Cathedral Avenue

Sheep Meadow, NYC

2011-04-22T12:48:00.001-04:00

Angry Birds Scores

2011-04-19T23:03:00.000-04:00

This is crack rock.

2011-04-17T11:44:00.002-04:00

David Simon:

There are about 749 different shows, dramas and comedies, on television right now. Seven hundred and forty-eight of them are about the America that I inhabit, that you inhabit, that most of the viewing public, I guess, inhabits. There was only one about the other America. And it was arguing, passionately, about a place where, let’s face it, the economic rules don’t apply in the same way. Half of the adult black males in my city are unemployed. That’s not an economic model that actually works.

Via Guernica

Brady!

2011-04-09T13:47:00.002-04:00

Cultural Crapitude

2011-04-05T21:49:00.001-04:00

My last post was about the death of a medium, a mode of commerce and an experience. As I inch a tad closer to my own death today in turning 32, I present to you evidence that American culture is also on deathwatch. If you've never seen this, I challenge you to complete it. 1:45 feels like one hour, 45 minutes.

The thing is that this isn't even funny. It's really sad and irresponsible. What?

Disruption and Death

2011-04-03T12:09:00.002-04:00

Leslie and I were in the city last night, and we passed the moribund Borders on 2nd Ave. I didn't want to go in, but I'm glad we did. After the shock wore off, I started snapping pictures. Leslie didn't understand my fascination, so I explained.

Growing up in the 80s and being a young adult in the 90s, record and book stores are lodged deep in my memory. They were a huge part of my experience. If you lived in Maryland, you can't forget Kemp Mill:

Maryland also had a handful of decent used records stores, one of which I worked at right before going to college.

I didn't start really loving books until my sophomore year at UMCP (this would have been around 1998), and by that time Borders and B&N were already well-established and pushing out smaller bookstores (iTunes wasn't launched until 2001, FWIW). In fact, before too long B&N took over the UMCP Student Union book store. This was very controversial at the time, and I recall discussions about Starbucks in the libraries (did this happen? I'm unsure).

So with the death of Borders, I reckon it's comeuppance. Later I'll be finishing up some Oscar Wilde on my Kindle. And while that device is really incredible, for kids being born now there is a vastly diminishing chance to have the experience of digging through racks at a record store or tilting one's head at 45 degrees to read the titles on the spines. Perhaps not even at a massive chain. I guess the opportunity won't go away completely, but it'll be much more rare.

Yay, cloud? I guess it's bittersweet.

Short video walk-through of Borders:

Kicking it off with the Dardenne Brothers.

2011-01-02T14:42:00.000-05:00

Found two Dardenne movies on Netflix streaming yesterday. Will surely fire up one of them later today.

Boy toys v. girl toys

2010-12-23T15:36:00.001-05:00

I have always felt this a landslide victory for boys. There exists some major exceptions, though.

Nothing like the important stuff.

2010-12-23T14:00:00.000-05:00

Mom is going crazy over the pasta sauce my Dad just bought at the store. Everything is as it should be at Christmas.

Good times.

2010-12-23T10:57:00.001-05:00

Brady.

Queens, am

2010-12-22T05:42:00.001-05:00

Off to Maryland

2010-12-22T00:59:00.001-05:00

Off to Maryland tomorrow for Christmas. Love being able to take the train during such a hectic time of year.

More Boring Tests

2010-12-21T23:54:00.001-05:00

Testing Twitterfeed. Haven't used Blogger in a while; learning some new ropes.

Mobile post

2010-12-20T21:35:00.001-05:00

Just a test here. Giving mobile Blogger a whirl. :)

2010-12-20T16:53:00.001-05:00

New Year's 2011

2010-12-20T11:52:00.000-05:00

I've used Tumblr all year. Coming back here to Blogger, though, I like many of the changes. Some of the new templates are simple and nice. I still wish the act of posting was simpler.

Anyway, as usual I have a New Year's resolution. For 2011 I want to learn Spanish. I'm going to take a crack with Rosetta Stone. I hope I can stick to it!

