July 06, 2015: Montcalm

A memory can make an indelible impression on a young mind like that of a potters mark in soft clay. Once fired, that mark lasts as long as the vessel itself.

One evening, when I was around 12 years old, was an evening of many firsts: first “real” restaurant, first link with a living history, and first (and last) lobster. My family was visiting my sister who was attending college in Glenns Falls, NY. To celebrate the occasion, my dad decided to take the whole family out to a “fancy” restaurant in the area called the “Montcalm” that he had heard good things about. Back then, the Montcalm was located on the grounds of what once was Fort William Henry, on the shore of Lake George.

Back in the early 70’s, it was still the style of people to dress up before going to dinner. Now, I’m all for casual Friday’s and such, but I feel we, as a culture, have lost much by giving up this tradition in America. I used to enjoy the preparation and subsequent buildup of anticipation to the special event. There was also a kind of respect for oneself, fellow-diners, the restaurant itself…but mostly for the respect for the family occasion of dining out.

So, resplendent in my suit-coat and tie, I go to my first real dining experience. I remember the Montcalm being large, somewhat dark, with eclectic artwork. My memory is bit fuzzy here, but I believe they attempted to recreate the feel of the fort in the overall decor. The focus of the dining room was a roaring fireplace, over which was a portrait of what obviously was a military man in a light blue uniform. From the clothing, hair style, weapons. etc. in the portrait, I judged the time period to around the Revolutionary War. To my query about the portrait, my dad gave me a history of the place.

My dad explained that Fort William Henry was an English fort against the French in a war, that among other things, was the battle over which nation would rule what would eventually become the United States and Canada. As Americans, we call this the “French and Indian War” because that’s who “we” (as we were British back then) were fighting (although the British used Native American allies as well…largely the Iroquois nations against the Hurons, Ottawa, and Abenaki, who were allied to the French.) In the wider European aspect, this conflict was called the “Seven Years War.”

General Marquis Louis-Joseph de Montcalm was the French commander attacking the fort. After several days of bombardment by the French, the British commander of Fort William Henry, Colonel Edmund Munro, met with Montcalm in parley for terms of surrender. Munro was surprised with General Montcalm’s generous terms for the fort’s surrender: all people in the fort were allowed to leave safely, with their arms…an almost unheard of convention, under the condition that they do not take up arms again against France.

As the British were leaving the fort, they were attacked by over 2000 French-allied Native Americans who saw the surrender as robbing them of the spoils of war. They wounded, killed or captured, not only soldiers, but many men, women, and children the soldiers were to protect. Numbers vary, but later research seems to suggest that over 150 people were lost, under the most brutal conditions, in the attack.

When I asked my dad why anyone would name a restaurant after a commander who essentially “beat us” my dad thought for a moment and said that it was probably for the honor and respect Montcalm bestowed upon Col. Munro and the residents of the fort, despite being victorious over them.

I had other questions for my father that night, not all of them about history. Up to this point the only waiters I had ever seen were the ones at Howard Johnsons and Friendlys. These were different: dressed in formal service attire complete with bow tie, vest and a longer-tailed suitcoat. The bussers (which I had never seen before…dad explained their function) were dressed in their own more simple uniform. I remember being amazed and anxious that the waiters could balance huge trays with just one hand. I also asked dad why we were served salad before the meal (at home we always had it after the main course) to which dad told me it was to keep us quiet while the staff could make the main part of the meal. Before we ordered, dad talked me into having a whole lobster, which I had never had before.

Montcalm trying to stop the massacre

Many years later, reading up on the history of the Seven Years War, I came across the Battle of Fort William Henry, and discovered that it was generally accepted that Montcalm himself tried to stop the attack on the citizens of the vacated fort, but the violence had escalated too far by that point. I also found that being on the “frontier” like they were, residents of New York State had more dealings with and trading between, the French and so were a little bit more accepting that the British hard-liners from other areas. More reasons, I suppose, why there would be such a place dedicated to Montcalm in New York State.

Just before the meal came, the waiter helped me on with what I was to discover was a required accoutrement: a lobster bib. I was at an age where I found this all very embarrassing. After the waiter left, I asked my dad if the bib was truly required. With a chuckle, dad told me that I would find it very helpful once I started eating. The next set of tools the waiter gave me was a nut cracker and a small pick. “What am I getting myself into?!!!” I thought to myself. When the lobster came, I had even more reservations. “Looks like a big BUG!” I told dad.  “Yeah.” he said, “That’s pretty much what it is: a big, oceanic bug! But it is also delicious!” Dad proceeded to give a few lesson on how to crack the shells and pick out the meat, told me not  to eat the organs, etc. Dad was right, it was delicious, but all-in-all a little too messy for my tastes! Although I have happily prepared lobsters for others (even professionally…as a chef’s assistant in a French restaurant) I have never eaten lobster since that night.

Cooper’s Cave-1917

So, the lobster didn’t make a big impact, but the history did. Years later, I was reading “The Last of the Mohicans” by James Fenimore Cooper and realized that the whole story takes place right around the area of the Montcalm, where I had dined so many years previously! In fact, the genesis of the whole story was when Cooper visited the cave under the Glenns Falls. When a friend of his commented on the cave by saying “here was the very scene for romance” Cooper promised the friend that he would write a story worthy of that “romance.” By doing so, Cooper became America’s first internationally recognized novelist.

Cooper’s story begins a few days preceding the French attack on Fort William Henry. The hero, Hawkeye, and his adoptive Mohican father Chingachgook, and brother Uncas, are hunting in the woods west of Albany, when they foil an attack on a party traveling from Albany to the fort. The attackers are Hurons, led by the villain of the story, Magua. The party is led by British Major Duncan Heyward, who is guiding Col. Munro’s daughters, Cora and Alice, along with a singing instructor, David Gamut, to Fort Henry. After the Hurons are either killed or driven off by Hawkeye and the Mohicans, and realizing Magua (who escaped) would return with reinforcements, they lead the group to a secret cave under the falls, where they spend the night in safety before continuing on to the besieged fort.

Hawkeye is just one name for Cooper’s hero, who seems to have more monikers than any other figure in literature. He is also “The Trapper;” “Le Longue Carabine (the long rifle);” “Leatherstocking;” “Pathfinder;” “Deerslayer;” and (oddest of all, what seems to be Hawkeye’s birth name) “Natty Bumppo!” I’m not quite sure what he was thinking with all the names, but perhaps to Cooper, the number of names suggests the varied people Hawkeye comes in contact with and the esteem they hold for him. The “Natty Bumppo” only makes me think of an early “A Boy Named Sue” by Johnnie Cash (as in…with such a silly name he’d just have to grow up a tough tracker!)

“Last Of The Mohicans” is the second of the five “Leatherstocking Tales” by Cooper, all with Hawkeye as each book follows him through different phases of his life. I always think of Cooper and his hero as I travel by the “Leatherstocking Region” sign on the NYS Thruway on my way home, but I never really knew its’ context. Turns out “leatherstocking” is what the Native Americans call boots.

Revisiting Cooper’s writing, I found it a bit uneven: his style can actually be confusing to the point that I often did not know what I just read. I admit, that I tend to race through a book, so when I slowed it down a bit, Cooper’s style became a little more readable. Cooper’s writing style so angered Mark Twain, that he felt compelled to write an essay called “Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses” and even started a Huck Fynn/Tom Sawyer parody of  “The Last Of The Mohicans” but gave it up before publishing. There is the occasional historical inaccuracy or confusion in Cooper’s writing, also. Like the name, “Mohican”…no such Native American tribe. Did Cooper mean “Mohegan?” “Morican?” “Mahikan?” Cooper also consistently calls Lake George by “Horican” throughout the book, but that seems to be a name he picked up (yet another Native American tribe is “Horican”) because he liked the sound of it. To the casual reader, there are other confusions. Like why, if the Iroquois are allied to the English does Hawkeye consider them enemies? It could be that Hawkeye is allied to the Mohicans, a subset of the Delaware tribe, and they are enemies to the Iroquois. But Cooper clearly states that the Iroquois are allied with the French! As the group is coming close to the fort, Hawkeye warns them, “Montcalm has already filled the woods with his accursed Iroquois.” A bit of sloppy history research, there. All this may be historical nit-picking, but only if the story holds up. Unfortunately, it sometimes doesn’t.

