Dispatches From the Front Lines of the Culture War
Once again, I write something here, and The Washington Post sticks something eerily similar in there. Okay, not really, but as least Gene Weingarten and I have some similar views on the deterioration of the language. Only his are a lot funnier.
His “Below the Beltway” column of this past weekend speaks for itself. I recommend everyone give it a read.
I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m a linguistic purist. I don’t know exactly where this obsession originated, but I’m one of those folks for whom the proper use of the English language — or at least use indicative of a moderate level of literacy — is a must. Oh, I’m far from perfect, but I like to think I have a fairly comprehensive grasp of my native tongue. A nasty side-effect of my linguistic outlook is that I’m inordinately irritated by errors that seem (to me, anyway) to be the result of laziness rather than simple ignorance of English’s subtle nuances; I’m more forgiving in casual conversation, but in published work I am absolutely merciless (with Web publication falling somewhere in the middle).
So I was singularly pleased when Pam brought home a book from the library that I’m sure would have elicited groans from most people: Bryson’s Dictionary of Troublesome Words, by Bill Bryson. It covers everything from common grammatical errors to frequently mixed-up word pairs (“apprise” versus “appraise,” for example). It’s kind of a shame that those who could most benefit from a work like this will probably never read it. I, on the other hand, read it from cover to cover, and while I did find some items with which I was unfamiliar, I found greater enjoyment in the easy-to-understand explanations of subtle points I’ve had difficulty conveying myself.
I know that in all probability, nobody reading this will afford the book a second glance. Or a first one, for that matter. But if you’re interested in overcoming a number of common errors — and ensuring that your message isn’t lost in miscommunication — I cannot recommend the book more highly (I’ll be buying a copy for my own office reference).
Okay, now who’ll be the first to point out the errors in this entry?
Okay, this notice is long overdue (I promised them I’d mention it a while ago), but this Saturday, four of my friends are going to be doing tandem free falls to benefit Speaking Out About Rape (SOAR) and the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN). It’s part of a program called Operation Freefall, and it’s being conducted nationwide to raise both funds and awareness to bring a stop to sexual assault — including expansion and maintenance of the National Sexual Assault Hotline (1-800-656-HOPE) and various educational programs.
While I’d never dream of jumping out of an airplane (okay, truth be told, I’ve always wanted to, but I’m not allowed), these noble souls — Courtney Davis, Joe Orsinger, Hillary Tisdale, and David Seitzinger, collectively known as team “Lead Balloon” — will be risking their very lives by doing so to help others. They’re still actively seeking donations, so if you’d like to help out, please contact Hillary.
I don’t know if I’ll be able (Pam’s going to be leaving on a trip to New York, so it’ll just be the girls and I), but I’d like to at least watch from below. The jumps are scheduled to begin around 9:30 or so, so it’ll depend on what time the team actually goes.
Then again, should anything go wrong, I’d hate to have to explain the bloody mess to the kids...
An article in this morning’s Post had me cheering with approval (well, figuratively, anyway — the family was still asleep). Most everybody with half a brain recognizes that the USA Patriot Act — or a substantial portion of it, at least — is ridiculously unconstitutional. But, of course, in their rashness after the 2001 terrorist attacks, the U.S. Congress demonstrated that there wasn’t a collective brain among them and passed it anyway. Now that people have actually read the Act — and the more intelligent among them are starting to object vociferously — the Congress is stuck in the position of having to question its earlier judgment. The more ethical among them... okay, even I couldn’t keep a straight face with that one, so let me rephrase it... those most approaching some sort of ethical code are starting to wonder if it should be revised. Given the juggernaut that is the Bush regime, however, it appears unlikely that anything will be remedied in either the executive or legislative branches of government; if anything, it appears that things will get much worse (Patriot Act II, anyone?).
