One of my brothers-in-law just got back from Israel; he was in Tel Aviv for work, but did get to tour around a bit... jealous! Above is his picture of the Western Wall, and another of the city from the Mount of Olives. Below are a couple photos of excavations of the old city, which is beneath the existing one. "Jerusalem is a port city on the shore of eternity."- Yehuda Amichai And here's a sobering reminder of reality over there- a picture my brother-in-law took of the countryside as his group changed tour buses on the way to Bethlehem. The switch was necessary because they were entering Palestinian territory and their tour guide was Israeli, and therefore not allowed in. View from his hotel in Tel Aviv: Dang. I need to go here some day.
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I'm currently in the middle of reviewing P.G. Wodehouse's humorous novel, A Damsel In Distress, which is a delightful read. The same year it was written- 1919- the tale was made into a silent movie. Then, in 1928, Wodehouse got together with playwright Ian Hay and adapted the book into a stage play, in which A.A. Milne invested. It had quite a successful run. Finally, in 1937, A Damsel In Distress was made into a movie musical, with the screenplay written by P.G. Wodehouse once again. The music for the film was done by George and Ira Gershwin and actually the entire production was George's idea; he pushed to get the film green lit. Wodehouse impishly suggested that he wanted to do it because the hero in the story was a composer named George. Sadly, this was to prove Gershwin's final film, as he died of a brain tumor during filming; the movie was released a few months after his death. The film stars Fred Astaire, Joan Fontaine, George Burns and Gracie Allen. It has the same general premise as the novel, but a lot of the plot points- and characters- have been changed. So which is better: the book or the movie? Hands down, the book, which is just about pitch-perfect in every way. The eccentric characters, the convoluted plot, the witty writing... all great. As for the film, it's fine but not particularly memorable. Which isn't just my opinion: audiences at the time obviously felt the same way, because this was the first Astaire film which lost money. Wodehouse, Gershwin, and Astaire... what could go wrong? I haven't seen the film in quite a long time, so this is my remembered opinion of it, but as I recall it was just... underwhelming. Gracie Allen and George Burns are the comic relief in the film, and they're fine, although I've never found them particularly funny. Certainly, they have nothing like the amusing charm of the comedic tag-team of Edward Everett Horton and Eric Blore in earlier Astaire films like Top Hat and Shall We Dance. Speaking of these movies, they also starred Ginger Rogers. A Damsel In Distress was Astaire's first RKO film which didn't also star Rogers, and this is a problem. Joan Fontaine plays Astaire's love interest, and to be brutally frank, she's pretty vapid. Of course, she was only nineteen at the time, and she just didn't have the experience and ease of Astaire and the other seasoned performers so often seems outmatched. Also, she suffers from being compared to Ginger Roger's much feistier personality and skilled dancing ability. Accustomed to the magic of Astaire and Rogers, the combination of Astaire and Fontaine seems less than impressive. Again, the problem is Fontaine whom, it was discovered after she was cast in the musical, couldn't dance. Fred Astaire wanted her replaced and the director, George Stevens, had to talk him into agreeing to keep her in the film. In retrospect, Stevens should have listened to Astaire because the Astaire/ Fontaine dance scene is boring. It's filmed in a wooded area so that Fontaine is frequently behind trees, her lack of ability hidden. Also, the routine is pretty basic, because she couldn't manage anything complicated. This isn't to completely blame Fontaine for the film's lack of success, because it's disappointing as a work of Wodehouse as well. I don't know what his original screenplay looked like, but by the time it made its way to the screen, most of the Wodehousian charm and wit was gone. What remains is an O.K. musical, but it's not Wodehouse to any measurable degree. This also isn't to imply that there isn't anything of value in the movie: Gershwin's music is, as usual, great. In fact, this movie introduced a couple of songs which have become standards: "A Foggy Day (In London Town)" and "Nice Work If You Can Get It". Also, Fred Astaire's dancing, when not hampered by Joan Fontaine, is spectacular. Below is the scene in which he dances to "Nice Work If You Can Get It": So, to sum up, the 1937 film A Damsel In Distress is a so-so, run-of-the-mill musical with a few great songs and Astaire dance solos. It's disappointing Wodehouse, though, and doesn't compare favourably with P.G.'s excellent novel. Related Posts: Fate having been kind enough to George to provide him with a damsel in distress, he is immediately galvanized into action. He pulls down the window shade on one side of the cab, and leans out the other window so that no one can see in. As they are still stopped in traffic, a stout well-dressed young man comes huffing up, telling George that he knows there is a woman in the cab and demanding to be let in. George cordially refuses, to the amazed fury of the pudgy fellow and the amusement of onlookers. He tries to force the issue, which results in George knocking his top hat off of his head. The fellow hastily darts out to rescue his precious hat from the road and just then the traffic eases and George's cab continues on its way, leaving the stout, hatless figure behind. Pulling his head into the now-moving cab, George finds the young lady getting up off of the floor where she had ducked down, and composedly seating herself. She profusely thanks him for helping her, but regretfully informs him that she can't tell him her name, or why she is hiding. Accepting this as part and parcel of the extraordinary situation he finds himself in, George