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Friday, September 6, 2013

800 Words: Monotheism and the Grand Chessboard

Posted on 12:03 AM by Unknown
If the world is a chessboard, then Israel is the exact centerpiece which does not exist on any game yet played except in reality. Countries like America, Russia, China, are in the proper position to bestride the board like dominant colossi, but the ultimate goal is who controls Israel. For reasons many attribute to mystical properties, the dominant civilizations of the Western (and now Global) world have thus far almost always been those whose policies most favored the advancement of Jews.


The reason for this is not mystical at all, it is simple geography. America, Brazil, Russia, India, and China may be dominant players in the grand chess game. But Israel is the spiritual father to them all because Israel stands at the world’s exact crossroad - this tiny land is the closest thing to a central meeting point for Europe, Asia, and Africa. More than any other culture, it stands in the optimal place for its ideas to spread to many cultures which otherwise have nothing in common. If the larger world was eventually going to evolve from regional pagan superstitions, Israel was the only region with enough fluency for travel that the ideas could spread. And amazingly, as the Western World expanded into the Global World to include China and India to the Far East and the Americas to the Far West, Israel still seems to stand in the world’s precise center.




There may have been many other places where monotheism was thought of before Israel, but Israel is where it took root, and Israel is the center point from which it began to proliferate. Before the development of what eventually became the Jewish people, binding legal codes certainly existed, but such laws could never spread past the immediate city-state or Empire in which they were upheld because they could not take on the weight of immutable Divine Law. The Gods of one region might disavow the laws of another region. Only an invisible and indivisible God; omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent, could spread his law past the reach of any army. Only an eternal kingdom requires eternal vigilance, and such an idea could only spread were it to take root in the most fertile area for ideas to extend their reach.

Legal evolution is unthinkable without monotheism. The fact that laws took on the weight of Holy Word is what gave law the power to conquer entire civilizations. Monotheism may have enabled slaughter upon a scale yet unseen (though that’s debateable), but it also enabled feats of organization thus far impossible in eras when values were more relative (and that isn’t). With the quick rise and quicker decline of the Empire of David and Solomon, Israel displayed a rough draft for all the civilizations which came after it. The Kingdom of Israel was a kingdom of bedouin refugees whom in their wanderings absorbed many different influences from the empires of Egypt and Mesapotamia, and that was what allowed it to rise so quickly, and because it was encircled on all sides by those two empires was what made it fall even more quickly. The Israeli Kingdom was so short-lived that its subjects never completely forgot how to live as refugees, and once the reign of Solomon was over and the Kingdom of Israel divided, its subjects had to learn almost immediately following their inception how to live in a world where the influence of others could once again dominate life.
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Posted in 800 Words, history, Judaism, philosophy, Religion | No comments

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Rosh Hashana Playlist

Posted on 9:01 PM by Unknown
Ravel: Kaddish

Leonard Cohen: Who By Fire

Bloch: Niggun

Aaron Lebedeff: Romania, Romania

Rosenblatt: Shir Hamaalot

Steve Reich: Daniel Variations

Bernstein: Jeremiah Symphony

Stravinsky: Abraham and Isaac

Bloch: Avodat Hakodesh (oh the contempt I used to have for this piece... I can't get through it with a dry eye now.) part 2 

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Wednesday, September 4, 2013

800 Words: Vitality

Posted on 9:34 PM by Unknown
It was a great weekend I just spent in Cape Cod, and for the entirety of it my body felt like feces incarnate. I hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since last Tuesday, my heart was racing at the slightest exertion, I was feeling dizzy from dehydration, I was feeling acid reflux to the point that I barely had space in my lungs to breathe - space which would only reveal itself when I burped incessantly for minutes at a time, and my back felt such searing violin pain after a twenty-minute wedding gig and an hour practice beforehand that I could barely pick the lightest things up in my right hand.


No thirty-one year old is supposed to feel like this - even for an overweight thirty-one year old with a history of severe overeating, moderate drinking, and light smoking, this must be too much. Something feels very wrong, I know that I’m supposedly young enough to correct it, but this is physical decline on a level which nobody my age ever seems to feel. I wonder if other people my age would feel the same way if they lived the way I live, and I often think they wouldn’t. I did myself no favors over my twenties with the way I deliberately put myself out of shape, but I find it hard to believe that even this level of physical neglect is enough to explain the way I felt. It literally felt as though I was watching my body shut down. And every time I partook in another gorgeous meal, another party drink, or even the two cigarettes I smoked, I felt like I was grasping rather pathetically at the good times such experiences used to give me - paying for convincing myself I was still young by feeling ancient. Even in my physical decrepitude, the times felt as good as ever, but I’ve paid for all those good times of my twenties by being prematurely middle aged, and like all middle-agers, every time I partake in a youthful pleasure I silently brace myself for the small but very real possibility that this will be the time I’m made to pay permanently for pretending to still be young.


