It took an evening moment of pulling random records out of a shelf arrangement (not that this act itself had anything to do with the resulting conclusion) to help me realize something plain simple, and unreasonably relevant. Bifurcation will be the death of us all.
I find myself this night in an amateur radio station. In the back of this station lies a tasty, midsized labyrinth of hard copied music. To pass the time we are doing a short radio segment. The arrayed dials and latent possibilities of radio are somehow unable to distract me my core, entirely unrelated, observation regarding bifurcation.
We all have only a highly limited span of time in which to do things. I, and I suspect you as well, have an odd tendency to take on all kinds of commitments. These commitments are typically the types of things that seem highly entertaining, have a strong pull, and usually are in fact somewhat redeeming. Now conventional wisdom would assert that over-committing life's plate is just never an ideal choice. Up to this point I have done a fantastic job of completely ignoring conventional wisdom, and sampling as many scrumptious activity morsels as I could possibly sustain. ((Snippets of radio, smidgens of jogging, scrumpets of schoolwork, some reading, far too much collegiate debate, and this blog among others, should it be highly interesting to you.) I know it's probably not, but I like parenthesis too much not to include fun facts.)
Anyways, taking on too many things robs you of the ability to excel in any one. It would seem to me that each person is endowed with some certain measure of natural ability, and that to exercise that ability to its peak, they must also commit solitary attention to it. The tendency to simply not do this though, is the bane of highly interesting achievements everywhere, and as such should be avoided.
That is all.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Chatroullete
Chatroullete is a website that allows you to videochat with random strangers in rapid secession, or rather, one of the foulest, oddest, most variable, and least forgettable experiences on the more trafficked parts of ye olde internet.
The basic system works by having users load themselves into a hopper that connects two of its members at a time to chat. No names are given, only a feed, and at any point either partner may cut the feed and move on. Usually Chatroulleters have their feed on an autorestart, so as soon as one encounter ends, another instantly begins.
As you can probably predict, some absolutely disgusting video feeds tend to pop up now and then. One of the more common obscenities is some random person tugging the old boat in clear visibility. I personally wonder what always prompts the nastier minority of Chatroullete's denizens to get indecent, inappropriate, and otherwise naked for a yet unknown audience of random internet goers. Perhaps they enjoy the aspect of being watched? Maybe extreme loneliness drives them? In any case, the bulleted chamber of Chatroullete is definitely there.
Worse still are the stealthier taboo breakers. Often a screen will at first appear blacked out, and then fade into one type of revolting scene or another. Another common ploy is for users to seem conversational at first, and then slowly start stripping or what have you as a conversation goes on. There is actually no way to tell what percentage of the base is there for the sex appeal, because so many people are slowrolling. Here is one such example; note that the fellow is already shirtless to show off the old guns.
After trying the site to make more memorable a boring evening on several occasions, I noticed something funny about people who use it. At first, someone sees something that they really wished they had rather not, shies away and exclaims something to the effect of "Ewwwwww!". Moments later they come back and press next to find another dialogue. Apparently disturbing acts actually being preformed can be just as riveting as those in fiction and film.
If you are not squeamish, and willing to put up with brief moments of revulsion, I strongly suggest that you at least give this novel concept a try. At the very least it will probably be difficult to forget, and for me, that is enough.
The basic system works by having users load themselves into a hopper that connects two of its members at a time to chat. No names are given, only a feed, and at any point either partner may cut the feed and move on. Usually Chatroulleters have their feed on an autorestart, so as soon as one encounter ends, another instantly begins.
As you can probably predict, some absolutely disgusting video feeds tend to pop up now and then. One of the more common obscenities is some random person tugging the old boat in clear visibility. I personally wonder what always prompts the nastier minority of Chatroullete's denizens to get indecent, inappropriate, and otherwise naked for a yet unknown audience of random internet goers. Perhaps they enjoy the aspect of being watched? Maybe extreme loneliness drives them? In any case, the bulleted chamber of Chatroullete is definitely there.