Glenns Falls-1896

At a couple of places, the inconsistencies of character or situation tore me right out of the reading. One instance: while holed up in the cave under the falls, Hawkeye allows the singing instructor, David Gamut, to sing a song, and then proceeds to get a little weepy when he does. All this while they are being hunted by the Hurons! OK. Wrong place! Wrong time! Wrong action! I picture the Mohicans frantically priming their weapons, while rolling their eyes at Hawkeye!

There is also Hawkeye’s treatment of Cora and Alice. So…we have a 40-year-old man…who has spent a lot of time in the woods…with just male Mohicans to hang out with. He meets two attractive, vibrant, young women and after an adrenaline-infused rescue, what does Hawkeye do? He nods, smiles at them and then starts treating them like sisters! I mean, the girls have been around (you know…London, Boston, Albany) I’m sure they have some great stories to tell, but does he engage them? Noooo…not the boyscout Hawkeye!

I can’t help but picture the following conversation:

Cora: “What’s with this guy?”
Alice: “I know. I mean, we’ve been on the trail for a few days…but jheesh!
Cora: “Hey, look. Is dung on my dress? Venison in my teeth?”
Alice: “No..no. Ya think maybe he’s a little…[teeters hand vertically]?”
Cora: “Mm…maybe when you’re in the woods too long, social skills get..um..mossy!”
Alice: “Say, I wonder if his Mohican friends are free?”
Cora: “Yeah! Dibs on the young one!”

The worst offense by Cooper takes place at the start of the massacre of the fort populace. A woman and her baby are slaughtered in an extremely violent manner. Yikes! I only hope that all the high schoolers reading  “LOTM” as required reading are warned ahead of time!

So…a few problems with style and consistency. Still, “LOTM” has good story potential, if one could iron out all the highs and lows.

Luckily, someone has.

Michael Mann’s 1992 version of “Last Of The Mohicans” totally morphs Cooper’s book, smooths out all the story bumps; adds exciting battle scenes (both hand-to-hand and on a large-scale); romances; a villain you love to hate; sweeping panoramas of nature; an near-perfect film score; accurate costumes and makeup; and stocks the film with some of the best actors available at that time.

Hollywood has made four versions of “LOTM” (1920, 1932, 1936, and 1992.) I think it interesting that in the 23 years since Mann’s “LOTM” no one has dared a re-make. I think Hollywood acknowledges that it would be silly to tamper with perfection!

Although I mourn Mann’s choice to substitute my native New York with North Carolina as a setting, I understand that the Adirondacks don’t look quite the way they did in 1757. NC is an excellent stand-in with its majestic forests, steep rocky cliffs, raging waterfalls, and clear rivers. You can tell how much effort went into set design, wardrobe, and makeup (notice the warpaint of each Huron, for instance: no two look like…the way it would have been!)

Daniel Day-Lewis, as the perfect “Hawkeye”

Daniel Day-Lewis has played more challenging and provocative roles before and since, but he is the perfect Hawkeye: what every boy wants to be, yet what every lady likes to look at! Day-Lewis plays Hawkeye as tough and capable, with a bit of a snide humor, and best of all, he has the capability to be sensitive, romantic, and tender. NO wooden boy scout here! Day-Lewis has rounded Hawkeye out into a full figure of man! At the time of filming “LOTM,” Day-Lewis was at the height of his immersing himself in the role part of his career. DDL stayed out for weeks before the shoot in the woods, eating only what he could bring down himself.

“Forget all that ‘Natty Bumppo’ stuff, Miss Cora. Here, I’m called Nathaniel…or even better…just call me ‘Hawkeye'”

Mann has (mercifully) changed Hawkeye’s name to the more dignified “Nathaniel Poe.” Where the book is almost devoid of romance, in the film everyone is in love: Hawkeye loves Cora, and so does Heyward. Uncas loves Alice. I would go as far as to say that Hawkeye and Cora’s love scenes are as smoking hot as a director can show with the leads still wearing clothes!

In fact, all the emotions are amped up in Mann’s film. The best is how he has changed Magua. In Cooper’s book, Magua’s motivation of revenge is because Col. Munro introduced Magua to alcohol and when Magua acts up under the influence, Munro has him whipped. So…Magua is a mean drunk with a grudge. The film Magua, played to perfection by Wes Studi, is a lean, brooding, stealthy, sociopath, always an inch away from violence. This Magua has a real reason for a grudge: Munro has made Magua lose his entire family and had him driven from his tribe so that he has to be adopted by his enemy, the Mohawks, in order to survive. Magua not only wants to kill Munro, he wants to eat his heart, but only before he has killed his daughters in front of him, so Munro knows his whole line dies under Magua’s tomahawk!

Hawkeye and Cora get all swoony on the parapet of Ft. William-Henry

One other change Mann makes is that of his character of Montcalm. After Montcalm has graciously allowed the English to leave the fort, he clandestinely meets with Magua, and implies that he would rather not meet these English again as he drives his forces towards Albany. Magua picks up on the hint and organizes the massacre, thereby enabling a chance for revenge on Munro.

I began to see that there are as many versions of Montcalm’s actions prior to, and during the massacre in media since 1757. Even Cooper has a more abject version of Montcalm’s actions. After the massacre has begun, Cooper’s characters are observing from a nearby mountain:

“The cruel work was still unchecked. On every side the captured were flying before their relentless persecutors, while the armed columns of the Christian king stood fast in an apathy which has never been explained, and which has left an unmovable blot on the otherwise fair escutcheon of their leader.”

[This being a fair sample of how convoluted Cooper’s writing can be, but what he seems to say is:] “Montcalm stood by and did nothing to save the fort’s inhabitants.”

General Marquis Louis-Joseph de Montcalm

I think these versions exist as they make good drama. But in actuality, why would Montcalm behave more honorably than just about any military leader known one day, and then behave so dishonorably the next? Not only is not keeping in character, but there is only one way his colluding with the attackers could benefit him: if there was not a single survivor, and that was something he could not possibly guarantee. If word got back to the English of his collusion, the only possible reaction for them would be hatred toward a dishonorable foe. As it was, the outrage over the massacre would never be surpassed in America, until after Santa Anna decimated the Alamo!

I tend to take whatever version of history with a grain of salt. There are many variations of events that have taken place just yesterday. To find the absolute truth in actions taken place 258 years ago, is next to impossible. All one can do is look at the general character of Montcalm. He was brave, a good leader and military strategist. At the very least, he feigned honor in the occasion of Fort William Henry, if only for the sake of good form. Having made this stand, why would he then renege on it when he knew the outcome would only to have history typecast him forever as a scoundrel?

Just when I reached a point of frustration with Cooper’s writing, I read a section from the earlier Leatherstocking Tale, “Deerslayer.” In this tale, Hawkeye is younger and has met an older fellow tracker called “Hurry Harry ” who gives Hawkeye his opinion of the races. He rates the white race as the highest. Blacks he considers “useful.” His opinion of the American Indian is the worst of all. He tells Hawkeye: “You may account yourself as a red skin’s brother, but I hold ’em all to be animals, with nothing human about ’em but cunning….”

One begins to think that maybe Harry is in a “hurry” to judge his fellow-man.