Cross Post from Tumblr

2010-01-30T16:24:00.002-05:00

http://cathedralavenue.tumblr.com/post/361920733/two-little-red-hens-nyc

Cross Post from Tumblr

2010-01-30T15:00:00.001-05:00

http://cathedralavenue.tumblr.com/post/361806556/no-need-to-lie-im-enjoying-spartacus

Cross Post from Tumblr

2010-01-28T20:43:00.003-05:00

Head over to Tumblr to read my thoughts on Fish Tank.

New Year's Resolutions First Check In

2010-01-10T22:07:00.002-05:00

Things are going well. I have made no progress on my own writing or deciphering Kant and Hegel, but I am eating a lot better. I've taken aim at portion sizes, haven't had an entire soda, and can count the number of beers I've had on one hand. I feel very good already, and these are just baby steps.

Happy New Year!

2009-12-31T22:09:00.003-05:00

I'm enjoying a quiet night at home with my g/f, cat, and a bottle of Prosecco. NYE has never lived up to expectations for me, so I'm taking control of it and doing what I want to do: chill. See you on the other side!

New Year's Resolutions

2009-12-28T22:01:00.003-05:00

I've made good on some New Year's resolutions in the past, so I go into January with a lot of optimism around making positive changes. Thus far I've got three ideas for 2010:

1) Lose weight. This one is pretty important. My God-awful diet and sedentary lifestyle have left with me quite the spare tire. Time to get on top this.

2) Write. I desperately need a creative outlet, and I'm going to take a crack at creative writing. During my early 20s I scratched this itch with music, but for the past three years all I've done is work. Enough is enough.

3) Kant und Hegel. I dropped out of graduate school pretty early, but my lack of comprehension for German Idealism still bothers me. I'm going to take a slow approach and incorporate some secondary sources. No goal of mastery here, just a baseline understanding.

Hello down there!

2009-12-13T10:47:00.000-05:00

For the first time in my life I have internet at 35K feet. If this becomes the norm in the near future, I definitely *have* to get a netbook. Pretty neat.

Yelp Comes to Android

2009-12-07T23:10:00.000-05:00

I've been waiting for Yelp to arrive on Android ever since I got my G1 last year. Living in NYC, it is extremely useful. My girlfriend has had it on her iPhone for a long time now, and by default she has hitherto assumed the odious role of "Yelp bitch." Now when we are downtown in the cold looking for some place to eat after a movie, I too can tap away on my phone to find a suitable restaurant. I suspect this may reduce tension in our relationship by 2.3%. Not bad.

Less personally, the arrival of Yelp on Android has me asking a fundamental question about the iPhone's dominance: sure, 100K+ apps is impressive, but as the best of breed continue to appear on Android (Yelp, Pandora & Last FM, Foursquare, Flixster, Twitter (via Twidroid), Facebook), what does volume matter? How much do we value fart applications by the truckload?

I am separating out games as I think this through. The reason being that we are only now seeing Android phones with proper hardware to support this subset of applications. For non-games, though, I think there may be some equalizing afoot.

Dismal

2009-09-27T21:45:00.000-04:00

I wasn't able to see the Skins today, but somehow you just knew this would happen. I have tickets to see them right before Christmas on MNF v. the Giants. That game might have value for NY, but that's about it.

Another Beacon from the Twilight Zone

2009-08-30T17:17:00.002-04:00

Wow, quiet August on the blog front. Oh well. I saw 500 Days of Summer today. Bravo. Comparisons to everything from Amelie, Eternal Sunshine..., and Sideways abound, but it was quite well done. Funny: a movie with no pretense of realism portrays relationships better than I reckon 95% of any cinematic love stories over the past 10 years. There is a Jennifer Aniston movie coming out called Love Happens. That's what they should have called 500 Days... Ironic.

Oh, that beacon! Observe:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0OUXkZO8vE

Chill Out, Dickwad.

2009-08-28T20:28:00.001-04:00

T2 is on television right now. Wow, what can I say? This movie doesn't look dated at all. For its genre, it's brilliant.

...They're now going after Miles Bennet Dyson. "In a panic, dey tried da pull da plug."

