John: Favorite movie? Casablanca.
Berg: Searching for Bobby Fischer.
Chris: You know mine, It's a Wonderful Life. And the other --
John: Gotta say, once you realize George Bailey dies in the middle, it's a totally different movie.
Chris: ... what?
John: It's a Wonderful Life is really a movie -- and I'm not the first person to say this -- about how a man's dreams are crushed by family expectations and middle class responsibilities. George Bailey's dreams of going to college and off to Europe are destroyed by the allegedly idyllic small town values that in fact trap him. Suffocate him.
Chris: ...
John: So, say Bailey jumped off that bridge and died. Say Clarence was there to guide him to heaven. What would heaven be for such a man? It would be validation. And that's what Clarence the Angel gives him, a tour meant to show him how significant he is. Or how significant, at least, he always secretly believed himself to be.
Chris: Hmm.
John: And then when he repents of his suicide, what does he get? A timeless eternity in his living room surrounded by his loved ones, with everyone he knows in the world coming through the door to tell him how amazing he is. The second half of It's a Wonderful Life makes much more sense if you assume that George Bailey committed suicide, and the rest is Bailey's heaven.
Chris: Is that more or less depressing than the original meaning?
John: I honestly don't know.
In the Comments -- your favorite movie. And no sniping. There's no accounting for what kicks your heart the right way.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Guitar Fridays: 1921 Martin 00-28
The 1921 Martin 00-28* is a 12 fret guitar produced by C.F. Martin and Company (so known because the body meets the neck at the 12th fret, whereas most acoustic guitars made today meet at the 14th). It is made of Brazilian Rosewood with a spruce top and a mahogany neck so thick it could stand in as a cricket bat (more on that later). The body, what is often referred to as parlor size, is smaller than most contemporary acoustic guitars.** In addition to the smaller body size, the lower bout (the hips, if you will) is only slightly larger than the upper bout (the chest), whereas most contemporary acoustics follow the Dreadnought design of larger and deeper bodies with a lower bout that is noticeably larger than the upper bout (the "Dreadnought" style, designed by Martin & Co. in the late 20s, early 30s, was named after the HMS Dreadnought , one of the largest battleships of its day).There are a slough of vintage guitars out there that deserve attention, but I picked this specific model because I've played one before. It isn't very often I get a chance to play vintage instruments, let alone ones that sound and feel as good as this little beauty. So I was very pleasantly surprised to discover several years ago (2001, 2002?) that a family friend had found one in perfect condition.
Perfect. Condition.
When I was back in Indiana visiting family for Christmas, he told me he had just picked up the "21." It was that old cliche that's every guitar player's dream. The guitar had been hiding in some old lady's house for decades until it was discovered during a centennial attic cleaning (what was so fascinating about the find was that the guitar had been set up for slide so there was absolutely no fret wear). Since my friend was more of a collector and less of a player, he asked me and my brother (who also plays guitar and can run circles around me) to go over and put the instrument through its paces.
The smaller body size threw me for a bit of a loop. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was definitely something larger. But when I stared playing it, I noticed a couple things. The first was its density. It had a sense of substance that was surprising for such a small guitar. Not that it was heavy, just that it didn't have that feeling of fragility I was expecting from a smaller guitar. The other thing I noticed was how impossibly thick the neck was. The neck to body size ratio was such that it felt like the body should have been the size of a Volkswagen. Yet, somehow, the neck was terribly easy to navigate. Even the twisty Joe Chord*** was easy to throw down.
But the most amazing thing about this guitar was the way it sounded. It had a rich, full-bodied tone that sounded meaty without any obtrusive low end. It sounded so good that playing it was a nearly religious experience. My brother and I spent several hours passing it back and forth until my friend eventually had to kick us out of his house.
Fortunately, my brother had along his little Boss BR-8 so I have a recording of it.† Obviously, the quality isn't top-notch, but you can still get an idea of the sounds this guitar produces. So if you can ever get your hands on one, even for just a few hours, do it. You won't be sorry. (The guitar in the youtube image isn't the Martin but a Gibson L-5--it was the only image of me playing a guitar that didn't involve embarrassing O faces.)