But it appears that at least one small municipality isn’t going to wait for things to “magically” get better. The City Council of Arcata, California, has made it a crime to willfully comply with requests made under the Act. At first blush, this seems like a largely symbolic gesture, except for one small detail: Should any such request be made, the matter would go before the courts — and not between the secret police and some poor defendant who won’t even be given access to a lawyer, but between two public entities. Not that I have a whole lot of confidence in our government’s judicial branch — especially after the 2000 presidential election, when our Supreme Court demonstrated that they could compete with the best of our legislators in terms of corruptibility — but I’m hopeful that somewhere along the line, we’ll hit a federal judge who isn’t cowed by political pressure and can actually exercise rational judgment. Now, is it likely that Ashcroft’s goons will make a Patriot Act request in little Arcata (population 16,000)? Not really. But if other jurisdictions take similar stands (to date 89 cities have passed resolutions at least condemning the Act), then sooner or later the conflict will come to the fore.
Bravo, Arcata.
“Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.” — Thomas Jefferson, 1787
While it comes as no surprise to many of my friends and acquaintances, let me state it for the record: I am a First Amendment absolutist. While, as a rule, I try to avoid seeing issues in black-and-white terms, here is one where I find little room for compromise. So I took particular enjoyment in the announcement (on April 13, the anniversary of Jefferson’s birth) of this year’s Jefferson Muzzles by The Thomas Jefferson Center for the Protection of Free Expression. Since 1992, the “awards” recognize those individuals who have done the most to hinder the exercise of free speech in the United States (recipients receive either a T-shirt or commemorative certificate, at their option).
The 2003 winners comprise some notable figures, including Mayor Tom Bates of Berkeley (for stealing and disposing of more than 1,000 copies of The Daily Californian, a student newspaper that had endorsed his opponent), the Tennessee Arts Commission (for rescinding an exhibition invitation to artist Ernie Sandidge based on an unconstitutional “no nudes” policy), and the 107th U.S. Congress (for the horrific Section 215 of the disingenuously named USA Patriot Act). But most prominent on the list (gee, who ever would have guessed?) is the most overtly fascistic member of the Bush regime, John Ashcroft (for offenses too numerous to mention).
The iteration of Ashcroft’s attempts to quash the First Amendment reads like the listing of charges against a tinpot dictator. I remember fondly the campaign against his approval for the Attorney General post. At the time, perfectly valid arguments were made that he should not be discriminated against because of his extremist religious beliefs. Unfortunately, the equally valid arguments against him based on his record fell on deaf ears. And now, even were we to be rid of him, we would be stuck with his despotic legacy. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if this weblog entry gets me a call from the Secret Police (“What exactly did you mean by ‘be rid of him’?”). It drives home the necessity for the proverbial “eternal vigilance” (I know that I, for one, will never obey any form of “gag order” not entered into of my own volition).
Congratulations on your awards, folks. I know I’ll do everything in my power to make sure everyone recognizes you for your works.
I had what I thought was an absolutely fantastic idea. I would write a screenplay version of one of the greatest dramas ever played out on the real-world stage: The rise and fall of Orson Welles. Naturally, I was inspired to do so after a viewing (all right, several viewings) of Citizen Kane, as well as the WGBH/American Experience documentary production The Battle Over Citizen Kane. A quick (though, as it turned out, incomplete) search of the Internet Movie Databse didn’t turn up any instances of “Orson Welles” as a character; I was shocked to find out that no one had yet tackled the subject. Here was one of the greatest tragic stories of the twentieth century — at least in the artistic world — and nobody had made a movie about it.
To be sure, my screenplay-writing skills are best described as embryonic — years later, I am still revising even my earliest work. I’ve routinely had difficulty distilling the essence of the stories I’ve tried to recount, but this time, my mind started effortlessly wrapping itself around the tale. The piece seemed destined to write itself. I’d start with the younger Welles in school beginning to realize his theatrical talents, follow his groundbreaking production of Hamlet for the Harlem stage, trace the development of the Mercury Theatre, and continue through the infamous War of the Worlds broadcast, finishing with his undisputed masterpiece, and the very object of his downfall, Kane. (I would studiously avoid Kane’s signature flashback structure, a glaringly obvious hack device given the subject.) Welles’s growing megalomania — the protagonist’s tragic flaw — would be reflected in the systematic alienation of his contemporaries. To provide a sounding board, I’d work to find at least one somewhat constant companion — I initially thought of William Alland fulfilling that role, though I’d have to do substantial research (I don’t think Alland joined Welles’s circle until the Mercury Theatre days). I had no illusions about my completing the project anytime soon — but then again, it wasn’t exactly like the story was the subject of current headlines.