Worse still are the stealthier taboo breakers. Often a screen will at first appear blacked out, and then fade into one type of revolting scene or another. Another common ploy is for users to seem conversational at first, and then slowly start stripping or what have you as a conversation goes on. There is actually no way to tell what percentage of the base is there for the sex appeal, because so many people are slowrolling. Here is one such example; note that the fellow is already shirtless to show off the old guns.
After trying the site to make more memorable a boring evening on several occasions, I noticed something funny about people who use it. At first, someone sees something that they really wished they had rather not, shies away and exclaims something to the effect of "Ewwwwww!". Moments later they come back and press next to find another dialogue. Apparently disturbing acts actually being preformed can be just as riveting as those in fiction and film.
If you are not squeamish, and willing to put up with brief moments of revulsion, I strongly suggest that you at least give this novel concept a try. At the very least it will probably be difficult to forget, and for me, that is enough.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
And there was murder in their eyes
When I woke up yesterday, still bleary at around 2:30, I remembered that the renaissance fair was happening. Every year a gang of community members puts on a renaissance Europe themed fair here, and I make it a point to at least go and have a look; it is certainly memorable.
The day smiled on Walla Walla with a light breeze and clear, warm sky. As a direct result, many families had chosen to come scope out the event. With families come kids.
Boff (I hope that is spelled correctly) fighting is a mainstay element of the fair. In this activity, participants whack one another with soft weapons. Boffing represents a unique opportunity to live out the inner nerd-fantasy that so many hold dear.
Most adults and teens are relatively guarded in their boffing. They choose to view it as something of a sport to justify it against the naysayers and bally-hoers. The kids, especially the ones present by the swarm at Renfair, are entirely submersed.
You can get a clear idea of what these kids think is epic just by watching a few boff matches for fun. Completely oblivious of the outside world, they run and scream around the arena, stabbing one another in the back, fleeing from the enemy, seizing victory with ruthless cries. One kid kept attacking the others once they were down, pantomiming a bloody murder, another, on victory, held up his weapon above his head, looked directly at the audience of students and parents, and let loose a resounding victory scream, which was pretty humorous.
It becomes immediately evident also that the young'uns are playing the same video games and watching many of the same nerd-movies that the old'uns do. They seem to know exactly what to do to look 'cool' with their weapons, and they also don't hesitate at all to slaughter the other kids once in the mindset of the game. Kyle, a friend involved in the community that helps implement the fair, mentioned that one wee visitor from the prior year kept running up behind the other children, and using two weapons to 'cut off their head' from behind. It's hard to say whether violent media makes people more violent, but with certainty the next generation gobbles it up.
Also striking was the fact that many of the adult bystanders were apprehensive to take part. You could see them looking out and thinking about it, after all the actual participants seemed to be having a lot of fun, but fear of looking silly was sufficient to constrain these people to guilty sideways glances and non-participation. The invisible restraint was made especially apparent here, since the younger set was so visibly unaffected. Personally, I lament that we have so many standards that prevent members of society from doing the most interesting and memorable thing available. Maybe we would all be better served to randomly scream supremacy more often.
The day smiled on Walla Walla with a light breeze and clear, warm sky. As a direct result, many families had chosen to come scope out the event. With families come kids.
Boff (I hope that is spelled correctly) fighting is a mainstay element of the fair. In this activity, participants whack one another with soft weapons. Boffing represents a unique opportunity to live out the inner nerd-fantasy that so many hold dear.
Most adults and teens are relatively guarded in their boffing. They choose to view it as something of a sport to justify it against the naysayers and bally-hoers. The kids, especially the ones present by the swarm at Renfair, are entirely submersed.
