Book Review: Skywalking: The Life and Films of George Lucas by Dale Pollock

Dale Pollock's informative biography of George Lucas provides a glimpse into the man who shaped the cultural imagination of late 20th century. Described as an aimless teenager with limited ambitions, he miraculously survived a car crash at age 17 and resolved to make something of himself.  He cultivated an interest in movies and entered film school at UCLA.

Lucas flourished there and immersed himself in the film making process, with an emphasis on the process. The technical side of movie making fascinated him as he spent hours in the editing room with his own films and even editing for fellow students.  His films were experimental and marked by their minimalism and disregard of narrative.  In 1969, his student film THX-1138 won accolades for its innovative use of sound in an abstract dystopian tale.  During those years he befriended Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, John Milius and many others who set the course of American film in the 1970s.

Coppola, a key figure in the life of Lucas (he based Han Solo on him), served as a Socrates to the UCLA students.  He founded Zoetrope, an alternative studio for young independent directors.  Pollock portrays the Lucas-Coppola friendship as one of alter egos: George the quiet, workmanlike artist and Coppola the gifted, but sometimes self-destructive visionary.  Coppola produced THX-1138 (1971) and American Graffiti (1973).  The success of the latter, gave Lucas the time and funding to write his space epic, originally titled The Star Wars.  

A good portion of the book covers the years 1974-77. Lucas would spend hours in his office trapped in writer's block. He read comic books, fantasy, and science fiction for inspiration.  The story went through an endless series of rewrites and character shuffling. Lucas wanted to create modern mythology set in space while using traditional motifs found in the epic tales of world literature. 

The actual filming proved a harrowing experience as unrelenting pressure from the studio pushed Lucas to the verge of nervous breakdown. The challenges did not end with post-production either.  He created his own special effects company, Industrial Light & Magic, to create the effects using miniature sets and motion control cameras. Once the effects were perfected and John Williams had completed the score all the elements of Star Wars started to gel together.  

Released in May, 1977 Star Wars instantly captured the public's imagination. The movie offered a new hope to a generation raised in the shadow of Watergate and Vietnam.  The New Age philosophy of "the Force" captured the zeitgeist as well.  Box office records were shattered and the age of the summer blockbuster began.   

After the success of Star Wars Lucas opted to let other directors and writers to make the sequels, although he retained creative control.  With cohort Spielberg he produced the Indiana Jones trilogy and made some forays into television.  A painful and expensive divorce from his wife Marcia Lucas (a highly respected film editor of Taxi Driver and Star Wars) led to to his absence from directing in the 1980s and 1990s.

Originally published in 1984, Pollock added a chapter covering Lucas's return to Star Wars in the 1990s.  At times, he takes a critical tone towards Lucas for the simplistic morality in his stories, his reliance on action sequences, and an inability to achieve success outside of Star Wars.

Interestingly Apocalypse Now began as a George Lucas project.  He made plans to start shooting in Vietnam on 8mm film as a cinema verite blurring the lines between fact and fiction.  While Coppola's version produced a remarkable film, it is tempting to consider what Lucas had in mind. For years Lucas has spoke of plans to make "art" films no one will care about, but they have failed to surface.  Is he pulling a Prince and leaving a vault of material unreleased?  When looking back at his three films from 1970s THX-1138, American Graffiti, and Star Wars one sees an amazing potential to evolve into something more interesting than sequels, blockbusters, and special effects extravaganzas.  

Of the New Hollywood directors, only Spielberg and Scorsese stayed on course. They were always the purest filmmakers and they continue making relevant films in the latter stage of their careers. At the moment, Lucas has settled into elder statesman status.  He spent most of the 90s raising his children and returned to public view with the making of the prequel trilogy of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (1999), Attack of the Clones (2002), and Revenge of the Sith (2005).  Last year he sold the rights of Star Wars over to Disney (a sad irony reflecting the times) who will release the much anticipated, Episode VII next year.  