And then I was browsing Amazon, and I noticed something called The Citizen Kane “Gold Edition Box Set.” As I already owned the DVD, I wasn’t interested in purchasing anything new (particularly since the set consisted largely of filler), but one item caught my eye. at first, I thought they’d simply packaged the Battle Over Citizen Kane documentary as a separate DVD — a nonsensical idea, since the second disc on the standard movie set already contained the documentary. A closer look revealed the truth: The disc was another movie: RKO 281: The Battle Over “Citizen Kane.” The picture’s subtitle had initially thrown me, but here was a “docudrama” covering substantially the same territory I had planned.
Apparently, back in 1999, HBO had produced a television movie based on the documentary. As a rule, TV movies are good for a couple hours’ mindless diversion, but little else. Still, it had been made for HBO, and the credits list boasted a few notables: Executive Producers Ridley and Tony Scott, writer John Logan of Gladiator fame (though Star Trek: Nemesis notoriety), James Cromwell, Roy Scheider, Melanie Griffith, and John Malkovich. I was less familiar with the work of director Benjamin Ross (not at all) or star Liev Schreiber (I saw Scream, but that was about it). Still, particularly given that it had garnered a Golden Globe for Best Mini-Series Or Television Movie, I figured it’d be worth a look.
The picture was superb. To be sure, there are television-movie concessions: There are no grand attempts to recreate large-scale period exteriors, for example (though the San Simeon interiors are notably lavish). But all in all, the movie has been treated as a theatrical feature. The writing is tight, the casting spot-on, the performances compelling, the direction at least competent. On the other hand, its scope was more limited than what I’d had in mind — focusing exclusively on the production of Citizen Kane. Both Welles and nemesis William Randolph Hearst seem watered down at times, so that we sense neither Hearst’s real-life villainy nor the true devastation the backlash visited upon Welles (no doubt both characterizations were mellowed to gain cooperation from their estates).
Is it perfect? No. But is it good enough to obviate the need for another treatment of the subject? Yes. I’d recommend it wholeheartedly, and not just for Citizen Kane buffs.
Maybe someday it’ll be worth revisiting this subject matter; after all, the film world is full of remakes. But not today, and probably not by me. Oh, well — on to the next idea.
Well, I’ve had at least a nominal chance to regain my strength, though following the scavenger hunt with a four-year-old’s birthday party the next day probably isn’t particularly conducive to recovery. I had planned to recount the events of the hunt, but after a few paragraphs, I realized that it read exceedingly dull, akin to an interminable vacation slide show in narrative form. At one point I had toyed with the idea of making a running commentary on the game’s progress in real time, a format which might have avoided the problems of the current version; however, carrying around a several-thousand-dollar laptop while running at breakneck speed around the city (and, presumably, searching for WiFi hubs) didn’t seem too sensible an idea. And then our persistent inability to make a reliable Internet connection at Collin’s apartment precluded even periodic updates; the idea of connecting the computer directly to the modem — as opposed to trying in vain to get the AirPort connection to work properly — didn’t occur to anyone until much later in the day.
Still, as walking around is still extremely painful (well, in the exaggerated sense those of us who make a living largely seated tend to adopt, not in the more literal sense, say, a professional pugilist might employ), I thought writing something would be at least a moderately productive use of time. Pam pointed out how little of my ’blog is spent telling people how wonderful she is, and suggested that as a suitable topic. What a fantastic idea, I thought. (Hey, she’s probably reading this, and I do live with her; cut me some slack.) After deep contemplation, however, I decided that — at least at this point in time — it didn’t really fit with the tone of what I’d been writing lately. That, and I’d spent every spare moment during the hunt shouting that very sentiment to anyone within earshot (and I’ll hear none claiming otherwise).