Hawkeye’s response is perfect: “I look upon the red men to be quite as human as we are ourselves…. They have their gifts, and their religion, it’s true, but that makes no difference in the end, when each will be judged according to his deeds, and not according to his skin.”

Sadly, history was not written in the woods of the frontier. History was (and still is) written in the towns of the victors… and History (with all its inconsistencies) chronicles the general movement of us over time:

The British overcame the French. We overcame the British.

The “frontier” of Eastern New York State did not stay still. It was pushed constantly westward until no frontier exists in our United States. Along with this sweeping frontier, we wiped the original inhabitants away. We will never completely know the could-have-been-contributions of a Peoples who might have added much (as did subsequent immigrants) to the textured amalgamation that is America culture.

Montcalm lost his life fighting the British in the Battle of the Fields of Abraham, outside of Quebec.

The falls that covered the real cave that inspired James Fenimore Cooper to write “Last Of The Mohicans” has long since been dammed over…it’s once raging flow restricted and tamed.

The restaurant named after Montcalm, that I dined at so many years ago, moved from the shore of Lake George, to a few miles away in 1984. It was closed in 2013 and now a shopping center exists where it once stood.

It has been some years now, that I have had the joy and benefit of the culinary prodding to adventure and impromptu history lessons from my father.

Times change, but our memories, cemented into words, become what we call “History.” Generation after generation, we put these words down. In a sense, we are all the last of our kind. Best stated by Uncas, who at the end of Mann’s film, finding himself to be “The Last Of The Mohicans” our stories let the world know:

“But once, we were here.”

[Much thanks to Jim Dowrey for his wonderful historical mind and for his memories of what fine dining was like back in the day.]

April 13, 2014: “Babette’s Feast”

“Babette’s Feast” (1987) was one of the first ever DVDs I acquired for my movie collection. This film has a unique combination of being an “indie-foreign-foodie” category. It is based on a Isak Dinesen (the nom de plume of Karen Blixen, of “Out Of Africa” fame) short story. I’ve never seen a film that more perfectly communicates how excellent food effects humans: the artistry required to do it well, the generosity of making it, and how food not only satisfies and pleases, but may change one’s very outlook and attitude for life itself.

The story takes place in Denmark, the Jutland coast, 1871. Two sisters, Martine and Philippa, are aging spinsters in a remote Lutheran village. The sisters spend most of their time (and money) doing good works for members of their dwindling and aging congregation of their father (now deceased) who was once minister.

Flashback to 40 years before. Martine and Philippa are young and beautiful, their father alive, and adamant about staving off all male attention to his daughters. The minister easily squashes the amorous advances from the young men in his congregation, but challenges arise from the outside world. The first is a young  ne’er-do-well lieutenant, banished to the Jutland coast to get his act together. Once Lieutenant Lorens Löwenhielm claps his eyes on Martine, he decides that she is the focus for a new life, one free from his child-like behavior with this beautiful angel by his side. By subtle means, the minister manages to unsettle the  lieutenant to the point that he sees Martine as a lost cause and then throws himself into a military career, giving up on true love…forever.

The second challenge takes the form of famed French opera star, Achille Papin, who craving solitude and silence, is visiting the Jutland coast. The silence only succeeds to point out to Papin that he is at to the end of his career. He happens to hear Philippa sing, and imagines tutoring not only a gifted protegé, but perhaps a lover as well. At a voice lesson the two practice Mozart’s Don Giovanni, which ‘tho classical to modern times, has enough “joie de vivre” to seems like porn to 19thC. Lutherans. Again with subtle pressure from the father, he compels Philippa to ask to stop voice lessons with Papin. […and the relish in which the minister does so…condemming as he has, both daughters to a lonely spinsterhood, far from their true capabilities and destinies, makes this viewer hate him not just a little.]

Back to 1871, on a stormy night, the sisters receive a visitor: a woman escaping the ravages of the French Revolution. She carries a letter from none other than Achille Papin, begging the sisters to take this woman into their service. He explains that General Gallifet has executed her husband and son, and that she herself has narrowly escaped with her life, but has lost everything. She is Babette Hersant, who Papin writes, “knows how to cook.”

For 14 years, Babette is a servant to the two sisters. In that time, her Danish improves to the point that she has confidence to “tame” not only local merchants but also the constantly bickering congregation. Then, comes a communication from France informing Babette that she has won the annual lottery she has entered since her departure, to the sum of 10,000 francs! Babette asks the sisters to allow her to make a French meal for the 100th anniversary of the minister’s birth. As Babette has never asked for anything before, the sisters agree, but as materials start to arrive, they have second thoughts: live quails; a green turtle, WINE…what will all this do to the congregation?!!! Martine has a dream that the congregation ends up dead…or worse…dead drunk, because of the meal! Martine expresses her doubts to the congregation and they, comparing Babette’s meal to a “witches Sabbat” assure her that they will ignore the food as “no importance.”

A surprise, last-minute guest of the meal is non other than (now) General Löwenhielm, who acts as a kind of interpreter of how precious the meal truly is, to not only the congregation….but to the film viewer. His discoveries, observations, and amazements are lost on the other diners as they reply to his sophisticated exclamations with comments about the weather.

Babette’s Feast:
Green Turtle Soup (wine-Amontillado) [Green Turtle Soup served with turtle eggs]
Blinis Demidoff (wine-Veuve Clicquot 1860 Champangne) [a kind of pancake covered topped with sour cream, caviar and shallots]
Cailles en Sarcrphage (wine-Clos de Vouget 1845) [Babette’s’ own creation: a quail, stuffed with pate and truffle, baked in a puff pastry]
Salad of Belgian Endive with vinaigrette
Rum Cake with Candied Fruit, Cheese, and Fresh Fruit, for dessert
Coffee and Port

During the course of this meal, it is revealed that Babette was head-chef  at Paris’s famed “Cafe Anglais” and was most esteemed by the very General Gallifet who condemned her. Even more, Gallifet was quoted to say of Babette:

“This chef had the ability to transform a dinner into a kind of love affair, that made no distinction between the bodily appetite and the spiritual.”

One thing is clear: the special meal opens the hearts of the congregation to the point that past animosities are understood, forgiven, and forgotten, as…

“Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.”

[The true generosity of Babette is only revealed in the last frames of the film. “Babette’s Feast” touches on the ability of the artist to change the perception of the world by giving of their best, the importance of service and to return one’s debt to benefactors. Oddly, there is also a harmonious meld of extreme religious belief with the sensual appetite in “Babette’s Feast.”

I recently posted a Tweet stating that if asked what I believe in, I would say, “A good sandwich.” I didn’t mean to appear casual or as caustic by this. I simply do not know what power(s) govern my life or the lives of others. What I cannot deny is that…once and a while…the sporadic generosity of the creator/universe/powers-that-be, present itself in a way to what both believers and the unbelievers may not contest,

“Never would you give a stone, to the child who begs for bread.”]

May 02, 2013: “The Remains of the Day”

[I remember liking the film “The Remains of the Day” (1991) when it first came out and revisiting it recently, I found that I liked it even better the second time around. For me, this is the Merchant/Ivory film. This viewing, I noticed that the novel the film is based on, was written by an Japanese author Kazuo Ishiguro. Smelling an “East-meets-West” story, I took out Ishiguro’s book, which has been one of the best novels I have read in some time.

Having written the blog for some time now, it is amusing to see certain themes pop up, particularly when they sometimes run contrary to the overall East-meets-West theme of the blog. My interest in English butlers can be found in my article “Timbale de Riz Epinard “and the idea of tying oneself to a worthy, and moral master can be found in “Good Masters All“]

Head-butler at Darlington Hall for more than twenty years, Jack Stevens has been lately practicing his “bantering.” Not through any real interest of his own, however. It’s just that Stevens has observed his relatively new American employer seems to enjoy this “bantering” and diligent as ever, Stevens seeks ever to please. He’s just not that good at it yet. In Stevens’ mind his repartees are well thought out and meticulously crafted. But, despite his best efforts, Stevens’ “banterings” seem to go right over the American’s head.