And yet this evening I went for my first bikeride since returning, and somehow found the strength to bike all the way to Greektown via Downtown with a few laps around Patterson Park and back to my apartment. I would guess that I logged a distance fairly close to thirty miles, and it was probably the longest distance I’ve ever biked. I certainly felt winded at times, but rarely so much that I had to stop on even the most strenuous hills. Idiot that I am, I even stopped at a cafe in the middle of Greektown to reward myself with a small cup of ice cream. The man at the counter gave me a huge helping, and when I told him it was too big he joked that I looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t be satisfied with a small helping. His pot belly was even fatter than mine, so I laughed in the kind of solidarity which only two fat people can have with one another and left him a dollar extra for tip. I then ate more than half of the ice cream, saying to myself all the way through ‘you can throw this away at any point.’


I’ve looked and acted older than my age from virtually the time I learned to speak. Was it genetics? Natural precocity? The disproportionate amount of time I spent with elderly people (for a variety of reasons, no kid spent more…)? The ‘antiqueness’ of my interests? The strain of mental illness? A combination of all of the above or some other factor gone unseen?

What I do know is that as I grow ever so slightly older chronologically, I suddenly find myself craving youthful feeling for the first time in my life. Heavy things which I used to consume on a daily basis - red meat, alcohol, long magazine articles, Mahler - now give me anxiety. I want to feel lighter, younger, less weightiness, more enjoyment. In nearly every way, I think I’ve become about as substantial as I ever care to be, and I need to seriously lighten up.
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Tuesday, September 3, 2013

800 Words: The Complete Season's Greetings

Posted on 6:53 PM by Unknown
2009: (the first, an unoriginal benediction, but with many, many personal emendations)

To All the Jews (honorary ones too),

In this coming year may you have friends who insult you to your face and neighbors who don't spy.  May you win the lottery, thereby acquiring a long list of relatives, and may you remember Evan Tucker when you win.  May you get good reports from your internist, ENT, dentist, cardiologist, chiropractor, proctologist and urologist, and if you don't may there be an organization to pick up your health policy when it's dropped.  May your hair stay in, your facelift not fall and your stock portfolio rise.  May your cholesterol stay low and your mortgage interest rate not rise.  May your broadband and refrigerator be free of spam (really just the broadband) and may your gchat records be easily deletable.  May the swine flu go back to the swine where it belongs.  May you get through the day without feeling the need for alcohol or nicotine at the end of it, or something else, unless you really think it's good for you in which case may you do that something else and may the government leave you be.  May you know your calling - choral singer or otherwise - and may your calling give you much satisfaction.  May those of you who think Israelis are always right be satisfied, may those of you who think Palestinians are always right be satisfied too, and may we all learn to stop talking about it at parties.  May you have a merciful IRS agent and a boss who charges lunch to the company card.  May those of you getting married, recently married or oldly married have all the best fortune.  May you make enough money to support all your children through college and grad school and for their whole lives thereafter.   When it's cold, may you have sealing windows.  When it rains, and it will, may you have non-leaking roofs.

To the Goyim,

Don't fuck with us.  

All the best,

Evan



2010: (easily my least favorite, toned down because it was the year I had to use it to try to convince DC singers to sing for Voices of Washington... I should have just done a better Season's Greetings)

To all the Jews: 

Real Jews, fake Jews; red Jews, blue Jews; Jews by force, Jews by choice; honorary Jews and dishonorable Jews.  To the three-times-a-year Jews and Shabbos Goyim, bacon-lovers and crabcake-connoisseurs; Jews when they watch Seinfeld and Jews when they read about Mel Gibson, Jews when they listen to Mahler and Jews when they watch Adam Sandler; Jews when they see the restaurant bill and Jews when their mothers call four times an hour.  To the 6'4 blonde Jews and the 5'3 balding goy, to the doctors named Esposito and the baseball players named Youklis; to the Jewish mechanic who works on your car and the Scotch-Irish accountant from West Virginia who sets up your 401 K, to the goyim who feel Jewish when Israel comes up and the Jews who feel Palestinian when talking to them; to the goyim who don't throw up when they realize what Kishkes are made of and the Jews who wretch at the sight of kippered herring, to the Jews who never miss a chance to look inside a church and the Goyim who feel like they're going to scream if they have to go again.  

To everyone, both Jewish and not, because beneath it all we share a common hatred of Yankee fans:

May the coming year bring you good health, good fortune, and happiness.

Evan



2011: (I went unoriginal again for the most part. But it was definitely funny)

Dearest Jews and/or Goyim,
In the coming year may you have all the health, wealth, wisdom and happiness which so clearly eluded you in the past year. I know I shall see you all tonight at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem where we shall partake of the great happiness that awaits all who devote eternity to the study of Torah. Should the Messiah however be unexpectedly delayed, here's fondly wishing you a happy New Year.

And here is a questionnaire I recently received from my synagogue:

During the last holiday season, many individuals expressed concern over the seating arrangements in thesynagogue. 

  In order for us to place you in a seat which will best suit you, we ask you to complete the following questionnaire and return it to the synagogue office as soon as possible.  

