A Curse.

Foggy night. Late night walk. Pictures.

Semester Series: Context and Achievement in Citizen Kane.

Citizen Kane is a lot of things. On one hand, it is a film about one larger-than-life man and his seemingly fantastic life. On another, Citizen Kane is a sterling touchstone of both America at the time of its release and one of the first glimpses of the true and realized potential of cinema. This film attempts to take on the scope of an entire life and put it into the perspective of a single word -- a word which is without context and that propels the exploration deep into territory far more significant than its subject. I'll be the first to admit that I am usually the first to line up to denounce universally heralded works in media. Far too often I feel that Hollywood tradition being what it is, truth often gets lost in the ether. To my genuine surprise I found myself thoroughly entranced by Citizen Kane for a number of reasons; many of which may be emblematic of its legacy and staying power.

Chief among my surprise was the overall look of the film. Welles frames almost every shot in the entire film that it could be a still picture. Each frame is deliberate and filled almost to bursting with details. These very same details are what set this film apart from its contemporaries. The perception of modern generations is that old films were generally more 'theatric'. This is to say that acting was more of a grand melodrama than an acute approximation of real life. In keeping with this trend, movie sets of the time felt more manufactured. A set was indeed a set; meant to give context to location but not become anything more than dressing for a scene. Citizen Kane defies this tradition as every location in every scene has character. The world of this film feels very much real, very much believable. This tactile sense lends a gravity to the film that can't be denied and establishes Citizen Kane as a true departure from the theatrical roots of the art form.

Aiding in its picturesque quality is the lighting. Welles lit the film from an artistic eye. Dramatic and contrasting shadows paint every scene in gritty realism. Actors' faces are not always lit perfectly, and they move across the scene through beams of light cascading from windows or lamps. Still, even though the lighting may lend itself to reality, one cannot shake the sense that every ray is cast with purpose. Every silhouette adds to the frame that, combined with the elaborate settings and locations, demands to be taken in by the eye. Citizen Kane is a film that employs almost every tactical advantage of the form and achieves it with effortless perfection. No one element of this film ever arrests your suspension of disbelief or strains the logical understanding of information. Even while it reaches for both cinematic and technical heights, Citizen Kane never feels like its presuming to be anything more than it is. In essence, each element bolsters the next to simply exist; nothing more.

The above elements would be enough in many cases to justify the lasting impression of the film to modern audiences were it not for the story. In strokes both grand and mundane, this paradox of achievement is in no small part testament to the greatness of this film. By definition, capturing the scope of a human life in the span of a couple of hours is grand enough achievement on its own. To maintain the feeling that said human life is just as real and actual (mundane) as any other is perhaps more crucial. There is no denying that the film pivots and flourishes exclusively from Charles Foster Kane. All at once Kane is equal parts Bruce Wayne and James Bond -- possessing all the reckless excess of those characters while at the same time their tragic flaws and adding an intangible human element. Kane is the quintessential archetype for ordinary man of ordinary means thrust into extraordinary wealth or circumstance. This makes him engrossing and relatable all at once, and it is his gravitas as well as his presence that makes the film work. Indeed, in some ways Citizen Kane isn't even about its titular character. Instead it often chooses to focus on his very effect on those around him in an attempt to better understand his life. This movie is a lot like life in that it is about context. The context of one life in light of itself. The context of the lives of others in contrast to another. Citizen Kane endures because it's simple on a level anyone can understand.

Finally, and many of my classmates have commented on this in their posts, Citizen Kane teaches an important lesson. Charles Kane is a man who could have anything and yet always lacked for substance. There are many scenes illustrating this point in the film, perhaps none more resonant than Leland and Kane's late night discussion on the eve of his losing the race for governor. There, a drunken Leland actualizes the dilemma of Kane's entire life. Kane gives in an attempt to gain, but instead of a monetary gain he wishes for an emotional one. Simply put he wants to be loved and from this he achieves both his greatest successes and his most profound failures. In the end I believe it all winds down to his final words: Rosebud. Kane was a child plucked at an unbelievably young age from his childhood and forced to be scion to a wealth he didn't choose. Rosebud is his childhood sled, but more than that it is his stolen childhood. It is the stolen love of his mother and his family. Rosebud is the unspoken rejection by his mother which in turn is the denial of the most basic thing a person needs -- love. The rest of Kane's life is a pursuit of that lost moment. He fills it with people and gestures and possessions, none of which is able to fill the hole in his being -- a hole that was compensated for by an overbearing selfishness. Not a selfishness born of malice or want, but an unconscious one at a fundamental level.