So perhaps I’ll simply relay a few high points and impressions of Saturday’s event. The full story I will happily recount directly to those expressing sincere interest, but otherwise it’ll have to wait for the previously mentioned documentary video. Julia Ames (who, along with last-minute but enthusiastic addition Joe Orsinger, chronicled the event) is producing said video, and she’ll hopefully manage to put something together with more expediency than I was last year. As to that, I’ve always felt that most of all, I slighted the efforts of my (then-pregnant) co-videographer, Hillary Tisdale, in still not having anything substantive to show.
The splitting-up strategy really paid off in allowing us to cover a much larger area of the city than had we remained together. But even more than that, the most significant lesson learned in last year’s contest was the overwhelming benefit of the bicycle: greater speed than walking, greater accessibility than driving. This year’s team took that lesson to heart, putting three of our competitors — Collin, Maureen, and Matt — on cycles (there was some thought of using Collin’s scooter, but the consensus was that it didn’t offer the mobility advantages of the bikes). This year, the bikes provided yet another advantage, in that several streets had been closed to vehicular traffic because of the scheduled antiwar protests. (Frankly, the protests didn’t cause as much of a problem as I’d anticipated, other than some delays reaching our initial meeting point.)
There were downsides to the plan, of course. We sacrificed a significant amount of the “group bonding” value of the event by being separated for the bulk of the day — and for the most exciting, invigorating portion at that, the hunting itself; Laura Menge, one of last year’s team members, opted to participate again, but on a team focusing more on group enjoyment than victory. There’s an undeniable appeal to that attitude; in fact, some teams chose simply to spend the day sitting and drinking with their teammates. While that approach (and the resultant negative score) is undoubtedly excessive, they did enjoy one another’s company — though given their condition at the end of the day, whether they’ll remember any of it is open to debate. There’s also something to be said for not knowing what you’re doing; it sounds strange, but the conflicts and squabbles last year added some excitement that was — for good or ill — missing this time around.
I think we all took pride in the amount of money we raised for the event — taking not only the prize for the overall event but that for the greatest amount brought in (just over $3,000). But any thoughts as to the charitable nature of the event vanished once the hunt began. Our philosophy was what came before was for the kids; once the clue books were released, it was all about the competition. I know I made several tongue-in-cheek remarks to that effect before the camera. I’ve always wondered how people who know they’re on camera — on shows like Survivor, for example — can act so stupidly; I still wonder, but at least I know I’m one of those people. We’ll see how I end up coming across in the final edit — If I’m to look like a self-aggrandizing jerk, I hope it’s more along the lines of a Richard Hatch than any of the feeble imitators who followed him.
In the end, the victory felt a little underwhelming in comparison with last year. First, arrogance notwitstanding, we did know our strategy — not to mention our attitude — was a winning one. Second, I think the prolonged separation led to a lower level of team identification. And finally, the organizers took much less time to calculate scores; there wasn’t time to build up anticipation (it probably didn’t hurt that last year, the preliminary tally had ABC-Ya-Later in second place, making the eventual turnaround that much more spectacular). Still and all, I wouldn’t forgo the experience. However I may gripe at the shortcomings, it was still a thrilling, invigorating, and exhilarating way to spend a spring Saturday. There is no doubt whatsoever that I’ll be first in line to go again next year. Thanks to (Make-a-Wish Mid-Atlantic COO) Jared Cohen and the Make-a-Wish Foundation — and especially to ServiceCorps and all of our donors — for allowing us the opportunity to participate.
One final observation: A perhaps unintended though convenient benefit to serving beer in bottles, as opposed to glasses, is that when someone — hypothetically, an overenthusiastic scavenger hunt winner — tips a bottle over — onto, again hypothetically, the carpet at event host Maggiano’s Little Italy — it releases its contents at least somewhat gradually, allowing opportunity for partial recovery. That’s all I’ll say about that.
