Frozen Toothpaste

protagonistthemovie.com

Having been rather satisfied with “Be Your Own Protagonist,” the movie Protagonist — which seems to be available from Netflix (whose Red Envelope Entertainment holds the rights) and nowhere else — almost necessarily piqued my interest. And though the summary sounded luke-warm, I decided that on the title alone I had to give it a shot.

I’m glad I did. Much as my favorite graffito recommends, the documentary paints its four personages as protagonists in epic Greek dramas. Jessica Yu’s film offers, in my mind, an easy comparison with onBeing. With the chief visual component of both being subjects telling their story to the camera, the comparison is easy and apt.

Protagonist, aside from being longer than the web-project that is onBeing, is much more explicit and methodical. It opens with a dramatic voice saying, in Greek, “Tell it still. There is pleasure in hardship heard about.” Throughout, as the stories told by the film’s subjects unfold, so to does a classic tragedy played by wooden puppets.

If one managed to miss the implication of that play, Ms. Yu clearly delineates each phase of her classic drama. Here, indeed, is my one displeasure with the film. The effort to tell these contemporary tales as Greek drama can sometimes fell clumsy and heavy-handed. An attempt to mold and bend them a little to make them conform to the external structure to which they don’t strictly comply.

But they fit relatively well, and usually effortlessly. And the stories, though none rare or unlikely enough to win their own full length documentary, are all dynamic and interesting. Mark Salzman’s discovery of and rabid fondness for kung-fu as a way to end his stint as a weak and bullied teenager. Hans-Joachim Klien’s embrace of radical violence after he saw police beat a woman. Mark Pierpont’s embrace of his Christian ministry after finding that through religion he could triumph over homosexuality. Joe Loya embrace of a life of crime after finding that retaliatory violence against his abusive father felt good.

These are all interesting story, and all told by people well aware of the grand arc of their lives. Though it’s possible they’ve retrofit their story’s into Yu’s desired arc, they feel so natural and straightforward in their telling that I find the possibility unlikely.

The stories, as your would rightly expect, all have clear resolutions. Clear moment’s when the men’s absolute embrace of a certain mode of living is recognized as unwise and then rejected. Well established end points that seem to say clearly that their stint as classical protagonists ended. Surely, every life traces such an arc. I feel comfortable seeing that as Yu’s message, and I’m chastened to not have thought of it first.

Helder da Rocha (CC)

I’ve alway fancied philosophy, but never was able to find the time to appreciate it’s affinity for semantics and over-thought fictional scenarios. And though I don’t mind reading philosophy, but I’m not exactly able to find the time to do it often.

It is there that I see the excellent Philosophy Bites filling the gap. The podcast, by David Edmunds and Nigel Warburton, is a weekly conversation with a philosopher that are between 10 and 20 minutes long. They run the gamut from classic to contemporary, from analytical to highly practical. Some episodes will tackle the likes of Socrates or Plato, Emmanuel Kant or David Hume, while others deftly handle topics like philosophy in a film like Blade Runner.

All of this is probably be interesting to those with doctorates in philosophy, but it’s also surprisingly accessible to people, like myself, who don’t have such credentials.

The most recent episode that seemed a little esoteric was a discussion of free riding. But though the idea’s not well known, it is very easy to grasp. Free riding is, as the name so ably suggests, taking advantage of the positive actions of others while not participating yourself. The example of being environmentally careless while others conserve is the obvious example that Mr. Edmunds quickly explains within the first 90 seconds of the podcast.

And this problem, like most tackled by Philosophy Bites, are incredibly interesting and very rarely discussed in daily life (at least my daily life). To it’s discredit, one could rightly argue that this podcast, like all philosophy, is more concerned with idle discussion of impractical ideas.

And indeed, the recent discussion of the concepts of past, present, and future could feel to some like a purely academic endeavor. Surely it’s an interesting point, you could argue, that events are the same regardless of whether or not they’ve happened yet. But that’s not exactly something that can or should change the way I live my life.

It’s a completely reasonable argument, but the problems with philosophy itself aren’t problems peculiar to this podcast. And though I might offer one, I’ll leave a full-throated defense of philosophy to other people or times.

I certainly enjoy philosophy for itself, but never find the time to tackle complex texts by authors I probably haven’t heard of. But I can — and gladly do — spend 15 minutes per week listening to a friendly and accessible discussion of those books and ideas that I don’t read. If such a thing seems remotely interesting to you I’d strongly recommend that you give Philosophy Bites a try.