1. I would prefer to sit in the . . . (Check one)   

______Talking section    

______No talking section


2. If talking, which category do you prefer? (indicate order of interest)

_____ Stock market

_____ Sports

_____ Medicine

_____ Congregate's secret medical tragedies

_____ General gossip

_____ Specific gossip (choose)

_____ The rabbi

_____ The rabbi's voice

_____ The rabbi's wife

_____ The choir

_____ The rabbi's "secretary"

_____ Fashion news

_____ What others are wearing

_____ Why they look awful

_____ Your neighbors

_____ Your neighbor's relatives

_____ President Obama

_____ Sex (Preference:______)

_____ Who's cheating on/having an affair with whom

_____ Other:


3. Which of the following would you like to be near for free professional advice?


_____ Doctor

_____ Dentist

_____ Nutritionist

_____ Psychiatrist

_____ Child psychiatrist

_____ Mother in law

_____ Pilot

_____ Podiatrist

_____ Chiropractor

_____ Stockbroker

_____ Accountant

_____ Lawyer

_____ Criminal

_____ Civil

_____ Estate agent

_____ Architect

_____ Plumber

_____ Buyer (Specify store:_____________)

_____ Sex therapist

_____ Golf pro (tentative: we're still trying to find a Jewish one) 

_____ Other:_____________________________


4. I want to be seated (Indicate order of priority)

_____ On the aisle

_____ Near the exit

_____ Near the window

_____ In Aruba

_____ Near the bathroom

_____ Near my in-laws

_____ As far away from my in-laws as possible

_____ As far away from my ex in-laws as possible

_____ Near the pulpit

_____ Near the kiddush table

_____ Near single men

_____ Near available women

_____ Near anyone who's available - I'm bisexual or just not particular   

_____ Where no one on the bimah can see/hear me talking during services   

_____ Where no one will notice me sleeping during services 

  _____ Where I can sleep during the rabbi's sermon (Additional Charge)
    

5. Orthodox only - I would like a seat where:

_____ I can see my spouse over the mechitza
_____ I cannot see my spouse over the mechitza
_____ I can see my friend's spouse over the mechitza

_____ My spouse cannot see me looking at my friend's spouse over the mechitza
          
6. Please do not place me anywhere near the following people (limit of 6 names):

_______________________________________________________________                          
_______________________________________________________________

(If you require more space, you may wish to consider joining another congregation)


Fondly yours,

Rick Perry 






2012: (easily the best so far, though a presidential election made it easier)


Dear Sir, Madame, Or Other,

My Judaism primer sheet informs me that a holiday signifying a supposedly Jewish new year is approaching and that it would be prudent to issue a greeting for this allegedly sacred time. So for those economically successful people of Jewish persuasion, I would like to wish those Jews whom God has blessed a Happy and Blessed New Year. For any of those economically successful Jews who would give five hundred thousand dollars and above to my campaign, I would endow them with a gift basket of honey-glazed pork chops and a freshly-killed lobster dinner with me and Anne at the White House. 

Best Wishes for a Sweet New Year,

Willard Mittens Romney

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To all my Jewish Friends,

I would like to wish you all a great and sweet New Year with lots of dragons and fortune cookies. I know that soon you will achieve your dream of founding a country in your ancestral homeland and that you'll have a friend in America, who will be at your side when the next Holocaust occurs. 

Your Friend,

Joe Biden


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I'd like to wish you all a new year. Except for the teachers, whom I'd like to wish a !@#$%# @#$%@##!#$ %Y#@$%!#$!# !@$%@#! @#$@$%^@#$ !@#%@#%^@#$% @$%@#$@#$^ CHAINSAW @#$%!@$@#^ ^&$%^&*$%* !@$%#$%#^& @#%^#$^&%#$%& BLUMPY #@$%@#^$% #^#$%&#$%^#$@#% &$%^&@$ *(%^&*#$% !@$%#$%& #$^&$%&*&@#$ @##$%^ DUKAKIS @$%&$% %^&*#$%^ #$^&^&*%*$^ $%^#$%^#$%^ @$#%@$%&#$^& NEW YEAR!!!!

Best Wishes,

Rahm Emanuel 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Jews,

I'd like to wish all you movie business Leninists a good New Year or whatever it is you celebrate. I don't even know why I'm sending this thing but I think my agent's implying that I need to if I ever want another Oscar. 

Back to the Links,

Clint

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Jews, 

You make me sick.

Mel 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To all Jews (self-identified or honorary)

May you be written in the Book of Life and may you have a sweet new year. Unless you prefer otherwise. 

