Boning Up

Don't you hate when you get to the end of a book or movie, and you feel like you've missed something? You feel like you should go back and rewatch (-read) the thing to see if there was some essential clue along the way that you didn't pay sufficient attention to. Unless, of course, you don't really care, in which case it's not that big a problem. Such was the case with "Winter's Bone."

Academy-Award-nominated "Winter's Bone" tells the story of Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence, a Best Actress nominee), a 17-year-old girl in the Ozarks, who needs to find her deadbeat dad, Jessup. Jessup is out on bail, having been arrested for cooking meth. He has an impending court date, and, at the beginning of the movie, Ree finds out that Jessup has put the family's house and land up as collateral; thus, if he doesn't make it to court, the family loses what little they have. Ree sets out on a quest to find Jessup.

The first half of the movie feels like an Ozark Odyssey, as Ree journeys from house to house, visiting people (all of whom she is related to in one way or another) who may know something of Jessup's whereabouts. At each house, she is invariably told to drop it. Of course, she can't. As she gets cl0ser to unraveling the "mystery" of what happened to her father (which frankly doesn't seem like much of a mystery), she finds herself in greater and greater danger.

If it's any indication of the interest-level of this movie, we found ourselves thinking of the film as an interesting anthropological dramatization: We noted that, at each house Ree visits, a sort of ritual is enacted: First, the women-folk come out to size up the visitor; if the women decide Ree's purpose is valid, she will be allowed into the presence of the men-folk; if not, she is expected to leave or suffer the consequences. We also learned that mountain-folk eat squirrel and are introduced to guns at a young age. Who knew?

The movie also features an Academy-Award nominated performance by John Hawkes as Teardrop, Ree's uncle. His is an interesting character, first acting as a barrier to Ree's quest, but ultimately feeling that the bonds of family are more important than the rules of society (so maybe we should see the movie as a sort of "Antigone" story?).

But getting back to what we were saying at the beginning of today's post: At the end of the film, we are left with two questions: One: Who put up the money to help bail out Jessup, his land not being sufficient collateral; and two. . . . Well, we won't ask the second one, as it may be considered a spoiler, although the answer to the two questions may be the same. We suspect that the answers are there--Teardrop certainly seems to know the answers at the end--but this viewer, again, feels like he missed something. If members of the Nation have seen--or see--"Winter's Bone," let's comapre notes.

And while we're at it, we can discuss why the movie is called "Winter's Bone."

Kids Today!

"Some argue that today’s child-rearing and educational techniques have produced praise addicts. Roni Caryn Rabin of The Times recently reported on some research that found that college students would rather receive a compliment than eat their favorite food or have sex."

What college was this? How ugly would the students have to be?

Y'know, the food thing, maybe. If you're counting calories and all. Maybe someone compliments you on your ability to resist tempation.

But sex? Really? You expect us to believe that a majority--or at any rate a plurality--of college students, actually chose a compliment over sex?

"OK, Phil. Here are your choices: A juicy steak, a blow job, or a compliment. Which do you want?"

"Hmmm. . . "

"Well?"

"Don't rush me! I'm thinking!"

"Uh. . . OK. . . "

"What was the second thing?"

"A blow job?"

"From a girl?"

"Well, y'know, yes. . . Or a guy, whatever you prefer."

"Or a steak?"

"Yes, or a compliment. Which would you prefer?"

Seriously, that would have to be some major compliment. Maybe if, like, Obama and George Clooney--

[WOS: Again with George Clooney? Really?]

--and, and, like God all came to our office and told us that we were just doing a bang-up job and were a credit to humanity and the best thing since sliced bread--

Actually, we'd still prefer sex. Or a steak.

Personally, we don't even see the need to choose, accustomed as we are to being complimented for sex.

[WOS: Oy.]

Solipsistography

"The Modesty Manifesto"

Caught on Tape

This blog post contains material that may be considered unflattering to members of the "Tea Party." We hope no one secretly videotapes us.