You can get a clear idea of what these kids think is epic just by watching a few boff matches for fun. Completely oblivious of the outside world, they run and scream around the arena, stabbing one another in the back, fleeing from the enemy, seizing victory with ruthless cries. One kid kept attacking the others once they were down, pantomiming a bloody murder, another, on victory, held up his weapon above his head, looked directly at the audience of students and parents, and let loose a resounding victory scream, which was pretty humorous.
It becomes immediately evident also that the young'uns are playing the same video games and watching many of the same nerd-movies that the old'uns do. They seem to know exactly what to do to look 'cool' with their weapons, and they also don't hesitate at all to slaughter the other kids once in the mindset of the game. Kyle, a friend involved in the community that helps implement the fair, mentioned that one wee visitor from the prior year kept running up behind the other children, and using two weapons to 'cut off their head' from behind. It's hard to say whether violent media makes people more violent, but with certainty the next generation gobbles it up.
Also striking was the fact that many of the adult bystanders were apprehensive to take part. You could see them looking out and thinking about it, after all the actual participants seemed to be having a lot of fun, but fear of looking silly was sufficient to constrain these people to guilty sideways glances and non-participation. The invisible restraint was made especially apparent here, since the younger set was so visibly unaffected. Personally, I lament that we have so many standards that prevent members of society from doing the most interesting and memorable thing available. Maybe we would all be better served to randomly scream supremacy more often.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Hip hop talent exhibited at Tea Party rally
Untitled from elizabeth glover on Vimeo.
The culture conflict here is overwhelming. Look at the facial expressions on the audience.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Tax Man Cometh!!!
Sullivan lifted this off of Wonkette.com - it is fantastic. Sure, you may disagree with a certain policy of Obama's, but just passively doing so with your vote is not enough! He is going to steal your breath and sneezes with a reproducing, multiplying hoard of tax collectors bent only on the total subjection of American liberties everywhere. Stop him now by visiting the RNC's website!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
My life is a big red line going from bed, to class, to food, to bed
If you were to create an aerial heatmap of your last several months of time, what would it look like? How would your time be clustered? Would it pulsate around a single hub, burning itself deep into a rut; would it assume the form of a loose red haze, networking out every which way; would it be something in between? My map would be a big, fat, artery tracing a triangle pattern from my house, to class, to food, to home.
Why is this the case? Routine. I find it incredibly easy to draft up a basic itinerary and then follow that come hell or high water. On reflection, our society itself is rather well structured to compel such behavior. From a very young age we are told to always have a plan, and always stick to it.
For me at lest, a single plan never really acts properly to plot out life though. I at one point start doing something for one set of reasons, and then as time quickly passes, the role that thing has in relation to my goals completely changes. The realization that this has happened lags weeks, months, or even years behind an actual change however. I believe that we can attribute the delay to routines being seductively simple to follow, and belligerently hard to break.
Taking the example of walking to class, coming home, reading random blogs and Youtubing, then sleeping, the difficulty of breaking pattern versus the ease of maintaining presents itself. In most cases, I continue to do as I do for the pure reason that it is what I do. Rowing took up four years, which naturally led into college and debate, and I find myself moving forwards as an automatic mechanism, responding to surroundings without considering fully why.
I implicate the internet provide for its absurd ability to entertain in order to explain this lack of 'why'. When trying to unwind from a day, the go-to activity is rarely self consideration, so much as full immersion in stimulating media. While there exists more than enough time to say, go for a walk and think about the state of things, not doing so takes less energy.
Of late I have been making a conscious effort to branch out my heat map, and also consider actively why I am doing what I do. Nothing earthshaking has yet resulted from this pursuit, but at least certain obvious self-suggestions, such as 'stop playing video games for upwards of five daily hours' come quickly to light. I suspect also that even two or three twenty minute periods of free time to reflect will prune out more than their weight of unfortunate choices.
Give it a try; reconsider something that you find to be obvious and central to your life. Why did you begin to participate, why do you do so now, and is this still valuable?