Stevens is about to embark upon which amount to him a very rare “expedition.” He is soon to travel a couple of counties away to visit the former housekeeper of Darlington Hall from twenty years ago. Stevens has been noticing that, in small ways to be sure but very evident to himself, tiny mistakes he is making now on a daily basis. Mistakes that worry him. Ever diligent to be the best butler he can be, his only solution is to try to convince Miss Kenton (now Mrs. Benn) who he esteems as no other in his profession, to return to Darlington Hall.

So Stevens tells himself. Stevens however, as usual, is not perceiving the full picture.

As he travels, Stevens reflects on his memories from the time of Miss Kenton’s first arrival. Miss Kenton is everything Stevens is not. Where Stevens is polite, Miss Kenton is provoking. Where he is remote, she is passionate. He-respectful, she-caring. He-the pit, she-the fruit. He is ice, she is fire. Both consummate professionals, both at the pinnacle of their respective jobs, we soon see (as viewers/readers) as well as everyone else (with the possible exception of Stevens) sees: that Stevens and Kenton are made for each other.

Perhaps it is that he is such the stickler for the rules and the big one being “no romances in Darlington Hall” that prevents Stevens from realizing just how good Miss Kenton would be for him. His performing his every action “by the book” while certainly professional, constantly removes Stevens from the more human aspects of his occupation. His goal of being a “great” butler somehow makes him…constantly, a diminished person. He continually acts as if he just fell to earth from another planet. Human motives and actions seem to just confuse him. Indeed, Stevens represents many aspects of Aspergers, highly functioning at his job, but oblivious to emotions…including his own at times.

It doesn’t help matters for Stevens that he has tied his cart to the wrong horse. The Lord of Darlington Hall is heading down a dangerous path. Although a good and honorable (to a fault) man, Lord Darlington, in the early 1930’s, advocates appeasement to Germany, which allows a Nazi foothold in England when she can least afford it. As Stevens is privy to every communication that takes place in Darlington Hall, this makes Stevens a kind of accomplice to the ultimate evils of this very bad path. The worst is when Darlington hires two Jewish girls as staff, reconsiders, then sends the girls back to Germany…to almost certain death. Stevens is instructed by Darlington to fire the girls, and Stevens, and once more following the book, and much to the consternation of Miss Kenton, does so. Darlington later regrets this decision, but it is far too late. He has pulled everyone at Darlington Hall into a net of guilt by this wrong act and all are punished for it.

Aside from such dark moments, both book and movie are riddled with scenes of humor, also. When his godson visits, Lord Darlington feels impelled to finally “inform” the young man of the “fact of life” prior to his upcoming wedding. Feigning a busy schedule (but most likely because he is uncomfortable…and perhaps, just because he can) he sends Stevens to do the chore!

[From the book:] …The young gentleman reached down into the attaché case at his feet and brought out a notebook and pencil. “Fire away, Stevens.”

I coughed again and set my voice into as impersonal a tone as I could manage.

“Sir David wishes you to know, sir, that ladies and gentlemen differ in several key respects.”

I must have paused a little to form my next phrase, for Mr Cardinal gave a sigh and said: “I’m only too aware of that, Stevens. Would you mind coming to the point?”

“You are aware, sir?”

“Father is perpetually underestimating me. I’ve done extensive reading and background work on this whole area.”

“Is that so, sir?”

“I’ve thought about virtually nothing else for the past month.”

“Really, sir. In that case, perhaps my message is rather redundant.”

“You can assure Father I’m very well briefed indeed. This attaché case” – he nudged it with his foot – “is chock-full of notes on every possible angle one can imagine.”

“Is that so, sir?”

“I really think I’ve thought through every permutation the human mind is capable of. I wish you’d reassure Father of that.”

“I will, sir.” Mr Cardinal seemed to relax a little. He prodded once more his attaché case – which I felt inclined to keep my eyes averted from – and said:

“I suppose you’ve been wondering why I never let go of this case. Well, now you know. Imagine if the wrong person opened it.”

“That would be most awkward, sir.”…

[It was this passage that cased some concern at work. Finding me in convulsions (of laughter…but that was not immediately evident) some kind people were a little anxious of my well-being. A quick “thumbs-up” and I was able to return to my reading…and laughter. It is never exactly clear what is supposed to be in the briefcase, but Ishiguro later has young master Cardinal say that he …”knows everything about fish…” so one could surmise that the briefcase contains his valued catalogs of fish!]

In his journey and with his remembrances, we come to see that Stevens has come to sacrifice everything of true value to his ideal of service: family, personal honor, self-worth, conscience, and love. At the end, Stevens is heartbroken, disillusioned, regretful, and feeling that his life has been wasted. Sitting on a bench at a pier, where just a short time ago, he spent his last moments with Miss Kenton, he is not quite alone. On an adjoining bench there is man who strikes up a conversation with Stevens. It turns out that this man has also been a butler, but in smaller household than Darlington. In one of those rare magic gifts, fate has delivered to Stevens exactly what he needs most: a complete stranger who just happens to understand all that he has been through. A little too late, Stevens begins to open up to the stranger who, in return, offers Stevens a ready ear, good advice and a slightly used hankie (Stevens is unaware that he has begun to weep.)

After, Stevens waits for the pier lights to come on at dusk and to marvel in the constant effect that this event has upon the crowd: they “ooo” and  “aaah” and draw together in conversation. Observing those young people closest to him, whom he assumes are close friends, Stevens is amazed to discover that they were strangers only a moment ago. In a kind of way, the physical light has engendered another kind of light. Stevens attributes this automatic bonding to the skill of their “bantering” and resolves to improve his own bantering-skills during the return trip. Sadly, once more, Stevens has missed the mark. One could well imagine him making these awkward, baby-steps towards a full person for the rest of his life. However, it is the effort that counts most of all, and there are worse goals for Stevens…and for the rest of us, in the remains of the day, than to just keep reaching towards the light.

[Ishiguro has gone on record to say that he endeavored to write a universal story of a wasted life.  I cannot imagine that his background in both Japan and his adopted England, each (to an American perspective) with its own, unique societal reservations, did not inform the story. Be that as it may, both movie and book are a joy. I suggest watching the movie first, and if you like it, move on to the book, which has (as most books do) much more detail.

The movie, as I have said, is the finest of Merchant/Ivory. Beautifully photographed, magnificently staged and wonderfully acted. Anthony Hopkins has said that there is no chemistry in acting, but I see it in spades with he and Emma Thompson. Their obvious affection for one another in real life is reflected in their roles. The “book” scene between them I consider not only one of the best acted scene in cinema, but also one of the most erotic (despite the characters being fully clothed and hardly even touching!) A young Hugh Grant as master Cardinal is both humorous and touching. The film is worth a watch if only to see Christopher Reeve, not only alive but walking, as Senator Lewis. The 2001 version of “Remains…” has a couple of documentaries, a good commentary and deleted scenes, including the ending from the book (above) which was acted to perfection by Hopkins, but not used in the film.]

January 29, 2013: Betwixt Two Worlds

Soooooo….take a popular 1952 British story based on updated Celtic faerie imagery, further update it to a modern Japan anime. Then, translate the Japanese into English (with well-known and talented British actors in the speaking parts.) Transport the film to America, where Disney (who now controls the film’s distribution rights) feels somehow compelled to translate the British-English into American-English! Confused yet? With all these transformations, it takes a truly substantial and entertaining story to roll with all the changes. Somehow though, “The Secret World of Arrietty” does just that!