Best Wishes,

Evan







2013: (a little too close to the bone this year, but I don't take a word of it back :) )


Dearest Jews, self-identified or honorary, of Baltimore,

Your new-found reappearance in my life has been such a blessing. I am so happy to have ditched that tiresome, disgusting, pestilential blight upon the world that is Washington and all those people within it whom I claim to love but secretly loathe with all my might for their disgusting fakery, their fanatical belief systems, their craven ambition and catty social climbing, their uninformed bloviations, their corporate facelessness, their collusion in the thievery of the country's money, and the overpriced restaurants, rowhouses, bars, public transit, and clothes, for all of which they spend the money they stole from us like water. Like hell, Washington is nothing more than a demon-filled swamp disguised as a real city.  Satan's kingdom must come down, and one day we'll do a field trip to dance on the remains of its ashes.

Happy New Year,

Evan

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dearest Jews, self-identified or honorary, of Washington,

Oh my god TAKE ME BACK TAKE ME BACK TAKE ME BACK!!! If I have to sit through one more shitty band/gallery/theater production then I'm going to become the artistic equivalent to a disgruntled postal worker who goes crazy and shoots up his office, and the Baltimore City Paper would name my mass shooting the 'best show of the year.' And it just might be, because everything in Baltimore is like a bad show: "look how few murders we've had this month!", "look how effectively we've stopped the drug trade!" "look how much better gentrification's made life for us!" "look how amazing it is to work for your father!" No wonder so many shitty artists take root here. We're a town tailor made for bad shows. At least DC is a show which some idiots believe. Nobody believes in Baltimore. 

Happy New Year,

Evan

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dearest Jews, self-identified and honorary, of all cities,

What the hell did I do to deserve you people?

Happy New Year,

Evan
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Thursday, August 29, 2013

800 Words: Assimilation - Part 1 - Jews Among Jews

Posted on 2:18 AM by Unknown
I never feel like a Jew unless I’m around goyim. Jewish values have done me little but ill in my life. They are the values of a scared old man who is convinced that all things new will lead him to the grave. Jewish values are the ultimate values of conservatism, conservation, and conventionality. It is a binding set of laws so profuse, so extraordinarily constricting, that there is almost no chance for a Jew who grows up Jewish to live a life undefined by his view of it. Ultimately, a Jew either accepts Jewish law, or he rebels, and Judaism’s greatest revenge upon Jews who rebel against their upbringing is that there is no freedom from such a choice. “Recovering Christians” can’t help living a life with a gnawing fear that their rebellion will lead them to eternal fire - but, of course, there is probably no such fire waiting for them, so they can ultimately absolve themselves of regret. But “recovering Jews” live life merely with the gnawing fear that they’ve lived their life completely wrongly, but since there’s well-nigh indisputable proof that life as we perceive it exists, ‘recovering Jews’ can never absolve themselves of regret, and only fear that their lives have been wasted. In this way as so many others, Judaism makes more modest claims to its adherents than other religions, and those modest claims bind the religion to those born into it so much more effectively than any adherent is bound to more popular religions.


If you’re naturally a rule-bender living within such a hidebound community, you’re shit out of luck. So long as you live within a community of Jews, you are destined to be nothing more than a Jew among Jews - watching from a dungeon shut as firmly as Joseph’s while the well-behaved among your sect are anointed to ascend like the angels of Jacob’s Ladder to levels of glory beyond anything to which you could ever aspire. But should you ‘leave the nest’, are the circumstances any better? You are a speck in a wider world, adrift among a people you don’t understand, with uncommon frames of reference, values, culture, and worldview. So many times, one looks at this world of ‘them’, full of debased corruption on one hand and deranged fanaticism on the other, and one sees precisely why Judaism was so adamant about doing everything to shield its practitioners from the wider world. Is the wider world any better?


Judaism is the religion of displacement. It is a religion designed to build a home for people in countries where home does not exist. 65 years after Israel’s founding and 46 years Jerusalem’s reunification, Israel and Jerusalem are still immaterial concepts - perfect places of the mind and spirit, whose physical reality cannot help but pale next to the perfect kingdom of our imaginings. Unlike Christianity and Islam, home is an imagined concept for Jews. All homes are temporary ones until the coming of the Moshiach (Messiah), who has tarried for more than two thousand years. Home for Christianity and Islam is firstly the next world, and secondly in any place where a person’s particular brand of Christendom or Islam rules unchallenged. But home for Jews is the Torah, we have and shall always be a people of The Book, and therefore, home can only exist in our state of mind - a state of mind which is trained more acutely more often than in any other religion because we are the only religion to which a book is more important than any physical space.

Perhaps the ‘secret’ to ‘Jewish success’ is found within that state of mind. Because the ‘Torah’ is our chiefest ‘joy’ and ‘consolation’ and ‘glory’, we are a ‘defeated’ people. Between Vespasian and Ben-Gurion, we inhabited no physical space to call our own. And therefore, we had to settle for a temporary home whose circumstances inevitably disappointed us. Because whenever we ‘settle’ for a home to which we do not aspire, it is no longer our home. And whenever Jews settle for a home we don’t want, they escaped into the ‘glorious’ world of teaching, doctrine, instruction, custom, theory, guidance, and system which Judaism entails. So long as the home of Judaism only exists within the mind, it can never be corrupted or blemished - and this spiritual home without physical form has lasted virtually unchanged for two-thousand years as material civilizations Islamic and Christian, Pagan and Secular, died their material deaths. The home of Judaism is immortal, and is therefore that much more disappointing a home for millions and millions of Jews throughout the eons.
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Tuesday, August 27, 2013

800 Words: What Would Pauline Kael Have Made of Modern TV?

Posted on 9:38 PM by Unknown
The measure of any critic is not if they were right, the measure of a critic is if they were interesting. Criticism is an artform like any other art, even if a secondary, perhaps parasitical one.


