The Mark of Zorro

I picked up a couple DVDs of old silent movies this weekend, yielding me a total of five Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. films to get acquainted with. I started with The Mark of Zorro, the 1920 film in which Fairbanks established himself as Hollywood’s definitive action star. It was also the first Zorro movie ever made. Fairbanks picked out the obscure hero of a single pulp magazine story and turned him into an icon, to his own and the author’s great profit.

(Note to Hollywood: My books are still available. Better move now.)

Silent movies have to be taken on their own terms. Naturalism wasn’t what they were about. They were almost a form of interpretive dance, in which the actors used their faces, their eyes and their whole bodies to convey their “lines,” only sparsely supplemented by those black dialogue cards. The great D. W. Griffith did a lot of pioneering work using the camera to assist in his storytelling, but little of that kind of artistry is apparent in this film. Basically they set the camera in one spot and shot the scene in front of it.

Modern treatments of Zorro fall prey to Hollywood’s deep-seated need to be relevant and significant. Fairbanks had no such pretensions. He picked the vehicle because it offered lots of scope for the gymnastics at which he excelled, and that’s how he used it. There’s talk of “justice” and “oppression” (Zorro is described, among other things, as a defender of the “natives,” something I haven’t seen emphasized in the more recent adaptations, though I missed the second Banderas film), but that’s set dressing. It’s really a movie about a really agile guy running rings around the plodding villains, and laughing at them while he does it. It’s one notch of seriousness from being a full-fledged comedy.

And it’s a lot of fun, taken on its own terms. Continue reading The Mark of Zorro

Untitled or What Do You Know?

Mary DeMuth asks what we know about writing and art, if anything. She says:

I am finally reading My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. I wish I would’ve read it sooner. I’m halfway through the book where the young Asher Lev, an undiscovered but brilliant artist, meets with his soon-to-be mentor. This is what the mentor says to Asher:

“This is not a toy. This is not a child scrawling on a wall. This is a tradition; it is a religion, Asher Lev. You are entering a religion called painting. It has its fanatics and its rebels. And I will force you to master it. Do you hear me? No one will listen to what you have to say unless they are convinced you have mastered it. Only one who has mastered a tradition has a right to attempt to add to it or to rebel against it. Do you understand me, Asher Lev?”

Then she asks several questions I’m not qualified to answer.

Exhibition of Forgeries

The Brooklyn Museum plans to exhibit art forgeries next year. The curator said, “‘The idea of connoisseurship’ — how scholars examine a work of art in order to determine its authenticity and proper attribution — ‘has a lot of general appeal.'”

Postmortem on a good weekend

Taken all in all, it was a pretty nice weekend.

My major problem was with an earworm. I got intrigued by Coldplay’s song, “Viva La Vida,” as heard on the iPOD commercials. So I checked it out on YouTube, and found the lyrics. Religious references. Interesting.

So I dug deeper, and discovered (as I should have guessed from the beginning) that it’s an anti-Christian song (or at least anti- any form of religion that teaches damnation).

Apparently, in Chris Martin’s world, people who believe there’s a Hell think they rule the world. Believing in final Judgment is arrogant. Believing, on the other hand, that you’re your own supreme authority and will never have to answer to God, testifies to a becoming modesty.

(By the way, the line that says, “Now I sleep alone” is a lie. I know I’m unreasonably criticizing a perfectly good metaphor. I’m sure he doesn’t sweep streets either. But in my opinion any guy who’s married to Gwyneth Paltrow gets diminished tolerance for complaints about his sleeping arrangements.)

So I played the video for Billy Joel’s “The Longest Time” a couple times to wash the earworm out. The apotheosis of Doo-wop, that song.

Robbinsdale held its annual Whiz Bang Days celebration this weekend, and in connection with my usual walk to the Chinese buffet for lunch, I also browsed through the merchant tables. I came away with some cheap DVDs and a touch of dehydration which (I suspect) caused the passing hip pain I endured Saturday night.

Sunday I was all better again, and that was good, because it was another Viking day. Norway Day at Minnehaha Park, Minneapolis. And yes, we did some fighting. I started poorly, but improved as the day wore on. Which goes to show that if I ever get called on to fight with real swords in a post-EMP* world, I’ll do fine as long as I can survive being killed in the first few fights. Continue reading Postmortem on a good weekend

Dirty Harry reviews Klavan’s latest

Dirty Harry reviews Andrew Klavan’s new thriller, Empire of Lies, today.

I tried to order it online myself (not even waiting for the paperback, which is a big decision for me). The problem is, I do my online buying from Barnes & Noble, and they don’t stock the book. Only the audio book.

Hmm, you don’t suppose there’s a political consideration involved, do you?

Taking the Credit

There are disputes over the authorship of two popular Christian poems. “My client wants to preserve for all time the knowledge in the public that his mother wrote this poem,” states one lawyer, and some of us have to ask what the real point of that knowledge would be–credit or money?

The Great Tony Snow

Tony Snow, commentator and former press secretary for the president, died of cancer at 2:00 a.m. this morning at Georgetown University Hospital. He was 53. I think if talk radio commentators were stereotyped as being like Tony Snow, few people would have room to complain about them. He was a great man.

Let me add that I hope to him in heaven. I believe he was Catholic, and I heartily disagree with the doctrine of the Catholic church, but I’ve heard Tony talk about life and dealing with cancer a few times and I believe he understood the gospel.

You know, I never feel much when public figures pass away. I don’t know them, even if I admire them, so I don’t feel more than a bit of disappointment, if that. So why am I crying now?

More on Tony Snow at World

I’m not the man I used to be

I was composing a funny blog entry in my mind today. The premise was that I’d pretend to come clean with you, and admit that I’m not Lars Walker, Norwegian Avoidant has-been author, but Dwight Krupinsky, an insurance adjustor from Spokane with a wife and kids, who’s created this false identity for some reason I never entirely worked out.

It came to nothing, but I had identity on my mind.

Then I stopped for groceries after work, and used my credit card at checkout. I have an old credit card from a certain issuing bank, and it features a picture of me. The bank came up with the picture-on-the card gimmick on the theory that a card with the owner’s picture would be harder to use fraudulently (this was when a lot fewer people had internet access). I don’t think they’ve pushed the program for years, but every time they replace my card, it still has the picture.

It’s actually become counterproductive. Continue reading I’m not the man I used to be

The future is here

Dennis Ingolfsland over at Recliner Commentaries passes on a report from WoodTV 8 in Grand Rapids, MI:

Christian publisher Zondervan is facing a $60 million federal lawsuit filed by a man who claims he and other homosexuals have suffered based on what the suit claims is a misinterpretation of the Bible.

Because the “Gay” movement is all about, you know, live-and-let-live.

Book Reviews, Creative Culture