BryWilson's World
Friday, April 1, 2016
What kind of schools do we want our children to attend? It is a perverse world that wants to pay to test the hell out of our kids (with invalidated and unsubstantiated "assessments"), but it won't provide the resources from which to learn (like books and classroom supplies) or even conditions that are safe (like toilet paper, soap, leaky ceilings). #fightforfunding #saveourschools #shutdownchi #realchitownrising
What kind of higher education opportunities do we want our children to have? In a state once celebrated for its accessibility, the state that most accurately represents the country's diversity, universities are being forced to close, furlough their employees, and demand payment from students in lieu of the grants already awarded but no longer funded.
All because of a governor who has made it a mission to destroy social services and education opportunities for those who just need a hand to help them up so they can continue putting in the legwork. All because of policies designed to siphon even more money to the richest one percent (like himself) while suppressing the rest of us.
March for our kids, the children that will abandon the state that is abandoning them. March for the students who are constantly told through testing that they must work harder to get into college, that they must have a four-year degree, and must take out exorbitant loans to pay for it. March for those who will be left with incomplete degrees and communities without jobs.
Speak up today to let Springfield and Chicago know that the status quo is not acceptable, that we won't allow ourselves to be taxed to bankruptcy without anything to show for it. Fight for fair funding TODAY! #fightforfunding #saveourschools #realchitownrising #shutdownchi #firerauner #recallrahm
Thursday, August 25, 2011
In the Dark of the Night by John Saul
In the Dark of the Night by John Saul
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
One of the things that John Saul does so well is make the supernatural seem real by inserting fantastic elements into an utterly believable story and makes it a thrilling ride. In this book, Saul explores teenage angst, summertime romance, class warfare, anxiety, small-town gossip and big-city politics, family dynamics and, oh yeah, the psychology of serial killers and the legacies they leave behind.
In the Dark of the Night is not for the squeamish. The body count ultimately rivals that of Carrie while the creepiness surpasses It. Thomas Harris would see a little of his Lecter in this chilling tale.
After getting a taste of the idyllic summer life at the Pines in previous years with his friends Kent Newell and Tad Sparks, Eric Brewster and his family finally has the opportunity to rent a house on Phantom Lake for the season. But their home is no ordinary cottage--it's a mansion whose previous owner, Dr. Hector Darby mysteriously disappeared ten years ago after the town's only other unspeakable tragedy. Eric begins to explore the unusual property before he and his buddies make some unreal discoveries. Macabre nightmares follow.
What makes In the Dark of the Night work so well is the way how effectively Saul captures each character through dialogue and actions. Other books I have recently read have been bereft of such details, but Saul scatters the seeds of suspense inside a seemingly ordinary adolescent struggle between Eric and local boy Adam Mosler over the affections of Cherie Stevens.
I highly recommend this book for those who like dark thrillers about serial killers.
View all my reviews
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
One of the things that John Saul does so well is make the supernatural seem real by inserting fantastic elements into an utterly believable story and makes it a thrilling ride. In this book, Saul explores teenage angst, summertime romance, class warfare, anxiety, small-town gossip and big-city politics, family dynamics and, oh yeah, the psychology of serial killers and the legacies they leave behind.
In the Dark of the Night is not for the squeamish. The body count ultimately rivals that of Carrie while the creepiness surpasses It. Thomas Harris would see a little of his Lecter in this chilling tale.
After getting a taste of the idyllic summer life at the Pines in previous years with his friends Kent Newell and Tad Sparks, Eric Brewster and his family finally has the opportunity to rent a house on Phantom Lake for the season. But their home is no ordinary cottage--it's a mansion whose previous owner, Dr. Hector Darby mysteriously disappeared ten years ago after the town's only other unspeakable tragedy. Eric begins to explore the unusual property before he and his buddies make some unreal discoveries. Macabre nightmares follow.
What makes In the Dark of the Night work so well is the way how effectively Saul captures each character through dialogue and actions. Other books I have recently read have been bereft of such details, but Saul scatters the seeds of suspense inside a seemingly ordinary adolescent struggle between Eric and local boy Adam Mosler over the affections of Cherie Stevens.
I highly recommend this book for those who like dark thrillers about serial killers.
View all my reviews
Friday, August 12, 2011
Review of The Sundance Kids
The Sundance Kids: How the Mavericks Took Back Hollywood by James Mottram
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This would seem to be the definitive book on independent filmmaking from 1989's sex, lies, and videotape to the mid-2000s.Using Steven Soderbergh's prolific and varied body of work as the foundation for the Sundance movement, Mottram looks specifically at the works of "mavericks" like Paul Thomas Anderson, David Fincher, Spike Jonze, Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Sofia Coppola, Kimberly Pierce and Wes Anderson to explore how the traditional Hollywood narratives have been upended. Of course, Mottram provides an extensive look at Quentin Tarantino's and Robert Rodriguez's works, as well. I especially enjoyed his examination of Charlie Kaufman and the screenwriting process. This book is a must-read for any contemporary film enthusiast.
