From Casino Royale to Skyfall: Perfect Imperfection

I remember hearing someone say years ago that many great beauties have a flaw that sets them apart. The example given at the time was Marilyn Monroe and her mole. I think something similar applies to art: a work’s imperfection can also be what perfects it. I was reminded of this recently while reviewing the three James Bond films starring Daniel Craig.

Casino Royale (2006) brought back the 007 franchise just when I had written it off. It features a high-stakes Texas Hold’em staredown between Bond and Le Chiffre, a man who badly needs money to pay some terrorists so they won’t kill him. Bond wins, and some violence ensues. Then, just when the movie should end, it continues, languidly and saccharinely exploring Bond’s love affair with the lovely Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), before launching into some action amid crumbling and sinking architecture in Venice.

 

 

The movie has an act too many, making it too long and a little disjointed. This is the movie’s only flaw worth mentioning, and it is exactly what makes Casino Royale flawless. Bond’s romance with Vesper gives his character depth it has lacked since . . . forever. The final events of the movie become the core of Bond’s character for the rest of the trilogy, as well as the video game Quantum of Solace. The longer running time with more serious themes than Bond aficionados are used to gives the movie its heft and heart.

 

 

The main flaw of the film Quantum of Solace (2008) is how light it feels compared to its predecessor. It’s significantly shorter, lacks a meaningful love interest, and at first glance goes little deeper than a standard Bond plot. Again, however, it is this flaw that makes the movie work. When I first saw Quantum of Solace, I liked its fast pace, brevity and relative simplicity--all recommendable for an action film. These aspects of the film work even better now that the trilogy is complete. Many successful series grow ungainly in their second installment, but Quantum of Solace is a sleek centerpiece to its weightier bookends.

Skyfall (2012) on its own is so perfect that at first it seems to lack the necessary imperfection. However, it has one foot in pre-Craig territory, and many fans have had more of that than they can stomach. Skyfall serves up, albeit with improved taste, many old tropes--a freakish villain, overblown action, sex but no love, witty banter with Q, etc.--until it begins to look and feel a lot like the film franchise’s first decade, not its sixth.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?  These homages to the earlier years reground the franchise in its roots while at the same time plotting a course for future films. The real frisson of Skyfall comes from the knowledge that the trilogy it concludes was--for all its grit, style and grandeur--no more than a prequel to the Bond films of decades past and future. We finish the film with the promise that Bond is just beginning, and this would not be possible without the new direction that Skyfall takes away from the two movies that preceded it.

No doubt Marilyn Monroe the real person would have been beautiful without her mole, but the point of the example I began with is clear: in aesthetics, a flaw may be what makes perfect. So it is with the Daniel Craig reboot of Bond: Each film has a blemish that makes it better than it would be without it.

Daniel Craig has been hailed as the best Bond since Sean Connery by many, as the best Bond ever by some, and the movies set box office records for the franchise and received critical acclaim. Despite having grown up watching the series, the last three movies are the only ones that engage me today--and all because of how imperfect they are.

 

On the Occasion of Thomas Piketty’s Capital in the Twenty-First Century… (2)

(continued from Part 1)

My last blog post inspired by the publication of Thomas Piketty’s Capital in the Twenty-First Century ended with a conclusion we all know from the economic inequality around us: Something is wrong.

And, Piketty informs us, it’s going to get worse.

For a while in the 20th Century, wealth was fluid as various economic and political shocks destroyed capital and recreated it, but now that those events are behind us, capital has begun doing what it does: accumulating for some and disappearing for others. Those who have capital pass it on in the form of inheritances to their children, who then begin amassing more, while those without capital don’t pass on shit. The world taking shape is, according to Piketty, a society that looks a lot like 19th Century Europe. You have your class, I have mine, and nothing short of a mysterious benefactor out of the pages of Charles Dickens is going to make me upwardly mobile.

The world isn’t without solutions, but are we prepared to accept them?

I’m reminded of an intriguing essay in Italian philosopher and politician Gianni Vattimo’s Nihilism & Emancipation, in which the author outlines what a robust progressive program might look like in today’s world. It’s part manifesto and part wishful thinking, so there is a sense he doesn’t expect governments to adopt his proposals anytime soon, but one of his prescriptions is the abolishment of inheritances. When the wealthy die, the government would reclaim their wealth and funnel it back to society through government programs, many of which are dedicated to making sure that everyone gets an equal start in life and has certain basics covered throughout their lifetime:

“A serious political program would have to focus on at least three aspects of the problem: first, the circumstances in which individuals start out (hence: limits on the right to inherit and a basic endowment for everyone, for example housing at age twenty, guaranteed education, guaranteed employment); next, emergency situations or natural ones, like illness and old age that make people socially vulnerable . . . ; and finally, security and the quality of life.”