Pauline Kael is the greatest film critic there has ever been - perhaps the greatest critic America has ever seen in any artform - because she was usually wrong, and utterly unafraid to be wrong. She hated Hitchcock for his blatant manipulation, Bergman and Fellini for their insistence on autobiography, Ozu for his slowness, thought Mel Brooks was trash, thought Woody Allen’s turn to the serious was disastrous, and panned Peter Bogdonavich’s The Last Picture Show by claiming that it was a movie Richard Nixon could love (incidentally, Nixon did). She admitted the genius of Orson Welles only grudgingly, and claimed that Welles had nearly nothing to do with the brilliance of Citizen Kane. I do have some tastes in common: I share her hatred of Kubrick and Antonioni, her love of Hawks and Renoir, and her mixed feelings about John Ford and Fritz Lang, and I find myself coming around to her Chaplin hatred - but there was something more obvious which troubles me about Kael. She was a complete hedonist, moved by pleasure and nothing else. Her tastes were oddly soulless - she loved movies, but she was never moved by them. She loved Renoir for the pleasure he gave, but his humanity never struck her as important. The warmth of Ozu meant nothing to her, and she basically thought Mel Brooks wasn’t funny. One screenwriter was quoted as saying “Pauline Kael was a great critic who had shitty taste in movies.” So how could such an idiot be such a great critic?


Pretty easily, actually. What Kael loved was immediacy of communication. She hated movies that had a fake ‘this is good for you’ intellectual formality as much as she hated poorly made trash (and there was some poorly made trash she loved). She loved movies stimulated the primal imagination and generated emotion above any thought. She loved Last Tango in Paris because she thought it was the only example of true ‘fucking’ on screen, called Nashville an ‘orgy for movie lovers’ (I disagree strenuously with her opinion of Last Tango, and minorly with hers of Nashville).  She loved Godard for his cool, and De Palma for his heat, and I don’t particularly care for either director. But when she was good, her insights scorched from the page, illuminating light more brightly on a great film as though you’ve never seen it before.


And she was hired by the New Yorker just in time to welcome a whole new generation of American filmmakers for the Golden Age of American Film (which is different than the Golden Age of American Movies…). Before she arrived, she was a despairing freelancer who believed that American movies had grown so timid, so utterly generic that the entire magic of the movies was virtually lost. But by 1967, a generation of filmmakers were raised not only on classic Hollywood but also on the great European filmmakers - filmmakers like Coppola, Scorsese, Altman, Arthur Penn, Sam Peckinpah, Jonathan Demme, David Lynch, she even loved Steven Spielberg for his early pictures.


Pauline Kael wanted to see movies which unapologetically asserted their dominance over the viewer, and unfortunately she had little patience with the idea that movies should do anything but constantly demand our attention. Any movie which took its time or put chaos on the screen was almost automatically written off.


She’d have hated most movies today. She retired in 1991, but she made it clear in later inverviews that she hated cows as sacred as Schindler’s List and American Beauty. But it’s difficult to believe she wouldn’t have loved living in this current television paradise of ours. She even said in a 1999 interview that she thought television was in much better shape and had very kind words for The Sopranos, The West Wing, and Sex and the City. So I wonder if I could play a little game and imagine her as a TV critic and muse on what she’d have thought of today’s TV shows. There seems to be no Pauline Kael equivalent in today’s television atmosphere (Nathan Rabin? Matt Zoller Seitz?). My guess is, she’d have been crying foul again and again when her favorite TV shows were on for too long. She’d have also bemoaned the immaturity of most comedies, saying that these were shows for perpetual adolescents (which, let’s face it, a lot of us Americans are). But I have to believe that TV dramas, their visceral impact, their commitment, their limitlessness, would have thrilled her.  


Comedies:


Arrested Development: She’d have loved everything about the first run from beginning to end. She’d have compared its unbelievably intricate anarchy to The Marx Brothers. But I think she’d have minded the unmistakable streak of cruelty that goes through it and finally compared it unfavorably to her favorite comedy team. Furthermore, I think the second run is one of a number of revivals about which she’d have cried bloody murder.


South Park: I doubt she’d have understood it or liked it much. I think she’d have appreciated the raunchiness, but I don’t know how she’d have taken the infantility of it. She may well have gushed about the early years when it was nothing but dick-and-fart jokes, even if she’d have found them puerile, but even if she did, she’d have hated the satire with the libertarian point of view and soured on South Park fairly quickly.


