Les: wednesday, wednesday

Linds: dude, that’s not a song.  is it?

Les: no. but we could write one!

Linds: uh

Les: and then ali could talk about it on her blog!

Linds: let’s add that to the list of ill-conceived les and lid ideas that may never see the light of day

Les: there you go being a party-pooper again

Linds: it’s my job, apparently

Les: so it seems

i suppose we should focus and get to our question of the week

Linds: that would be new.  and out of character.  but let’s try it out

Les: k. here goes…  our question comes courtesy of kristan again. i love that girl.

Linds: she is super awesome

Les: she asks: Do you like it, or does it annoy you when books are turned into movies?

Linds: hm.  honestly, i think it all depends on how good the movie is as an independent artistic creation

Les: and they’re usually not that awesome.  don’t think i’ve ever heard anyone say that the movie was better than the book

Linds: and if that’s true, we have a problem

Les: word.  some book movies are fun, because they allow us a second opportunity to experience the story.  like the harry potter franchise

Linds: which is the example i was about to bring up.  they have an advantage, i think, in that there are so many films now that they’ve been able to create a different but complimentary movie world from the books

Les: yes. that’s the fun of it.  they did a fantastic job with the movies.  and the casting…ftw

Linds: that was the single most important thing they did right.  they had to get the characters right, and then they had more freedom to work with the storyline to make it work in a movie format

Les: and they did

Linds: yep.  so i’m ok with them taking some liberties with the story.  because it fits with the version of the hp world they’ve created

Les: totally

Linds: i’m not a total book to movie purist. i just don’t want it to suck.

Les: well, no. no one wants that.

i’m admittedly not much of a movie watcher, so i don’t have a ton to draw from here.  but i always groan when i see another children’s book turned into a movie.  because i remember the attitudes of a few of my peers from middle school.  watching the movies does not equal reading the book

Linds: NO NO NO. IT DOES NOT.

Les: and today’s children don’t need anything else hindering the development of their imaginations.  good gravy, they’re so overly stimulated

Linds: word.  in fact, let’s make a rule right now

Les: ok

Linds: you may not go see a movie based on a book and claim you’ve read the book

you may also not watch the harry potter movies and say you’re a harry potter fan

what you are is lazy

Les: omg, yes

Linds: go pick up the book, open it, and read those black things on the paper.  they’re called words, and they’re good for you

Les: brain food woo

Linds: yes

i’d also like to make a rule that you have to read the book first before you see the movie.  because you need to actually use your imagination to create the images in your head before you let someone else do it for you.  because again: lazy

Les: yes, thank you

Linds: like right now, i just started revolutionary road, because i’ve heard good things about the movie.  but kate and leo or no, i’m reading it first

Les: ew

Linds: ew?

Les: kate and leo.  though i do that too – read a book after hearing good things about the movie.  that’s how i discovered jodi picoult, actually.  the previews for my sister’s keeper looked great, so i stole my mom’s book

Linds: brief time out to revisit the kate and leo thing: if you ignore their first big movie together, are they less offensive?

Les: considerably.  i like her quite a lot

Linds: me too.  so we’ll just pretend that particular travesty never happened.  revisionist history is so handy sometimes

Les: it really is

Linds: did you ever see the new version of pride and prejudice?

Les: no. is it awesome?

Linds: well, let me put it this way:  it was like pride and prejudice if a bronte had written it.  it’s a bit disconcerting, to say the least

Les: oh dear

Linds: i’m certain several of our readers will have an informed opinion about it

Les: i can’t wait

Linds: i think we should pause and give them a chance to tell us what they think.  because i bet we could fill another wednesday on this topic

Les: that sounds good to me

Linds: excellent.  so weigh in, dear readers!

Les: cause we wanna know

Away We Go is the 5th film from Director Sam Mendes. Known for American Beauty, Road to Perdition and last years Revolutionary Road which are very dark in tone and content, this is a step away from the norm from him and frankly is a breath of fresh air. Away We Go is the story of Burt, played by John Krasinski (The Office, Leatherheads) and Verona, who are a mid-thirties couple who find out they are going to have their first child. Burt’s parents played by Jeff Daniels (Gettysburg, Speed) and Catherine O’hara (Best in Show, Beetlejuice) decide to move to Belgium a month before the baby is born. Burt and Verona, having no ties to their home town any more, go exploring for the perfect place to raise a family. visiting lots of friends and family across  the country, it is a fun adventure of possibilities.