Vivan Schiller, the chief executive of National Public Radio, resigned yesterday in the wake of the release of a "scandalous" video, in which NPR fund-raiser Ronald (no relation) Schiller was caught bad-mouthing Republicans and Tea Partiers to potential NPR donors. The donors were impostors, and the meeting was part of a sting operation conducted by a right-wing provocateur. In the video, Schiller (not to be confused with Schiller) says most members of the Tea Party are "seriously racist." Frankly, this is about as provocative as saying most NBA players are tall, but we understand why people would take offense.


In Schiller's defense--and isn't "Schiller" a great name for a fund-raiser?--he thought he was talking to some Muslims--the same group currently being demonized by Republican congressman and IRA sympathizer Peter King. Schiller may, therefore, simply have been appealing to what he assumed were the sympathies of his audience. Still, one can only condemn such intolerant behavior, especially from someone who represents the liberal-leaning NPR.

Some may argue that, while Schiller should certainly have resigned (as he did), Schiller should not have fallen on her sword. But that's just the kind of outfit NPR runs. They hold themselves to a higher ethical standard. The foot-soldier erred, so the general must resign. We imagine NPR's opponents, including the vast majority of Republicans seeking to defund it, can only agree that Schiller (both of them, but especially the top Schiller) did the right thing. An executive cannot tolerate inappropriate and offensive pandering, even (or especially) if such pandering is aimed at a potentially lucrative audience.

And in that spirit, Wisconsin governor Scott Walker--who was caught in a similar position when liberal pranksters caught him on tape discussing union-busting plans with an impersonator posing as right-wing financier David Koch--today announced his resignation, claiming he could not allow himself to be out-ethicked by NPR. (Well, we can dream, can't we.)

Meanwhile, an NPR search committee has begun the process of hiring a new chief executive. We suggest they stay away from anyone named "Schiller."

Solipsistography
"For Lawmaker Examining Terror, a Pro-I.R.A. Past"
"Resignation Comes at Sensitive Time for NPR"
"Walker Receives Prank Call from Koch Impersonator"

Scientists Admit They Have Run Out of Things to Do with Mice

A SOLIPSIST EXCLUSIVE--Scientists at the Centers for Disease Control and the National Institutes of Health have issued a joint statement confirming rumors that the scientific community has officially run out of ideas for things to do with laboratory mice.

"We knew we were stretching when we spent a month testing mouse reactions to different colored balloons," said CDC spokesman Dr. Michael Kendall-Ramamoorthy. "For what it's worth, green promotes digestion."

Having spent the last seventeen years and countless trillions of taxpayer dollars testing whether mice were susceptible to typhus, AIDS, lead, parsnips, oxygen, the color blue, boy bands, and bullets--among other diseases and substances--researchers have decided that the time had come to permanently hang up the mouse tongs.

"Starting Monday," Dr. Kendall-Ramamoorthy said, "we start the whole testing regime over again. This time with lemurs."

Laissez les Bon Temps Roullez (A Brief Post)

Today is Mardi Gras. It is also International Women's Day. So today, when you're trying to cajole a woman to show you her bahoogies in exchange for some beads, do it with respect!

Uncle Tom's Toybox

Continuing the Getting-Around-to-It Film Festival 2011, last night we watched "Toy Story 3."

Yes, wonderful, magical, Pixar, genius, tears-to-our-eyes, better than the first two, yadda yadda yadda. Now that that's out of the way, let's talk about what was really going on in that movie.

Frankly, we were more than a little disturbed.

In this installment, the familiar gang of toys, led by Cowboy Woody (Tom Hanks) and Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) face the imminent departure of their "kid," Andy, who is heading off to college. What fate awaits the toys? A peaceful retirement in the attic? Donation to a daycare center? Woody turns out to be the favored one, chosen to accompany Andy to college. Andy plans to place the rest of the toys in the attic, but, due to a mix-up, his mother puts the toys out for the garbage collector. The toys escape this ignominious fate, but, despite Woody's assurances that Andy meant to give them a peaceful retirement, Buzz and the others indignantly decide they would rather be donated than trashed. They go to the Sunnyside Day Care Center, an apparent toy utopia. Woody pleads with the toys to return to Andy's attic, but they will have none of it. Woody leaves on his own and only subsequently does it become clear that Sunnyside is a dictatorship, ruled by the iron (plush) paw of Lots-o-Huggin' Bear (Ned Beatty). The movie then turns into a comic thriller as Woody returns to rescue his friends.