30 Rock: I think she’d have ultimately not liked it. She’d have appreciated the banter between Liz Lemon and Jack Donaghy (easily the best thing in the show anyway) but I think she’d have found the rest of the characters exactly as tiresome as they were. She’d have no regard for the autobiographical element to Tina Fey’s character, and she’d have found the feminist angle of it self-pitying.


Louie: I think she might have loved Louis CK’s standup. But I doubt she’d have had anything but contempt the show, which she’d find incredibly self-indulgent and masturbatory (not literally). She’d have said that nobody cares about the life of a comedian, and certainly nobody cares about the life of a comedian who insists on being so glum.


The Simpsons: Like the rest of the world, she’d have easily realized the brilliance of its early years. She might have compared its melancholy humor (rightly) to Mozart and Renoir. But if any critic could have gotten The Simpsons off the air for its own good, it was Pauline Kael. The diminishing returns of the second decade would have enraged her, and she’d have gotten ever more scathing toward the show as it sucked up more airtime. I don't doubt she'd have followed a similar trajectory toward Family Guy.


Community: She would have hated it like anything. The constant ironic parodies, the insistence on cleverness at the expense of humor, the shallow takes on deep philosophy, she would have blasted it from episode 1 and bemoaned the fact that its fans managed to keep it on the air.


Sex and the City: She loved romance and sexual honesty, she loved banter and subtle humor. I thin she’d have loved it from beginning to end. But then again, I’ve seen maybe three episodes. Maybe I’m wrong about it. One day I’ll force myself to sit down and see what the big deal is, but I’m still not sure I’ll understand it.


Seinfeld: I’m of two minds about what she’d have thought. On the one hand, I think she’d have loved the absurdity, the elegance, and the vitality. I think she’d have even been able to take the autobiographical element because it was worn so lightly. But I think she’d have bemoaned the insistence in so many comedies on immature attitudes, and I can’t imagine she wouldn’t have dated the embryo of that immaturity to Seinfeld - probably by way of Mel Brooks.


The Office: Who knows? She might have found Ricky Gervais a creep, but she might have also recognized the vitality in his work. I’m pretty sure she would have hated the British version, and found it both mean-spirited and boring. Though I can’t imagine she’d couldn’t have seen the hilarity in Extras and all those celebrity parodies. I do wonder if she’d have liked the American version better. I think she’d have appreciated the sweetness and dignity of these characters, not to mention the idiocy. I think she’d have marveled at the improvisation of all these performers and how such a diverse cast could could be so good so consistently. I also think she’d have found it all a little glum. Kael, for all her iconoclasm, was a voice of her generation, and would not have been fond of the ironic fatalism of modern America, which to her would get in the way of everything pleasurable (and it probably does…).


Dramas:


Note: I have never seen enough Deadwood, True Blood, Friday Night Lights, Dexter, or The Shield to make an opinion on them.


The Sopranos: Kael was on record loving The Sopranos’s first season and panning the second and third. But I think had she lived to its conclusion, I’m sure she’d have fallen back in love with it, perhaps to the point that she’d have seen a worthy successor to the gangster movies of the ‘70s which she so loved. I think she would have sympathized with those who made James Gandolfini into a sex symbol, and she would have thrilled to the show’s black humor, she’d have loved the heated exchanges between Tony and Carmela. Perhaps a critic like Kael is impossible today because it’s impossible to sustain the same visceral impact from TV episode to episode. But if it’s possible, then I guess she might have found in TV drama the next logical step from her favorite movies, and it would begin with The Sopranos.


Breaking Bad: I’m nearly as sure that she’d have loved Breaking Bad - the humor, the violence, the dream-like beauty of the landscape, the “chemistry” between Bryan Cranston and Anna Gunn, the hallucinatory drug-like intensity of the show was perfect for her.


Game of Thrones: If there is any show I’m positive Kael would have loved, it’s Game of Thrones. Granted, Kael usually hated Costume Dramas, and who knows if this would be an exception. But I got the very idea of this post when the thought occurred to me: this is a Costume Drama even Pauline Kael could love. It has all the Kael ingredients: sex and violence, coolness and heat, dark comedy and light tragedy. She’d have adored Peter Dinklage and Diana Rigg, and I’d venture a guess that she’d have even loved the hammy-booby sex.  And while I’ve never seen a full episode of True Blood, I’m sure she’d feel much the same about it.


Mad Men: It pains me to say that I think Kael would have hated Mad Men. I think she’d have seen its slowness and meaningfulness as anaesthatized self-importance. She would have accused the show of recreating the details of the era with none of its frission. She’d have found Don Draper generic and boring, Betty Draper nauseating, and while she might have reserved a soft spot for Roger Sterling, I think she would have seen the archetypes of the show as constricting the characters utterly. She might have liked Mad Men’s understated humor, but I think she’d have found the space between the jokes as long-winded as the space between the action.