The book is structured as a series of essays and articles framing each year's "class" from the Sundance Film Festival and the subsequent progression of each member. Soderbergh gets considerable focus as the "godfather" to these filmmakers by virtue of the splash that sex made in 1989. His career rises and falls and takes risks like none other, confirming the subjective nature of the movie business. Mottram is careful to note how Soderbergh's artistic endeavors seem to supercede the need for profits by the studios. It's fascinating how he shows that small films can, however, prove more lucrative than big-budget flicks.
This is the kind of work that makes one want to revisit each director's library of films, from Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums to Fincher's Panic Room; Payne's Election and About Schmidt to Russell's Three Kings; and everything by P. T. Anderson.
There are just two concerns of significance with this book. First, Mottram's apparent displeasure with the Motion Picture Academy awarding Oscars to some of the bravura acting performances at the expense of those found in films by the Sundance Kids. One cannot fault the Academy for those sleights without acknowledging the discourse regarding Hilary Swank's win (for her performance in Pierce's Boys Don't Cry) over Annette Bening's legendary work in American Beauty. Swank's performance was good, to be sure, but Mottram conveniently overlooks the fact that there have been a number of exceptional performances in independent and studio films alike.
My other complaint, however trivial, is that the Coen brothers are notably excluded from the majority of the book. There is simply a passing reference to The Man Who Wasn't There and little mention elsewhere, despite the fact that the Coens were arguably the most successful creators during the period covered in the book and certainly have provided a great deal of influence on the Sundance generation. These concerns aside, I would definitely select several sections of the book for use in a film studies class. For now, though, I will update my Netflix queue--I've got quite a few films to watch.
View all my reviews
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This would seem to be the definitive book on independent filmmaking from 1989's sex, lies, and videotape to the mid-2000s.Using Steven Soderbergh's prolific and varied body of work as the foundation for the Sundance movement, Mottram looks specifically at the works of "mavericks" like Paul Thomas Anderson, David Fincher, Spike Jonze, Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Sofia Coppola, Kimberly Pierce and Wes Anderson to explore how the traditional Hollywood narratives have been upended. Of course, Mottram provides an extensive look at Quentin Tarantino's and Robert Rodriguez's works, as well. I especially enjoyed his examination of Charlie Kaufman and the screenwriting process. This book is a must-read for any contemporary film enthusiast.
The book is structured as a series of essays and articles framing each year's "class" from the Sundance Film Festival and the subsequent progression of each member. Soderbergh gets considerable focus as the "godfather" to these filmmakers by virtue of the splash that sex made in 1989. His career rises and falls and takes risks like none other, confirming the subjective nature of the movie business. Mottram is careful to note how Soderbergh's artistic endeavors seem to supercede the need for profits by the studios. It's fascinating how he shows that small films can, however, prove more lucrative than big-budget flicks.
This is the kind of work that makes one want to revisit each director's library of films, from Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums to Fincher's Panic Room; Payne's Election and About Schmidt to Russell's Three Kings; and everything by P. T. Anderson.
There are just two concerns of significance with this book. First, Mottram's apparent displeasure with the Motion Picture Academy awarding Oscars to some of the bravura acting performances at the expense of those found in films by the Sundance Kids. One cannot fault the Academy for those sleights without acknowledging the discourse regarding Hilary Swank's win (for her performance in Pierce's Boys Don't Cry) over Annette Bening's legendary work in American Beauty. Swank's performance was good, to be sure, but Mottram conveniently overlooks the fact that there have been a number of exceptional performances in independent and studio films alike.
My other complaint, however trivial, is that the Coen brothers are notably excluded from the majority of the book. There is simply a passing reference to The Man Who Wasn't There and little mention elsewhere, despite the fact that the Coens were arguably the most successful creators during the period covered in the book and certainly have provided a great deal of influence on the Sundance generation. These concerns aside, I would definitely select several sections of the book for use in a film studies class. For now, though, I will update my Netflix queue--I've got quite a few films to watch.
View all my reviews
Friday, June 10, 2011
Review of The Tortilla Curtain
The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
In The Tortilla Curtain, author T.C. Boyle brings us a modern retelling of Voltaire's seminal work Candide. The story focuses on two diametrically opposed couples and the changing demographics of suburban Los Angeles--namely, the varied consequences (positive and negative) of undocumented immigration. Just as Candide was enduring one malady after another while bumbling toward El Dorado, so, too, does each husband in his respective journey.