Foreign films have a reputation for being boring. So, a random line from this one:

Mickey Mouse is a fascist! I said don’t read it!

If that’s doesn’t make you sit up and pay attention, nothing will. The line also succinctly explains the chief struggle in Blame it on Fidel (La Faute à Fidel).

Young Anna is a moderately spoiled and conservative nine year old in France in 1970. Conservative not in a deeply political way, but the casual conservatism of child who rather likes her Catholic schools and the nuns that teach there. And rather likes having a big house with a big yard. And rather likes her family’s housekeeper, a Cuban émigré. And seems closer to the woman, Filomena, than her parents. She also share’s Filomena’s distaste for her visiting aunt and cousin — refugees from Franco’s Spain who the refugee from Castro’s Cuba recognizes as socialists.

When the housekeeper’s suspicions — that Anna’s parents would become socialist crusaders — are proved correct, she’s dismissed. Anna’s parents have found passion for socialist movements and are driven to help Salvador Allende’s ascent to power in Chile. To truly pursue this dream they must give up their home and her father’s high-paying job as a lawyer.

This in the first of many seemingly-unbearable changes with which Anna must contend. The move into a smaller apartment and recruitment of a new childminder — a depressed refugee from Greece — don’t help her chronic dissatisfaction with all the changes in her life. She’s further insulted when her parents take her out of divinity lessons, well aware that her socialist cousin had been removed from them as well.

Told that saving is the only way get the money she sees as necessary for the life she wants, Anna takes to pinching pennies, and sometimes even stealing them outright. She regularly turns off as many lights as possible, as well the water heater. Of course, the results aren’t nearly what she desires, seeming to do little more than make her have cold baths from time to time.

What’s amazing and worthwhile in this strained relationship between Anna and her parents is the extent to which it lays bare the logic of arguments hashed out all over the world between radicals and reactionaries. For example, a conversation between Anna (emphasized) and her father after being tear-gassed at a protest:

I’m hungry. I want to go home.

Me. Me. Me. That was group solidarity! We’re here for your future.

My future?

When you’re older, you’ll see that we were right. In Spain they kill men like Quino [Anna’s uncle, killed by Franco’s men]. In Latin America the poor live in shacks.

Ok. We have to help the poor and be polite to them, but why do all that? Let’s do like Granny [who lives in a big house and sometimes donates clothes to the poor]!

The whole thing is by measures inspired and absurd. And much of it delves into history and cultural references that I can only begin to understand. But none of that’s much of a problem. The films constant understated humor sustains the drama throughout.

On the whole, I think it’s a great and important film that I feel certain more should see.

In my younger years, I was given some advice that I’ve always taken quite seriously: Never have any heroes who remain above ground. And though that may sound like a claim that a person should only make heroes of sewer rats, subway conductors, and water sanitation engineers; it’s not. Depending on who you ask, it is either a realistic or pessimistic statement that all people still alive have the power to show themselves to have been untruthful. To fail. To disappoint.

And so I’m full of reservations about the positive feelings engendered by Mr. Obama’s soaring and hopeful speech. He’s shown himself to be vulnerable to the same cynical campaigning that his statements so often derides. He’s shown himself to be willing, sometimes, to take the easy potshots and low blows that he argues against so often.

I’m also worried about attempting to review one of his speeches. Whenever I write an unconventional review I feel like I’m (especially) out of my depth. My review of raking leaves, for example, feels novel but not particularly interesting. And then my review of Joshua James’s excellent album — album reviews aren’t unconventional, but I’ve made no habit of writing them — made it sound average at best.

And I also don’t want to support any politician explicitly. All politicians play a game that I find both fascinating and disgusting. They change things, but they often sacrifice principle to do so. And that’s got well defined positives and negatives.

Senator Obama’s oratory is truly breathtaking, and this speech is just one that I was able to watch and easily find a transcript. In my — admittedly short — political history no politician has spoken with such clarity. Such a hopeful vision. Whether or not he lives up to this vision in day-to-day life is an open question, but that his speeches can inspire those who agree with him is hard to doubt.

And Mr. Obama begins well. He skillfully weaves together his optimism and the political message he needs to make: that South Carolina was indicative of his power as a presidential candidate, not of his power as a black presidential candidate.

Well, tonight, the cynics who believed that what began in the snows of Iowa was just an illusion were told a different story by the good people of South Carolina.

After four great contests in every corner of this country, we have the most votes, the most delegates, and the most diverse coalition of Americans we’ve seen in a long, long time.

