On Liking

I noticed something rather strange while I was poking around metacritic the other day. This is from their methodology:

Q: I read Manohla Dargis’ review of [MOVIE NAME] and I swear it sounded like a 9… why did you guys say she gave it an 8?

Our staff must assign a numeric score, from 0-100, to each review that is not already scored by the critic. Naturally, there is some discretion involved here, and there will be times when you disagree with the score we assigned. However, our staffers have read a lot of reviews–and we mean a lot–and thus through experience are able to maintain consistency both from film to film and from reviewer to reviewer. When you read over 200 reviews from Manohla Dargis, you begin to develop a decent idea about when she’s indicating a 90 and when she’s indicating an 80.

Fine. But then:

Q: Hey, I AM Manohla Dargis, and you said I gave the movie an 80, when really I gave it a 90. What gives?

A: …This does happen from time to time, and many of the critics included on this site (such as Ms. Dargis) do indeed check their reviews (as well as those of their colleagues) on metacritic.com

I’m not going to spend this post talking about the intricacies of Ms. Dargis’ reviews. Dargis has been called something of a contrarian and lambasted for her bizarre reviews. Ok, an example. Gawker considered her review of “How to Eat Fried Worms” part of a “post-modern contest” writing that “if you can wend your way through the convoluted structure she erects in today’s review…consider yourself granted an honorary M.F.A. in comparative literature.”

I’ll focus instead on the content of the review. First there is the use of the phrase “plangent realism.” Plangent is a nice word, meaning “having an expressive and especially plaintive quality,” but totally out of place in a review of a children’s/young adult movie. After all, the intended audience of the film might want to know if the movie’s any good. Even more surreal is her claim as to the movie’s message.

Directed by Bob Dolman, who also wrote the fine adaptation, “How to Eat Fried Worms” is an easygoing entertainment in which a sensible message about growing up also rationalizes the abuse of power. However lightly played, this is, after all, a film in which children learn to stand up for themselves, and for one another, by killing animals.

Gawker’s right to question the sentence structure; just think about how many ideas are placed in the first sentence before we get to the “abuse of power” claim. The claim itself is so bizarre that it needs no comment.

With reviews like this, it’s easy to understand how scoring can be difficult. I like to emphasize meaning and the “aboutness” in my reviews, which sometimes means focusing on particular well done moments and interesting aspects of the movie rather than evaluating all its virtues and defects. It’s not hard to write like you love something, or write like you hate something, for that matter, when you actually liked it or found it ok. Extremes lend themselves to easier prose.

One last note: I think it’s great that metacritic has people who research particular reviewers in order to decode their intended meanings, almost as if film criticism were samizdat. I’m glad someone’s out there coming up with jobs for humanities phds.

Live-Blogging someone else’s life!

Since I’m in the library with Rabbi Dr. Professor Jurgen Haverstam, DHL, I should probably take this opportunity to live blog my experiences of his studying for generals. It goes as such.

9:19 Meet Haverstam on the Long Island Rail Road from Mineola’s Recovery Room to New York’s Penn Station where I force him to go with me to the Tick Tock diner on 34th and 8th. As we wait and wait for our food, Haverstam points out that the phrase “tick-tock” is used to show how long you have to wait, and has nothing to do with punctuality or “being on the clock.” I concur. We also discover that the Diner is in the ground floor of the New Yorker hotel and decide that, in general, it’s a really bad idea to stay in a hotel that names itself for its locale. Somehow, the Paris Hotel doesn’t sound very Parisian.

11:00 Set out for the YIVO archives where we spend at least an hour and a half going through metal detectors. I don’t know what to make of the fact that the Center for Jewish History has better security than 90% of the airports in this country.

Second 11:00 Realize that I have not entered a time-warp and that my computer is still on Austin time.

12:15 Haverstam finally gets his books and reads for a solid 20-40 minutes, pointing out how much he likes his book with its references to now defunct movie theaters.

1:30 Haverstam disappears.

1:52 Decide that Haverstam has entered a time-warp. Or, has managed to find the Center for Jewish History’s secret bar, one that exclusively serves Harvey Wallbangers.