Do you post in YouTube comments?

2009-08-01T15:03:00.001-04:00

Yes? Please lobotomize yourself now. Thanks!

Brüno - Is it Really that Complicated?

2009-07-19T19:50:00.006-04:00

I'm not sure why some of the reviews of Brüno are so negative. I think the point is to bring to life the ridiculous notions that homophobes have of gay people. And then proceed to throw it in their faces.

I guess some would dismiss Cohen's targets as obvious. Alabama hunters, cage-fighting fans, etc. But I thought the past decade in American politics has taught us not to ignore this bloc. My guess is that many people in America think that this is how all gay people behave: with flamboyance on 11 and an overcharged, indiscriminate sexuality.

I've been a fan of Cohen for a while. I'm guessing this could be his swan song for the triumvirate of Ali G, Borat, and Brüno. It's been fun.

Dump IE6, please.

2009-07-19T15:52:00.002-04:00

It's really time for it to go.

DUMP IE6

I Zotted my Facebook Page

2009-07-18T22:28:00.001-04:00

I had been waiting for an excuse to kill my Facebook page for some time. I finally found it.

http://mashable.com/2009/07/17/facebook-dating-ads-2/

Apparently the ad was served by a third party, but who cares? Through this story I learned that I was opted in by default for Facebook to use my image in ads. That's ridiculous. I'm through with that garbage. I spoke to a few old friends through it, but I can't really say I'll miss it.

Will Palin ever be a distant memory?

2009-07-05T11:44:00.002-04:00

I surely hope so. Retreating from the Alaska governorship early? This person was almost our VP? Wow. Once again, something to truly be thankful for on July 4 weekend.

July 4th Sanity Check

2009-07-04T09:31:00.006-04:00

It's July 4, 2009. This Independence Day feels better than the last eight, truly. Whether Obama or McCain had won, we knew that either of them would inherit the mother of all bad hands. And yet despite all the economic turmoil of the past year, I still feel more optimism than I have in approximately a decade.

Why? Obama-fever? No, not quite. I do like Obama, but yesterday I watched Errol Morris' Standard Operating Procedure. I had wanted to see it in theatres but missed out. I found it available on streaming Netflix earlier in the week and got around to it during yesterday's day off. (I also had it on the brain due to a mention during This American Life's recent "Fall Guy" episode.)

It took me a while to see where Morris was going with SOP. But isn't the point that, while yes, everything we see in the Abu Ghraib photos is despicable, it's also something of a distraction? Something of a convenient incident for a show trial? And something quite minor when compared to what was happening "off camera?" All of the interviewees talk about being instructed to soften up the prisoners for interrogations...

I guess the punchline is that while sicking dogs on detainees (yes, some prisoners were bitten); forcing them to masturbate; fooling them into thinking they might be electrocuted; etc.; is torture, it is the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg being systematic, illegal torture condoned by the highest ranking people in our political system. Lyndie England? Pawn. As I write this, do you realize she is only 26?

I don't think it's possible to succeed in politics without compromise. But I also think we have emerged from some very dark times.

Futbol!!!

2009-06-28T09:31:00.007-04:00

UPDATE 2: Blah.

UPDATE: US up 2-0 at the half!! Long way to go, but very impressive start.

US v. Brazil today at 2pm EDT. I cannot wait for this. Given that the World Cup is about one year away, I'm ready to catch the bug again.

BEAT BRAZIL!

back

2009-06-28T08:58:00.003-04:00

Eek. No posts in two years. Oh well, what's the point of a forced blog? Especially when one is basically writing it for himself?

I feel compelled to try this again thanks to Twitter. The 140-character limit can be restricting, obviously, and sometimes I just want to scribble down a bit more. So while I've really enjoyed the microblogging style, I want to sometimes go just a bit beyond that. I'll come here to post just slightly longer entries.

To start, here is a random observation from current popular television. My girlfriend and I have been watching Weeds lately. We're up to about the midpoint of season 3. Is it just me, or does the Nancy character revel in being debased? What's up with that? That's such an uncomfortable area, I find. And I'm surprised they keep trotting it back out.