Why is this the case? Routine. I find it incredibly easy to draft up a basic itinerary and then follow that come hell or high water. On reflection, our society itself is rather well structured to compel such behavior. From a very young age we are told to always have a plan, and always stick to it.
For me at lest, a single plan never really acts properly to plot out life though. I at one point start doing something for one set of reasons, and then as time quickly passes, the role that thing has in relation to my goals completely changes. The realization that this has happened lags weeks, months, or even years behind an actual change however. I believe that we can attribute the delay to routines being seductively simple to follow, and belligerently hard to break.
Taking the example of walking to class, coming home, reading random blogs and Youtubing, then sleeping, the difficulty of breaking pattern versus the ease of maintaining presents itself. In most cases, I continue to do as I do for the pure reason that it is what I do. Rowing took up four years, which naturally led into college and debate, and I find myself moving forwards as an automatic mechanism, responding to surroundings without considering fully why.
I implicate the internet provide for its absurd ability to entertain in order to explain this lack of 'why'. When trying to unwind from a day, the go-to activity is rarely self consideration, so much as full immersion in stimulating media. While there exists more than enough time to say, go for a walk and think about the state of things, not doing so takes less energy.
Of late I have been making a conscious effort to branch out my heat map, and also consider actively why I am doing what I do. Nothing earthshaking has yet resulted from this pursuit, but at least certain obvious self-suggestions, such as 'stop playing video games for upwards of five daily hours' come quickly to light. I suspect also that even two or three twenty minute periods of free time to reflect will prune out more than their weight of unfortunate choices.
Give it a try; reconsider something that you find to be obvious and central to your life. Why did you begin to participate, why do you do so now, and is this still valuable?
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Hijacked Post (in which Tim learns the value of clearing passwords out of his roommate's browser)
Dear blogger/Tim-
I have to drive some prospective debate students to Pasco in a few minutes, so I'll make this quick.
The internet is a dangerous, dangerous place. Yes, there are a precious few genius sites that enlighten the world like synapses in the minds of Descartes, Kant - even Spinoza. The majority of the internet is a slum where kittens are the preferred street drug, violence is perpetuated through "fail" videos, and sex is sold cheap.
Yes, this is our modern-day wild west.
Take, for example, this site, unvarnished.com, that allows co-workers to post negative reviews about you without your control. The site wreaks of dickishness. Their address isn't even unvarnished.com, but rather "getunvarnished.com" – a move that prompted the actual owner of their false domain name to post an apology due to the preponderance of misdirected traffic.
I must be off, but Tim's password will live on in my MacBook browser. I'm logging out so he/you can't clear it while I'm in Pasco.
- ZORRO
I have to drive some prospective debate students to Pasco in a few minutes, so I'll make this quick.
The internet is a dangerous, dangerous place. Yes, there are a precious few genius sites that enlighten the world like synapses in the minds of Descartes, Kant - even Spinoza. The majority of the internet is a slum where kittens are the preferred street drug, violence is perpetuated through "fail" videos, and sex is sold cheap.
Yes, this is our modern-day wild west.
Take, for example, this site, unvarnished.com, that allows co-workers to post negative reviews about you without your control. The site wreaks of dickishness. Their address isn't even unvarnished.com, but rather "getunvarnished.com" – a move that prompted the actual owner of their false domain name to post an apology due to the preponderance of misdirected traffic.
I must be off, but Tim's password will live on in my MacBook browser. I'm logging out so he/you can't clear it while I'm in Pasco.
- ZORRO
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Braaaiins
If you find yourself living on a college campus, you are highly advised to play Human Versus Zombies. The basic gist of the game is that everyone playing, save one zombified individual, starts out as a human. Play takes place over the entirety of a campus, save classrooms and dining halls, and a game lasts for some predetermined amount of time, usually a few weeks. The first zombie player attempts to tag human players as those students walk to and from class. Whenever the original zombie catches someone, that someone also becomes a zombie, and tries to infect more humans in turn. A zombie must catch and 'feed' on a human every so often, or they starve. The game ends when time expires, all humans are zombies, or all zombies starve. Most variations of the game also give humans the ability to temporarily disable zombies by shooting them with foam darts or the like, thus inspiring countless nerdy spine shivers of joy.