* I must confess that I'm not 100% sure about the model number. All I know for certain is that it was made in 1921 and, going from memory, I'd have to say it was a 00-21, 00-28, or 00-42. If I can ever get a hold of my friend, I'll find out for sure.
**If any musician monkeys out there can clarify if "parlor" is a specific style or just a general term used to describe small-bodied guitars, please let us know in comments.
*** It took me six years to get my fingers to play that first Badd11 chord that opens Joe Satriani's Always With Me, Always With You . Hence, it will always be known to me as the "Joe Chord."
† For my fellow audio engineering geeks out there, my brother held an Audio Technica Dual Reference cardioid mic directly at the sound hole on an X axis. I dumped the mono track into Audacity where I fabricated a stereo effect by duplicating the track then offsetting the two by 3 millisconds and panning them hard left and right. Afterward I gave it some slight compression, a few minor EQ tweaks, and then finished it off with a splash of reverb.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Waid Wednesdays #13: You'd Better Be In There Somewhere
When I was working at a company called Crossgen back in 2001, I was stuck writing a book called Sigil. I didn’t start it; it was inherited. It was about a two-fisted, ex-military, blue-collar guy named Sam who traveled the galaxy and fought aliens. I forget why. I do remember it wasn’t a very compelling or convincing reason. I specifically remember that the alien empire he was up against had conquered interstellar travel but still had not invented the wheel, which is probably the single stupidest science-fiction conceit I’ve ever heard.
There was nothing about this setup that was particularly easy for me to wrap my head around. Sam was the kind of guy I couldn’t in real life relate to on any level, and he was fighting an eons-old humanoid empire that had somehow never seen a rock roll downhill. So finding my “in” was extra-challenging--but that’s the job. If you’re going to write a character convincingly, you have to find something in him, however small, that resonates with you.
After much studying and much drinking, I hit upon the one commonality Sam and I had: we were both vagabonds with no family ties. I got that, and something clicked. That suggested that there was some backstory with his parents. That there might be a reason he felt estranged from friends and family. That there might be some nugget of masked insecurity inside him that made him feel uncomfortable with close relationships. THAT, I got. (The book, though brilliantly drawn by Scot Eaton, was still a mediocre adventure, but I got it.)
Marvel Comics’ characters have been exceedingly popular since the 1960s because they’re especially relatable. The X-Men are about facing prejudice. The Hulk is about the power of anger and how to deal with it. The Fantastic Four is about family. Thor is about...
...about...
...this one stumped me for years. The Mighty Thor chronicles the ongoing, modern-day adventures of the Norse god of thunder, who divides his time between punching supervillains in Manhattan and fighting Frost Giants with a giant hammer to protect his home of Asgard and his cranky dad, Odin. I never got Thor. I have absolutely no interest in mythology, Thor’s trademark “thee-thou-thine” faux-Medieval dialogue feels corny to me, and Thor is traditionally about as bright as a week-old glowstick. And yet...and yet...he’s been one of comics’ mainstay heroes for nearly a half-century, which means there had to be something in the concept that the audience can identify with. I just couldn’t find it. And, worse, a few years back when I was doing a handful of Marvel books, I had to write Thor from time to time.
So I finally broke it down, and once I did, it was embarrassingly obvious:
Thor is about a rebellious son who can’t please his father no matter what he does.
Odin’s a jerk. He claims to have a very clear vision of Thor’s destiny, one that doesn’t involve wasting time with Earthlings, but like many fathers, he’s much better at articulating what Thor isn’t supposed to do than what he is supposed to do. There’s poor Thor, just trying to follow his heart, while Odin--time and again with all the compassion of a hurricane--punishes Thor for breaking specious rules that were never very clear to begin with.
THAT, I got. THAT, hundreds of thousands of teenage readers have been getting since 1962.