A Day In the Life: Reading for Comps

I will intermittently be sharing with the Salad community a (somewhat) live journal of my day as I read for Comprehensive Exams coming up in September. In case I have never formally made your acquaintance I am Rabbi Dr. Professor Jurgen Haverstam. I study modern Jewish intellectual history, religion (I think), and was never taught how to use a comma properly.

9:30-10: Wake up and get out of bed

No, you’re haven’t misread, this is an half-hour long procedure. Though I get plenty of sleep I hardly spring out of bed. I spend twenty of these minutes wondering if I should buy an air purifier but think better of it.

10-12: The day is greeted…meekly

These hours are not bound by any real routine, but rather are a way for me to ingratiate myself into the world of sensory perception. I check my email to improve hand-eye coordination; I drink water, a substance to which I have a full-blown addiction; I follow some of the more crucial threads and requests on Facebook (that promiscuous girl I was too ashamed to ever get with wants me to join her wagon on Oregon Trail? What does it all mean?). Though I no longer fall victim to the bottomless hole of AIM, G-chat has made the private absurdly public and my inability to ignore digital communication means more time wasted - this gets rationalized by my saying: “This is how to maintain vital human connections in less than ideal circumstances.” Irony: making use of my education in order to justify my neglecting it.

12PM: The hour of guilt-laden stress in upon us

My desire to be tidy and official translates into a noon start time. Certainly midday is an auspicious hour to begin my scholarly pursuits. Sometimes I’ll begin on a half hour - there isn’t any real method here. It’s all about how what helps you get to bed at night.

Today I pick up one of the secondary sources on my reading list, Protestant Thought in the 19th Century by Claude Welch. Unconsciously I’m trying to keep morale up after yesterday’s less than successful foray into what was supposed to be a helpful secondary source on Hegel’s thought - Yirmiyahu Yovel’s introduction to Hegel’s Preface to the Phenomenology of Spirit. Yes, that’s the introduction to a book whose subject is Hegel’s preface to his most important book. I’ll just let that linger for a moment. Please read on only when you’re ready.

Yovel’s work is said to be a useful introduction to Hegel’s thought in general. His approach, as he tells us in the introduction, is to understand Hegel in his own terms. The problem with this approach is that Hegel’s thought, especially his “terms”, is impenetrable and downright nutty. I say nutty because as you’re reading him you believe that this man was a) off his rocker and b) totally correct about a lot of things. The journey of the mind can get pretty emotional.

1:50 …

I text a friend whose job does not start until mid-September and is, until that time, a lady of leisure. It’s getting to be time for a coffee break.

2:20 On my way downstairs I check the mailbox, an event that will never lose its ability to arouse anticipation and excitement. This particular checking is especially rewarding - I’ve received my first handwritten dispatch from our friend Dash. I leave the mail in the mailbox so that the excitement continues when I return home.

2:30-5 I reluctantly meet my friend at Starbucks. Ordinarily I would be happy to go to Dunkin’ Donuts because it is that upon which America runs; I’ve been reading about William James today so it’s especially fitting. However, since my friend has received a $2 coupon for any iced beverage which she earned by going to Starbucks earlier that same day (!) my impecunious ways overtake my ultra-Americanism (a fire stoked by the Olympics) in my decision-making process.

After a leisurely coffee break we stop at the Garden of Eden, a haughty market whose sole appeal is its unbelievably fresh and cheap produce. Placards under each item read “Temptation in every aisle” and I find myself agreeing. I buy items for a stir-fry I had no intentions of making. Marc Taylor once taught a class I was in and said that every story has three parts: Beginning, middle and end - Paradise, Fall, Redemption. It is certainly no coincidence that I live just east (and the tiniest bit north) of such a place.

5:15PM  On my way back upstairs I retrieve my mail, handwritten postcard from Dash included. I can only hope that in writing this post, reading and responding to his letter, and moving forward with my reading plans that this day can yet be redeemed. Then again, it’s almost time to get supper started - anyone want to come over for stir-fry?

