We saw Hateful Eight in 70mm splendor in a packed and enthusiastic theater last night. Totally worth seeing. The three hours went by quickly. But it was less ambitious, and less cinematic, than his recent work. In fact, it is basically a stage play. It’s as if Tarantino was given license to take one of his set pieces — say the phenomenal thirty minute German tavern scene (about the scene) in Inglorious Basterds — and blow it out to three hours, although to be fair it’s actually two or three of those set pieces.
The characters are colorful and well-etched. I loved watching the actors act, as in every Tarantino film. The dialogue is Tarantinesque, although not as memorable as his very best. The violence is explosive and over the top. (“Is it a spoiler to say that there’s violence in a Tarantino film?”Is it a spoiler to say that there’s violence in a Tarantino film?)
But it’s also a genre film in a very unexpected genre for Tarantino. I’d say what genre but I think that really might count as a spoiler. Let me put it like this: it’s as if you’re watching Pulp Fiction and realize that, what the heck?, it’s really a version of Emma. (And that was definitely not a spoiler for either film.) It’s sort of cool that Tarantino did this, but also a bit confining for him. At more than 3 hours and in 70mm Cinerama, this is in some ways a small film.
While seeing the “Cinerama” banner took me back, oh, fifty years, I can’t say that what he went through — and what he forced theaters to go through — to show it in 70mm was worth it. There are a couple of shots that that had me think “Nice 70mm!” but had I not known that it was in 70mm, I simply would have said, “Nice shot!.” There were a few shots where the color was especially rich and beautiful, but, again, I wouldn’t have attributed that to anything except excellent digital cinematography had I not known any better. On the other hand, I also can’t see any real difference between an ordinary Mac screen and a Retina display. I’m glad Quentin got to do it his way, and I hope it makes him happy.
“Then there’s the question of what it’s about”Then there’s the question of what it’s about. Race and racism? Legal justice and frontier justice? Yes, I think so. But it doesn’t have easy lessons. Tarantino is totally a non-didactic filmmaker, unlike, say, Spielberg. He’s got his values, he’s got his characters, he puts them together, one of them will discourse on an unexpected cultural theory, one person’s brain matter is probably going to end up in someone else’s face, and that’s about it.
Why would we expect there to be more? For two reasons. First, the movie-making is so superbly crafted. We are completely in his thrall. That’s the experience of art. Second, the violence is so extreme that we want it to be justified by significance.
But violence serves the role of humor in Tarantino’s films. I’m not saying it’s funny, although it often is, and last night’s enthusiastic audience burst out in laughter at some of it. Me too. Tarantino uses violence not just to advance the plot, and not, I believe to show us the true effects of violence, for he skimps entirely on the effect violence has on its survivors. Rather, the “violence like a sudden joke snaps the audience out of the comfort that narrative flow provides”violence like a sudden joke snaps the audience out of the comfort that narrative flow provides.
Which is to say that I don’t think Hateful Eight is rigorously about anything, except perhaps the everyday chaos engendered when people who are unalike have to share a space, or, in this case, share a movie — except in this case, the chaos is amplified by people with guns and their own loose-triggered codes of behavior.
TL;DR: Worth seeing because Tarantino.
Tagged with: movies
Date: December 28th, 2015 dw
I’ve updated a 2009 utility that lets you embed your end notes in the text you’re typing. The utility, Footnoter, extracts the endnotes, leaves a footnote number, and compiles a list of the endnotes with numbers and links. It now works with Markdown as well as with HTML; I use Markdown for most of what I write these days.
In other words, let’s say you type this in a document you’re creating with Markdown:
I write using Markdown. ((See John Gruber’s Daring Fireball for more.)) Markdown lets you embed formatting codes into plain text that are then rendered into formatted HTML, Word, etc.((The Marked app adds a viewer with export capabilities. It’s on sale for $9.99 right now.)), enabling me to focus purely on what I’m saying. It also lets me keep my fingers on the keyboard.
If you paste this text into Footnoter and tell it you want Markdown output, it will treat the comments between the double parentheses as endnotes. It will remove those comments from the body of the text, leaving the Markdown code for an endnote number, and will compile a list of endnotes with the proper references back to their endnote numbers. That is, it does what you would expect. At least with my limited testing.
For Markdown, that means the above text gets turned into this:
I write using Markdown.[^fn2] Markdown lets you embed formatting codes into plain text that are then rendered into formatted HTML, Word, etc.[^fn3], enabling me to focus purely on what I’m saying. It also lets me keep my fingers on the keyboard.