Nevertheless his legacy as a myth maker has shaped modern culture, but also his innovative marketing strategies through toys and comic books have left their mark as well. I only wish we had seen more of the 1970s spirit in his other work.

Book Review: Wired by Bob Woodward

Wired by Bob Woodward, besides being an exhaustive account of John Belushi's life, is in itself an interesting cultural artifact.  Woodward, who broke the Watergate scandal with Carl Bernstein, took on another subject with a connection to Richard Nixon.  Both had a penchant for self-destruction.  As a biographer, Woodward seemed the wrong fit, but in some odd way delivered something inspired.  I'll try to explain.

Without a doubt, John Belushi was the heart and soul of the original cast of SNL.  His off screen antics were just as legendary as his onscreen ones.   He brought a brash, working class attitude to American comedy.  Whenever he appeared onscreen there was a wild sense of unpredictability.  He was everyone's cool older brother.  By all accounts, Belushi was a loose cannon with a volatile personality.  During the first season he resented Chevy Chase's popularity.  He loved tormenting and intimidating the guest hosts. In Belushi's view, women had no place in comedy and often tried to get their sketches cut.  On more than a few occasions, Michaels banned Belushi from the set for constantly being difficult.  Belushi's characters have an enduring quality from the Samurai Man to the Albanian proprietor of the "pepsi and cheeseburger" diner. Another favorite is an 18 minute Star Trek parody Belushi carried doing a parody/tribute to Star Trek (I'd argue sketch confirmed Star Trek as a cultural phenomenon).  In Dan Aykroyd, he found a comedic soul mate.  Despite all of his shenanigans most attest he was loyal to his friends and was a decent human being when not under the influence.

Woodward's writing style is dry as dust at times.  He also bloated the book with transcripts of well known skits from the show.  At times, the book reads like a courtroom deposition - especially when chronicling Belushi's final weeks.  If you want to be a fly on the wall to Belushi's wild times the book has an addictive voyeuristic quality.  But there's little there on what drove him to such extremes.  

Belushi's attempt to launch a movie career never got off the ground.  While his supporting performance in Animal House as Bluto inspired all future frat parties, he never made it as a leading man.  Starring roles in Continental Divide and Neighbors failed to win over critics.  In fact the whole process of making Neighbors proved a debacle from the get go.

Belushi's work on SNL will live on.  If he had got himself together, I think he would've had a fascinating movie career as a character actor  transcending his early persona. But it was not to be and all that's really left is his work for the box on the Saturday night show - ironically for a medium he personally despised.  

Woodward's foray into celebrity biography stands as a must read for aficionados of Belushi and the early days of SNL. It's about the content.  The style not so much.  For more ingratiating accounts of Mr. Belushi I'd recommend oral histories and firsthand accounts - that's where the folk heroes are truly born.

Book Review: Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut's 1961 novel, Mother Night, dealt with the questions he tackled later in his more widely read novel, Slaughterhouse-Five. Questions of war, morality, and the 20th century stand front and center in both works.  Vonnegut's like the mad professor enticing you into his office and then proceeds to rip apart the fabrics of your belief system.  

Mother Night's protagonist, Howard W. Campbell, is an American native who has spent most of his adult life in Germany.  He's well known in the German theater as a crowd pleasing, apolitical playwright. While Campbell feels some antipathy towards the Nazis, he also acknowledges they are just "people after all."  Before the war, he is approached by an American spy who recruits him to provide information to the Allies. In time, Campbell rises to the top in Goebbels' propaganda ministry by way of his radio broadcasts endorsing the Nazi philosophies of racism and paranoia.

Throughout the book, Vonnegut often vears into meta-fictional asides.  In one instance he summarizes Campbell's play, A Nation of Two, which imagined a couple in wartime Germany who put all their politics aside and pledge loyalty to nobody (or idea) but their love towards each other.  If only things were that simple.  For the world Vonnegut paints, there's no middle ground between embracing a cause and standing completely outside of it.  During the Second World War any thinking person faced the temptation to stand back and scoff at fascism, communism, and democracy with equal amounts of cynical resignation.  But only if one had the luxury of distance.  No matter what we do or don't do; history's footsteps have a way of catching up.  