The performances in the film are all pretty good, but the one surprise performance that stands out is that of Maggie Gyllenhaal (Secretary). She plays Burt’s cousin and takes the idea of being close as a family to a whole new level, to the point of being creepy. Her performance is spot on as she delivers her lines with complete confidence without batting and eye as she talks about sharing a bed with her husband….and her kids! She is so good in this role, I could see her getting a Supporting Actress nomination.

Overall I don’t think this is Sam Mendes best film as the movies mentioned previously are very powerful films, but this is a very light, intelligent and delightful film. I would recommend seeing this movie, it is something fresh and not the usual rehashing of a story line you have seen twenty times already. Worth watching for sure!

I love looking through “bargain bin” movies.  A few weeks ago, I discovered “The Wrestler” and “Revolutionary Road,” two of 2008’s finest, for $5 apiece in a grocery store.  If it’s good and cheap, it proves to be an irresistible combination for me, a cocktail for disaster.

Cannonball Read II, Book 1: Revolutionary Road, Richard Yates (1961)

Well, I’ve FINALLY finished my first book! Huzzah! I read it for a class (Films and Literature), but it’s 462 pages, and it still counts (I started it EXACTLY on 11/1). I had seen the film in the theater when it came out, but had not yet read the novel, and I thought it was a tremendously well-done movie, and Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet’s performances blew me away. (I was also stunned by my fellow theater patrons, who laughed at some of the most inappropriate moments.) Now I’ve read the book, I find it so much more thoughtful, so much deeper, so much more moving.

Fair warning: There is not a single character in this novel who is likeable. Not one. Frank and April Wheeler, our focal point, are horrible, selfish, self-centered, narcissistic jerks. Milly and Shep Campbell, their closest friends, are so caught up in their romanticized view of the Wheelers that they don’t even have their own personalities. Helen Givings, the real estate agent, is a judgmental busybody who is in no position to be either; her husband regularly turns off his hearing aid so he doesn’t have to listen to her inane ramblings, and her son is an inmate at the local nuthouse (and the only fully truthful person in the story, appropriately enough). The Wheelers’ children are accessories, shunted off to the Campbells’ as often through the story as they are at home.

The meat of the story, though- the disintegration of a marriage that perhaps should never have been in the first place; the slow and steady decline that begins to gather steam until it goes barreling headlong into utter annihilation- is so well told it’s all but impossible not to appreciate. Yates turns a beautiful, albeit depressing, phrase, and gives us consistent characters who are compelling, though they are definitely not endearing.

There’s a terrific significance to the opening scene- the failure of the new community theater group’s first performance- and its placement at the beginning of the narrative. It sets up the entire trajectory of the novel at the same time as being the catalyst for the events that unfold and a microcosmic view of the Wheelers’ full story. We come in towards the end of that tale, and we wonder how the couple got to this point. As the novel progresses, we discover that they were pretty much always at this point, they just didn’t know it.

Most of the people in my class felt sorry for Frank, felt that he was the more sympathetic character, citing his trying to make April feel better about the failure of the play, and her refusal to be made to feel better and her picking a fight with him. The thing of it is, though, she yells at him because she has asked him repeatedly to not talk about it, and he persists; he is trying to force her to feel better not for her sake, but for his own. The genius of placing this scene first in the book is that is sets up one of the major themes of the novel, which is acting; not acting in the sense of April being in the play, but rather how all of these characters are acting out their lives, rather than living them. Frank, first and foremost, doesn’t know how to be a man, and so he spends his every waking moment arranging himself as he thinks he should appear. The problem is, he’s a terrible actor. He screws up his lines, his stage positions, and most of all, his timing.He also doesn’t know not to step on the toes of the other actors in his little mind-play.

I loved reading this book. Not everyone will, because it is one of those books that centers on very unlikable characters. I just happen to like unlikable characters. I can tell you this: it made me a lot more appreciative of my fake husband, pseudo-Mr. vB, and the level of honesty that we share. Of course, it helps that we live as who we are, rather than always trying to present ourselves as something we’re not. And I certainly won’t be doing that after reading this, unless I want to end up like April Wheeler.

there were two reasona why i choose to watch this film – one it’s top billed by two titanic stars Kate Winslet and Leonardo Di Caprio and two, Kate won best actress award beacuse of this film.

i admit if i’m fan mode i’ll be bored with the story and i’ll hate their talk characters. But since i’m expecting a heavy drama in here then i’d film enthusiast/critic. I commend both Leo and Kate for emerging as Frank and April. The Jack Dawson- and- Rose Calvert-memory that I had was gone.

their acting is not that intense but you can feel what they want, even in reality their characters are pathetic.  Leo is no more the hunk-cutie-cutie guy in here but kudos to him. He’s actor more than a star.

