Tynan's Anger

Dear Mr. Rosenbaum,

I wanted to respond to your arguments about Inglourious Basterds, especially your call for "enthusiasts for Inglourious Basterds to come up with some guidance about what grown-up things this movie has to say to us about World War 2 or the Holocaust—or maybe just what it has to say about other movies with the same subject matter."

First off, I wanted to say that I am glad that you were able to argue this case. It was a point of view that needed to be heard on the discussion of the film, and few critics are now able to argue that case, even within the highest ivory towers of academia.

The movie certainly did cross a line for me; it is difficult for it not to cross a line for any Jew with an active concern for the larger scope. The bigger problem for me is that the line that Tarantino crosses was one that already was crossed years ago by Spielberg in Schindler's List—a movie that came out when I was in the first grade. If we are going to take a Sontag-esque evaluation of camp culture, I would argue that there is more value in a movie Inglourious Basterds than in a movie like Defiance, which takes the same revenge fantasy into supposedly morally astute territory. By the same logic, I would argue that there is more value in Dr. Strangelove than in a movie like On the Beach, a position few would question today, even if few would argue that case in 1963, most likely due to the same forces that have given Tarantino a pass but were infuriated by Sophie's Choice.

For me, at least, Tarantino is falling into the same trap that Spielberg has fallen into, which is to shamelessly treat the political subjects in the same stylistic manner as his earlier, more apolitical films. I would argue that it is the best movie Tarantino has made since Pulp Fiction, but compared to the Kill Bill movies and Grindhouse, that's not saying anything drastic.

The difference between Tarantino and Spielberg is that Tarantino is more open about his shamelessness, a rhetorical tactic that is too often misperceived in postmodern discussions as a form of honesty rather than a way to gloss over ethically dubious motivations. Nonetheless, I would prefer apathy and blindness towards the larger perspective than Spielberg's approach, which is to make deeply flawed and over simplistic ethical justifications backed by an overwhelming marketing campaign. I'd venture to say that most film enthusiasts of my age are much more willing to overlook the overwhelming power of a marketing campaign than I am, to the point where otherwise indefensible films that were marketed well in the '90s become difficult to defend against increasingly weaponized ironic defenses.

For instance, no matter how much I try to argue that The Counterfeiters is a fairer and ultimately better assessment of the Holocaust and World War II than Schindler's List or Inglourious Basterds, few are willing to hear me. With enough attention to all three films, it becomes increasingly difficult to argue to the contrary without complete ignorance of the ethics of the Holocaust. What worries me more is that I, like most members of a generation, have less of a vehicle to provoke such a discussion while still making a living outside of academia. I suppose that being able to talk about film in such a manner is a luxury I am lucky to have anyway, but it allows the ever-pernicious forces of marketing to dominate most discussions of film.

I would like to say that while I was happy to see your contribution to the discussion on Inglourious Basterds, my major qualms were the following:

First off, your argument assumes Barthes' view of the Holocaust as a spectacular moment in history, a position I do not agree with, mainly because it comes from a predominately Eurocentric historical narrative. While the systematic qualities of the Holocaust are still the most resonant legacy of that genocide, is it worse, for instance, to have a movie that treats a historical atrocity like the Holocaust immaturely, or to have no American film even begin to address a tragedy like the Nanking Massacre? Furthermore, is the cheaply bilateral Jews vs. Nazis trope that Tarantino has more or less newly minted with Inglourious Basterds any more horrific than the inescapable and no less "unreal" tradition in Western movies of Cowboys vs. Indians? As much as I struggle to defend Inglorious Basterds against the complaints you propose, I would not be able to defend Stagecoach against the same complaints.

Secondly, I would be against calling any film a product of Holocaust denial in most cases, but especially in the wake of The Passion of The Christ, a clearly vile work produced by a man who is most likely a bona-fide Holocaust denier. That movie resonated a lot more with the Palin-esque kind of reasoning that you associated with Inglorious Basterds. Very rarely do movies have the same kind of overwhelming cultural effect as The Passion of the Christ, Birth of a Nation, or Triumph of The Will, and that phenomenon is even rarer today, with a more fractured international film culture overloaded with cinematic information. Inglourious Basterds provoked little controversy, enthusiasm, or enragement beyond the first two weeks of its release, a fate that I do not think would have happened with this film in any other decade but the present one. I have hestitated to publish this letter until the film's Blu Ray/DVD release because it has taken awhile for me to fully come to terms with my feelings on the subject. But the fact that I see that date as a crucual demarcation is also an enormous generational difference.

Sincerely,
Ethan Stanislawski

Labels: ethics, holocaust, inglourious basterds, jews, jonathan rosenbaum, movies, post-modernism, quentin tarantino, steven spielberg, tynan's letters

New York has lost a lot of its luster of late, but one area in which it will retain its dominance is as a breeding ground for underground comedy. What you see in a closet-sized space in New York will often end up as a cultural phenomenon five years later, and while Andrew Connor and Mike Mathieu of The Cody Rivers Show technically hail from Seattle, they subscribe to the New York/Chicago style of comedy, which is grounded in theater, as opposed to the Los Angeles style based on semi-spiteful mockery of the arrogance and contradictions of the entertainment industry.