Why play? The answer is simple and compelling. To put to rest boredom.
Life contains myriad boring moments. Yes, a ten to fifteen minute walk from one's room to one's place of education can sometimes be uplifting and scintillating, but by virtue of happening every day, these walks have a definite tendency to grow hackneyed.
Picture two scenarios - the first - that you grumble out of bed, dress yourself, and take a slow boring walk to morning class - the second that you grumble out of bed, and stalk cautiously across a minefield of potential shame, clinging desperately to the scrap of victory that is your human status. The second scenario makes tasks as plain as crossing an open field between buildings into an exhilarating challenge.
If your campus puts on such a game, join it. It's not like you were going to be doing anything better with your 10 minute walks.
P.S. The new sleeping pattern has proved itself to be excellent. On Tuesday nights I ignore it however, as my earlier class comes at 1:00 on Wednesday.
Why play? The answer is simple and compelling. To put to rest boredom.
Life contains myriad boring moments. Yes, a ten to fifteen minute walk from one's room to one's place of education can sometimes be uplifting and scintillating, but by virtue of happening every day, these walks have a definite tendency to grow hackneyed.
Picture two scenarios - the first - that you grumble out of bed, dress yourself, and take a slow boring walk to morning class - the second that you grumble out of bed, and stalk cautiously across a minefield of potential shame, clinging desperately to the scrap of victory that is your human status. The second scenario makes tasks as plain as crossing an open field between buildings into an exhilarating challenge.
If your campus puts on such a game, join it. It's not like you were going to be doing anything better with your 10 minute walks.
P.S. The new sleeping pattern has proved itself to be excellent. On Tuesday nights I ignore it however, as my earlier class comes at 1:00 on Wednesday.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Trolololo and trying to get things done whilst tired
For some reason this clip is oddly enjoyable: http://trololololololololololo.com/
Having said that...
I have come to the conclusion that a time shift is really in order. Up until now my sleep pattern has been to pass out around 1-3am, and wake up at 10am. The upside of this is of course that I get to find sweet stuff like trololo until 3am, and the downside that I don't sleep very much. It's hard to evaluate whether or not the pearly treasures of the internet outweigh rest, but I suspect that this may not be so. My reason for this inkling occurred today, wherein I received quite a railing for what, in all fairness, was a god awful paper, written in the depths of the night, and then also took a three hour nap at about 6:30.
Apparently common sense is accurate on this one. I actually tried for about 20 minutes to find something more juicy, but really there does not appear to be any extremely accessible research on the subject, so I will trust the grapevine. It seems at least from that paper, and on reflection, dozens others like it, that there is an undeniable correlation between using the time late into the evening to get things done, and doing so poorly. Also, some obvious benefits of conking out around 10-11am include:
1. Getting to eat breakfast.
2. Going for morning walks.
3. Using the Internets while the sun rises, and coincidentally while no one else is online to bog down the wireless.
4. Avoiding surprise awakenings when housemates decide it is time to play catch in the kitchen above me.
5. Having the ability to sign up for classes that start before 11am or so.
6. Clocking nine hours of sleep.
7. Writing fewer boring blogs due to sleep deprivation.
So with that in mind, onwards to bed.
Having said that...
I have come to the conclusion that a time shift is really in order. Up until now my sleep pattern has been to pass out around 1-3am, and wake up at 10am. The upside of this is of course that I get to find sweet stuff like trololo until 3am, and the downside that I don't sleep very much. It's hard to evaluate whether or not the pearly treasures of the internet outweigh rest, but I suspect that this may not be so. My reason for this inkling occurred today, wherein I received quite a railing for what, in all fairness, was a god awful paper, written in the depths of the night, and then also took a three hour nap at about 6:30.