Studio Ghibli’s “The Secret World of Arrietty” is based on “The Brorrowers” by Mary Norton. “The Borrowers” were actually a series (a total of five) of books about small (about 5″) human-like creatures that live within, yet out of sight of, human households. Their name comes from their symbiotic habit of “borrowing”  materials that they need to live, from the “human beans” they live among, at the same time trying desperately not to be seen by those “beans.” The heroine of the story, Arrietty Clock (14 years old), lives with her father Pod, and mother Homily underneath the kitchen floorboards of a cottage in the English countryside. The Clock family have stories of other “Borrowers” but the reader/viewer sees no evidence of them for some time. Unlike the Celtic faerie creatures, “The Borrowers” do not have any magical ability, and seem to be just very small versions of the “beans” they live with. Their world is fraught with danger, not only from animals like cats and birds, but that a discovery of them by the “beans” would mean their expulsion into the wild, with all the dangers that represents.

“The Secret World of Arrietty” begins with the arrival of a young (human) boy (also about 14 years old) Shawn, at the cottage. Shawn is ill with a heart condition, from which he believes will soon die. Upon arriving, he notices Arrietty in the field outside of the house. On her first “borrowing” (an implied right of passage) Arrietty is seen, and mildly confronted, by Shawn. Once having met, they begin to learn more about, and ultimately trust one another, while both try to keep the secret of “The Borrowers” away from the other “beans” of the cottage.

“The Secret World of Arrietty” is only the latest film version of Mary Norton’s popular book. There was a 2011 TV movie; a 1997 film; a 1992 TV movie all called “The Borrowers.” I managed to find and watch the 1973 TV movie starring Eddie Albert as Pod, and this one comes closest to the book. This version also has, (while dated by 2013 standards) some pretty decent FX for its time.

While a few things managed to  twist the experience, I loved a lot of “The Secret World of Arrietty.” First, Studio  Ghibli’s films just get more and more visually detailed and beautiful! Second, the background sound is well done, often emphasized as it would be heard, made by large objects to tiny ears. I loved the instrumental music pieces and they were largely harp, very well suited to the faerie-like imagery. Most of the songs were very well suited, as well.

I intend to write another article on Japanese-English translations as the problems of these are manifold. But really, what was the justification of the American-English version? Disney…c’mon you had fantastic voice talent with Mark Strong playing Pod and Saorise Ronan as Arrietty in the British-English version. That’s the version that I wanted to hear! Despite popular and talented voice talent of the likes of Amy Poehler and Carol Burnett, the American-English version was voiced alternately too flat or too shrill. A pop-song tacked onto the end-credits sounded totally inappropriate. Curious, I researched it and I found out it was sung by the young woman voicing Arrietty in the Disney version. This then, was just  shameless Disney promotion of their talent, and was totally unnecessary and discordant. The filmmakers left a large part of the original story intact, but their changes were just…confusing. They chose to introduce the character of “Spiller” in this story, when he doesn’t appear until the second “Borrowers” story. I haven’t read this one yet but I highly doubt he looks Ainu, like the “Spiller” from this film does. Either way, this choice seems odd, discriminatory, and just plain wrong.

The other change…the biggest and worst…was to make Arrietty and the boy Shawn the same age. In the book, the “bean” boy is 1o years old to Arrietty’s 14 years old. This is a huge psychological/emotional gulf. I know that in “…Ariettey” they were trying to set up a Tweeny-Twilight knd of romance there, but it just comes out distracting. Witness the scores of IMDB-ers who question the possibility of a “romance” when they consider the two characters’ large size difference. If a plot point takes you out of the film, it’s just not worth doing it. It is especially harmful, as the “romance” takes  a lot of the strength from the main character of Arrietty. In the book, she is clearly more mature, self-possessed.  and emotionally sound than the younger boy, and she often corrects his rather petulant behavior. Norton seems to be saying that a smaller physical size and being female does not mean you are not in control of your life. Losing Arrietty’s strength for “romance” is not a good, nor wise, trade for the character.

However, there is still much to like about “The Secret World of Arrietty” not the least is an interesting retelling of a perennial favorite. As the only Studio Gihbli film to sport a “G” rating, this makes it a good one for the kids.I leave it to the parents to de-program the Disney-fied parts. Oh…and to read the originals to the kids at bedtime.

[My thanks to the Hudson Public Library for supplying not only the film, but the Mary Norton original book.]

January 18, 2013: Revisiting “Spirited Away”

Some really fantastic fanart of “Spirited Away” by Silver Melody

I had the pleasure of seeing “Spirited Away” in theaters back when it first came to the states in 2001. Thanks to the Hudson Public Library I was too able to revisit it (as well as eleven other Studio Ghibli animations) in a great boxed set I discovered on their shelves.

“Spirited Away” is one of the most popular animations of all film history, not only in Japan (where it has won many awards and was the first film to surpass “Titanic” in sales there) but also pretty much the rest of the world as well. Written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, much in the vein of classic “coming of age” tales such as “Alice in Wonderland” “Peter Pan” and “The Wizard of Oz,” “Spirited Away” follows the adventures of ten-year-old girl, Chihiro, as she is mystically transported to an “otherworld” to suffer the bewilderment and loneliness of a stranger in a strange land. Foreign to the “rules” of this world, she is forced to find aid from the otherworldy people and creatures she finds there to overcome adversity, learn what is important, gain strength, find acceptance, and eventually…love, only then to find a way back home again.

At the beginning of “Spirited Away” Chihiro, her mom and dad are traveling to a new town where they are moving. Close to their new house, the dad takes a wrong turn and comes to a dead-end of a standing stone in front of a tunnel. Curious, they enter the tunnel which comes out in a kind of abandoned amusement park. The parents notice that all the shops are restaurants, and eventually settle on one to begin eating. Chihiro, who is bit freaked out by the eerie surroundings to eat with them, walks on and finds a boy, Haku, who is surprised to find her there and anxiously orders her to return or else she will be trapped there if she doesn’t return before nightfall. As night descends, the park lights illuminate a town filled with specters. Chihiro runs back to the restaurant where she left her parents to find them transformed into pigs!

Chihiro is forced to return to the bath-house, which is the center of the town, where she starts to disappear, but before she can dissolve completely, she is rescued by Haku who feeds her a berry that restores her. Haku tells her that to prevent being turned into an animal herself, Chihiro’s only recourse is to find work from the witch, Yubaba, who runs the onsen (bath-house.) Chihiro strikes a bargain with Yubaba, who’s contract includes stealing Chihiro’s name. The work turns out to be a bit harder and bizarre than Chihiro expects as the onsen’s clientele are “gods” (but to Western eyes, they appear more like monsters.) One creature that Chihiro keeps running into is Nil-Face: a dark and insubstantial spirit with a blank expression and a rather innocent and benign temperament. Nil-Face helps Chihiro gain favor, aiding her to clean a “Stink-god” who then transforms into a river-god after the bath, leaving behind gold amidst the muck. Nil-Face notices the appeal the gold has on the staff and uses it to gain service for an outrageous amount of food. As Nil-Face consumes, he grows…and changes. He becomes more aggressive and eventually violent. He tries to tempt Chihiro with gold, but she resists and feeds him a charm that makes him disgorge the food, transforming him back into his benign form.

The story continues with more adventures for Chihiro, including a considerable amount of magic; a rivalry between Yubaba and her “good” twin sister Zeniba; the true nature of Haku, his prior history with Chihiro, and an assortment of odd “otherworld” characters…not the least of which is Yubaba’s 500Lb. “baby.”