When intellectuals try to rationalize war you know some bad stuff is about to go down. Ezra Pound invented modernism and championed the careers of many great writers, but also evangelized for Mussolini.  Ivy League educated WASPS masterminded the Vietnam War.  Or think of all the tracts written to justify the "War on Terror" with titles likes "The End of Evil."  Even Albert Einstein, one of the greatest spokesman for peace, had a part in creating the A-bomb. Modern history thrives on moral relativity and that's an issue, possibly the most worthwhile, for 21st century literature to take up.  

Mother Night begs many questions: What is the use of art?  Does being "cultured" make you a moral person?  A better person?  Not really, I believe Vonnegut would say.  There's something Fascistic about making grand all embracing statements about anything whether one be critic, historian, or philosopher. 

Campbell's belief in art fails him at every turn as the Nazis use him to espouse an aesthetic of purity and hatred.  Art did not prevent the holocaust nor did love prove enough to save Campbell's loved ones.  As Vonnegut wrote, "The hare of history once more overtakes the tortoise of art" (261).  Nazi propaganda helped Germans rationalize their crimes against humanity. As part of the "spin" machine, Campbell can never distance himself from the moral ambiguities of his world.  In the end, Who are we anyway? The identity by which the world knows us? Or what we believe to be the truth in our minds?  Haunting, Haunting, questions. . 

Farewell Breaking Bad

Remember the chorus to the Malcolm in the Middle theme, "You're not the boss of me now!" Prophetic.   As a postmodern family sitcom, Malcolm brought the irreverence and goofiness of The Simpsons to the live action format.  Bryan Cranston played the father Hal as an overgrown child. When the show ended after six seasons, it seemed Cranston's take on the sitcom father would pass into the TV ether as a Trivial Pursuit question. Far from it.

Few saw Walter White coming.*  Over the course of five seasons, Bryan Cranston played a mild mannered chemistry teacher who transformed into a ruthless drug lord of the American Southwest (or from Mr. Chips to Scarface in the words of the show's creator, Vince Gilligan).  A grim cancer diagnosis drove Mr. White to cook crystal meth to provide for his family before he succumbed to the Big C. Along the way, he partnered with a former student Jesse Pinkman to produce the wonder drug.  Walt also contended with Hank, his macho brother-in-law who also happened to be a DEA agent.  At the beginning, his wife Skyler remained clueless about her husband resorting to criminal activity, but eventually found out and faced some tough decisions of her own.  With each season, Walt matched wits with new antagonists who threatened his burgeoning meth empire.

Protagonists of TV shows rarely evolve like characters in a novel.**  J.R. Ewing remained a greedy oil man throughout the entire run of Dallas and Archie Bunker stayed frozen in time as the lovable bigot.  The gang from Cheers rarely ventured outside the friendly confines of their bar. The characters on Seinfeld never transcended their stone cold narcissism.  Even a more complex character like Tony Soprano pretty much remained the same man throughout the Sopranos (an amoral gangster modern psychiatry failed).  As a viewer, it can be comforting to usually know how characters will react in situations.  But in the past decade TV has embraced embraced complex story lines with some real character development.  While Breaking Bad will be grouped among these shows, I think it's importance will persist for other reasons.

Breaking Bad premiered on January 2008, as the Bush era came to a grim conclusion.  By the end of 2008 America faced economic collapse.  In a coincidence, the government shut down the day after the finale aired.  During those years, rhetoric crisscrossed social networks about the 99 percent getting screwed by the one percent. Class proved pivotal during the 2012 election between the venture capitalist and the community organizer.  In such an unforgiving political climate: What happens when one takes business into their own hands and refuses to play by the rules?  