OK, so, two things bothered us: First, when Woody tries to convince the other toys to leave Sunnyside and return to Andy, much is made of the concept of loyalty: The toys must be loyal to their "kid." Only, Andy is not exclusively referred to as their "kid"; he is also their "owner." Yes, the main characters of the movie are toys, but they are also self-aware, sentient beings, with a rich variety of personalities ranging from the clever (Woody) to the heroic (Buzz) to the feisty (Jessie) to the autistic (those little martian guys). And what do we call people who are owned by other people?

Need we point out that Andy went so far as to "brand" his property, proudly etching his name into their bodies? When Woody argues, therefore, that the toys must show their loyalty to Andy, he strikes us as something of an Uncle Tom. Brought to you by Mattel. The message is only reinforced by the fact that the "disloyal" toys quickly find themselves in a far worse situation at Sunnyside: Where Andy was a caring owner, Lotso is Simon Legree. Wasn't one of the arguments against the abolition of slavery that slaves wouldn't know what to do without their owners? That, indeed, slavery was a benevolent institution protecting those less capable of taking care of themselves? And at the end, when the toys finally make it back to Andy, what does he do? HE GIVES THEM AWAY! OK, sure, they are passed along to the toy-loving Bonnie, who will presumably treat them appropriately, but ultimately we are left with the idea that Woody and Buzz and the rest of the gang are just so much chattel, passed along from one owner to the next until they can no longer be of use.

And then there's the sex. When the toys first arrive at Sunnyside, they are thrilled to see the children enthusiastically playing. Andy, you see, stopped playing with his toys years earlier. And the toys' level of frustration is reminiscent of Mrs. Roper's on "Three's Company": "Oh boy, Oh boy," rhapsodizes Rex (Wallace Shawn), "I can't remember the last time I was played with!" When the toys get their wish, they are not played with lovingly, gently, dare we say, sensuously; instead, they are played with within an inch of their lives--gang-played, if you will--by a group of toddlers for whom the toys are "age inappropriate."

We can imagine one of these children being questioned by the authorities on the morning after: "Mrs. Potato-Head was begging me to play with her. Bitch had it coming."

Sunday Paper Recap

A couple of things in today's paper that made us go "Hmmm":

First, it is a well-known fact that the United States has provided scads of military aid to Egypt over the years. It is also a relatively well-known fact that the Egyptian army is essentially a for-profit enterprise: In addition to providing for the common defense, the army is involved in all manner of money-making schemes. Now that the military is essentially running the country, its for-profit ventures are coming under scrutiny, especially those that are supported--whether directly or indirectly--by the foreign-aid largesse of the American government.

Whatever one thinks of the various arrangements undertaken by the Egyptian military and its American facilitators, we were struck by this tidbit:

"Last year, the American military awarded two Foreign Military Sales contracts to Chrysler in Detroit. One, for $26 million, was for 750 unassembled jeeps."

Now, according to the Jeep website, the Solipsist could purchase a 2011 Jeep Wrangler--fully assembled, we might add--for $22,045. Yet the US government is paying more than $34,000 apiece for disassembled ones.

What really upsets us is that, somehow, we know that teachers' unions are going to get blamed for this.

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Also in the news, a bill has been proposed in California that would ban the import and sale of shark fin, a prized ingredient in traditional Chinese cuisine. We can't argue with the law's sentiment: Shark fins are harvested from living sharks, which are then dumped back in the ocean where they sink to their deaths. At the same time, though, we find something ironic in the thought of great white sharks, nature's most efficient killers, needing legal protection.

Up next: The Godzilla Preservation Act.

Solipsistiography

"Egyptian Army's Business Side Blurs Lines of U.S. Miliary Aid"

"Soup Without Fins? Some Californians Simmer"