I drew a big exclamation mark in the margin when I read that. Abolishment of inheritances is a radical proposal. Good Americans shift uncomfortably in their seats. We have trouble accepting our own paltry tax that only affects estates worth well over five million dollars. Wouldn’t removing inheritances serve as an incredible disincentive to work hard and get rich since you wouldn’t be able to pass on the excess to your children?

Perhaps, but it might be less of a disincentive than we imagine. People generally want money for their children so they can get a good education, land a decent job, buy a house, put food on the table, and retire comfortably. It’s a lower- to middle-class desire and those classes don’t have outstanding wealth to pass on anyway. They lose nothing and gain exactly what they want. Indeed, the fortunes of the rich would not pass on, but the rich too would know that their children would have lives of opportunity and plenty. For Piketty’s part, he doesn’t recommend abolishing inheritances altogether, but he has discussed optimal inheritance tax rates. (Financial Times article / “A Theory of Optimal Inheritance Taxation” by Piketty and Emmanuel Saez)

As a general rule, I don’t dedicate blog posts to books I haven’t read, but hopefully I have redeemed myself through my own comments and referencing of other sources. In any case, accept this as a few thoughts on Vox’s piece summarizing Piketty’s book and not a review of Piketty’s book itself. If anyone reading this has anything more insightful to offer about Capitalism in the Twenty-First Century, by all means . . .

 

 

On the Occasion of Thomas Piketty’s Capital in the Twenty-First Century… (1)

I would love to read French economist Thomas Piketty’s recent bestseller Capital in the Twenty-First Century, but I most likely won’t. I don’t take well to hard economics, so nearly 700 pages of economic concepts, jargon, math and graphs would be a forced march I might not survive. Nonetheless, journalist Ezra Klein’s news website Vox calls the book the “most important economics book of the year, if not the decade” and has a substantial summary of it on which I would like to hazard some thoughts.

Piketty’s book has been all over the news the past few weeks, and the consensus seems to be that the true value of the book lies in the nuts and bolts--the unprecedented amount of data that backs up his conclusions--but we have all heard much about one of the main themes: economic inequality. Capital in the Twenty-First Century reminds us that income inequality is bad enough, but wealth inequality is even worse, and it’s worsening in developed nations around the globe.

From Vox:

 

Most of us have seen some version of the above presented countless times in a staggering array of visual forms on the Internet. Yet this stark inequality doesn't seem to sink in with many people. The piece on Vox asks why more people don't notice. I usually phrase it slightly differently to myself: Why don't more people care about this? 

I have always suspected there is something generational in this. While baby boomers spent their youth in the affluent post-War years, they became adults in the 1970s when the slide for America’s middle class was just beginning to pick up speed. Then they spent their middle years in the 1980s when the situation began to get heavy. Their experiences in youth told them things are better in America than elsewhere and their experiences as adults have, with each passing decade, told them economic inequality is simply a constant you can’t do anything about. Both beliefs tend to undercut the drive to protest.

Many of the economic changes in question are so gradual over time that many people have never had a good view of the big picture: They aren’t aware of how things used to be different or of how drastically they have worsened even during their own lifetime. You have to broaden your perspective through learning in history, politics and economics to grasp anything beyond sound bites, and that isn’t easy, especially when working to pay the bills takes about every ounce of energy you’ve got. It’s easier to keep believing in the American dream. It may not exist anymore, but it helps ease the pain.

According to Vox, Piketty’s data shows there's something to my generational approach:

“The life experience of the non-Millenials alive today contradicted this narrative [of inequality]. World War I directly destroyed some wealth, and also led to very high levels of taxation and inflation as wartime finance measures. Then came the Great Depression in which many fortunes were wiped out. Then came World War II which directly destroyed even more wealth (as in cities were literally burned to the ground) and was associated with even more extreme wartime finance measures. Then came a fast period of postwar growth associated with European reconstruction and the unleashing of long-suppressed consumption impulses. It's only over the past 20 or 30 years that the underlying dynamic has reasserted itself.”

Younger generations were raised on the dogmas of former generations, but their life experiences have been different. Many in my own generation graduated university only to find it suited them for little more than getting another degree. Living with Mom and Dad after graduation, working part-time jobs and whittling down crushing student debt is common. In the end, you get a job for which you’re overeducated--a job you’re likely to lose when the next financial crisis strikes. Meanwhile, your parents are elderly, living in poverty, and wondering wft, only they’re old enough to spell it out.