Still Here

2007-05-10T01:43:00.000-04:00

I have no readers, but I'm still compelled to post that I'm not abandoning this blog. New post coming this weekend.

The Big, Godless Heat

2007-04-10T00:15:00.000-04:00

To date, I cannot recall any film noir that lulled me into such a false sense of ho-hummery as The Big Heat. One kind of has to wonder what the game is all about for the first 20-30 minutes or so; it just seems like a crime drama. A cop (right?) has killed himself, but something is most certainly awry. And, oh, it's not so bad: the cop investigating the (potential) suicide goes back to the placid homestead at 5 o'clock anyway. The baddies and the riffraff do their business in the night, and the good guys clean up by the light of day. Eventually, however, reality comes crashing in quite hard and we realize that The Big Heat, for its weight in dark, misanthropic, post-war gloom, is not to be fucked with. Not at all.

This due in large part (thought not the largest part) to Lee Marvin's Vince Stone. One can basically take Liberty Valance, trade in his spurs for a fedora, and drop him into the high-contrast, duplicitous milieu that is the urban landscape of film noir to get an idea. Marvin, as Stone, is possessed of an intractable temper so powerful as to literally make me (at least) nervous as a viewer. Each scene featuring Marvin is characterized by a torturous uncertainty. This is no small matter; as aforementioned, The Big Heat seems to play with us a bit. If I were to describe a movie to you as a crime drama, questions of moral ambiguity and dehumanizing violence would not immediately come to the fore. But it is precisely through some of the actions of Stone that The Big Heat is transformed from simplistic to sinister. While from the strict perspective of chronology it is the vicious murder of Katie Bannion (Jocelyn Brando) which unhinges the film, Stone's dousing of Gloria Graham with scalding coffee—leaving her with severe burn scars on the better part of half her face—unnerves with potentially greater force. Better to be alive than dead, I guess, but there is a unique cruelty in purposeful disfigurement. Indeed, there is transgression and sin, and then there is sadism.

And yet for all this, Marvin (and moreover, Humphrey Bogart in general) cuts a less than intimidating figure under the shadow of Glenn Ford's David Bannion. Never mind the fact that Ford provides a complete schooling in skillful communication via body language (aided each time by a smart and never pandering close-up shot); the significance of his performance could lie simply in his outright denial of God midway through the film. In Western thought, we know God has been dead. In fact, it wasn't even Nietzsche who killed him; he was simply pointing out the fact that the murder had already taken place (maybe Machiavelli was the culprit—who knows?). So, when Bannion coldly rejects Hettrick's advice of seeing a priest, the death of God can now be the intellectual foundation of common men. Or, taken another way, it doesn't take a mind like Alyosha's to reject God. Thus, in film noir, the world has either denied or killed God, and Ford's David Bannion is sounding the horn. For who is Bannion, anyway? One can certainly not say that he is an unequivocal hero. Hettrick is to a degree right when he tells him, “You can't set yourself against the world and get away with it.” But maybe it is the grim view of film noir or at least Fritz Lang that even though one can't get away with it, it's the only choice he has.

The wickedness of Lee Marvin, the rebellion of Glenn Ford—these are what make The Big Heat an archetypal noir. While I do not intend to wrap up with the question of what makes a noir, I cannot help but contrast the brutality and violence of a movie like The Big Heat with the almost comical and cartoonish qualities of the The Maltese Falcon. Perhaps it's Bogart's over-acting and caricature (which I do not necessarily dislike), but to lump those two films together as embodying the genre is fallacious. Film noir is sinister and it is not cute. It need not resort to the performance-enhancing drugs of Sin City (again, which I do not necessarily dislike), but it is certainly not just about being hard-boiled and sharp-tongued. It is about a worldview, one in which morality is a hard sell because one need not be a philosopher to realize that God is dead.