If right now the Frat Pack of Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen are the dominant force in comedy, in five years I guarantee you will be seeing more acts like Cody Rivers. You can argue that their style of cerebral, inverted observational comedy has already broken through, with TV shows like Important Things with Demetri Martin and Robot Chicken, but as bro-comedy icon Peter Griffin said on Family Guy, “You’re not really a success until you’re on a respectable network like NBC, ABC or CBS.” As it stands, the next wave of comedy is shaping up to be one of the most cerebral we’ve ever seen, and even within the theater realm. Cody Rivers's new revue, Meanwhile, Everywhere, may be the most joyous, hilarious, effervescent brand of cerebral comedy I’ve ever seen, and the only act of its kind that didn’t make me depressed (comedy nerd that I am) without hiding the utter chaos behind its humorous exterior.

Granted, the crowd at UNDER St. Marks was exactly the kind catered to by the Cody Rivers Show's style of comedy. Yet I am still hesitant to call any comedy act too cerebral until I am proven wrong. The fact of the matter is, the era when most comedians started performing at 16 or 17 and had to be funny to stay alive is further and further in the past. For more and more people, joining the working grind is a reality, and going without food for days for an artistic dream is even less practical than it once was; more and more comedy troupes are populated by lawyers and accountants, and even those who live in relative Bohemia are educated at places like Yale, Columbia, and Harvard.

A similar change is occurring to comedy’s audience. Those in their 20s have an unprecedented level of college education, and can pick up on little highbrow touches more than ever, even if they didn’t make much of an effort to learn in college. Thus, when Cody Rivers does a routine on speaking in opposites, mixes real-life storytelling with an absurd mock-ballet, or flips through a talk show on Greenland Independence, Robot Chicken style, by using the “magic of theater,” what was oblique even in the Steve Martin era is becoming increasingly mainstream. Needless to say, if the under-30 vote can put Obama in the White House, I think it can dictate comedic taste.

In an era when The Simpsons has turned finding parallels or previous reference points into a comedy nerd’s game, it’s still hard to find a parallel to The Cody Rivers Show, as few acts I’ve seen intertwine physical humor so seamlessly with the highbrow. In fact, the only parallels I can think of are the short absurdist plays of Beckett, Artaud, and Ionesco, and SITI's brand of physical theater, but The Cody Rivers Show is a hell of a lot funnier and a lot less depressing than all of those. Between Conner and Methieu, the classic straight man/buffoon dynamic is shifted on a nearly constant basis, and their chemistry is so strong on a physical, emotional, and intellectual level that you’d think they were soul mates—and they’ve got that covered too, by not even trying to hide the bulges in the full-body wetsuits.

I use the term "comedy nerd" liberally, nowadays, and I think that is okay in a culture where our lexicon is dominated by the nerdiest of the comedy nerds (“spam,” “yoink,” “freaks and norms,” and “cromulent” are among the relatively common terms originating from comedy that have been popularized by the Internet). In fact, things were like that even 15 years ago, before the Internet. If the postmodern philosophy of Foucault and Derrida was based on the chaotic philosophy of Nietchze, Darwin, or Kant, depending on who you ask, The Cody Rivers Show is similarly indebted to the comedic breakthroughs of Steve Martin, early Saturday Night Live, and The Simpsons. But The Cody Rivers Show is possibly as far down the rabbit hole as comedy has ever gone, turning the ability to find humor in chaos into a means of survival for the soul.

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The Cody Rivers Show: Meanwhile, Everywhere was presented at UNDER St. Marks (94 St. Marks Place) by The Horse Trade Theter Group. For future tour dates of the Cody Rivers Show, please visit www.codyrivers.com. Photos by John Meloy.

This review was originally published on Blogcritics.

Labels: cody rivers show, comedy, Demetri Martin, high art/low art, observational comedy, physical humor, post-modernism, Robot Chicken, Saturday Night Live, sketch comedy, Steve Martin

efiImage by Getty Images via DaylifeThe impact of the Barack Obama presidency is already beginning to be felt in traditionally leftist circles. Mike Daisey has already talked about how If You See Something Say Something his unscripted show attacking the military industrial complex, has already taken a different tone since the election. Jon Stewart commented on New Yorkers who are actually making eye contact. Before Obama even does a day's work as president, he has alreay inspired traditional liberals to change their minds about America in a big way. Hipsters, this decades' description of the young, artistic, independent-minded, have been buzzing. But the Obama victory may have sealed the deal on a generational shift that has occured countless times in decades previous.

Adbusters, the publication that brought you one of the most heatedly debated anti-hipster articles, has already published an article declaring apathy dead after the Obama victory. But some are deflecting the victory, saying the term hipster has been overused and misused so much that hipsterism has no meaning anymore. I have debated this topic on the Prefix forums repeatedly. But make no mistake: hipsterism has peaked; anyone who says that the term hipster has lost all its meaning is using a hipster tactic to deflect the discussion they so sorely need to have, with themselves as much as with others.