Perhaps that partially accounts for why so many anti-establishment voices are gaining strength, whether it’s Occupy Wall Street, the Tea Party or Anonymous. Many are now coming to realize what wasn’t as easily discernible before:

Something is wrong.

 

(more to follow)

 

 

How Guilty Is the Author for the Sins of the Text?

Many of the socially aware are too eager to hurl charges of racism. This time it’s indie artist Sky Ferreira’s video for “I Blame Myself” that has attracted attention.

 

The video draws upon stereotypes of black neighborhoods and features the star with a crew of black backup dancers, so criticism was only to be expected. At this point, it’s reflexive and unfolds by rote:

Aaron Parr on Facebook:

“I’m tired of seeing black people used as props.”

Alex Berg on Twitter:

“Sky Ferreira’s new video is a #racist mess. She, white woman, dances in Compton in front of #POC.”

Alison Margo on Facebook:

"Just because racism isn't intentional or blatant doesn't mean it's not racism."

This particular incident is barely a blip on the cultural radar, but such blips are becoming increasingly common. We all heard way too much about Miley Cyrus’s 2013 VMAs performance, and Lily Allen’s video for “Hard Out Here” faced similar criticism. The ideology of social consciousness and its curious lexicon have been gathering steam for decades, but now it has a bigger voice and makes regular appearances on the screens of our computers and phones. Poststructuralist concepts have filtered down into posts by average Joes on the Facebook pages of pop stars.

As previous blog posts will attest, I understand:

“In the post-modern world, most of us are aware that words and images speak more than they appear to at first glance, and this is doubly true for anyone marketing to the masses. Backup dancers are not just backup dancers--how they dance, how they are treated, how they are dressed, their race, their physique, and so on all speak an infinity of meanings.” (The Miley Cyrus Affair)

And this:

“It doesn’t matter what those involved intended (the death of the author in poststructuralism), their products speak for themselves and they speak the language of centuries of degradation, sexualization and commodification of black women. A photograph of a white woman perched glamorously atop a subjugated black woman exhibits, even if unintentionally, reprehensible symbolism.” (Sex, Chairs and Photographs)

However, I find it troubling how acceptable it has become to publicly brand as racist artists who aren’t racist on the inside and never intended anything racist. This is from Sky Ferreira’s defense on Facebook:

“Nothing upsets me more than being called racist because that is one of the most hateful things anyone can be . . . I never have and never will look at any human being as a prop. That's disgusting. It's also an idea that has never crossed my mind . . . I auditioned a bunch of dancers, all races & my dancers were the best ones . . . Comments like "rich little white girl exploiting the black people & the ghetto" . . . My brother is half black. My cousins are black. My family is Latina & Native American. Some of my family is in the video. I wasn't raised in a "white" household . . . Would you feel more at ease if I danced with a bunch [of] blonde white boys at a mall? Should I consciously only cast white dancers for now on? . . . I referenced 90s hip hop videos and Michael Jackson because both of those things inspire me.”

Many of the critics calling Ferreira racist take this defense as genuine, but call her a racist anyway because the content of the video stands on its own and they interpret it as racist. The death of the author is all very well and good, but it is a dangerous thing when the flesh and blood author is alive and well. How guilty is the author for the sins of the text?

I’m reminded of a rationale employed against certain classes of society by the Bolsheviks:

“Individual members of that class might ‘objectively’ be counterrevolutionary conspirators, even if subjectively (that is, in their own minds) they knew nothing of the conspiracy and thought themselves supporters of the revolution.” (The Russian Revolution, Sheila Fitzpatrick)

In other words, innocence was no defense against guilt. Those considered counterrevolutionaries could lose their jobs or be imprisoned or executed. The unwittingly guilty today are subjected to highly public ignominy because while subjectively innocent, they are objectively guilty. There is something insidious about this.

Perhaps the way out of this is to be thorough with application of the death of the author or to not apply it at all. Either the author has disappeared from a work of art, in which case she cannot be blamed for the sins of the work on a poststructural level, or the artist is a racist in her heart of hearts and has expressed an overtly racist opinion through her work. I have no objection to either approach, but most of these controversies involve a mixed approach: You may not be a racist, but your work sort of is, so you are too.

The critics have their point, and Ferreira has hers. I’m more interested in the argument itself than I am in taking sides. In exploring the complexity and ambiguities of this and similar issues, I suggest greater caution by the socially aware when disregarding the accused’s intentions in order to cast stones.