Post-modernism has been a theme recently in most of my classes. One of the things I've noticed comes up a lot is the use of humor to create political discourse. "South Park" and "The Daily Show" are some of the most obvious examples of this on television; it's a bit less obvious in film. Nonetheless I attended two screenings of movies (coincidentally on the same day) that both used humor to encourage discourse on the Gulf War of the late 90's and suicide bombings of the new millennium. The movies were Three Kings and Four Lions, respectively.
In Three Kings, humor is used to discuss the US's involvement in Iraq's invasion of Kuwait. The comedy is a strong feature throughout the first half of the movie, then is rather abruptly taken over by a serious tone with the murder of a Kuwaiti prisoner's wife. It is a somewhat typical Hollywood movie, with big name stars (George Cloony, Mark Wahlberg), plenty of explosions, and a nice neat happy ending.
Four Lions is a much smaller independent film from Britain. In it we see four jihadists planning a suicide bombing in London. The four (actually five) men are universally incompetent, and for the most part very likable characters in spite of their goals. The film uses a slapstick, screwball comedy to present the idea that terrorist cells are not necessarily highly trained soldiers but simply confused extremists with limited intelligence who may be expressing more frustration for their alienation as England-born Pakistanis. Unlike Three Kings, there is no convenient Hollywood ending; all of the jihadists succeed in their task of blowing themselves up, but not with the results they were hoping for.
I think the use of comedy to encourage political discourse is an important tool in the post-modern age. In the current climate of reality TV, economic crisis, and unsuccessful attempt to occupy various cities, it's useful to hook us in with something that interests us and makes us laugh, while at the same time giving us something to think about.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
It's not technically an iPod...
What spurred my desire to have a portable music device (in my case, my cell phone) was my reintroduction to public transit. I hadn't used buses and trains to the extent I do now since I was living in the Washington, D.C. area from 1998-2002. Back then I carried a Discman which would skip if I bounced it around too much.
Since moving to residential Minneapolis and abandoning my vehicle, I've been making use of my noise-cancelling earbuds. As an introverted woman riding on a bus, I find them invaluable. I can pretend not to hear someone if they're talking to me (helped even further by keeping my nose stuck firmly into a Stephen King novel) and can ignore the everything around me without seeming as rude as I might without the earbuds.
What surprised me is how often I use the earbuds while simply walking around at school. I often haul them out when I find myself unwillingly subject to a conversation that makes my eyelid twitch. (At the risk of sounding too get-off-my-lawn, I popped them in before class once when two separate conversations around me produced approximately 50 "like"s in the space of about two minutes.) They're also very handy when someone on the bus decides to hold a curse-laden conversation at full volume with someone on the other end of their cell phone, which happened just today.
I do sometimes enjoy the soundtrack-of-my-life aspect of having music playing as I move about, but for me it's mostly a tool of isolation and distancing. There are times when I wonder if I'm missing out... like yesterday, when a cute girl getting off at my stop seemed to be saying hello, but I missed it because I had my earbuds securely planted. But for every possible missed opportunity there are a hundred times when I would hate to be without them, so I imagine it won't change anytime soon.
Since moving to residential Minneapolis and abandoning my vehicle, I've been making use of my noise-cancelling earbuds. As an introverted woman riding on a bus, I find them invaluable. I can pretend not to hear someone if they're talking to me (helped even further by keeping my nose stuck firmly into a Stephen King novel) and can ignore the everything around me without seeming as rude as I might without the earbuds.
What surprised me is how often I use the earbuds while simply walking around at school. I often haul them out when I find myself unwillingly subject to a conversation that makes my eyelid twitch. (At the risk of sounding too get-off-my-lawn, I popped them in before class once when two separate conversations around me produced approximately 50 "like"s in the space of about two minutes.) They're also very handy when someone on the bus decides to hold a curse-laden conversation at full volume with someone on the other end of their cell phone, which happened just today.