Let's be clear on one thing: the definition of what we think of when the think of the present-day hipster is easily definable. The modern hipster is a liberal arts college graduate who appreciates so-called "low" cultural works of "art" that are crude, low-quality or heavily commercialized because it is ironic. This is justified with postmodernism: If no one can develop a universal standard of what's good or bad, how can anyone say Troll 2 or Warrant is good or bad? Often, this is used to justify personal incongruities (how can I like avant-gare sculpture artists when I also appreciate the NFL)? This definition of hipster is tied to a political sense of apathy/nihilism inherited from Generation X, where a disdain for the effectiveness of politics leads youths to remove themselves from the conversation entirely.

This definition, we can all admit, has become garbled. Now, anyone can shop at American Apparel or listen to Joann Newsome and call themselves a hipster. Some will say this renders the term meaningless. But notice how saying that the definition of a word loses all its original meaning reeks of postmodern speak? And notice how admitting that lost meaning allows one to continue in the hipster mindset? One of the strongest traits of postmodernism is its infallibility—anything can be explained away in postmodernism. A whole generation has already explained away the Bush presidency. This mindset has been around for awhile.

At their core, however, humans need something to believe in, and can't remove themselves from the conversation forever. That's why I'm arguing that the election of Barack Obama is more of a symptom of a younger generation's dismissal of postmodernism-based apathy than a cause. Obama was not only a mixed racial, progressive liberal candidate for the Presidency: he was actually one who had a chance of being elected. By placing a tangible, achievable goal in front of a generation who for 8 years had felt hopeless under a Bush presidency, Obama's candidacy woke up a younger generation that was desperate for a cause but couldn't be heartbroken another time.

So yes, hipsterism has been taken over by a look and a marketing tactic. But so were the flappers, beats, hippies, punks, and Yuppies. The link that connects all of these phenomenons were that when these generational steretypes first emerged, they were new, radical and exciting. Once they became institutionalized, they ceased to be interesting, and a new tradition was paved. Hipsterism is in decline, and something new is in store. I can't predict what it will be, but I will say that apathy is nothing new to human nature. It's intellectual justification was. Keep in mind that many Obama supporters this time around were too young to fully experience the dissapointment of 2000 or 2004, This is a generation younger than the traditional hipster, one that is finally realizing that it's anger, frustrations, and importance cannot be explained away. no matter how much the increasingly graying hipsters try.

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Labels: american apparel, barack obama, commodification, generation gaps, Generation X, hipsters, irony, post-modernism

It's virtually impossible to do Titus Andronicus straight. Even by today's standards, the play's a bloodbath, which has led the likes of T.S. Elliot and Harold Bloom to dismiss the play as one of Shakespeare's worst. Bloom himself speculated that the best person to direct Titus would be Mel Brooks, and while Charles Newell of the Court Theater is not inherently a funny man, he's tried to honor the schlock value of the play with a production of Titus that consistently maintains a wink of the eye to the audience. Hidden in the program is the line "adapted by Charles Newell," but that credit should be taken to heart. Newell's production is staged as a banquet for contemporary soldiers performing Titus melodramatically in jest, carrying scripts and messing up cues. While the initial murders are played in jest, eventually reality overtakes the evening, as art takes over life (or what we're supposed to believe is life). Newell's Titus has as much to do with Shakespeare as a Seder has to do with Exodus.

The problem with adaptations like these, where lines are added and new dimensions opened, is not necessarily matter of Shakespeare purism. The issue is that when people go to a Shakespeare play, even one as ridiculous as Titus, they go to see Shakespeare. True, Newell will be the one judged by the production no matter what he does, but trying to revise Shakespeare outright is more likely to offend your audience than win them over. While the audience laughed at some of Newell's touches, they were mostly cheap laughs. At the end of the night, the audience left the theater feeling cheated.

The other problem is that when you compare your own writing to Shakespeare, even a young, immature Shakespeare, you're bound to lose. While not one of his best plays, Titus still has remarkable poetry and tragic characterizations, which trump Newell's additions even while being suffocated by Newell. Hence, the production feels like there's a better play to be found underneath what's really being seen.

"But look at me!" Newell says. "I'm revising Shakespeare!" Sorry, but that act is not inherently in and of itself noteworthy. The Court's production stretches the limits of postmodernism, and in doing so displays post-modern dramatic theory's inherent weaknesses: revisionism for the sake of revisionism does not make for a satisfying night of theater. When the production finally tries to take itself seriously, it's not believable. The production was clearly intently thought out, rigorously rehearsed, and features impressive technical design and skilled actors. Despite all that, it still feels lazy and insincere. There's no clear vision for the play, other than to say there is no vision. If I wanted to understand that there was no need for vision, I could have stayed at home on a freezing Saturday night curled up with a book of Derrida essays.

Labels: 2007-2008, charles newell, court theatre, post-modernism, shakespeare, titus andronicus