[^fn2]:See John Gruber’s Daring Fireball for more.
[^fn3]:The Marked app adds a viewer with export capabilities. It’s on sale for $9.99 right now.
Don’t be freaked out. That’s what endnotes look like in Markdown. When you run them through a parser, they’ll have appropriately numbered superscripts. (Footnoter generates arbitrary unique Markdown labels for endnotes; they start with “fn” and then have numbers appended sequentially. Those numbers have nothing to do with the number the parser will assign to the endnote itself. Also, yes, it’s a little bug that Footnoter starts with fn2 instead of fn1. Non-critical. I’m working on it. [Minutes later]: Fixed it. I think.)
The same thing happens if you are writing HTML except the markup that’s generated is more like this:
I write using Markdown.<span class=’fn_in_text’><a name=’fn2′><a href=#fnend2>2</a><</span> Markdown lets you embed formatting codes into plain text that are then rendered into formatted HTML, Word, etc.<span class=’fn_in_text’><a name=’fn3′><a href=#fnend3>3</a></span>, enabling me to focus purely on what I’m saying. It also lets me keep my fingers on the keyboard.
And that gets rendered in a browser as this:
I write using Markdown.2 Markdown lets you embed formatting codes into plain text that are then rendered into formatted HTML, Word, etc.3, enabling me to focus purely on what I’m saying. It also lets me keep my fingers on the keyboard.
There are a number of options, including setting the delimiters for endnotes and, for HTML, which endnote number to begin with. By default it removes the space before an endnote, so you can put a space between the word where the superscript should be and your delimiters, making your text easier to read when you’re working on it.
Also, if you work on a text, run it through Footnoter, work on it some more and add more endnotes, Footnoter should detect that and begin its arbitrary numbering of Markdown endnotes above where you left off. That means you can run it through more than once and it should still work.
Note: This code is from 2009. I’ve learned some stuff since then, including that jQuery makes life easier. When I added the Markdown option yesterday, I didn’t bother cleaning up the old code. It is particularly hideous. You can gape at its uglinesss at github.
PS: Yes, I really should have named it “Endnoter.”
Tagged with: endnotes
Date: December 27th, 2015 dw
What a majestic creature! The wings beating like giant sails!
And not bald. Not even a comb-over, haha. Downy white feathers covering that majestic skull.
The beak does sort of look like a big nose, though.
Again this morning! I’d say within 15 mins of yesterday’s fly-by. A little higher up and more toward the center of the lake, but still majestic even from further away. I’d probably have to be like a mile away before I mistook it for a pigeon.
Winky barked as it soared past, although Winky barks at anything he finds interesting, and he’s blessed with an all-day curiosity.
Did you know that all clouds look like bones?
It looked at me! Oh my, let me record the time exactly! It’s now 7:27, so it was probably at 7:24!
Ok, I’ve caught my breath. He flew by just a little past the Jurgenson’s raft, so that’s maybe 50 or 200 feet from me. Flapping those big wings. Looking straight ahead. And then as I leapt up from my chair, he definitely turned his head and looked right at me!
And not a little passing glance. He was studying me, taking my measure, judging my character. And I looked back at him. Resolute but with kindness. I wasn’t going to look away until he did, which took about maybe four seconds, or two to be scientific about it (I just timed four seconds on the ol’ Timex, and they take longer than you’d think). But your life can change in two seconds. How long is the first sight that love can happen in? It can’t be more than a second or two or it would be second sight, or maybe third.
My eagle and I definitely made a connection. Till death do us part! Well, Labor Day.
Socrates: The Extra Parmesanides
The unexamined pizza is probably still worth eating.
St. Augustine: Deep Dish Confessions
The mind commands the body and is instantly obeyed.
The mind commands itself and meets resistance.
The body commands pizza and it arrives within thirty minutes or it’s free. [“…ut servirem domino deo meo”]
Nietzsche: Thus Spake ‘Za-thruster, the Pizza Delivery Guy
The pizza that does not kill me makes me stronger.
If you gaze into a pizza, the pizza stares back at you. If you’re tripping balls.
Martin Heidegger: Being and Slices
“Dasein’s Being is always Being-toward-Pizza. Pizza stands before us as an ex-static project that discloses that which is Dasein’s ownmost, for no one can eat your pizza for you.”