“Spirited Away” is wonderful on many levels: first, the animation is just gorgeous. Not only the character animation, but even the backgrounds are stunning! The music is very well done, throughout, culminating with an especially pretty vocal piece for the credit sequence. Rich in details, I pick up something new from “Spirited Away” with each viewing. As always, story must be king and “Spirited Away” has a depth of story that draws on a plethora of mythological images, themes, and ideas from not only Japan, but from European sources as well. It’s one of those great films that prompt a good after-film-coffee discussion. There are better and more learned sources for the Japanese mythology, but either as part of the collective unconscious, or borrowed directly from the European sources I was familiar with, there were a couple of things that jumped out at me that really made the story work.

First, the structure of “transport” into the spirit or faerie realm as the tunnel guarded by a standing stone could be straight from the many of Celtic legends of “faerie hills” that have just such a construction. Once within the faerie world there are rules: humans must never eat faerie food. To do so will bind you to that world and erase your memory of the mortal world. [Persephone, daughter the harvest-goddess Demeter, was condemned to six months in Hell for eating six pomegranate seeds given by Hades, which is why we have Winter.] It is careful that you never reveal your true name, as this will allow power over you by the faerie. [The clever Odysseus goes by the moniker “Noman” so that his actions against the gods can be said to be done by “no-man.”] Also borrowed from the Odyssey is the witch, Circe, transforming Odysseus’s men into pigs. There is usually a faerie guide in these stories to aid the human caught in their world. This guide normally does not return to the mortal realm with the hero(ine.)

Miyazaki weaves his own personal beliefs and experiences among the classical themes, to good effect. His protest over human disregard for the environment is shown in the transformation of the “Stink-god” into a “River-god” through the ritual bath. He seems to say that it is up to the compassion of youth today to act in order cleanse away the ills of our pollution of nature. With the transformation of the benign Nil-Face into a monster/destroyer, Miyazaki seems to suggest that avarice/desire is the antithesis of spirit and will destroy harmony of the self. Miyazaki has been quoted saying “Everyone has a Nil-Face within themselves.”

Of course, whether it is Alice, Wendy, Dorothy, and now, Chihiro, the most important theme of these stories is that in order to overcome adversity (not to mention just plain weirdness) pass from childhood into adulthood, and to finally return safely home, you must be first find…and then be true, to yourself.

January 01, 2013: A Feast of “The Dead”

[One of the luxuries of blog-writing is the ability to write an article far ahead of publishing it. I fell in love with John Huston’s last film, “The Dead” when it first came out in theaters in 1987. Seeing it was one of the last pushes to get me to finally visit Ireland in 1988. The story by James Joyce is considered, by some, to be one of the best short-stories of the English Language and it has always been one of my most favorite Christmas-time stories. “The Dead” took forever to come out on DVD, being released finally in 2009. Thank you to the Hudson Public Library for ordering it for me. I write this almost one month before publishing.]

It is a brave undertaking, attempting to make a film of one of the best and most-beloved of short stories of English literature. It would take an accomplished and confident director and one who understood the story’s concern for the impermanence of the human condition and the frailty of one’s best endeavors. The story: “The Dead” by James Joyce from “The Dubliners.” The director: John Huston. It was Huston’s last film.

The story of “The Dead” is deceptively simple. If you are not a fan of subtext, you will be bored to tears by this film. On the surface, “The Dead” is a dinner/dance party in Dublin on a snowy night of The Feast of the Epiphany” (January 6th) 1904. Two older sisters and their niece, all musically inclined, are putting on the event for family, students, and friends. It is a hodgepodge mix of people of all types and ages. In the center of a maelstrom of food, drink, dancing, music, and recitation are a couple: Gabriel, who is the nephew of the older hostesses and his wife Gretta. Gabriel is a university English professor and his main role of the evening, outside of carving the goose, is an after-dinner toast to the hostesses, which appears to be an annual responsibility for him. Gabriel takes this duty very seriously. Throughout the evening he sneaks peeks at his notes and ruminates on the appropriateness of his lines.

As the evening progresses, the audience is introduced to every person at the party, in turn. Despite our technological advances since, society itself has changed very little since 1904, so the audience is assured of finding familiar characters of this group of drunkards, fools, sycophants, and bores as well as those of a more talented, sophisticated, and erudite leaning.

I hope someday to have an Epiphany meal for friends or family. I would most certainly flesh this out more with a soup, salad and more veggies, but I have devised a menu, from as far as I can determine, from both story and film of the basics.

Menu from  James Joyce’s “The Dead”
Roast Goose and Stuffing           Baked Potatoes
Spiced Beef          Red Currant Jam         NO APPLESAUCE!!!!
Blancmange          Christmas Pudding          Chocolate
Toasted Almonds          Raisins          Celery (“capital for the blood”)
White Wine          Port          Sherry          Stout

As well as being concerned with the language of his speech, Gabriel is plagued all night by his failings of his spoken language. [Torture for an English professor. Doubly so, for an Irish one, who value language above all arts. Some surmise that Gabriel is a projection of Joyce of himself, if he had remained in Ireland: a fussy and prim no-talent.] It is interesting that at the early stages of the feminist movement, that the challenges to Gabriel all come from women. The first is from the serving girl, who Gabriel has known since she was young, and when he insinuates that she must be close to being married, she bitterly replies, “The men that are today are all palaver and what they can get from you.” The word “palaver” is  little archaic to our ears but means “idle or worthless talk.” Essentially, the girl is saying (in modern terms) “Men are rats!” A statement that automatically includes Gabriel.

The second challenge comes from a colleague. Molly Ivers is strong-minded, political, and far from shy, fellow teacher. While dancing with Gabriel, she accuses him of writing for an English-sympathizing newspaper and labels him a “West Briton” a shameful term at the time for an Irishman with English sympathies. Gabriel is ignorant of the term, and Molly points out that he is also ignorant of his own language and taunts Gabriel by saying “Good Night” to him in Irish.

The last…and worst…is a rebuff from his wife, while driving home. Gretta has been distracted all night. It is clear she has a secret and Gabriel is anxious to know what it is. He uses jokes and stories to try to wheedle out what she is thinking about…all of which fall very flat.

“The Dead” is a subtle fable of a supposition about humanity: that despite all our surface trappings of tradition, pleasant company, intellectualism, and comforts, in reality all that is truly important is totally out of our control. Our loves, our creative ability, and even life itself, must finally pass.

But, this supposition has an inherent flaw, which is evident in the very story itself. Joyce, through this wonderful creative endeavor has captured the life of people (or at least archetypes) that he most certainly knew. Even Gretta must have been based as much on his wife, Nora Barnacle, as Gabriel is based on himself. This creative endeavor inspired one of the best directors of the 20th Century to reproduce it in fine form. In one of the most poignant endings of cinema, Huston gently reshuffles Joyce’s words to mark his own creative endeavor, in order to speak for himself…and for us all:

“Think of all those who ever were, back to the start of time. And me, transient as they, flickering out as well into their gray world. Like everything around me, this solid world itself which they reared and lived in, is dwindling and dissolving. Snow is falling…falling in that lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lies buried, falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living…and the dead.”

December 14, 2012: Christmas in the Trenches

I’m a big fan of a number of movies that have to do with Christmas. All are wonderful stories of how the season can affect people. There is one film that is unique in that is based on a real historical event, an event  that one may argue represents a true miracle of how the spirit of the season can change even the worst of human behavior…that of our ability to wage war.