This is a thought-provoking satire that challenges what white suburban xenophobes believe about "illegal aliens" who enter the U.S. through its Mexican border. It is fascinating to see how Delaney, a self-proclaimed New York liberal and environmental activist, steadily turns against the Mexicans thanks to chance encounters with Candido. While he is suffering relatively minor misfortunes comparatively speaking, Delaney finds his life gradually becoming more and more disrupted by the actions and influence of Mexican immigrants, or so he perceives. But were immigrants responsible for the coyote that attacks the family dog?
The real hero of the story is Candido, who, like his namesake, is subjected to a Jobean-level of tragedy and misfortune and yet maintains (at times) "the best of all possible worlds" optimism that keeps him moving forward. Not only does he unwittingly trigger Delaney's downward spiral into rage by becoming a hood ornament, Candido manages to persevere through homelessness, robbery, relocation and the constant, looming threat of La Migra. He loses some sense of personal pride when his wife America is forced to climb out of the canyon to work while he recovers from the accident. Any stroke of luck is followed almost immediately castastrophe, each bigger than the last. Candido proves remarkably resiliant and prescient and ingeneous and resourceful, and yet is impossibly hapless, too.
America broods, as she is expecting Candido's child and has no one else she can rely upon in el Norte. After a series of calamities befalls the couple, America yearns to return to Mexico, where she could at least live with her father. Time and time again, however, she regains her husband's (misguided?) optimism and still wants to have that idyllic home and American Dream existence.
Boyle uses Delaney and his realtor wife Kyra's Arroyo Blanco development as a metaphor for the "protectionists" who want to keep out "the Mexicans"--meaning all Latin American immigrants--by building a gate and then a wall, just like the efforts to build a physical barrier along the Mexican border. Of course, the Arroyo Blanco wall proves a mere obstacle for those it is meant to keep out, while it succeeds at restricting the lives of those who live within its confines.
Overall, this is an enjoyable and darkly entertaining novel, one that skillfully takes a pointed look at racism while reflecting on the fact one's happiness is derived from his perception of his world. Definitely a book worth reading--I would definitely entertain the idea of using this book in the classroom.
View all my reviews
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
In The Tortilla Curtain, author T.C. Boyle brings us a modern retelling of Voltaire's seminal work Candide. The story focuses on two diametrically opposed couples and the changing demographics of suburban Los Angeles--namely, the varied consequences (positive and negative) of undocumented immigration. Just as Candide was enduring one malady after another while bumbling toward El Dorado, so, too, does each husband in his respective journey.
This is a thought-provoking satire that challenges what white suburban xenophobes believe about "illegal aliens" who enter the U.S. through its Mexican border. It is fascinating to see how Delaney, a self-proclaimed New York liberal and environmental activist, steadily turns against the Mexicans thanks to chance encounters with Candido. While he is suffering relatively minor misfortunes comparatively speaking, Delaney finds his life gradually becoming more and more disrupted by the actions and influence of Mexican immigrants, or so he perceives. But were immigrants responsible for the coyote that attacks the family dog?
The real hero of the story is Candido, who, like his namesake, is subjected to a Jobean-level of tragedy and misfortune and yet maintains (at times) "the best of all possible worlds" optimism that keeps him moving forward. Not only does he unwittingly trigger Delaney's downward spiral into rage by becoming a hood ornament, Candido manages to persevere through homelessness, robbery, relocation and the constant, looming threat of La Migra. He loses some sense of personal pride when his wife America is forced to climb out of the canyon to work while he recovers from the accident. Any stroke of luck is followed almost immediately castastrophe, each bigger than the last. Candido proves remarkably resiliant and prescient and ingeneous and resourceful, and yet is impossibly hapless, too.
America broods, as she is expecting Candido's child and has no one else she can rely upon in el Norte. After a series of calamities befalls the couple, America yearns to return to Mexico, where she could at least live with her father. Time and time again, however, she regains her husband's (misguided?) optimism and still wants to have that idyllic home and American Dream existence.
Boyle uses Delaney and his realtor wife Kyra's Arroyo Blanco development as a metaphor for the "protectionists" who want to keep out "the Mexicans"--meaning all Latin American immigrants--by building a gate and then a wall, just like the efforts to build a physical barrier along the Mexican border. Of course, the Arroyo Blanco wall proves a mere obstacle for those it is meant to keep out, while it succeeds at restricting the lives of those who live within its confines.
Overall, this is an enjoyable and darkly entertaining novel, one that skillfully takes a pointed look at racism while reflecting on the fact one's happiness is derived from his perception of his world. Definitely a book worth reading--I would definitely entertain the idea of using this book in the classroom.
View all my reviews
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