The Khmer Rouge "Annihilation" Machine

2007-02-24T17:13:00.000-05:00

It would be a mistake to go into S21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine looking for a history of Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot, or even Tuol Sleng prison (security prison S21) itself. Rithy Panh’s documentary only deals with these things to the minimal extent that it has to, i.e., he only makes relatively brief mention of

Cambodia

’s historical situation in the 1970s to place us. It’s up to the audience to do the legwork involved with formulating theories as to why the Khmer Rouge was able to come to power, why Cambodia was in the state that it was, and most importantly here, how such atrocities as those described in the picture’s 100 minutes have taken and continue to take place. Indeed, while I do not think that Cambodia is unimportant here, S21 is mainly about the facticity of institutionalized killing on a grand scale. That is its focus and perhaps the reason the film takes such a meandering and seemingly haphazard course. It is a piece that is exploratory in nature, as opposed to authoritative and expository.

S21 forces questions common to Eichmann in Jerusalem, Ordinary Men, Obedience to Authority, and other germane works to the surface. But for those who may respect the value of these inquiries all the while internally groaning over their perplexity, it should be noted that S21 has something incredibly powerful up its sleeve that is nothing short of a marvel of human experience: it allows a former inmate of prison S21 to confront and engage former prison guards. In whole, S21 actually features two survivors of the death house, Chum Mey and painter Vann Nath (supposedly two of the only 7 survivors, out a total 14,000+ prisoners/victims). However, we never see Chum Mey in the same shot as one of the former prison workers. Considering his rapture while standing on the grounds of the prison, it would be no surprise if facing those unfathomably cruel devils from his past were simply impossible.

On the other hand, Vann Nath is possessed of a composure that stupefies. He is the piece’s protagonist of sorts. I would call him our guide, but that would be inaccurate and would obscure what are some of S21’s most truly disturbing scenes. Through some means, Rithy Panh manages to get his former prison guards to elaborately re-enact their former routines. (Though perhaps it took no coaxing at all, thus revealing yet another possible avenue for psycho-social speculation, theorizing, and inquiry.) Aging Khmer Rouge shout verbal abuses at imaginary prisoners, threatening them with physical beatings should they fuss to much, not be quiet, and go to sleep; they check imaginary locks; and peer into empty cells. During these scenes, it is hard to penetrate the psychological interiors of the men. On some level are they taking a stroll down memory lane? In circumstances as extreme as these, it is troubling to watch these old routines repeated in such cold and icy fashion.

Perhaps a clue is given to why this is so in a late exchange between Nath and three of the former S21 keepers. Nath argues that the Khmer Rouge’s stated practice of annihilation goes beyond that of killing in that annihilation leaves nothing of the victim but dust. One can extrapolate that it is a complete eradication of his past and traces; it leaves not even a memory of an individual’s time on earth. This is obviously more than a rhetorical embellishment given that the Khmer Rouge as discussed in the film would kill women and children, leaving no legacy or relations of supposed traitors, informants, or “enemies.” But can one not come away from this scene in particular without noting the utter vacuous looks of the former guards in contrast to Nath? The annihilating sword is revealed to be double-edged; in the case of the former stewards of S21, it is their humanity which has been completely stripped away and exterminated.

Movie Poster Mayhem

2007-02-18T20:48:00.000-05:00

Is this an homage? Or is this the same guy recycling an idea?

A Woman in Trouble, but Who is She?

2007-02-18T13:36:00.000-05:00

It is roughly a month to the day since I saw David Lynch’s latest, Inland Empire. I anticipated it a great deal: 2006 I found to be a dismal year for art cinema (despite Three Times and The Death of Mr. Lazarescu). So the year-end buzz circulating around both Lynch’s new project (and Children of Men) had me optimistic towards the possibility of a formidable year-end push in 2006’s waning moments. Technically, a last ditch effort before rolling out Dick Clark one more time, if you will. To boot, the showing I had tickets for at the AFI Silver was to be graced by Mr. Lynch himself. Indeed I was poised: though 2006 had technically already passed, its filmic redemption stood before me, flanked by our very potential benefactor, Mr. Lynch…