I do sometimes enjoy the soundtrack-of-my-life aspect of having music playing as I move about, but for me it's mostly a tool of isolation and distancing. There are times when I wonder if I'm missing out... like yesterday, when a cute girl getting off at my stop seemed to be saying hello, but I missed it because I had my earbuds securely planted. But for every possible missed opportunity there are a hundred times when I would hate to be without them, so I imagine it won't change anytime soon.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Technology in the classroom
An interesting thing happened in one of my classes this week: the TA's laptop refused to communicate with the projector. It was a disaster.
At the advanced age of 33, I've had the "pleasure" of experiencing varying levels of technology in the classroom - not only as a student, but as a sign language interpreter, paraprofessional, and even teacher. What really strikes me is how much things have changed since I was a kid. I'll try to avoid the five-miles-through-snow-uphill-both-ways speech, but it does amuse me sometimes to remember actual chalkboards with actual chalk; overhead projectors that hummed like a small jet engine; and those A/V nightmares, the rolling television/VCR combo that stood about six feet high and constantly threated you with crushing death (via those how-to-maneuver stickers). And the projectors of my day were loud, cumbersome, utilizing actual film that had to be threaded through the machine carefully from one reel to another.
The really interesting thing is that the technology hasn't really changed the methods of teaching much. We watch films in class, but now we do it on a DVD connected to an LCD projector hanging from the ceiling instead of on the fossil projectors that have to be carefully placed in the middle of the room (scattering desks before it) and focused by hand. We take notes from PDFs or PowerPoints or Word documents projected on our screen instead of from the teacher's own writings on the board or the transparencies on the overhead projector. Maps are brought up on Google instead of pulled down from rolls above the board.
When it comes down to it, not that much has really changed. It's all just a little shinier, fancier, suffused with aura.
In case you were on the edge of your seat wondering what happened in my class, the laptop was switched out for another which played nice with the projector. It took as much tinkering and muttered curses as it did when the mammoth projector of my youth broke down.
At the advanced age of 33, I've had the "pleasure" of experiencing varying levels of technology in the classroom - not only as a student, but as a sign language interpreter, paraprofessional, and even teacher. What really strikes me is how much things have changed since I was a kid. I'll try to avoid the five-miles-through-snow-uphill-both-ways speech, but it does amuse me sometimes to remember actual chalkboards with actual chalk; overhead projectors that hummed like a small jet engine; and those A/V nightmares, the rolling television/VCR combo that stood about six feet high and constantly threated you with crushing death (via those how-to-maneuver stickers). And the projectors of my day were loud, cumbersome, utilizing actual film that had to be threaded through the machine carefully from one reel to another.
The really interesting thing is that the technology hasn't really changed the methods of teaching much. We watch films in class, but now we do it on a DVD connected to an LCD projector hanging from the ceiling instead of on the fossil projectors that have to be carefully placed in the middle of the room (scattering desks before it) and focused by hand. We take notes from PDFs or PowerPoints or Word documents projected on our screen instead of from the teacher's own writings on the board or the transparencies on the overhead projector. Maps are brought up on Google instead of pulled down from rolls above the board.
When it comes down to it, not that much has really changed. It's all just a little shinier, fancier, suffused with aura.
In case you were on the edge of your seat wondering what happened in my class, the laptop was switched out for another which played nice with the projector. It took as much tinkering and muttered curses as it did when the mammoth projector of my youth broke down.
Friday, November 11, 2011
The simulacra of Guitar Hero
I recently spent some time playing Guitar Hero (yes, a 33-year-old woman does enjoy mindless video game entertainment at times). While reading about simulacra in Baudrillard's article, I started to think about how video games are a perfect example of simulation of a nonexistent experience.
In most video games, the player is able to do things that no human could ever do; my Buffy video games (based on the TV series, which was based on a movie) I am able to physically beat the snot out of various otherwordly monsters. In my Harry Potter video games (based on movies, which are based on books), I am able to cast spells. And in one of my favorites, Voodoo Vince, I portray a voodoo doll who scampers around New Orleans attempting to rescue the priestess who imbued him with life, and who defeats enemies by performing various lethal acts upon himself, which then transfers to the monsters around him (because he's a voodoo doll... get it?).