He goes on to list the elements of his coalition. And all of this is important for two reason. First, he’s making the point that not only does he have more delegates than Mrs. Clinton — he does, but they’re also “better” — whatever that is.

Secondly, this beginning is important because unlike Mrs. Clinton, he’s making the clear statement that this isn’t about him. Senator Clinton’s best known speech so far has been after her New Hampshire victory in which she said, “Over the last week, I listened to you, and in the process found my own voice. … Let’s give America the kind of comeback that New Hampshire has just given me.”

The jarring distinction, unveiled within the first few minutes is this: rhetorically Mr. Obama speaks of ideals, unity, and hope. Mrs. Clinton speaks of herself and her candidacy. And though both of the candidates clearly needed the victories at the time, you wouldn’t know it from a comparison. Senator Obama argues that his victory represents a comeback for his platform while Senator Clinton speaks as if it’s a comeback for herself.

This is not exactly a novel observation, but it’s an important one. People seem stunned by Mr. Obama’s skill, but the simple rhetorical device of saying “us” instead of “I” and “we” rather than “me” is a crucial part of his oratorical ability. By doing so he’s got a room of compatriots rather than supporters, a room of helpers rather than those that need to be helped.

Even in referring to himself, Mr. Obama doesn’t speak explicitly of himself or his campaign.

But here’s what I know. I know that when people say we can’t overcome all the big money and influence in Washington, I think of the elderly woman who sent me a contribution the other day – an envelope that had a money order for $3.01 along with a verse of scripture tucked inside. So don’t tell us change isn’t possible.

Certainly he knows things. He’s seen things. But what he’s seeing is the power of the people to whom he speaks.

But I also have to say that Mr. Obama — or his speech-writing team — has a way with words. And that’s what I’ll leave you with. The closing paragraphs of his speech last Saturday night were truly beautiful:

And as we leave this state with a new wind at our backs, and take this journey across the country we love with the message we’ve carried from the plains of Iowa to the hills of New Hampshire; from the Nevada desert to the South Carolina coast; the same message we had when we were up and when we were down – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope; and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people in three simple words:

Yes. We. Can.

The Agronomist is a 2004 film about the life of an agronomist. As you may infer from that sentence, it didn’t win large audiences. But to say it’s about an agronomist is to minimize the truth. Jean Dominique called himself an agronomist, as was his training, but this underestimates his work, his charisma, and his struggle.

A more useful explanation of the man would be that he was a Haitian journalist and activist. His story is so intimately intertwined with his country’s troubled history that the director, Jonathan Demme, understandably found it all but impossible to tell one without the other.

I’ve struggled with my ignorance about Haiti before, in my review of Aristide and the Endless Revolution, and I admit to having done little about it. Even as I regularly demand that the world — or at least the 10 people who pay attention to me — work hard to combat the easy ignorance that pervades modern life, I confess I’m rather careless myself.

But ignorance doesn’t make The Agronomist any harder to grasp. The history of the consecutive dictatorships of “Papa Doc” and “Baby Doc” Duvalier are, at least in the telling of Dominique and Demme, mercifully easy to understand. They were run-of-the-mill bullying third-world strong men. It’s an easy archetype to grasp.

And so it is against these force that the young agronomist — who never had land of his own to cultivate — began to became a journalist and a crusader. And when given the chance to purchase the radio station at which he learned the ropes, Jean Dominique jumped at the chance.

His rise to national prominence is much more presumed than presented. Being the most innovative and informative program in a country where anything other than repeating official decrees is seen as dangerous, Dominique gained prominence feeling assured by Jimmy Carter’s human-rights presidency.

Demonstrating the confounding impact of the United States on countries few of its citizens pay attention to, Reagan’s ascension allowed “Baby Doc” to violently force Jean Dominique off the air and into exile in New York. His return, after the Duvalier regime fell, is celebrated by at least sixty thousand. The violent ouster of the newly-elected Jean-Bertrand Aristide in 1991 also forces Dominique back into exile while his radio station is forcibly demolished.

Jean Dominique in seen, in the posthumous documentary, as the soul of Haiti. And it’s easy to understand the desire to paint such a picture: he’s charismatic, he’s charming, he’s passionate about the people. Unacquainted as I remain with Haitian history, I can not say how well that portrait meshes with reality.

The story is both interesting and important. That alone makes it a good documentary. That it’s subject is so expressive and dynamic before the camera makes it a well-told story as well. Surely there are better and more comprehensive examinations of Haiti in the world, but until I find one, I’ll tell you that The Agronomist is a best introduction to Haitian history I’ve seen.