What I am trying to say is that Citizen Kane in the context of its main character is a story about being human. It lasts because even though it is slightly larger-than-life, it maintains a sentiment everyone lives on a daily basis. This combined with its technical feats make Citizen Kane more than substantial enough to bear lasting study and adoration not just for now, but for times to come. If nothing else, this film is undeniably 'tight'. Tight in the sense that its parts are as good as its whole, and nothing in its narrative is a stretch of the mind. Perhaps this is why it has avoided critical scrutiny and, more importantly, the test of time.

Semester Series: Universality of Characterization in Star Wars.

Star Wars succeeded due to a number of factors. Perhaps the most important of these was characterization, but perhaps not in the way that one would first think of the term. Star Wars was a film that arrived with little fanfare and almost zero expectation. The concept of science fiction, particularly that of space-faring humanoids having intergalactic adventures, was not a new one. Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek had debuted in 1966, almost eleven years prior to the first Star Wars film. It would likely be safe to assume that both the film effect and cinematic climate of the time were not ideally tuned for the film's success. When Star Wars debuted, it defined the 'event' movie. Here was a film that permeated the public consciousness and capitalized on that zeitgeist in an important and pivotal way: merchandising. From novelties to T-shirts but especially action figures, Star Wars was an in-demand property.

I wouldn't go to such lengths to elucidate the success of Star Wars both as a film and as a phenomenon if that success was not predicated by one specific element. Characterization raised Star Wars above the level of any genre movie before it and made something as niche as science fiction acceptable to a wide audience in a way that was unprecedented for the time. George Lucas took what was essentially a simple hero tale and made it flourish thanks in large part to his ability to flesh out a world of believable locales and peoples. Science fiction before the release of Star Wars was generally very clean and free of imperfection. What Lucas so brilliantly did was inject 'character' into the world he created. Things were dirty and used. Luke tells his Uncle Owen that the robots (droids) they were purchasing were falling apart. The Millenium Falcon, perhaps the most beloved and well-known fictional space vessel, is bluntly referred to as 'a piece of junk'. Far from degrading the appeal of these elements, viewers felt drawn to them. We can all relate to a car that doesn't run like we wish it did, and so the Millenium Falcon became the beloved junker car everyone couldn't help but champion. This same character was essential in Mos Eisley spaceport. The Cantina scene where Luke runs afoul of a pair of alien criminals feels at once exciting and real in its gritty portrayal. The direct contrast of the comparatively sterile Galactic Empire and their spotless Death Star effectively tells the audience everything they would need to know about the villains without ever uttering a word. Every setting in Star Wars has a history without ever showing it; something that can best be defined as the essence of 'character'.

Of course it would be a misstep to hang all of the successful characterization on the fully realized worlds alone. George Lucas populated his fantastical space-action film with relatable characters that served not only as capable protagonists, but at the same time as cipher personalities on which the viewer can project their own aspirations for adventure. Luke Skywalker was the young dreamer who imagined greatness, but found himself thrust into circumstances much bigger than one could fathom. Princess Leia was the freedom fighter who believed clearly in a greater cause, but at the same time served as the plucky girl every boy wanted to meet and every girl wanted to be. Perhaps the most effective of characters in all of Star Wars mythology is rogue smuggler Han Solo. Played to affable aplomb by Harrison Ford, Han is arrogant when he needs to be; serious when it is called for; funny at exactly the right time; and even a murderer when it serves his interests (Han shot first). Together these characters made the film what it was. The plot and theme of Star Wars were nothing that was not already present in old adventure serials like Flash Gordon or the like, but what made it stand out was a trio of young heroes who the audience cared about and wanted to succeed -- a sentiment that wouldn't exist had the characterization been lacking.