Walt's new occupation brought him a pride and prestige he never attained as a teacher.  Like Michael Corleone, Walt wanted to save his family and build his power, but lost both in the process. Nevertheless, he did gain a self-reliance; a sense of controlling his own fate.  Although we celebrate Walt's triumphs over some repugnant people including psychopathic cartel leaders and viscous modern day Nazis, he made his own moral compromises along the way. Audiences can emphasize with Walt's dilemma in the political maelstrom of 21st century America.

Mr. White now stands as television's great anti-hero.  Anti-heroes were celebrated in 1970s cinema used eccentricity, rage, and intelligence against a system up to its neck in hypocrisy.  Jack Nicholson set the tone with his performances in Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, The Last Detail, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.  Nicholson's anti-heroes were loners who dropped out of the American mainstream.  Now we've entered new territory where the everyman feels the whole world aligned against him.  Breaking Bad spoke to that anxiety.

All the credit goes to the entire cast of Breaking Bad for creating a modern day fable steeped in the tradition of the West. Every character had depth.  The third to last episode, "Ozymandias" stands one of the most intense hours ever aired on television.  The final two episodes had a biblical sense of justice as Walt searched for redemption in the existential void he created for himself and the others in his life.  Rock on, Heisenberg.  

*Cranston starred in the X-Files episode "Drive" written by Vince Gilligan where he played a man pushed to the edge due to secret government experiments conducted on his family.  The part win him the role of Walter White.

** A generalization with many exceptions.

A Blurb for Leonard Maltin: The Book

Every year, usually around September, my family made one of our most important book purchases of the year: the Leonard Maltin film guide.  As a kid, and even to this day, the book has the aura of final judgement.  It's like the bible.  The book lists every film ever made (not really), rates them from one to four stars, and includes a pithy capsule review with all the harsh finality of a decree from some divine source.  I'd like to imagine that every year Leonard Maltin treks to some mystical mountain and the book materializes from some mysterious source. That's why the book never leaves my sort of coffee table.  

21st Century Moviegoing

At a recent press conference, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg predicted the major
 studios are doomed to crash if they continue bankrolling gargantuan summer blockbusters. They see ticket prices going as high as $150!  Thus the question is raised: Why bother going at all these days?


First of all, tickets are expensive enough, but concessions are another story.  I know theaters depend on concessions to make profits, but the prices amount to outright theft. And theaters already charge higher rates for films shown in IMAX and 3D.  But if I had to choose between watching Ironman 3 or Jaws 3-D - I'll go with Jaws 3-D anytime.

Manners and politeness are another casualty of digital age.  I've witnessed some maddening behaviors in the movie house: people taking off their shoes, treating the place like they own it, cellphones and texting, pretentious commentaries from self-appointed film experts (I'm not sure who's worse 16 years olds or middle aged couples).   During Looper,  a husband spent the whole movie translating the plot to his clueless wife.  

So, why bother going?  Who wants to brave all the rudeness and sense of entitlement? These days one can easily watch movies at home without all the distractions. I grew up during the heyday of the VHS boom when a video stores appeared on every block.  If you couldn't go you could always wait for it to come out on video. Those with the means can create their own "home theaters." 

Cultural commentators used to pontificate on the movie theater as the church of the 20th century.  In many respects, that's true.  Where all else could people of varying backgrounds come together and share a common experience for two hours?  Not many.  The power of cinema is its ability to allow a spectator to feel all sorts of things.  When you're in the theater you cannot stop the movie or hit the pause button.  Nope, you pay the money and sacrifice a few hours of your life to sit in the dark to experience something oddly familiar and new.

A NY Times article celebrated the Midnight showing as a truly unique theater experience. Fans of a franchise can gather at the midnight premier and enjoy their film with others who share their passion for a particular series.  In a midnight screening of Star Trek: Into Darkness I attended, the crowd sat in silent reverence for the entire film.  Only the die-hards will head to the theater at Midnight on a Thursday.  And what's better than being alone together with friends?

Recently, I experienced the drawbacks of home viewing.  Watching a DVD of Dr. Zhivago at home left me cold.  These days, with all the distractions around us, it's almost impossible to sit through a three hour movie. So, what happens?  You watch the film in segments.  Movies, unlike books, are designed to be experienced in one sitting. Sometime I need to make a list of films I want to see on the big screen.  Lawrence of Arabia and 2001: A Space Odyssey would top my list.

