Dicta

The home of “things said” by the National Association of Scholars.

Peter Wood Reviews "The Square"

NAS

Peter Wood reviews Ruben Östlund's new movie on modern art.

AQ Contributor Writes for TIME Magazine on Distortion of History in "Selma"

Madison Iszler

Academic Questions contributor David Kaiser writes for TIME Magazine on why the movie Selma is historically inaccurate.

Godzilla vs. Godot

Peter Wood

Godzilla and Godot have more in common than a first syllable. They are the two opposing faces of despair: a god that is pure wrath and a god that never shows up.

Top Five Environmental Themes in Darren Aronofsky’s Noah

Rachelle Peterson

The recent movie reimagines Noah as a prophet of environmental sustainability. 

Taking Care

Ashley Thorne

Is art worth dying for? The Monuments Men considers the value of good art and its purpose in preserving a cultural heritage.

Colleges' Lost Love of Film

David Clemens

Colleges and universities shortchange students by "academicizing" film rather than appreciating the way it illuminates our humanness.

Higher Ed, or Building Clockwork Oranges?

David Clemens

For Father’s Day, my daughter Kate sent me a t-shirt featuring David Pelham’s dust jacket of Anthony Burgess’s novel A Clockwork Orange (Penguin, 1962).  Director Stanley Kubrick turned Burgess’s cautionary tale into a surreal film masterpiece (Warner Bros., 1971) with graphic scenes of violence, sex, gangs, rape, and aversive conditioning, choreographed and set to thundering, Moog-synthesized Beethoven (and "Singin’ In the Rain"). The film, now reissued on Blu-Ray for its 40th anniversary, has a turbulent history.  Originally rated X, Kubrick had to re-cut it for an R but also withdrew the film from distribution in the UK where it was re-released only in 2000, after his death.  The American edition of the book which inspired Kubrick had itself been bowdlerized by the publisher (Norton) who amputated the final chapter creating a dark, ambiguous conclusion where Burgess’s 21st chapter offered a consoling one. Once, Kubrick’s opus was required viewing in my class about what a human being is and isn’t.   When Burgess/Kubrick’s sociopathic narrator, Alex, is arrested, he is subjected to aversive conditioning and becomes incapable of violent action (the conditioning also destroys his ability to enjoy “Ludwig Van”).  He is now “a clockwork orange,” what you get when you treat something organic as if it were a programmable machine; Alex’s prison chaplain protests that "When a man cannot choose, he ceases to be a man."  Voila, Kubrick’s film was perfect for the class, but, like Kubrick, I too withdrew it after one student became hysterical during the viewing, curling into a fetal position and shaking for an hour after class.  Apparently, Alex’s “ultra-violent” acts but ingenuous “of-course-you-understand” intimacy remain disturbing, even dangerous, enhanced by the timeless music, John Alcott’s cinematography, and Kubrick’s notoriously clinical eye.  The opening 90-second dolly back shot still chills the blood. Yet, cold as Kubrick’s films feel, he was an eminently sane man presenting a perennial dilemma--freedom vs. order.  In an interview with film historian Michel Ciment, he said

I think that when Rousseau transferred the concept of original sin from man to society, he was responsible for a lot of misguided social thinking which followed. I don't think that man is what he is because of an imperfectly structured society, but rather that society is imperfectly structured because of the nature of man. No philosophy based on an incorrect view of the nature of man is likely to produce social good.”

Indeed . . . .  If only the outcomes-and-assessment-addled mandarins who run our “imperfectly structured” education system would take Kubrick’s words to heart, the job of rebuilding the humane studies might finally begin.

Wimp Out: Review of Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Keith Whitaker

The contemporary sequel to the 1980s original, this is a film of spineless characters without much character.

Muppet Yoda or ‘Toon Yoda?

David Clemens

For 30 years, I have used Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now in conjunction with Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness to illustrate allusion, ambiguity, irony, anxiety of influence, medium imperatives, and narrative architectonics.  Oddly, the last few times I showed the film, many students were left speechless by the intensity of the experience.  I was puzzled at first but then realized that their distress might stem from something that Apocalypse Now lacks:  CGI. Today’s students are accustomed to computer-generated images and special effects, but CGI and full-motion capture/performance produce weightless pictorials with no substance.  Avatar and 300 are forgettable eye candy, impalpable as a mirage.  But in Apocalypse Now, when the script called for Col. Kilgore to order an airstrike and blow up a jungle with napalm, director Coppola blew up a jungle with napalm.  Coppola also blew up a physical Do Long Bridge and expended many hundredweight of black powder, phosphorous, and fuse on a physical village of Vin Drin Dop.  When a carabao is slaughtered, a real, luckless carabao was slaughtered. This gravity of actuality is shocking to today’s students for whom simulation, simulacra, and virtuality are the “natural” landscape.  Film critic John Podhoretz decries CGI because

the extreme artificiality of the form creates distance between the viewer and the work. The secret about the movies is the way they trick you into believing you are seeing something realistic when you are actually watching something entirely artificial. The key is the recognizable human face and the interaction of the human body with recognizable real-world objects.  Remove those from the picture and you are in the entirely stylized realm of kabuki theater.

Cyberpunk legend William Gibson contends that soon most people will live in a “blended-reality state.”  The “entirely stylized” apparitions of CGI convince me that my students already live there with profound emotional and educational consequences.

Doll Sales and Moral Tales

Adrianna Groth

The American Girl dolls play their small part in the struggle for social justice--but only after having healthy, historical fun.