Kubrick: Dr. Strangelove or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb Act III
The question of Act I of Dr. Strangelove is "How could a thing like this happen?" The question of Act II is "Why would a thing like this happen?" and the question of Act III is "What if this happened?" The narrative takes us right up to the brink of unthinkability, then, rather incredibly, goes over it.
Kubrick: Dr. Strangelove or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb Act II
One thing I neglected to mention the other day regarding Kubrick’s screenplays is his propensity for long scenes. This wonderfully cinematic director has, paradoxically, a yen for long scenes, very long in some cases, another preference he shares with Tarantino. Generally in Kubrick movies, he’ll present a long scene, and then there will be a big leap forward in time where a bunch of stuff happens we don’t see, and then there be another long scene. The most famous of these cuts is in 2001, where we jump cut a few million years from an ape using a bone as a tool to satellites orbiting in space, but they occur in most of Kubrick’s work. Act I of Dr. Strangelove has a total of eight scenes, eight (a typical screenplay would have at least twenty, and probably more) and Act II has even fewer. There are seven actual scenes, but the bulk of the act is actually two scenes broken up into six sections.
Nota bene!
Attention all Wadpaw readers!
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
‘ s long-aborning book, Masterpiece Comics, is now in stores and at your favorite online retailers. Purchase of this volume is mandatory. Do not go back to school without it, it will mark you with the badge of cool. It is a collection of comics/literature mash-ups that illuminate both the comics and the literature in the process. Sikoryak finds striking parallels between high culture and low, and you will never look at Crime and Punishment again, assuming of course that you’ve looked at Crime and Punishment at least once in the first place.
Kubrick: Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb Act I
Stanley Kubrick is lauded, justifiably, for his uncanny eye for composition and his chilly way of setting up a shot. But for me, Kubrick’s genius, like Tarantino’s, begins long before the cameras roll. It begins with his understanding of character and his approach to narrative, both of which were mind-bending for their times and still arresting today.
Some thoughts on Inglourious Basterds
I intend to write a scene-by-scene analysis of Quentin Tarantino’s densely layered, altogether captivating new movie, but that will have to wait until the DVD release. For now, I’d like to offer this round table discussion I had over the past couple of days with
Dreams
For a new project, I’m interested in my readers’ most common dreams.
For instance, for a long time, years, I had only one dream. It was a variation on the actor’s nightmare: I was always booked for some kind of performance in some faraway city, and I was always showing up the day of the show and finding out that my housing was bizarrely inadequate (one dream had me staying in a rotting trailer in the middle of a woods), my transportation confusing and dangerous (subway trains without platforms, jet planes that must take off or leave in the middle of city centers), and the venue always in a state of turmoil. And, of course, I was always showing up without a clear idea of what the show was and what my part was in it.
The other dream I’ve had for at least the past twenty years is that I’m showing up at a college campus on finals day and realizing that I’m due to take an exam and haven’t been to any of the classes that semester. In fact, I haven’t even been on the campus before.
I used to have the dream where I showed up at work naked. The strange thing about that one was that no one else ever noticed that I was there, much less that I was naked.
And, in times of great stress, I’d have flight dreams every night. I would have them so often that they became routine, I would know when one was starting and know exactly what to do. I had them so often that my flight-dream life became an easy, comfortable place, and flying became no big deal — I could just as easily fly down the hallway to get to class as soar over my neighborhood in the moonlight.
I’ve had some version of every kind of dream reported in the Wikipedia "Common Themes" paragraph, with the exception of the one with the dreamer’s teeth rotting and falling out. That one strikes me as bizarre.
Jury duty postscript
The above is the seal of the county of Los Angeles. I saw it yesterday handsomely mounted at the elevator bank outside the jury pool room. My understanding of county seals is probably not all it could be, but to my reckoning, the official mascot of the county of Los Angeles is a Greek lady standing under the sun, by a riverbank, in front of some crazy-ass mountains, holding an armload of produce. But a Greek lady standing under the sun by a riverbank in front of some crazy-ass mountains with an armload of produce is not all Los Angeles County is famous for! No, many other things come from Los Angeles County. Clockwise from left, we can see that Los Angeles County is famous for its oil wells, the Hollywood Bowl (where, it appears, a Christian service is held under the stars), cows, fish, Spanish Armadas, and drafting supplies.
As it happens, the above is the old county seal. Below is the new one.
As you can see, Los Angeles County still considers itself, first and foremost, a place where a woman in loose-fitting clothes stands under the sun, by a riverbanks, in front of some crazy-ass mountains, with an armload of — something. The woman has gone from Greek to Mexican, I think, which is probably a step in the right direction. But she’s not holding sheaves of whatever-it-is anymore. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what the new woman is holding, but there doesn’t seem very much of it. Perhaps that’s just another sign of budget cuts. What is that stuff in her bowl anyway? Olives? Rocks? Tar, from the world-famous La Brea Tarpits?
And we can see that the bounty of Los Angeles County has changed as well. No more oil wells in Los Angeles County, Charlie! They’re gone! And no more Christian services at the Hollywood Bowl either! You know what we have here instead? Spanish Missions, that’s what! They’re all over the place, now that the oil wells are gone! Cows and fish are still in plenty of abundance, thankfully, and our Spanish Armadas are still as common as ever. And no one, it appears, will ever take away Los Angeles County’s primacy in drafting supplies.
Liveblogging jury duty!
My time is up. I must serve my jury duty this week. I write to you from the jury pool room in the county courthouse in Inglewood.
The way jury duty works in Los Angeles county is this: you are bound to clear your schedule for five business days. If you don’t get put on a trial on the first day, you can go home and not have to come back for a year or more. However, if you get chosen to serve, you have to expect the trial to last three to five days.
A few words on District 9
District 9 is, by a wide margin, the best movie I have seen this year.
Do yourself a favor: don’t read anything about it, don’t listen to what anyone says about it, just stop doing whatever you’re doing right now and go to see it. I’m serious. It’s absolutely flabbergasting.
How good is it? This is how good it is: while I was watching the movie, every ten minutes or so I had to remember to force myself to blink — I didn’t want to miss a second.
Anyone who would like to discuss the movie below the fold is invited to do so, so if you haven’t seen it, be warned: comments may contain spoilers.
roller-coasters
The whole family went recently to Legoland. Everyone had a wonderful time. Kit (6) discovered the thrill and terror of roller-coasters, a thrill and terror Sam (8) is not quite ready for, in spite of being 18 months older than Kit. Kit rode with me on The Dragon six times, and Coaster-Saurus once with her mother.
Last night, I read Roller Coaster by Marla Frazee to the kids, which they both enjoyed quite a bit, and the following conversation ensued.