So, how can the movie going experience be salvaged?  For starters, it would be nice to see more revivals of classic films on the big screen and I don't just mean the classics, but b-movie classics as well (like Jaws 3-D).  Maybe we need another Roger Corman to gather young talent and allow them to make quality films on a limited budget (so many crucial filmmakers got their start with Corman's American International including Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Bogdanovich to mention a few. Or let's see what some of the most skillful directors today can do on a limited budget.  No matter what happens theaters will endure because the experience remains truly unique.

Book Review: 11/22/63 By Stephen King

Stephen King's 11/22/63 begins with an intriguing premise: What would America look like if JFK had lived?  Would history have taken a different course? The question has long haunted the baby boom generation who lived through the agony of Vietnam.  Many believe America never recovered from that awful day in Dallas.  Oliver Stone's 1991 film JFK added more fuel to the fire by suggesting the assassination amounted to nothing less than a military coup d'etat.  King's novel, like most of his long fiction, hits some rough spots in the middle, but recovered as it moved towards a gripping climax.

Jake Epping, the tale's protagonist, teaches High School English.  As a character, Jake's an all around good guy who finds himself caught in extraordinary circumstances.  When his friend Al, who owns the local diner, introduces him to a time portal, he convinces Jake to travel back in time to save Kennedy from Oswald (the time portal always goes back to October 1958).  He quickly learns the travails of time travel and the dangerous consequences of meddling in past events (the butterfly effect).  Even when Jake tries to prevent the murder of his friend's family he learns nature will resist in the most uncanny ways.

The first half of the novel allows King to revisit some familiar territory as returns to Derry, Maine, the locale of of his well known novel It (Jake even interacts with some characters from that story).  King does a great job of illustrating some subtle differences between the 1950s and 2000s. But the novel doesn't romanticize the past either, as Jake witnesses firsthand the shame of segregation and racism.  Also, post-war America remained painfully close minded about the place of women in society.  Women were expected to bear the humiliation of bad marriages and their presence in the workplace remained strictly in a servile capacity.

When the setting shifts to Texas the novel loses some steam. Jake finds a teaching job in a small town outside of Dallas and falls in love with the kindly school librarian, Sadie.  Sadie's a bit too good to be true at times, but she adds some poignancy to the tragic arc of Jake's story. When he plays detective the novel gets caught up in trivial details surrounding Oswald's life in Dallas.  Epping follows Oswald to learn if he acted alone or was the "patsy" of a much larger conspiracy.  Another novel, Libra by Don Delillo, handles Oswald's tale in a far more effective way by portraying him as an ignorant kid exploited by a nefarious intelligence community.  In 11/22/63, he's a hateful, one dimensional drone.

Despite the meandering lead up to the climax, the final 150 pages are tension filled and thought provoking.  Without revealing too much, there is something to be said for avoiding hero worship when it comes to Kennedy.  In King's version of time travel, every decision made, no matter how mundane, will have consequences.  And when you start changing major events in history things can quickly spiral out of control.

Fans of King's fiction will find much in common with his 1979 novel, The Dead Zone, in which the protagonist suffers a brain injury. After coming out of a coma he has the power to see into the future.  In time, he learns a man destined to become President will trigger a nuclear war.  The story asks, Would such knowledge justify murder? The David Cronenberg starring Christopher Walken stands as one of the best adaptations of a King novel.

From a historical standpoint, King challenges his audience to be wary of nostalgia.  Yes, an exhaustive list of challenges loom for 21st century America.  We are reminded of those constantly.  At the risk of sounding too optimistic, it is useful to think of the progress America has made in the past 50 years - and to consider how things could always be way, way worse. In other words, don't let anyone tell you live in a time of decline and moral erosion - those arguments always stem from false premises and a selective memory. Instead, remember Kennedy by living up to his words "ask not what you're country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man."