Apparently common sense is accurate on this one. I actually tried for about 20 minutes to find something more juicy, but really there does not appear to be any extremely accessible research on the subject, so I will trust the grapevine. It seems at least from that paper, and on reflection, dozens others like it, that there is an undeniable correlation between using the time late into the evening to get things done, and doing so poorly. Also, some obvious benefits of conking out around 10-11am include:
1. Getting to eat breakfast.
2. Going for morning walks.
3. Using the Internets while the sun rises, and coincidentally while no one else is online to bog down the wireless.
4. Avoiding surprise awakenings when housemates decide it is time to play catch in the kitchen above me.
5. Having the ability to sign up for classes that start before 11am or so.
6. Clocking nine hours of sleep.
7. Writing fewer boring blogs due to sleep deprivation.
So with that in mind, onwards to bed.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Raise the bar with Avatar?
"But Tim, this looks like something you wrote for class in 20 minutes, and posted because you were too lazy to legitimately update your blog..."
Why yes, correct you are my astute reader, but fear not, these petty attempts to create the illusion of continuity will shortly end. I swear - blame debate.
- - -
Raise the bar with Avatar?
James Cameron's recent sci-fi epic, Avatar, has been said by many to be a fine film. Following the experiences of a physically handicapped marine, Jake Sully, the flick charts conflict between a futuristic, greed driven mining corporation, and the native alien population of the planet that the organization seeks to plunder. Critics have forcefully and in great numbers voiced their pleasure for Cameron's brainbaby, and their case does appear to be rather complete.
For his work on Avatar, reviewers have included such effusion of Cameron as; he “might be a megalomaniac, but I bow to his titanic will. In Avatar, he’s king of a world he made from scratch.” , “he restores a sense of wonder to the movie going experience that has been missing for far too long.”, and “he is, with “Avatar,” also making a credible attempt to create a paradigm shift in science-fiction cinema.” (Edelstein)(Turan)(Dargis) Of Avatar itself, their comments range from being just as pleased, to better.
From all this it might be readily ascertained that the critics have reached a consensus, that Avatar is simply a very well crafted film, and that the story holds no more. I say that they just don't like it enough.
It would be no rash assumption to posit that, Avatar is the best thing since sliced bread. Yes, the computer, does take a close second, but no, it does not quite catch up. Avatar is like a forest full of bright and playful creatures, rolled up in a war movie, heavily slathered in CGI, dragged through a moralistic plot, then lightly simmered in genius. Avatar makes it seem almost as if Pocahontas, Braveheart, Rocky, and 300 had a child. And that child was blue. As a basic illustration, there are fan sites on the Internet whose sole purpose is literally to comfort those individuals who feel depressed over how poorly their lives compare to this movie.
But why exactly are the critics such misers even in the face of so much praise? Theme and content I say.
The themes of Avatar constitute one of its sole points of rebuke. Many of the same critics who speak so highly of its ambition and bold creativity also quip that its plot is simple, and that its message of peace and acceptance contains merely “New-Age truisms”. (Biancolli) Perhaps these same critics fail to realize exactly what these so called “truisms” stand for. In two hours and forty six minutes, Avatar manages to take decisive, progressive advocacies on issues ranging through cultural subjectivity, heteronormativity, conservationism, and the ability of all to pursue greatness regardless of impediment. It would be peachy if solutions to these problems were in fact truism, but from the present state of global affairs the opposite is painfully obvious. Avatar sends a socially constructive message, while assuming a form that succeeds at being pleasing and non intrusive. For this I forecast that Avatar will either compel world peace, or become president by the year 2012.