Bonus for Librarians: Ranganathan’s Five Laws of Pizza Science
Pizzas are for use
For every eater, his pizza
For every pizza, its eater
Our warming oven saves time for the eater
Our pizzas are totally organic
Isaac Asimov: Three Rules of Pizzas
Suggested by Andromeda Yelton (@ThatAndromeda). Thanks!
A pizza may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
A pizza must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
A pizza must do ABSOLUTE NOTHING to protect its own existence as long as such lack of protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.
Tagged with: pizza
Date: December 21st, 2015 dw
OCLC has posted an excellent report based on a recent conference, looking at how libraries can participate in the life of users, rather than thinking about the user’s life within the library.
I like this a lot. I’ve been talking about it in terms of libraries now being able to participate in the appropriation of culture that traditionally has occurred in private discussions outside the library: The user borrows a book, takes it home, and talks about it with her friends, etc. It is in those conversations that the reader makes the work her own.
Now that many of those conversations occur online, the library has the opportunity to offer services that facilitate these conversations, learn from them, and contribute to the act of cultural appropriation. That’s a big change and a big opportunity. (I’d say it’s huge, but I can’t use that word without hearing it in Trump’s voice, not to mention envisioning the shape of his mouth when he says it. So, nope, that word’s gone.)
One of the points of talking about libraries in the life of the user–Lorcan Dempsey‘s phrase from 1973 (I am a Lorcan fan) [LATER: In the comments below Merrilee Proffitt points out that the report says that while Lorcan popularized the phrase, it was coined by Douglas Zweizig. Sorry!] –is that user lives are much bigger than their lives in libraries. The library’s services therefore should not be confined to the relatively limited range of things that users do in libraries. In fact, users’ lives are so big and varied and unpredictable that libraries on their own can’t possible provide every service or address every opportunity for engaging in their users’ many acts of cultural appropriation.
Therefore, libraries ought to be adopting open platforms, i.e., public-facing APIs that let anyone with an idea build a new service or integrate into their own sites or apps the ideas being generated by networks of library users. Open platforms are ideal where needs and opportunities are unpredictable. Outside of cats trapped in physicists’ boxes, there is no more unpredictable domain than how people are going to make sense of their culture together.
Therefore: Open platforms for libraries!
Tagged with: libraries
Date: December 17th, 2015 dw
My role on the Net is going through a large swing: from explaining why the Internet is different, important, and (overall) good, to reminding us—especially college-age kids—how different and difficult so many things were before the Net existed.
For example, I gave an informal talk at Tufts last week and a few weeks ago at Emerson College. In both of them, and in the discussions afterwards, I did the Old Man thing of talking about how things were in the pre-Net days. For instance, it used to be that you’d read a newspaper article, have questions and want to know more, and there was no place you could go. You got whatever was in that rectangle of information and that’s all. Shocking! Outrageous!
The two roles are not unrelated: explaining what’s different about the Net and why we should overall be grateful and optimistic about the opportunities it has opened up. But what’s surprising to me is summed up by the comment by one of the Emerson students after the event was officially over: He thanked me for saying positive things about the Net since “All we ever hear is how dangerous it is.”
So, there’s still work to do. Hope over fear. Hope over fear.
, free culture
Tagged with: cluetrain
Date: December 13th, 2015 dw
TripAdvisor is being wonky about letting me write a review for a restaurant it doesn’t have listed; it has me stuck in a loop, insisting that I confirm that it is in an unlisted city, which it is not. Anyway, here’s the review I would have posted there.
A local resident recommended Surya Mahal (Shop No A, 179, MI Road) as the pure vegetarian place he goes with his family. It is indeed a family restaurant, down to paper placemats with absolutely terrible jokes on them.
But the food was just so good.
The menu includes Chinese and Italian, as well as Indian. We had the King’s Tali: little dishes of malai kofta, paneer butter masala, vegetable pulao (rice), some type of dal, and a raita (spiced yogurt) plus papadam, bread (we got roti) and two gulab jamuns. One tali served both of us.
Everything was exceptionally delicious: richly flavored, nicely textured. We ate all of everything and left satisfied in every direction. I’m no expert on Indian food, but I’m going to stand by what I just said.
Plus the children running around were adorable.
The owner (or so we assumed) was very helpful and enthusiastic. He honored our counter-cultural request that the food not be very hot in the peppery sense; one of us is a wimp.