In Guitar Hero, the simulated experience is somewhat more realistic: you're in a rock band, playing gigs, earning money, and gaining a fanbase. There is a certain amount of skill involved (although most real-life guitar players might argue otherwise), and a lack of skill will result in less pay and fewer fans. This increase in realism seems to be a trend in video games, with Call of Duty attempting to simulate wartime experiences, and a vast range of sports games simulating football, baseball, hockey, even golf.
Personally, I prefer fighting aliens.
In most video games, the player is able to do things that no human could ever do; my Buffy video games (based on the TV series, which was based on a movie) I am able to physically beat the snot out of various otherwordly monsters. In my Harry Potter video games (based on movies, which are based on books), I am able to cast spells. And in one of my favorites, Voodoo Vince, I portray a voodoo doll who scampers around New Orleans attempting to rescue the priestess who imbued him with life, and who defeats enemies by performing various lethal acts upon himself, which then transfers to the monsters around him (because he's a voodoo doll... get it?).
In Guitar Hero, the simulated experience is somewhat more realistic: you're in a rock band, playing gigs, earning money, and gaining a fanbase. There is a certain amount of skill involved (although most real-life guitar players might argue otherwise), and a lack of skill will result in less pay and fewer fans. This increase in realism seems to be a trend in video games, with Call of Duty attempting to simulate wartime experiences, and a vast range of sports games simulating football, baseball, hockey, even golf.
Personally, I prefer fighting aliens.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Everyday bionics: cochlear implants
I received my Associate's degree in Sign Language Interpreting in 2007. During the course of my education, I was exposed to a controversy I never knew existed: the Deaf world's overwhelming abhorrence of cochlear implants.
Most hearing people don't understand why Deaf people prefer to stay deaf. The reason is that there is a rich culture that exists among Deaf people. They have a language and a history that most hearing people are almost entirely unaware of. Hearing people have a pathological view of those with hearing loss: they need to be fixed.
Many Deaf people would disagree. They view cochlear implants as the death of Deaf culture, the end of sign language. This clip from the film Sound and Fury shows very candidly the struggle one family goes through in their decision whether or not to give their child a cochlear implant:
Another aspect of this controversy is that implantation surgery is ideally performed before a child has developed speech. I personally worked with a seven-year-old who had received an implant, and implantation surgery is performed on children as young as 18 months. Opponents of the implant are markedly uncomfortable with the essentially bionic aspect of device; a group of Deaf people in Sound and Fury claim that cochlear implants will turn their children into robots. Many arguments state that the child should be old enough to understand the implications of getting the implant before undergoing the surgery. The unfortunate conundrum is that by the time the child is old enough to comprehend and decide for themselves, they have already lost years of critical speech development.
Some of the controversy has died down in the years since Sound and Fury was made, mostly due to the fact that 90% of children with hearing loss are born to hearing parents who have no experience with Deaf culture or history, parents who regard their child's deafness pathologically. In reality, the technology is not a miracle cure for deafness; the implant does not give the person hearing, but a diminished electronic facsimile thereof and many children with cochlear implants still benefit from sign language interpreters. The limitations of the device mean that there are often times when the wearer is still deaf (for example, the outer portion of the implant cannot get wet, so the wearer must take it off while showering and swimming). Another consideration is the risk posed by the surgery itself; in the process of preparing the cochlea for implantation, any residual hearing that may be enhanced by a non-invasive hearing aid is destroyed, leaving the wearer well and truly deaf for the rest of their lives – even if the implant is unsuccessful.
If you would like to hear more about the controversy, I highly recommend watching Sound and Fury in its entirety.
Most hearing people don't understand why Deaf people prefer to stay deaf. The reason is that there is a rich culture that exists among Deaf people. They have a language and a history that most hearing people are almost entirely unaware of. Hearing people have a pathological view of those with hearing loss: they need to be fixed.