Any casual fan of The Simpsons will recall the scene of Homer watching Twin Peaks (for you serious fans, that would be episode 3G02 from season 9, entitled Lisa’s Sax). To the image of a man dancing with a horse, Homer exclaims: “Brilliant! I have no idea what is going on.” A similarly casual fan may also recall (from BABF22, season 12’s HOMR) Homer being escorted out of a movie theatre for not laughing at a punch line incorporating Regis Philbin’s would-be meme: “Is that your final answer?” Though an admittedly flippant means towards elucidating my impressions of Inland Empire, these two scenes are freakishly apropos. Bewilderment and an acute alienation stemming from not “getting it” best encapsulate those three hours. With every chuckle of the sold-out crowd at another quirky line or character, I sank deeper into my chair and grew more anxious and desperate for the movie-cum-torture device to be over.

Naturally, Lynch is worthy of being taken seriously, and it would be cheap to simply throw up hands and say, “I just don’t know what he’s on about!” In fact and to the contrary, I do feel a dull desire to see Inland Empire again. Astute reviews from the likes of the NYT’s Manohla Dargis reinforce these feelings. But what is not so dull is my profound consternation over what Inland Empire lacks. And most importantly, I don’t think any number of viewings will yield it. While critics rave about Laura Dern’s performance, I cannot get over the simple fact that this piece lacks characters of any depth or situations that resonate in the key of the human world.

I think Lynch knows this; I believe it is part of his overall plan. Somewhere around the midpoint (though it’s certainly hard to specify a midpoint when time is seemingly standing still), one of the whores (or actresses, or friends, or hangers-on, or…damn it, I’m not sure) asks directly into the camera, “Who is she?” This is, indeed, the film’s guiding question. But I’m afraid it’s impossible to want to engage in solving the riddle when the viewer isn’t provided enough context to remotely care. Lynch’s very own sense of mystery leaves so much in the shadows that it is impossible to latch onto anything or establish a connection. Who is she? Why should I care? I don’t even recognize this as having anything to do about life.

Ultimately, I cannot help but be reminded of Ingmar Bergman’s Persona. Granted that in it, we begin with two distinct people as opposed to an actresses’ on and off camera life. But no matter, both films attempt to render the dissolution of the self into another and the struggle to discover and posit one’s own “I” and identity. And Persona is certainly just as self-aware and deconstructionist as Inland Empire. The difference is that the former is able to root its themes in a simple, coherent narrative and provide characters cut out just enough to provide a foundation. Thus, its force. And conversely, these missing aspects from Lynch’s latest and highly-autonomous project belie its effectiveness, leaving it only able to imbue anxiety and frustration.

RIP Sven Nykvist

2006-09-20T20:26:00.000-04:00

I have a long way to go towards becoming well-versed in the work of the late Sven Nykvist, but suffice to say that Fanny and Alexander could be one of the most brilliant movies I've ever seen (a double meaning, to be sure). Cries and Whispers, for its part, is high in the last as well. His AP obituary stating that Nykvist suffered from dementia, I hope he did not suffer a bad end. Goodbye, Sven.

I had hoped to write a piece on Ozu's Early Summer by now, but it never materalized. I've been perhaps a bit overhwelmed. In the past month or so I've seen The Conformist (on the big screen, none the less), the aforementioned Early Summer, The Power of Kangwon Province, and My Night at Maud's. I have no idea where to begin, but maybe Ugetsu will get my fingers typing later this week.

Tag Lines: Beyond Thunderdome

2006-08-31T21:19:00.000-04:00

This blog shall not fester. A short piece on Ozu's Early Summer is forthcoming very soon, but first I must briefly mention something else, something from the category of things that make you feel embarrassed though you bear no responsibility for them whatsoever. It's a shame over being alive, I guess. Yet, an associate and I still have a minor obsession.

Recently I was at Blockbuster and I overheard, very dryly, "'His road, his rules.' This sounds pretty good." It was absolutely amazing. Behold: the tag line. Not only the tag line in full bloom, but the tag line demonstrating both its narrative efficiency and its allure. Imagine, then, my excitement over the tag line for the movie shown on the poster above: "One goal. A second chance." The symbolic grandeur cannot be understated. It is Jesus Christ scoring a fucking touchdown.