Ceci n’est pas une post

Turning a year older, I find myself further confused by society’s direction.  Since Yesterday’s Salad began, the site has gone through many changes, as the various writers have nudged the boundries of its format in search of a more comfortable voice.  So too, the length and frequency of posts has been extremely variable, and while the afforementioned changes in tone are part of the site’s growth, I must apologize for contributing to the lag in posts.  Yet, as the site has seen both a hodge-podge of writers (most of whom remain elusive), and even a recent flame war, I’m perplexed by the site’s trajectory, as it sails through society’s current (let’s be honest - the internet might as well be society at this point).

So, rather than writing up some somber meditation about myself, the nature of society, or some convoluted term like society/net/life, I offer this: a year older, I am pleased that this site still exists, and pledge to continue with it, regardless of the direction that it takes.

Modern Antiquarianism

If the movement to Modernism can be defined as owing in large part to the collapse of distance (of any type of flows), then modern Post-Modernism can be defined by the move towards instantaneous communication and the new systems of flows and ideas. This instantaneous communication has even led to the phenomenon of “instant nostalgia”: wistful storytelling describing what has just occurred or is in the process of happening.

My problem is that I’m something of a modern antiquarian. I want to be able to communicate by snail mail, but I don’t like wondering whether or not people have sent letters. I can wait for the mail, but not wait to find out if it ever got there. There needs to be some sort of system akin to the way bookmooch works. where you indicate the status of letters. Twitter seems a little too inclusive; everyone would know that you were writing, and sending an email points to the fact that you could have just sent an email. Sadly, with the loss of the telegram, twitter might be the best bet.

It’s the curse of the modern antiquarian. We want everything to be as it once was, without giving up on what makes today so different.

Derek Jeter Just Wants You To Listen to the Power of Love

Actually, I don’t know if that’s true. But, I do need to report that rumors of Derek Jeter visiting Austin are true. While visiting the legendary Bryan from Cake City and Hash Browns…and Toast!, said Bryan and I went to the Austin Four Seasons where we were told that Derek Jeter was there with some very attractive women. I did a once over of the room, and sure enough he was there. About 20 minutes later I decided to actually say something to him. For no reason whatsoever, I had “Huey Lewis and the News” on my mind. And, because the piano player wouldn’t play “Hip to Be Square,” I decided to ask Mr. Jeter what he thought of the band.

After Bryan told a clearly uninterested Jeter that he wasn’t a Yankees fan but really respected him as a ballplayer, I decided to tell Mr. Jeter that we had bet on whether or not he liked Huey Lewis and the News. He asked me what I said, I said that he did, and Mr. Jeter, looking nonplused, said “That’s right,” as if it was somehow possible not to like Huey Lewis and the News.

No, it’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of the band’s merits, but still something that the world should know about.

And, in other Huey Lewis news, did you know that they’re Academy Award nominees for “The Power of Love”? Huey Lewis 1, Donald Sutherland, Bruce Willis, Martin Sheen 0

What to Do When You See A Ghost

Step 1) Cock a mean eye

Step 2) Promptly write Isaac Bashevis Singer. Here’s a great letter I found in the archives (I hope that this constitutes fair use):

“Dear Mr. Singer:

I don’t think it had anything to do with my delightful luncheon with you yesterday, but I must hurry to tell you, in all seriousness, that at about 1:00 last night I woke up to find a poltergeist in my bedroom. The last one I saw was about 20 years ago. It was not the same old chap I had seen three times before. This was a new one, not very scary, not as flowing and gaseous as the first one. I simply cocked a mean eye and dared him to move toward me. Fortunately he simply faded out, and I was pleased.

I thought you would be interested to know about it.”

I don’t know what to tell you should said ghost actually be Isaac Bashevis Singer.

Greetings, Foreign Friends!

Dash was recently excited to learn that almost 30% of Yesterday’s Salad readers come to us from India. Lo, what divine providence! I can only assume that this is because people from India love reading about developments in global mass transit. To wit, I refer them to the recent news that the inventor of hotmail wants to play a real-life version of Sim City in their fair country, replete with Bus Rapid Transit. My advice to our Indian friends: demand a monorail and/or light rail.

This reminds me of SaladGlobalMedia’s efforts to make a real-life version of monopoly. The pitch: convince a bunch of real-life tycoons to buy and sell properties in Atlantic City whilst being filmed (maybe our use of “whilst” led to all our Indian readers?). Dramatic conflict would ensue as entire neighborhoods would be torn down to build green houses and red hotels. The only parts we haven’t figured out are how to keep large amounts of money in the middle of town without people just grabbing it, and how we can convince our capitalist competitors to spend nights in prison. This idea may only work in Russia.