Characters, if they’re to have any longevity, have to speak to universal concerns. The Golden Age of pop culture is lousy with the tens of thousands of forgotten characters who weren’t really about anything definable. A few have adapted by becoming corporate icons--the Wonder Woman of 1942 is only barely recognizable as the safely sexless Wonder Woman of today--but, by and large, time is much kinder to the Spider-Mans of pop culture than it is the Betty Boops and Great Gildersleeves. Whether it’s a character you inherited or one of your own invention, you have to find in him or her the truths that will mean something to today’s audience and, hopefully, tomorrow’s.
There was nothing about this setup that was particularly easy for me to wrap my head around. Sam was the kind of guy I couldn’t in real life relate to on any level, and he was fighting an eons-old humanoid empire that had somehow never seen a rock roll downhill. So finding my “in” was extra-challenging--but that’s the job. If you’re going to write a character convincingly, you have to find something in him, however small, that resonates with you.
After much studying and much drinking, I hit upon the one commonality Sam and I had: we were both vagabonds with no family ties. I got that, and something clicked. That suggested that there was some backstory with his parents. That there might be a reason he felt estranged from friends and family. That there might be some nugget of masked insecurity inside him that made him feel uncomfortable with close relationships. THAT, I got. (The book, though brilliantly drawn by Scot Eaton, was still a mediocre adventure, but I got it.)
Marvel Comics’ characters have been exceedingly popular since the 1960s because they’re especially relatable. The X-Men are about facing prejudice. The Hulk is about the power of anger and how to deal with it. The Fantastic Four is about family. Thor is about...
...about...
...this one stumped me for years. The Mighty Thor chronicles the ongoing, modern-day adventures of the Norse god of thunder, who divides his time between punching supervillains in Manhattan and fighting Frost Giants with a giant hammer to protect his home of Asgard and his cranky dad, Odin. I never got Thor. I have absolutely no interest in mythology, Thor’s trademark “thee-thou-thine” faux-Medieval dialogue feels corny to me, and Thor is traditionally about as bright as a week-old glowstick. And yet...and yet...he’s been one of comics’ mainstay heroes for nearly a half-century, which means there had to be something in the concept that the audience can identify with. I just couldn’t find it. And, worse, a few years back when I was doing a handful of Marvel books, I had to write Thor from time to time.
So I finally broke it down, and once I did, it was embarrassingly obvious:
Thor is about a rebellious son who can’t please his father no matter what he does.
Odin’s a jerk. He claims to have a very clear vision of Thor’s destiny, one that doesn’t involve wasting time with Earthlings, but like many fathers, he’s much better at articulating what Thor isn’t supposed to do than what he is supposed to do. There’s poor Thor, just trying to follow his heart, while Odin--time and again with all the compassion of a hurricane--punishes Thor for breaking specious rules that were never very clear to begin with.
THAT, I got. THAT, hundreds of thousands of teenage readers have been getting since 1962.
Characters, if they’re to have any longevity, have to speak to universal concerns. The Golden Age of pop culture is lousy with the tens of thousands of forgotten characters who weren’t really about anything definable. A few have adapted by becoming corporate icons--the Wonder Woman of 1942 is only barely recognizable as the safely sexless Wonder Woman of today--but, by and large, time is much kinder to the Spider-Mans of pop culture than it is the Betty Boops and Great Gildersleeves. Whether it’s a character you inherited or one of your own invention, you have to find in him or her the truths that will mean something to today’s audience and, hopefully, tomorrow’s.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Ninja Warrior..with Bikes!
by M A N
I'm in the process of decompressing from Wondercon, but I wanted to take the time share this nifty little video with my fellow monkeys. The game follows the same premise as Ninja Warrior (on the awesome G4 TV) except this time the contestants must complete an obstacle course while on a bike. This makes the chump bike tricks we used to do as kids look, well, pretty damn chumpy.
discovered via one of my favorite blogs: Stuff That Moves
I'm in the process of decompressing from Wondercon, but I wanted to take the time share this nifty little video with my fellow monkeys. The game follows the same premise as Ninja Warrior (on the awesome G4 TV) except this time the contestants must complete an obstacle course while on a bike. This makes the chump bike tricks we used to do as kids look, well, pretty damn chumpy.
discovered via one of my favorite blogs: Stuff That Moves
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