The Wire: I think Kael would have had mixed feelings. She’d have absolutely loathed the self-importance, the earnestness, the preachiness, the absence of women, etc... But I can’t imagine she wouldn’t have warmed to the macho humor, the bizarreness of the characters, and the general nightmare state of its Baltimore vision.


Lost: Oh god she would have hated Lost. The superficiality, the incomprehensibility, the emotional manipulativeness, the spiritual malaise of the characters… case closed.


The West Wing: I was stunned when I read an interview at the end of Kael’s life and she said that in her opinion, the best show on TV was The West Wing. I suppose I sort of understand it - Aaron Sorkin’s perhaps the only writer working today who can recall the barbed wit of Golden Age Hollywood, and his lines are spoken by a cast whose ability can rival any TV show’s in history. But how on earth could she deal with the treacle, the liberal pieties, the utter sense of emotional manipulation? It’s a judgement which seems so unlike her… God knows what she’d have made of Studio 60 or The Newsroom.


Downton Abbey: She’d have loved Maggie Smith. The rest of the show would have irritated her beyond belief - I can hear her in my mind calling it a soap opera for educated old ladies who got their Mrs degrees at Radcliffe and Barnard and retired into premature dowagerdom.


Great Lines from Kael:


“Regrettably, one of the surest signs of the Philistine is his reverence for the superior tastes of those who put him down.”


“The words "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang," which I saw on an Italian movie poster, are perhaps the briefest statement imaginable of the basic appeal of movies. This appeal is what attracts us, and ultimately what makes us despair when we begin to understand how seldom movies are more than this.”


“Audiences who have been forced to wade through the thick middle-class padding of more expensively made movies to get to the action enjoy the nose-thumbing at "good taste" of cheap movies that stick to the raw materials. At some basic level they like the pictures to be cheaply done, they enjoy the crudeness; it’s a breather, a vacation from proper behavior and good taste and required responses. Patrons of burlesque applaud politely for the graceful erotic dancer but go wild for the lewd lummox who bangs her big hips around. That’s what they go to burlesque for.”


“Movies make hash of the schoolmarm’s approach of how well the artist fulfilled his intentions. Whatever the original intention of the writers and director, it is usually supplanted, as the production gets under way, by the intention to make money — and the industry judges the film by how well it fulfills that intention. But if you could see the "artist’s intentions" you’d probably wish you couldn’t anyway. Nothing is so deathly to enjoyment as the relentless march of a movie to fulfill its obvious purpose. This is, indeed, almost a defining characteristic of the hack director, as distinguished from an artist.”


“Men are now beginning their careers as directors by working on commercials — which, if one cares to speculate on it, may be almost a one-sentence résumé of the future of American motion pictures.”


“And for the greatest movie artists where there is a unity of technique and subject, one doesn’t need to talk about technique much because it has been subsumed in the art. One doesn’t want to talk about how Tolstoi got his effects but about the work itself. One doesn’t want to talk about how Jean Renoir does it; one wants to talk about what he has done. One can try to separate it all out, of course, distinguish form and content for purposes of analysis. But that is a secondary, analytic function, a scholarly function, and hardly needs to be done explicitly in criticism. Taking it apart is far less important than trying to see it whole. The critic shouldn’t need to tear a work apart to demonstrate that he knows how it was put together. The important thing is to convey what is new and beautiful in the work, not how it was made — which is more or less implicit.”


“Irresponsibility is part of the pleasure of all art; it is the part the schools cannot recognize.”


“Kicked in the ribs, the press says "art" when "ouch" would be more appropriate.”


“Movies are so rarely great art, that if we cannot appreciate great trash, we have very little reason to be interested in them.”


“When you clean them up, when you make movies respectable, you kill them. The wellspring of their art, their greatness, is in not being respectable.”


“The critical task is necessarily comparative, and younger people do not truly know what is new.”


“If we make any kind of decent, useful life for ourselves we have less need to run from it to those diminishing pleasures of the movies. When we go to the movies we want something good, something sustained, we don’t want to settle for just a bit of something, because we have other things to do. If life at home is more interesting, why go to the movies? And the theatres frequented by true moviegoers — those perennial displaced persons in each city, the loners and the losers — depress us. Listening to them — and they are often more audible than the sound track — as they cheer the cons and jeer the cops, we may still share their disaffection, but it’s not enough to keep us interested in cops and robbers. A little nose-thumbing isn’t enough. If we’ve grown up at the movies we know that good work is continuous not with the academic, respectable tradition but with the glimpses of something good in trash, but we want the subversive gesture carried to the domain of discovery. Trash has given us an appetite for art.”