asks the young lady if he can drop her off somewhere. She says that she has to go to Waterloo station to catch a train, but then realizes in alarm that, in her rush to hide, she has somehow lost her purse. George offers to lend her the money for her ticket, but explains that they will have to stop by his hotel first to get his wallet. They proceed to the hotel and George hurries in to get his wallet, leaving the lady waiting in the cab. When he returns, it is to find both the lady and the cab gone. The doorman informs him that the lady took the taxi on to Waterloo Station. While George tries to figure out what has happened, he looks up to see the stout figure of his hatted former opponent approaching angrily, having managed to tail the cab. He truculently demands to know where his sister is, to George's shock; he had imagined the fellow to be a corpulent lothario in pursuit of an innocent young maiden. It hadn't occurred to him that there might be another explanation. Nevertheless, he refuses to cooperate, and the increasingly heated scene attracts the attention of several onlookers, as well as a police officer who approaches and asks what is going on. George politely explains to the bobby that he has been accosted by the other gentleman. His well dressed and angry opponent makes the mistake of being rude to the officer, who responds by ordering him to move along. Enraged, the fellow loses his head and punches the cop in the stomach. This results in the policeman taking him by the collar and quick-marching him to the local jail, accompanied by a jeering crowd. George returns to his hotel no longer depressed and bored; in the course of one afternoon he has gotten in a public altercation and fallen in love. It's the best day he can remember having in a long time. The next morning finds George still elated but considering his options, which aren't good. He has fallen in love with a girl whose name he doesn't know, nor does he know where she lives or if he'll ever see her again. The only information he has is that she was leaving on a train from Waterloo Station. While pondering his course of action, a letter arrives for George signed "the girl in the taxi." In it, she apologizes for leaving so abruptly, explaining that she had seen her brother coming and had to make a quick getaway. She also says that she remembered that she was wearing a brooch which she stopped and pawned on the way to the station to pay for her ticket. George is filled with admiration for her resourcefulness, but the letter gives him no further clue as to how to find her. Fortunately, enlightenment comes in the form of the newspapers. In one of them, he finds a satirical account of his altercation the previous day. In it, his opponent is identified as Lord Percy Belpher. George loses no time in looking up Lord Belpher, son of the Earl of Marshmoreton, who has one sister, Patricia Maud. George doesn't hesitate: he packs a bag, heads to Waterloo Station, and hops a train for the town of Belpher. Related Posts:Nephew's birthday party had a Greek Mythology theme: Admittedly, it was mainly an excuse for the boys to pelt each other with plastic swords and Nerf arrows... on the other hand, few organized party activities were necessary with The Most Dangerous Game going on in the backyard. Related Posts:June 6,1944 was D-Day, the beginning of the end of Nazi Germany and the war in Europe. It was a coordinated attack by the Allied forces, who would take the beaches of Normandy and then move inland. Though victorious, this victory came at great cost, one we must never forget and should strive to be worthy of. Related Posts:"There are historic situations in which refusal to defend the inheritance of a civilization, however imperfect, against tyranny and aggression may result in consequences even worse than war." -Reinhold Niebuhr There has been another Islamic terror attack in London; this is the third attack in England in a short space of time. And of course, murderous attacks have been going on with ghastly regularity throughout the middle east. In the wake of the deadly assault, the usual platitudes have been issued about terrorism having nothing to do with Islam, which is of course a religion of peace. Well, I'm no expert, but when murderous savages who are slaughtering people in the streets invoke the name of Allah and use verses from the Koran about killing infidels to justify their actions, I think that we should probably take them at their word. Yes, we all know that it is a very small minority that engages in violence, but to deny their existence as a particularly poisonous branch of Islam is dishonest and frankly, part of the problem. It is extremely difficult to deal with a danger if you deny that it exists. Another inconvenient truth is that a larger percentage of Muslims who don't commit in acts of terror don't exactly disagree with the sentiments which inspire them. There are any number of studies and polls which confirm this, and here's a video taken at a mosque in Toronto which gives a more concrete example of it: When this video was aired, the imam in question released a statement saying that he "misspoke" as though he had some sort of anti-Semitic tourettes syndrome. You can believe that- or not- depending on how gullible you are. Loathsome as this man and his views are, the larger problem is the bunch behind him who apparently are just fine with what he's saying. I attend an independent Baptist church, and I can assure you that if our pastor got up one Sunday morning and called for the deaths of non-Christians he would be hustled off of the platform and then out of the ministry. Why did that not happen with this imam? One might almost think that the mosque attendees don't disagree with his sentiments. Even if 99% of these people just listen to this verbal trash and go home to live peaceful lives, what if 1% take it seriously and decide do something about it? They will no doubt assume the tacit approval of those Muslims who listened to this hateful rhetoric and would not refute it. It's time to treat Islam not