To a large extent, the success or failure of the many blockbusters to follow since the release of Star Wars has hinged on the strength of its character. It does not take much to think of many films that, despite their impressive visual effects and epic scale, have failed to stir audiences in the least. To make a blanket statement one way or the other commenting on the query of whether films that have followed Star Wars are better or worse at developing character in lieu of a bombastic action setting would be erroneous. The case for 'staying power' can always be cited; that many films come and go, but few are as known or remembered as Star Wars. The truth, I think, is actually better served when the success of characterization in a film is measured in how effectively it achieves the effortless balance of spectacle with the intimate believability of its characters and settings. To put a label on that unidentifiable something, a film needs 'heart'. Without 'heart' a movie feels lifeless, and the audience recognizes it and removes themselves from it. Perhaps by identifying what specifically made Star Wars 'work' in and of itself, we are better able to understand how and why the blockbusters that have been released since have succeeded and/or failed.

Semester Series: The Entertainment of 'Unreality' Television.

I think humans have an expectation in life that the things that we see and that we are told have a weight of truth to them. This is evidenced by the fact that no one generally likes to be lied to. As a matter of understanding the world around us, we need to be trusting to a certain degree or else we would live our lives in constant anguish over whether or not the world around us was 'real'. In a sense, the assumption that certain things are facts is what makes life tangible. Without this, we enter an entirely complex realm in which questions of what constitutes 'reality' begin to become overwhelming.

This week I watched Cake Boss. I have seen the show a few times before and I have enjoyed it because it is about food -- specifically sweets. I am a person who absolutely loves to eat, so my attachment to this show lies entirely in imagining what the different cakes would taste like. My interest in their aesthetic merits is extremely low, though on an artistic level it is often hard to deny the level of skill required to create them. Cake Boss follows a similar format to most reality television in that it revolves around the day to day lives of very human characters and the various 'drama' that unfolds in the process of doing so. Interviews sprinkle the half hour show with insights into the thought process of the various people being followed, and by the end of the half hour everything is more or less resolved. Cake Boss follows the idea of a specific subject each week, be it creating fancy cakes in a limited amount of time for a big wedding magazine, or an evil plant cake for a museum fundraiser. Layered throughout the footage showing how such cakes are made are personal arguments, worries, and foibles that at once make the show engaging and worth watching outside of basic cake assembly.

This week's topic questions the reality of 'reality' television and asks whether this possible subterfuge would in any way affect one's enjoyment. From a personal standpoint, the fact that Cake Boss probably has certain edits that play with the timeline of events or scripted lines that make interview sessions seem much more practiced does not really bother me. As I stated above, my interest lies predominantly in my own fascination with sweets. That's my own reason, but it stands to note that reality television changes its value dependent on what a viewer expects out of it. On a show like Cake Boss, I cannot imagine there are many who would be disheartened to find that much of the show is fabricated in such a way as to extract the most drama and intrigue. Understandably, were the show plainly about the process of making gorgeous cakes the viewing audience would not have much reason to return week after week. On the flip side of this, many reality television shows' intrigue hinges heavily on the fact that what we are seeing on the screen is real and indeed so bizarre that we cannot help but watch (the old 'can't look away from a car accident' idea). As I said when I began this post, humans expect a certain level of truth in the things they perceive in order to in turn trust what they are seeing. In the case of shows such as Cake Boss or Mythbusters or even Dirty Jobs, the realism acts as a buffer for whatever it is the show is actually about -- in these cases cakes, myths and science, and dirty jobs.

The problem that occurs when shows like Rock of Love or The Real Desperate Housewives of... fabricate large portions of its 'narrative' to seem more interesting is that the viewer runs the risk of disconnecting from their interest. For example, if we were to learn that an inflammatory remark said offscreen by a housemate on a dating show was ADR'ed (additional dialogue recording -- essentially recorded later in a studio to be added into the show later) instead of said in the moment; it would remove much of the shock of the fight we were watching. The same goes for moments that happen on camera that were scripted or at least strongly suggested by producers. We watch reality TV mainly because it is morbidly fascinating on some level that fellow humans exist somewhere who could be so uniquely damaged. The entertainment is derived from the fact that we can relate on the basis of being human, but cannot fathom how a human mind could handle or make the decisions that we witness.

Reality TV is more a heightened form of reality that is polished through editing and other various tricks to resemble the real world, but not actually approach anything like it. In this day and age, I think it is pretty universally accepted that most reality TV is garbage. The modern viewer is conditioned to watch with an eye to this and perhaps derives enjoyment from discerning the aspects of the show that aren't fake. In this light, the reality of the 'reality' show does not matter so much as the entertainment is actively derived by the viewer -- we take what we want from it