As predicted (rather arrogantly, I might add), team ABC-Ya-Later emerged victorious in this year’s Washington Invitation Scavenger Hunt. So congratulations to (team captain) Collin Klamper, Nello DeBlasio, Maureen Giese, and Matt Cummins. And me.
The victory was a little less unexpected than last year — we knew our strategy was effectively foolproof — but it was still nice. Right now, I am positively exhausted, so I won’t go into any further detail. Maybe after a little rest.
Then again, maybe I’ll just wait for the movie to come out.
Nothing much to say today, but I wanted to call everyone’s attention to tomorrow’s public opening of the AFI’s Silver Theatre in Silver Spring. There’s been a lot of media coverage about the theatre’s restoration and recent grand opening, and now’s your chance to see what all of the hubbub’s about.
Okay, I’ll be honest — it’ll probably be some time before I’m able to get up there and take a look. But for those of you with slightly freer schedules, I’d recommend stopping by.
I suppose I’m a little late to the party, but I thought I’d take the opportunity to mourn the death of Ain’t It Cool News. As a reader of the site since well before it became ubiquitous — not only in the limited sphere of the ’net community, but in the film industry at large — I’ve been loath to write it off definitively, but there comes a time when even we die-hards must acknowledge the unmistakable. Innumerable digiterati have tried to select a moment at which the site stopped being relevant, the definitive juncture at which founder Harry Knowles “sold out,” but I don’t think there was any singular turning point. This wasn’t death by sudden stroke, but long, slow deterioration.
To be sure, there were visible signals of impending mortality. The addition of “talkback,” which served no purpose other than to allow bored adolescents to rail against each other in relative anonymity (a point accurately satirized in the otherwise hit-or-miss Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back). Harry’s varied television guest appearances. His book. His all-expenses-paid flight to New Zealand to visit the set of The Lord of the Rings. His short-lived ranking (101st) on Premiere magazine’s list of Hollywood’s top 100 power brokers.
But frankly, what killed the site was the same thing that kills many successful businesses: growth. As a shoestring, labor-of-love effort, it was acceptable — perhaps even beneficial — to dispense with such journalistic necessities as fact-checking, editorial oversight, even basic proofreading. But as the site grew into a bona fide industry news source, it tried to maintain the same loose style it had always proffered. Unfortunately, it was, fundamentally, no longer the “red-headed stepchild” of its initial inception, and it failed utterly to adjust. It could no longer straddle the fence between gossip sheet and legitimate industry publication.
I remember way back in the early days (1998, positively ancient history), I submitted a little “scoop” to the site — I’d had a (brief) conversation with author/artist Frank Miller at a book signing, and he mentioned that, despite rumors to the contrary, there would be no movie based on his popular Sin City series. At the time I remember how excited I was to have something (at least marginally) substantive to contribute. Sure, the sources were unverified, the stories were largely rumor, but the contributors were a (relatively) small cadre of dedicated fans who wanted to share with others, and the less-than-certain nature was par for the course. Now, with stories coming from all angles, the lack of any editorial “filter” is glaringly detrimental; not just in terms of content selection, but in simple professionalism.
Today I received another e-mail from Mil Millington (you did all go out and buy — or at least read — his book, right?), in which he expounded on some of the difficulties in adapting his novel into a screenplay, and some of the conflicts with the studio “suits.” I won’t go into detail (he asked me not to), but in thinking of who I’d like to tell about it, Ain’t-It-Cool never even crossed my mind. Now there doesn’t seem to be any point; I know I neither believe much of what I see there nor trust in the tastes of the majority of the contributors — why should I expect anyone else to take me seriously?
Goodbye, AICN. It was fun while it lasted.
I had a blast almost participating in the Make-a-Wish Foundation’s Washington Invitation Scavenger Hunt last year. For those of you unfamiliar with the event, dozens of teams run all around the D.C. area finding obscure information about the city, performing silly tasks, and tracking down random objects. It’s an exhausting, daylong experience, but it’s also a hell of a lot of fun. Oh, yeah, and it raises money for the kids, too.