At Christmas Eve, 1914, in the heart of the first World War, up and down the front line, men from warring nations met in “no man’s land” the plain between the trenches that separated the two sides, to call a cease to hostilities. I was first introduced to this amazing story through the song “Christmas in the Trenches” by John McCutcheon. In reality, there were many stories of this behavior during WWI, much as the army leaders of Germany, France and England wanted to cover it up at the time. Truces of this sort were spontaneously called by soldiers even up to the Christmas of 1916. This is one variation of the story:

The Christmas 1914 Truce
On Christmas Eve, 1914, Kaiser Wilhelm asked an opera tenor by the name of Walter Kirchoff to entertain the German troops at the front line trenches. Kirchoff was singing “Stille  Nacht” (Silent Night) which was recognizable by the Scottish and French troops sequestered in their own trenches across no man’s land and they could not resist chiming in their own languages. One song, in three tongues mixed across the battlefield. One of the French officers who had seen Kirchoff perform, recognized his voice and called out to him. In an impromptu gesture of peace (and courage) Kirchoff snatched up a small Christmas tree that the Germans had sent to their men at the front and carried it across the battlefield. Soon, men left the safety of their trenches to meet other men, who earlier were their enemy. A temporary truce was declared. The soldiers of three nations gave and accepted gifts of brandy, cigarettes, chocolate, and sundry foods to each other. They shared photos of loved ones and more songs. At midnight, a mass was said in Latin (a language common to all three nations.) The next day…Christmas day, they arranged to have their dead returned and all participated in the burials, helping one another. After, a soccer game was held. The Germans won that one, 3-2.

The French film, “Joyeux Noel” (“Merry Christmas” 2005) does a very good job piecing together the varied stories of the WWI Christmas truces into a single, coherent tale. It traces back and rounds out the story just before and just after the actual event. “Joyeux Noel” begins with a message of hate, presented almost obscenely as it comes from propaganda spoken by children from France, England and Germany. This capacity for adults being able to sow our hatred in our children, like salt in fertile field, is particularly upsetting. A hard scene to begin a movie devoted to the message of peace, but it sets the idea of how far the extremes that a nation’s propaganda in wartime will go.

“Joyeux Noel” does not shy away from the horrors of this particularly nasty and costly World War, from its toll on the hearts and minds of the men participating. Particularly sad is the Scottish soldier who has lost his brother. Clearly, this loss is preying on his mind as he believes he has abandoned the brother at his end,  yet he continues to write his mother of how well they are both doing.

As always, even in the harshest conditions, innate human humor can leak through. The underplayed signs in the background of the trenches are brilliant. One, in the Scottish trench points to “Froggyland 5 Feet” while the French have a similar “Rosebif Land” (Roast Beef Land) pointing out the Scottish trench. A lot of the humor revolves around the troops being unable to communicate well with one another. The neighborhood cat, freely ignoring boundaries of each nation, is adopted by all, and as each side has named it, there is a tussle over the “correct” name for the cat.

After, asked by the chaplain what he could possibly put into his report to HQ, the Scottish lieutenant says, “Well, I wrote, ‘December 24, 1914: No hostilities on the German side tonight.'”

But no good turn is left unpunished and the peace is short-lived as the agenda of the military will not be fobbed off by an obscure report. Near the end of the film, the message of hate began by the children is bookended by similar messages from unlikely sources, including censors and condemnations of the participants of the truce from their government and even religious leaders.

A wonderful theme of “Joyeux Noel” is the power and irrepressible nature of the human voice. It is the tenor’s wonderful voice that brings them all out of the trenches. It is his wife’s song in Latin, during the mass, that unites them all. It is the Scottish song “I’m Dreaming of Home” that even the Germans bring with them to voice their opposition when finally the powers of state censor their actions of peace. It is most appropriate that this song is sung by children during the credits. In the end, perhaps…just perhaps, the seed of hate need not endure.

“…This is no foreign sky
I see no foreign light
But far away am I
From some peaceful land
I’m longing to stand
A hand in my hand…forever
I’m dreaming of home
I feel so alone, I’m dreaming of home”

December 05, 2012: “Jiro…” Revisited

Back in April, I mentioned a movie that had just come out that I thought readers should be aware of: “Jiro Dreams of Sushi.” Going to movies (and other luxuries) have not been part of my life plan for a while now, due to a very limited budget, but I was very much wanting to see this. Luckily for me, the best little library in the world, the Hudson Public Library, generously lobbed a lazy pop-fly to my part of the field, and “Jiro…” landed right in my glove!

I want to re-emphasize a thought I had when I first heard of “Jiro…” I thought it would be a great date for people to see the movie and go out for sushi after. Having seen the film, I can tell you that if you at all open to sushi, you will not be able to see the film without craving sushi…so fair warning. I was immune, as a vegetarian the only pieces that are made in the film I would be able to eat are the tamago (egg) and gourd ones. I would normally prefer other veggie sushi varieties, so I was free to scrutinize the techniques of not only the film, but the food artists portrayed in the film.

Jiro Ono is rare is in many ways, but the most unusual (at least to the Western mind) is his complete and utter devotion to the one craft of making the best sushi in the world. To all accounts (having  been awarded three Michelin stars…the highest honor afforded any chef) he has already achieved that goal, but having perfecting his craft for almost 80 years, Jiro is far from done. As the title suggests, sushi-making invades Jiro’s dreams at night, informing his artist’s mind on ideas that could improve, still, his craft.

Jiro has had a fairly tough life. He was practically on his own at age seven, when he started his apprenticeship in sushi-making. It takes ten years to be labeled as a bona-fide shokunin (sushi master.) That’s essentially a doctorate of sushi! Eventually, Jiro purchased his own sushi restaurant, the same one he has today, that is located in a Tokyo subway station and has only ten seats for diners! Needless to say, his restaurant is sometimes booked months in advance from people from all over the globe, some who travel all the way to Japan just for Jiro’s sushi!

“The reward is the craft,” says Jiro. Clearly, this kind of dedication is not solely about money. It is this very human quest to be the best at what you do, with absolutely no compromises, that I found the most inspirational about Jiro’s story. I’ve known individuals who have a great deal of this desire, and I certainly have it in myself, but I know of no one who has literally dedicated their entire life to one goal (‘tho Yoshio comes very, very close, but he is 20 years younger than Jiro.)

I was surprised that Jiro was not the only master portrayed in the film. It also looks into the lives of his two sons, both, in their own ways following in their father’s footsteps and the film addresses how being the son of a master affects them. The film also interviews a fish-master and a rice-master and all three masters point out the balance of fish and rice qualities that are needed to achieve unami or “perfect experience” when sushi is prepared just right.

I learned a number of things about sushi preparation that I didn’t know: that rice must be body temperature; that the fatty tuna the West values so much are considered “too strong” for the Japanese palate; that the quality and temperature of the rice cannot be understated, as rice is the foundation for sushi. At the beginning of the film, I noticed that the chefs were painting a liquid on the sushi and I was very curious to what it might be. At first, I thought it was a glaze of sorts, but later it was explained that the chefs apply the correct amount of shoyu to each piece of sushi, not allowing the diners to smother shoyu on pieces like they do in the West!

Jiro’s tenets of every great chef are worth noting:
1. They must take their work seriously.
2. They must consistently perform at their highest level.
3. They must aspire to improve their skill.
4. Cleanliness is tantamount.
5. They must have both impatience and stubbornness at having their own way.
6. Passion for their craft is essential.

The film-making of “Jiro…” is interesting as well. Director David Gelb was allowed much more access to not only locations, but also ideas, by virtue of  his foreigner status. He was also given the Japanese politeness of “extras” not staring at the camera. His ability to get such good photography in really tight places was very impressive. If you are interested in Japanese culture and an East-meets-West comparison, it is well worth seeing the film a second time with the director’s commentary.

Although there are many good quotes from all the masters portrayed in “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” the one that sticks with me, and that I think defines every artist’s pain is from the fish-master,

“Just when you think you know it all, you realize that you are just fooling yourself…then you get depressed.”