Total cost, including a large bottle of mineral water, was under 500 Rs. — about US$7.00.
One night when we woke up in the middle of the night and could not get back to sleep (thanks to the lag of jets), I was thinking how, in my limited experience, almost all northern Indian food comes in lots of sauce or is a sauce itself. The following doggerel popped into my head:
Put on your galoshes
‘Cause everything sloshes.
Except the banan-
a, which is second to naan.
I had a third verse as well, but I eventually fell asleep and forgot it.
Just as well.
Tagged with: india
Date: December 7th, 2015 dw
My wife and I are in Ahmedabad where there was a library conference put on by the Indian Institute of Management. It ended on Friday. We had Saturday plus this morning to see what we could of this very large city.
Friday night was our first day without sleeping pills, and we hardly slept at all — up for the night at 1:30am. Since I was already sick, having caught Ann’s cold, and being a self-pitying weakling, I just wanted to stay in bed and sleep. Which is pretty much what I did for the morning and early afternoon.
At 3pm we set out to walk to the walled city. We figured we’d go to a beautiful Hindu temple there (Swaminaryan Mandir) , and then walk 15 mins to the only Jewish synagogue in the entire region, Magen Abraham.
It is about a 4 mile walk to the Hindu temple, but it took us over three hours because Ahmedabad has blown past the infrastructure for walking. “ Chaotic traffic and people busy with their lives”It is difficult to describe how overwhelming it is. We walked along main roads with sidewalks made impassable by parked motorcycles. We walked through some very poor neighborhoods, where people smiled at us elderly Americans, and called out “Hallo.” Mainly, though, we walked along streets filled with chaotic traffic and people busy with their lives.
And don’t get me started on the traffic. Huge streets with cars, tuktuks, motorcycles, bikes, carts, and anything else that is capable of movement, all without traffic lights Horns replace lanes. The balletics required to make a right turn on a major street with no regulation other than norms and horns are astounding. Crossing a street requires stepping into a lane with the confidence that the oncoming traffic will split around you. Hesitate and you have become a random vector and far more likely to be hit. It is terrifying. Why 40% of the population hasn’t been killed in traffic accidents is one of today’s modern mysteries. “Why 40% of the population of Ahmedabad hasn’t been killed in traffic accidents is one of today’s modern mysteries. ”
Since we couldn’t figure out the algorithm, we went with an heuristic: wait for a local to cross and follow her.
After maybe 2.5 hours, we crossed the Nehru Bridge of the huge river. That side of the river took the other side up a notch. All the way to eleven. More people. More traffic. And an outdoor market that went on for at least a mile, and branched out for acres and acres more on either side. The streets were nearly impassable except by walking in and amongst the crazy traffic.
These are not tourist markets. No geegaws. Just endless shops and carts, crushed together in disregard of every human sense organ.“endless shops and carts, crushed together in disregard of every human sense organ.”
By this time we’d given up on finding the Hindu temple and worked instead on finding the synagogue.
Unfortunately, the street the synagogue is on — Bawa Latif — is unmarked, and apparently unknown by the locals. After many inquiries, all politely responded to, we got into a tuktuk as soon as shabbos was over. The driver pretended he knew where he was going. After more wending through market streets, this time as the bodies with inertia on their side, and after several stops where he asked other drivers where the street was, he dropped us off at the street … except that it was an indoor market, not a street. (I believe that the gate it is immediately next to is Teen Darwaja.) We wandered forlornly looking for a synagogue amongst the stands selling food, clothing, and anything brightly covered.
Ultimately, a Muslim working one of the tables said he knew where the synagogue is, and he walked us to it. We would never ever have found it. Never. Ever. He expressed his commitment to religions respecting one another. We thanked him profusely — I said that helping strangers was so important, and he clasped my shoulders, which was touching in both senses — and we entered the synagogue. “a Muslim working one of the tables said he knew where the synagogue was… ”
It is a place of simple worship. In this, it reminded me of my wife’s synagogue in Boston. I sat silently through the end of sabbath ritual. Afterward, the president of the synagogue chatted us up, and his point of pride was that within a few blocks were five different houses of worship: Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Hindu, and Jain. Even given India’s religious tolerance, nowhere else are the houses of worship that close together, he said.
We took a tuktuk home — the best dollar I ever spent.
The walk this afternoon was difficult, uncertain, and at times — crosswalks! — terrifying. But we will never forget it.
Date: December 6th, 2015 dw