But greater still than its tendency to spark spontaneous global plenty and prosperity, is Avatar's core content, its graphics. If I were to hear a rumor that James Cameron considered releasing his film unedited, but on ardent plea from his staff agreed to apply an industrial grade dulling lens to the entirety of the work, for fear that it would cause viewers to lapse into awestruck blindness, I would feel nothing but vindication. The level of technological prowess evidenced in Avatar is simply unprecedented. When a vicious looking cat-beast leers out of the jungle towards our unsuspecting protagonist, we can see the minute beads of dew glistening on its hungry fur. When thousands of screaming blue people ride their Jurassic flying pterodactyl creatures into glorious battle, the sunlight gleams off of their irises. When the thousand year old home of the indigenous population is ruthlessly razed by modern technology, the heart-wrenching solidarity we feel towards its inhabitants is propelled onwards by perfectly rendered particles of ash and debris coasting gently through the still air. Every emotional moment, and every racing step of Avatar is punctuated with a howling scream by the artistic vision of Cameron and his crew. Our critics may utter the beginnings of these thoughts, but their positions and fan-base dictate that they may not finish. I will say it. Avatar plucks our eyeballs gently from their resting places, keeps them as its private reserve for its all too brief tenure, and once the Cinderella story of jungles and jubilee ends, leaves them lonely and stranded back in our world – a world which will never, no matter how hard it may try, be quite as shiny.
One could spend their time calling Avatar a solid production. One could spend their time proclaiming it a work of art. It could be said that this film, like only a few special ones before it, captures in a fleeting moment the perfect intersection of technology and vision. These words would, and have however, done insufficient justice to the visual and thematic juggernaut that is this film. When watching, for the second time, the endless wild and timeless tale that constitutes my favorite film, I found myself enthralled and wondering. Wondering how best to pay full tribute to such a perfect set of leaves in a field full of marred clover. As I pondered this question, I began to set a few brief words to cloth. In this short praise you have found my answer to those who would merely say of Cameron's work, such mute obscenities as “Good”, “Above average”, and the dreaded “Nice”. But ultimately, even text is hopelessly doomed to fail in homage, for only one thing can truly emulate. Yes, such vibrant greens, such apt placing of foreground objects so as to create a mild illusion of depth, such curative coverage of complex and critical contemporary issues can only be rendered in full through a single, solitary means. Color.
To you my dear readers and listeners (Who I earnestly hope can detect overblown language, else there should by now be a deliciously awkward silence over our fine 1:00 class) I say this. You could call avatar good. You could call it great. You could call it gods gift to our irises. Or, you could do better. For 10$, you have it in you power right now to don a stylish pair of 3D glasses, take up a ready position, and pay the best homage available to a well appreciated, and yet sorely abused piece of art.
Why yes, correct you are my astute reader, but fear not, these petty attempts to create the illusion of continuity will shortly end. I swear - blame debate.
- - -
Raise the bar with Avatar?
James Cameron's recent sci-fi epic, Avatar, has been said by many to be a fine film. Following the experiences of a physically handicapped marine, Jake Sully, the flick charts conflict between a futuristic, greed driven mining corporation, and the native alien population of the planet that the organization seeks to plunder. Critics have forcefully and in great numbers voiced their pleasure for Cameron's brainbaby, and their case does appear to be rather complete.
For his work on Avatar, reviewers have included such effusion of Cameron as; he “might be a megalomaniac, but I bow to his titanic will. In Avatar, he’s king of a world he made from scratch.” , “he restores a sense of wonder to the movie going experience that has been missing for far too long.”, and “he is, with “Avatar,” also making a credible attempt to create a paradigm shift in science-fiction cinema.” (Edelstein)(Turan)(Dargis) Of Avatar itself, their comments range from being just as pleased, to better.
From all this it might be readily ascertained that the critics have reached a consensus, that Avatar is simply a very well crafted film, and that the story holds no more. I say that they just don't like it enough.