September 17, 2012: “Toast” (2010)

I take it for granted that most of the movies in the DVD collection at the library have been found to have some flaw by the people who donated them. Probably the most common reason for donating them is to make room for the new DVD purchases. Still, these movies must have been found lacking in some way, by the donators. So, I play this game that I call “find the flaw” as I view them.

I was thrilled to find a new-ish “indie-foodie” (my most favorite category of cinema) in the library’s collection called “Toast” (2010) by director S.J. Clarkson, a biography about early life of British food writer Nigel Slater.

Poor Nigel has a rough childhood. He has an inherit sensitivity to, and desire for, fine food, but is condemned to have a mother (although very sweet and caring) that has absolutely no clue how to prepare even the most simple dish. His voice over, states what every child knows, “When you are deprived of something, it just makes you all the more hungry for it.” It doesn’t help that his father has a very surly nature, “Not a sweet man, despite a very sweet tooth.” Mr. Slater is clearly not getting much sugar (both literal and metaphoric) from his wife, probably exacerbating his surliness. With Nigel’s pleading, his mother tries to make the dishes he craves, usually with disastrous results. Her default dish after these failures is toast, which oddly, despite its simplicity, Nigel finds satisfying, “No matter how bad things get, it’s hard not to love someone who has made you toast.” Nigel pleads with his mom to teach him to make mince-pie for Christmas, but she is ill and it is a race against time…a race that ultimately is lost.

Enter Mrs. Potter (Helena Bonham Carter) first as a cleaner but who slowly wins over the father with her very good cooking skills, earthiness and attractiveness. Dad finally has all the sugar he wants, but Nigel finds her “common” and can’t stand her. He can’t help but admit that she is a superior chef, but that just starts a rivalry between the two over the father’s affections with food as the weapon selected by the duelists.

I loved the setup of “Toast” as period piece about food and personalities and it certainly has some very fine moments. I loved the “tossing the mom’s sandwich” scene (something I have been guilty of, with my mom’s sandwiches.) The “grade school milk line” and the “food-porn” scenes I found to be just hilarious! “Toast” has a few very well-rounded and interesting side characters. I liked Nigel’s advising childhood friend and the young gardener Josh, who both sets the tone of the value of a life well-spent and explains the love of a garden in way that I have never heard before. The big surprise in acting came from child actor Oscar Kennedy as the young Nigel. In contrast, Freddie Highmore, himself having been a very good child actor, phones in his performance as the teen-age Nigel. Helena Bonham Carter does a superb job playing an unlikeable character (or is she…truly unlikable?) After viewing…feel free to talk amidst yourselves.

I found “Toast” to be very frustrating in one aspect. My group of friends’ nickname for this kind of film is an “effin-pint-o’-stiffy” after one of us saw “Trainspotting” a number of years ago. Our friend said that because of the accents, those were the only words she could make out in the entire film! I question any filmmaker, these days, not including subtitles! I want to catch every nuance of the spoken word of a film. A film with rich accents and period or colloquial words needs to be subtitled!

Where “Toast” absolutely shines is its use of the idea of food creation as expression of ones soul. Even amongst the characters that don’t have the skill to express themselves this way, somehow give meaning to this…and those that have it to the extreme, do not always choose to express their soul in the right way.

“Toast” also influenced me in a way that I never expected…but that is for another day…another article.

September 11, 2012: Sleeping with Hedgehogs

I’ve been noticing new DVDs coming in at my local library (Hudson Public Library) and I thought I had a triple score when I found that they had a new-ish Independent Japanese film slated to be comedy! The trouble was that after watching, I realized I didn’t like it! I find that those films that trouble your spirit may be the ones that can make you grow the most, and I was glad that I sat on it a while and gave it a re-watch to figure it out a little more. It was in one of those weird moments of synchronicity that life sometimes throws at us that it came together even more for me. That moment took the form of an Aesop’s Fable I was reading while mulling the movie over.

The Hedgehog and the Snakes
A hedgehog had selected a comfortable cave as his home only to find the cave already occupied by a family of snakes. “Would it be OK if I used one corner of your cave to spend the Winter?” the hedgehog asked. The snakes generously offered to share their home. The hedgehog moved into the corner, curled up in a ball, stuck out his prickly quills and settled in for his Winter’s nap. Before long, the snakes realized that they could not move one bit without being pricked by the hedgehog’s quills. After bearing this discomfort for a while the snakes finally complained to the hedgehog. “That’s just too bad,” said their guest. “I am most comfortable here, but if you snakes are not satisfied, why don’t you move out?” He then curled up to resume his nap.

Moral: It is safer to know one’s guest before offering him hospitality.

Hospitalité (2010) by Foji Fukada story centers around a small family who own and run a small “mom & pop” printing shop with living quarters above. The father, Mikio leads a busy but understated life managing the shop with the help from his young and lovely wife, Natsuki. They have a young daughter, Eriko that Mikio has had with his former wife. One can tell the current situation is fairly new as Eriko treats Natsuki with some emotional distance, calling her “teacher” as their main connection is from Natsuki trying to teach Eriko English. The family has another new situation as Mikio’s sister, Seiko is in the home/shop, herself recently divorced. The local neighborhood has a watch group out for the activities of the gaijin (foreigners) in the area, whom they detest. This watch group seems to have a mission to rope as many members of the family into its fold as they can. The family has recently lost their pet parakeet and are busy posting fliers around for anyone who may have seen the bird.

Enter Kagawa, someone who lives nearby, who finds the flyer and visits the printing shop with “information” about the bird’s location, saying that he has seen it in the park. By hook or by crook, Kagawa slowly injects himself into the work and family at the shop/home. First, he sells himself as a replacement for an ill worker. Then, he moves into the house, saying he has been evicted. Then, suddenly a gaijin woman shows up in the house when the family returns one day. She is Annabelle, Kagawa’s wife of convenience. Annabelle also slowly invades the family’s life, first by taking over English lessons for Eriko, as her English is better, as is Kagawa’s it turns out. Annabelle says that she is Brazilian to the family but in a later scene introduces herself as Serbian to a visitor. The odd couple slowly takes over just about every aspect of the family’s life and business, until it is clear that the family are the guests in their own home!

So a fine independent film, with rich characters, shot well with a good story, and well executed Hospitalité still left me unsettled for a number of reasons: first, my own issues aside, I find it hard to believe anyone would qualify this film as a comedy. At best, some scenes were amusing. There was nothing approaching even a chuckle. Good drama, but misrepresented as a comedy.

Second, I lack the cultural knowledge to weigh what seems to be an important aspect of the script: how foreigners are perceived by Japanese. The foreigners were portrayed in exactly the way that the watch group fears: loud, obnoxious, intrusive to Japanese life, yet at the end, Mikio chastises the watch group, telling them to lay off his “friends” who all at that point have been the opposite of “friendly” (or even considerate) to him. At the same time, it’s clear that the family has grown from the contact of the foreigners, but at a great cost. Someday, I will see this with Teja, my good friend who lived labeled as a “gaijin” in Japan up until he came to the States for college and he can best explain the significance of all of this (and I promise an update, then.)

The main unsettling component to Hospitalité was the character of Kagawa. Having had my share of treacherous and dishonorable Machiavellian personalities in my real life, I can no longer appreciate them in my entertainment. Kagawa is Iago, he is Don John, he is every rotten, cowardly schemer of literature and film. I suppose my extreme reaction ultimately is testimony to how well the story works. Also, having lost so much in my life, the idea that someone could lose their privacy and personal space, frankly…terrifies me.

So, with almost no laughs, but still a good execution, plot, and acting Hospitalité is a decent indie. Even with my criticisms, I still plan on seeing it at least once more to understand it better. But I have no misgivings: at parts I will be gritting my teeth and enduring. Kinda like sleeping with hedgehogs.