Feverish

We’ve mentioned Jacques Derrida’s Archive Fever before, the book in which he so eloquently argues for something, and along the way allows for the existence of “real” ghosts; or, at least, explains Freud’s position on this so well that it seems like he believes it too. The opening argument about the book concerns the  “domicilation” of knowledge, the ways in which material is archived into a private domicile then becomes public. Derrida could have referred to “domestication,” but there’s no sense in not making up a word when you have cart blanche to make up words.

This tension between public and private spaces really does inform archives. For example, did you know that you can find Isaac Bashevis Singer’s credit card statements at his archive? I’m conflicted about this; part of me wants to know what vices Singer might have charged; the other part doesn’t want anyone to have access to that information about me. Of course, this doesn’t compare to the reams of unpaid bills in Max Weinreich’s archive. I found invoices from the Yiddish PEN club for back membership dues (these, oddly, were written in English). Still, it’s not like they were going to kick him out. The same can’t be said for his sewing machine. I really don’t know how he spent so much money on dry cleaning–or, rather, how he didn’t spend so much money on dry cleaning. It was a welcome bit of iconoclasm, and made me feel better. I may not be able to speak 10 languages, but I can at least pay (most) bills on time.

Best of?

With bostonist now providing excellent film commentary, there isn’t quite as much need for regular film criticism here on the salad, and I plan to transition back to word/transit blogging for the hundreds tens of people still reading (maybe we can even find a new ten or two!). But every so often, ideas so ridiculous come about that Dash is left with no choice but to comment. In an amazing act of hubris, Boston magazine decided to release their Best of Boston issue THIS SUMMER, as if nothing could possibly happen in the remaining 4 and a half months of the year. So, as an amateur Oscar prognosticator who likes to misuse statistics, I decided to play around with numbers to see what’s the best picture of the year so far, and whether or not that movie has any chance of actually being nominated for best picture.

I decided to use metacritic scores to figure out what movies had the best chance of being nominated. This gave me 8 years of data (40 movies) and information about this year. Some useful information:

• The lowest scoring movies nominated were Gladiator and Chocolat, both scoring 64s. The highest scoring movies were Sideways and Return of the King at 94
• 20% of nominated movies have a score of 90 or higher, 47.5% have a score in the 80s, 17.5% in the 70s, and 15% have a score in the 60s
• The year in the study with the highest average score was 2007 (86.2) and the lowest was, not surprisingly, 2000 (76)
• The average nominee’s score is 81.375
• The best movie relative to its year was Sideways, 6.82 SD above; the worst movie relative to its year was Gangs of New York, 8 SD below
• 18 eligible movies scored higher than 90 in the time period. 8 of them went on to be nominated for best picture

Let’s take last year as an example. Here are the scores of the nominees:

There Will be Blood, 92

No Country, 91

Atonement, 86

Michael Clayton, 82

Juno, 81

Three other eligible movies scored higher than 90: Ratatouille, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and Persepolis. Two of these were nominated for Best Animated Feature and the other for Best Director. In short, it’s good to score over 90.

Only one movie in 2008 has thus far scored a 90 or above: Wall-E. No animated movie has been nominated for best picture since Beauty and the Beast. And though 8/18 movies receiving a score of 90 or above are nominated, the best comparables to Wall-E (Ratatouille, Incredibles, even The Triplets of Belleville) did not.

The only other movie with any momentum (critical, box office, or word of mouth) to be equal or better to the average nominee thus far released is The Dark Knight, with a score of 82. As an action movie based on a literary source, you could argue that The Dark Knight is comparable to Lord of the Rings (though they all scored much higher); you could also argue that it’s similar to Gangs of New York, or Gladiator for that matter.

It’s obviously still early. None of the movies nominated for BP last year had been released in the US by August. But, if we were to have to pick the movie already out with the highest shot of being nominated, that would have to be The Dark Knight, the likely-to-be-second-highest-grossing-movie-of-all-time, not adjusted for inflation.

(I’m linking to awards daily in the hopes they find this)