So, if you've actually read this far along, share with me one of your favorite tag lines, and be sure to tell me what movie it's from.

My Reflection, in a Snow Covered Hill

2006-08-20T23:04:00.000-04:00

It is the mark of a watered-down social criticism to take recourse to tropes—reciting them without second thought but with a degree of self-satisfaction. Disaffected youth, consumerism, and milquetoast suburbanites—these themes are dull as they are abundant. But this does not mean they are wholly illegitimate; clichés are not to be completely discarded, though the Orwell in us may sometimes lash out. On the contrary, these matters—far from off-limits—demand a wealth of care when taken-up, not avoidance. A lazy observer only contributes to an already voluminous and enervated accumulation of work. The space grows increasingly crowded and the problem itself suffers. But shrewd observers are able to take the thing and position it in a brand new light. They have that unique and special ability to make us give pause and re-examine our own opinions, even though we may not give voice to a given doubt.

Three young people (Vicky and 2 males friends) are on holiday from Tapei. They have ventured to a snowy locale. They play outside in the snow; it appears to be Vicky’s first time, and she is delighted. But symbolically, what is not at work here is the yearning for a child’s innocence; this is a not a portrait of salvation or reprieve from the sins of the city (e.g., casual sex, drug abuse, indolence, etc.) on a virgin white backdrop. No, but this is something otherwise natal. What has value here is bringing something into the world—for leaving one’s mark on it. The modern city stifles one into oblivion and anonymity, be it filed away in an apartment stacked upon and under more apartments, as a listless passenger on a train, destination and origin unknown, or crammed into the seemingly collective, breathing, sweating, and pulsating of a dance club at capacity. Removed from all of that, Vicky and her friend playfully plant their faces into a snowdrift. Pulling away, giggly wildly from the cold on their faces, an impression remains. This is a metaphor which reflects not just a visage, but alienation as well.

The image is central to Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s Millennium Mambo. It is all it takes for Hou to prove his astuteness and insist on not insulting us with another ready-made critique of youth culture. The faces in the snow—the newness that is brought forth by their creators—is the contrasting force that tugs in the opposite direction of nostalgia for how things used to be, for "back then." And it is also a symbol of our homelessness, of the possibility that we will not recognize ourselves anywhere in our lives: in work, in social circles, in politics, even in our own art. As noted above with respect to the modern city’s mammoth and impersonal structures, the megalopolis has a consuming dimension that drowns the individual into a condemned insignificance and namelessness. When we go about in our daily lives, toiling in these mazes, how effective can we be in choosing the direction of our own lives? And if we cannot be particularly effective, what might this engender in people?

Hou transplants Vicky from Taipei to emphasize the importance of our milieu. It is not to make any deterministic point, settling the old debate on the side of nurture, but to demand recognition of the fact that we live in situations. There, in the snow—literally, with their faces in the snow—it is about these people and their struggle to affect the world. It is a question of people and time and place. Here we are faced with Hou’s most difficult and haunting question. That question is not, “Whatever shall we do with the bored inertia of today’s youth?” or “How can we reclaim the great spirit of the past?” It is: do they recognize themselves in the snow? Could someone else?

In Ozu’s Tokyo Story, the old police chief Numata, drunk and introspective, says, “To lose your children is hard. But living with them isn’t always easy, either. A real dilemma.” Shukishi’s reply will show us, though, that this is not a simple matter of “can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em,” or, to give it a more sophisticated ring, vive la différence—only substituting kids for women. Numata, in his drunken ramblings, forgets about men and their situation. He takes his values and his life lessons and applies them to students of a different school. “Times have changed,” says Shukishi, “We have to face it.” He clearly feels a similar disappointment, but it is mixed with acceptance and legitimate resignation. It is informed by the acknowledgement of time and change. Indeed, Hou’s latest, Three Times, expounds on this idea with deep, almost sociological, focus, showing us Taiwan in 1911, 1966, and 2005. The problem of generational friction and conflict is universal; it is certainly greater than any one city and any 1 epoch (or 3 of them).