Many Deaf people would disagree. They view cochlear implants as the death of Deaf culture, the end of sign language. This clip from the film Sound and Fury shows very candidly the struggle one family goes through in their decision whether or not to give their child a cochlear implant:
Another aspect of this controversy is that implantation surgery is ideally performed before a child has developed speech. I personally worked with a seven-year-old who had received an implant, and implantation surgery is performed on children as young as 18 months. Opponents of the implant are markedly uncomfortable with the essentially bionic aspect of device; a group of Deaf people in Sound and Fury claim that cochlear implants will turn their children into robots. Many arguments state that the child should be old enough to understand the implications of getting the implant before undergoing the surgery. The unfortunate conundrum is that by the time the child is old enough to comprehend and decide for themselves, they have already lost years of critical speech development.
Some of the controversy has died down in the years since Sound and Fury was made, mostly due to the fact that 90% of children with hearing loss are born to hearing parents who have no experience with Deaf culture or history, parents who regard their child's deafness pathologically. In reality, the technology is not a miracle cure for deafness; the implant does not give the person hearing, but a diminished electronic facsimile thereof and many children with cochlear implants still benefit from sign language interpreters. The limitations of the device mean that there are often times when the wearer is still deaf (for example, the outer portion of the implant cannot get wet, so the wearer must take it off while showering and swimming). Another consideration is the risk posed by the surgery itself; in the process of preparing the cochlea for implantation, any residual hearing that may be enhanced by a non-invasive hearing aid is destroyed, leaving the wearer well and truly deaf for the rest of their lives – even if the implant is unsuccessful.
If you would like to hear more about the controversy, I highly recommend watching Sound and Fury in its entirety.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Braaaaaaaaaains
I'm thrilled by the popularity of zombies in popular culture in the past few years. I've been a zombie movie fan since high school (which is 15 years ago for me), ever since I stumbled over Return of the Living Dead 3 on TV.
What appeals to me, and by "appeals" I mean "terrifies," is the implacability of these monsters. The symbolism of zombies range from consumerism (made most obvious in Dawn of the Dead) to PTSD to "the kids these days" of Shaun of the Dead, and there are various (and sometimes highly controversial) versions of the zombies (slow and fast), but what they all have in common is their universal ability to scare me silly.
It's interesting to see why certain genres become popular at specific times. I can only guess as to the current appeal of zombies that seems to have started around ten years ago... perhaps it's something to do with the economic depression that slowly began after 9/11 and has continued to get worse in the time since. Maybe it's a response to global overcrowding, as we surpass the 7 billion mark in world population. Or maybe zombies are just awesome.
What appeals to me, and by "appeals" I mean "terrifies," is the implacability of these monsters. The symbolism of zombies range from consumerism (made most obvious in Dawn of the Dead) to PTSD to "the kids these days" of Shaun of the Dead, and there are various (and sometimes highly controversial) versions of the zombies (slow and fast), but what they all have in common is their universal ability to scare me silly.
It's interesting to see why certain genres become popular at specific times. I can only guess as to the current appeal of zombies that seems to have started around ten years ago... perhaps it's something to do with the economic depression that slowly began after 9/11 and has continued to get worse in the time since. Maybe it's a response to global overcrowding, as we surpass the 7 billion mark in world population. Or maybe zombies are just awesome.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Trailers
It may be evident from my fanvidding activities, but I'm a fan of trailers. There has been more than a few occasions when the trailer has been better than the movie it is advertising. So what makes trailers so great?
Obviously the editing is a big part of it. Creating a truncated narrative without giving too much away (which many people rightfully complain the trailers often fail at), creating interest by showing off the exciting bits (usually out of context), giving an understanding of what the movie is about, working in the mood of the film. If this is done well, audiences will come running.
For me, what makes a trailer great is the music:
The mixture of instrumental and popular music in the last trailer adds an intense amount of drama to this trailer, making it almost better than the film itself. Both examples I gave here pulled me straight to the theater.
Obviously the editing is a big part of it. Creating a truncated narrative without giving too much away (which many people rightfully complain the trailers often fail at), creating interest by showing off the exciting bits (usually out of context), giving an understanding of what the movie is about, working in the mood of the film. If this is done well, audiences will come running.
For me, what makes a trailer great is the music:
The mixture of instrumental and popular music in the last trailer adds an intense amount of drama to this trailer, making it almost better than the film itself. Both examples I gave here pulled me straight to the theater.
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