differently, but the same as every other religion. It should not be immune to scrutiny, critique and yes, even mockery. Some years ago, the CBC put out- at Christmas time, no less- a TV special mocking the birth of Christ, starring Pamela Anderson as the "virgin" Mary. Needless to say, they have yet to produce a Ramadan special sending up Mohammed. South Park routinely mocks Christianity, but when they produced an episode which satirized Islam, Comedy Central censored and then pulled it. After the Charlie Hebdo massacre, news programs displayed the magazine's covers which mocked Jesus, but pixelated ones which portrayed Mohammed. Either all of the people making these decisions believe that Islam is alone among religions deserving of reverence, or else they think that criticizing the religion of peace might end badly for them. President Obama once said that "the future must not belong to those who slander the prophet of Islam." Radical Muslims agree with that statement, and spend their time trying to deprive "infidels" of their personal futures. It's time to stop treating Muslims as though they can't- or shouldn't- be expected to react to criticism and mockery in a civilized non-violent manner. It's time to stop pretending that all cultures have equal value and tell the truth: liberty is better than tyranny, democracy is better than theocracy, and the rule of law is better than a dictatorship. We must not be afraid to stand up for our values and defend them by any means necessary. "If you are not prepared to use force to defend civilization, then be prepared to accept barbarism." -Thomas Sowell Related Posts:Here's a clip from my favourite romantic comedy of all time, His Girl Friday: Related Posts:Another nephew's birthday is upcoming, and I'm making Pokemon pillowcases for the occasion. I don't pretend to understand the enduring popularity of the whole Pokemon thing, but I'm a fond aunt, so am dutifully providing the requested gift. I will, of course, sneak a book into the gift bag as well to balance things out. Related Posts: It was election day in Nova Scotia on Tuesday, and so after work I toddled off to exercise my right to vote. My polling station was in a small Anglican church a few miles from my house, and when I had presented my voter information card and I.D., I was directed to one of the voting booths. To my surprise, the person who handed me my ballot was my favourite teacher from when I was in high school. After I emerged from the booth and dropped my ballot in the box, we chatted for a couple minutes, and then I headed home. Later as I was cooking supper, I spent some time thinking about what had made that man the most memorable- in a good way- teacher of my school years. He had taught me two different subjects: grade ten geography and grade eleven European history. The things which he taught me still linger in my mind, unlike admittedly, some other subjects I studied at the time (organic chemistry, for example). I can still identify and talk intelligently about the drumlins, tarns, oxbow lakes, and sheep rocks I studied in geography, although I don't talk about them because I like having friends. Also, his European history class not only provided me with a good overview of the development of Europe through the ages, but with a thirst to learn more about it. It led me to do a lot more reading and studying on my own time. I didn't love these classes because they were easy: on the contrary, he assigned more readings and homework than any other teacher I had in high school. He was also constantly giving us quizzes and tests; we had to do field reports in geography and research papers in history. I worked harder for his classes than for any other but never begrudged the time or effort, and I was a lot prouder of the good marks I got from him than I was of the ones I got in classes I didn't have to work hard in, like English. So what made his class/ teaching so great? Well, to begin with, he was himself enthusiastic about the subject matter of these classes and this enthusiasm was infectious. He also had a gift for imparting knowledge to his students without dryly lecturing or talking down to us. Rather, he would often perch on the edge of his desk and ask challenging questions about an event or issue (mainly in history) we were studying and encourage discussion, frequently playing devil's advocate to make us consider issues from differing angles. We seldom knew what he believed about these things; while he would challenge and debate, he never pushed an agenda in his classes. He taught us how to think about the class topics, but never what to think, which gives him points over a lot of teachers and professors nowadays. Also, while he ran an informal class, I don't remember any students acting up or causing disruptions. He treated us as though we were capable of mature and civilized discussion, and we were eager to prove him right. I'm sure a lot of our arguments and opinions weren't half as clever and intelligent as we thought they were at the time, but he listened to, encouraged, and challenged them. He also insisted in both our oral and written arguments that we back up our assertions with facts. At a time when university students are shrieking hysterical nonsense which has no basis in reality, and are being coddled and submitted to by the pathetic administrators at their schools, I can only think back with nostalgia to a time when some teachers still expected scholarship, rationality, and respect- for themselves and for others- from their students. I don't romanticize the teaching profession; over the course of my scholastic career, I had some good teachers, some bad ones, and a lot of mediocre ones. My former history/geography teacher stood out not just because I learned so much about those topics from his courses, but because he also trained his students to discipline our minds and thought processes. If only more teachers saw their role as showing students how to think and learn, rather than telling them what to think. Related Posts: |
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