Now, by almost participating, I mean I was not on any of those teams, but I — along with my able assistant, Hillary — followed one of the teams around the city making a little documentary about the competition (of which I made brief mention last month). Each of us had a MiniDV camera, and we dogged the team’s steps for the entire day. The team, comprising several members of our creative department (and one honorary member), was named ABC-Ya-Later, a combination of our company name and a little arrogant bravado. As WTOP’s “Man About Town” Bob Madigan interviewed them, they confidently proclaimed themselves the winners before the event had even begun. Of course, they did end up winning the event, so I suppose it wasn’t just idle boasting.
Fast-forward to one year later — next Saturday, April 12 — and the event is rolling around again, with the team eagerly looking forward to repeating its victory. Or what’s left of the team anyway; only two of the original five members will be returning this time around. I’m picturing some ’80s hair band still clinging to the group’s name and past glory as they play a low-rent venue with only the drummer and bassist still on board. Still, to be fair, the remaining members — Collin and Nello — are probably the most... enthusiastic of the bunch. And the open slots mean that I can actually participate this year. The other two recruits are Maureen, a marathon runner, and Matt, a lead guitarist (see, I knew I was getting somewhere with that band analogy).
We’re pretty confident in our strategy, having succeeded with it once before. I won’t reveal too much (since I’m sure our competition has been following this page avidly, just on the off chance I’ll give something away), but it’s a combination of task specialization, organized geographic coverage, and serious fundraising. That last one’s particularly important, since points are awarded for monies raised, plus a bonus for bringing in more than any other team; we fully plan to be that team (if you’d like to make a donation, e-mail me using the link at the left). Several of the other participants with whom I’ve spoken are really doing this as a fun group outing, looking forward to spending time with their friends as they accomplish something worthwhile. Our team, we’re all about the victory. Oh, yeah, and helping the kids.
A couple of my coworkers, Adam and Julia, are planning to play the videographer roles this time around. We’ll see if this year’s team ends up looking as good as last year’s.
I just mean on camera — the win’s a foregone conclusion.
I think Geoff Long has, to date, delivered the best response to my little April Fool’s prank. What’s more (as friend Kori pointed out to me), the amusingly descriptive headline for his weblog post will be running prominently along his page for some time.
Now we’ll just have to see if anybody else “scrapes” his story for syndication...
Say hello to the (slightly) modified design for Prometheus Unleashed. I’ve tried to keep the general look consistent with what’s come before, but this version I designed myself from the ground up. I’ve been working on it for a while now, but I figure I’ve got enough of the kinks worked out to give it a go.
I know there are still quite a few things to iron out, specifically as regards display in various browsers, but at least the basics should be all right. Of course, since my access to various browsers is limited, I’d appreciate all the help I can get. If you notice anything buggy about the page — and especially if you’re running anything other than Safari under Mac OS X (my browser of choice) — please let me know.
Otherwise, enjoy!
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William R. Coughlan is one of the founders of Tohubohu Productions (so even on pictures he doesn’t direct, he can squeeze in an Executive Producer credit) and in-house video producer for The Advisory Board Company. He dabbles in screenwriting, acting, 3-D animation, and writing autobiographical comments in the third person. He is also a published illustrator, has provided schematic graphics for several HBS case studies, designed the acclaimed Protégé clay poker chip line, wrote for the (now-dormant) online literary magazine Inkblots, and acts as editor for the MotherReader weblog (which is not-so-coincidentally written by his wife). He currently resides at a secret compound in Burke, Virginia, with his wife Pam and their two daughters.
All content © 2002–2006 Bill Coughlan.
Unless otherwise explicitly stated, all original material created by Bill Coughlan — including, but not limited to, writing, illustration, audio, photography, video and digital composition — included in this weblog and any related pages, including the weblog’s archives, is licensed under a Creative Commons License. Some rights reserved.
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