It would be no rash assumption to posit that, Avatar is the best thing since sliced bread. Yes, the computer, does take a close second, but no, it does not quite catch up. Avatar is like a forest full of bright and playful creatures, rolled up in a war movie, heavily slathered in CGI, dragged through a moralistic plot, then lightly simmered in genius. Avatar makes it seem almost as if Pocahontas, Braveheart, Rocky, and 300 had a child. And that child was blue. As a basic illustration, there are fan sites on the Internet whose sole purpose is literally to comfort those individuals who feel depressed over how poorly their lives compare to this movie.
But why exactly are the critics such misers even in the face of so much praise? Theme and content I say.
The themes of Avatar constitute one of its sole points of rebuke. Many of the same critics who speak so highly of its ambition and bold creativity also quip that its plot is simple, and that its message of peace and acceptance contains merely “New-Age truisms”. (Biancolli) Perhaps these same critics fail to realize exactly what these so called “truisms” stand for. In two hours and forty six minutes, Avatar manages to take decisive, progressive advocacies on issues ranging through cultural subjectivity, heteronormativity, conservationism, and the ability of all to pursue greatness regardless of impediment. It would be peachy if solutions to these problems were in fact truism, but from the present state of global affairs the opposite is painfully obvious. Avatar sends a socially constructive message, while assuming a form that succeeds at being pleasing and non intrusive. For this I forecast that Avatar will either compel world peace, or become president by the year 2012.
But greater still than its tendency to spark spontaneous global plenty and prosperity, is Avatar's core content, its graphics. If I were to hear a rumor that James Cameron considered releasing his film unedited, but on ardent plea from his staff agreed to apply an industrial grade dulling lens to the entirety of the work, for fear that it would cause viewers to lapse into awestruck blindness, I would feel nothing but vindication. The level of technological prowess evidenced in Avatar is simply unprecedented. When a vicious looking cat-beast leers out of the jungle towards our unsuspecting protagonist, we can see the minute beads of dew glistening on its hungry fur. When thousands of screaming blue people ride their Jurassic flying pterodactyl creatures into glorious battle, the sunlight gleams off of their irises. When the thousand year old home of the indigenous population is ruthlessly razed by modern technology, the heart-wrenching solidarity we feel towards its inhabitants is propelled onwards by perfectly rendered particles of ash and debris coasting gently through the still air. Every emotional moment, and every racing step of Avatar is punctuated with a howling scream by the artistic vision of Cameron and his crew. Our critics may utter the beginnings of these thoughts, but their positions and fan-base dictate that they may not finish. I will say it. Avatar plucks our eyeballs gently from their resting places, keeps them as its private reserve for its all too brief tenure, and once the Cinderella story of jungles and jubilee ends, leaves them lonely and stranded back in our world – a world which will never, no matter how hard it may try, be quite as shiny.
One could spend their time calling Avatar a solid production. One could spend their time proclaiming it a work of art. It could be said that this film, like only a few special ones before it, captures in a fleeting moment the perfect intersection of technology and vision. These words would, and have however, done insufficient justice to the visual and thematic juggernaut that is this film. When watching, for the second time, the endless wild and timeless tale that constitutes my favorite film, I found myself enthralled and wondering. Wondering how best to pay full tribute to such a perfect set of leaves in a field full of marred clover. As I pondered this question, I began to set a few brief words to cloth. In this short praise you have found my answer to those who would merely say of Cameron's work, such mute obscenities as “Good”, “Above average”, and the dreaded “Nice”. But ultimately, even text is hopelessly doomed to fail in homage, for only one thing can truly emulate. Yes, such vibrant greens, such apt placing of foreground objects so as to create a mild illusion of depth, such curative coverage of complex and critical contemporary issues can only be rendered in full through a single, solitary means. Color.
To you my dear readers and listeners (Who I earnestly hope can detect overblown language, else there should by now be a deliciously awkward silence over our fine 1:00 class) I say this. You could call avatar good. You could call it great. You could call it gods gift to our irises. Or, you could do better. For 10$, you have it in you power right now to don a stylish pair of 3D glasses, take up a ready position, and pay the best homage available to a well appreciated, and yet sorely abused piece of art.
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