“At the movies, we are gradually being conditioned to accept violence as a sensual pleasure. The directors used to say they were showing us its real face and how ugly it was in order to sensitize us to its horrors. You don't have to be very keen to see that they are now in fact desensitizing us. They are saying that everyone is brutal, and the heroes must be as brutal as the villains or they turn into fools. There seems to be an assumption that if you're offended by movie brutality, you are somehow playing into the hands of the people who want censorship. But this would deny those of us who don't believe in censorship the use of the only counterbalance: the freedom of the press to say that there's anything conceivably damaging in these films — the freedom to analyze their implications. If we don't use this critical freedom, we are implicitly saying that no brutality is too much for us — that only squares and people who believe in censorship are concerned with brutality. Actually, those who believe in censorship are primarily concerned with sex, and they generally worry about violence only when it's eroticized. This means that practically no one raises the issue of the possible cumulative effects of movie brutality. Yet surely, when night after night atrocities are served up to us as entertainment, it's worth some anxiety. We become clockwork oranges if we accept all this pop culture without asking what's in it. How can people go on talking about the dazzling brilliance of movies and not notice that the directors are sucking up to the thugs in the audience?”


“TV executives think that the programs with the highest ratings are what TV viewers want, rather than what they settle for.”


“The conglomerate heads may be business geniuses, but as far as movies are concerned they have virgin instincts; ideas that are new to them and take them by storm may have failed grotesquely dozens of times. But they feel that they are creative people — how else could they have made so much money and be in a position to advise artists what to do? Who is to tell them no?”


“In movies, the balance between art and business has always been precarious, with business outweighing art, but the business was, at least, in the hands of businessmen who loved movies. As popular entertainment, movies need something of what the vulgarian moguls had — zest, a belief in their own instincts, a sentimental dedication to producing pictures that would make their country proud of their contribution, a respect for quality, and the biggest thing: a willingness to take chances. The cool managerial sharks don’t have that; neither do the academics. But the vulgarians also did more than their share of damage, and they’re gone forever anyway. They were part of a different America. They were, more often than not, men who paid only lip service to high ideals, while gouging everyone for profits. The big change in the country is reflected in the fact that people in the movie business no longer feel it necessary to talk about principles at all.”


“It would be very convincing to say that there’s no hope for movies — that audiences have been so corrupted by television and have become so jaded that all they want are noisy thrills and dumb jokes and images that move along in an undemanding way, so they can sit and react at the simplest motor level. And there’s plenty of evidence, such as the success of Alien. This was a haunted-house-with-gorilla picture set in outer space. It reached out, grabbed you, and squeezed your stomach; it was more gripping than entertaining, but a lot of people didn’t mind. They thought it was terrific, because at least they’d felt something: they’d been brutalized. It was like an entertainment contrived in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World by the Professor of Feelies in the College of Emotional Engineering.”


“Moviegoers like to believe that those they have made stars are great actors. People used to say that Gary Cooper was a fine actor — probably because when they looked in his face they were ready to give him their power of attorney.”


“If you can't make fun of bad movies on serious subjects, what's the point?”


“Moviemaking is so male-dominated now that they think they’re being pro-feminine when they have women punching each other out.”


“For some strange reason we don't go to charming, light movies anymore. People expect a movie to be heavy and turgid, like "American Beauty." We've become a heavy-handed society.”


“I see little of more importance to the future of our country and of civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.”


“It seems likely that many of the young who don't wait for others to call them artists, but simply announce that they are, don't have the patience to make art.”


“This movie is a toupee made up to look like honest baldness.”


(about Dances with Wolves) “Kevin Costner has feathers in his hair and feathers in his head. The Indians should have called him 'Plays with Camera.'”


“A good movie can take you out of your dull funk and the hopelessness that so often goes with slipping into a theatre; a good movie can make you feel alive again, in contact, not just lost in another city. Good movies make you care, make you believe in possibilities again. If somewhere in the Hollywood-entertainment world someone has managed to break through with something that speaks to you, then it isn’t all corruption. The movie doesn’t have to be great; it can be stupid and empty and you can still have the joy of a good performance, or the joy in just a good line. An actor’s scowl, a small subversive gesture, a dirty remark that someone tosses off with a mock-innocent face, and the world makes a little bit of sense. Sitting there alone or painfully alone because those with you do not react as you do, you know there must be others perhaps in this very theatre or in this city, surely in other theatres in other cities, now, in the past or future, who react as you do. And because movies are the most total and encompassing art form we have, these reactions can seem the most personal and, maybe the most important, imaginable. The romance of movies is not just in those stories and those people on the screen but in the adolescent dream of meeting others who feel as you do about what you’ve seen. You do meet them, of course, and you know each other at once because you talk less about good movies than about what you love in bad movies.”


“The problem with a popular art form is that those who want something more are in a hopeless minority compared with the millions who are always seeing it for the first time, or for the reassurance and gratification of seeing the conventions fulfilled again.”

“Watching old movies is like spending an evening with those people next door. They bore us, and we wouldn't go out of our way to see them; we drop in on them because they're so close. If it took some effort to see old movies, we might try to find out which were the good ones, and if people saw only the good ones maybe they would still respect old movies. As it is, people sit and watch movies that audiences walked out on thirty years ago. Like Lot's wife, we are tempted to take another look, attracted not by evil but by something that seems much more shameful — our own innocence.”
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