And with Kate’s April, i can relate to her. maybe when the time i’ll already have a husband. I also prefer to have privacy and silence to think.

hmmm I don’t think I”m going to read the novel where this is story comes from. I’m already solved with the entire film.

In my reposted blog on panic attacks http://clarespark.com/2009/11/16/panic-attacks-and-separation-anxiety/, I mentioned the use by Eric Gill of Durer’s famous image (umlaut over the “u”). Here is the image as drawn by Eric Gill’s son-in-law Denis Tegetmeier for Gill’s book Unholy Trinity (1938). Opposite the illustration is this text:

pastiche of Durer's Melencolia I by Denis Tegetmeier

MELANCHOLIA—This is a very gloomy picture, and quite right too. There is no remedy for our troubles. The sick ‘old lady’ has got to die someday. I think any kind of mass conversion–as when Ninevah repented with three days of sackcloth and ashes–is not to be expected. Perhaps some kind of healthy barbarism will follow the war, pestilence and famine which are upon us. That is very likely. Nations and states go through a life cycle just as humans do, and though many will endeavour to soften our last days—it is astonishing how we cling to the deception that horrid things only happen to other people & not to us—we must today recall the words of St John in the Apocalypse:

   ‘Thus with violence shall that great city Babylon be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all. And the voice of harpers and musicians, and of pipers, and trumpeters, shall be heard no more at all in thee. And no craftsman, of whatsoever craft he be, shall be found any more in thee; and the sound of a millstone shall be heard no more at all in thee; and the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no more at all in thee; for thy merchants were the great men of the earth’ . [there is no more text on the page]

    Is there not a popular Hollywood genre of the apocalypse brought on by those commercial values foisted upon the world by merchants (a.k.a. Marx’s Jewish hucksters)? Would there have been a Renaissance, or an Age of Discovery, or the expansion of the West without them? Would we have great cities of the type anathematized by such as the arch reactionary Eric Gill without these dread traders? How much has this antimodern narrative penetrated into the popular consciousness to the detriment of mental health? And to what extent did the genre of film noir reflect such fears? Or such recent films as Revolutionary Road?

     In my view, we neglect such questions to our peril. If we cannot recognize “progress” where it has actually benefited humankind, how can we even begin to talk about appropriate remedies for emotional distress (depression! anxiety!), let alone public policy in such crucial matters as health care reform?  Just asking. For more on the popularity of “Melencolia I” in the last two centuries see the passages on James Thomson (“B. V.”) in http://clarespark.com/2009/10/23/murdered-by-the-mob-moral-mothers-and-symbolist-poets/ , part one of a two-part essay that shows the links between antisemitism, misogyny, and antimodernism.

[Added in the early evening, submitted to one of the H-Net discussion groups:] 

     I want to launch this hypothesis: that antisemitism, like sexism, is underweighted as a cause of social malaise or what used to be called ”neurosis/neurasthenia.” Those who subscribe to the History of Antisemitism list have done decades of work on the history of antisemitism, yet if it is taken up at all in the media, some crucial facet of it is neglected. Why?  Here are some suggestions:

 1. Probably most of the Left does not want to admit that Marx was anti-Semitic in his early essay “On the Jewish Question.” Taking that further, the very notion that “capital” is inherently exploitative would seem to come from the old and incorrect notion that Jews loved money more than their neighbors. (Were there bitter Jews who fit the stereotype? Why would there not be? But if we reject the idea of race and national character, it is insane to attribute such avarice and heartlessness to all Jews who ever lived.)

 2. The New Left and the counter-culture of the 1960s defined themselves against the soul-less cities (see the blog), celebrating rootedness and other tropes of the agrarian ideology. Remember the class base of utopian socialism in the 19^th century? It was not the working class, but would-be patricians of the kind once identified as aristocratic backwoodsmen by G. C. Webber in his book on right-wing factions. Do I detect the color Green in their vaporings?

 3. The Jews, in league with certain Scotsmen, are blamed for the disenchantment of the world. This was brought home to me by the J. C. Squire papers at UCLA. (Squire, a Tory poet, traveled from Fabianism to support for Italian Fascism. He was part of the English Melville revival.) It is also spelled out in Herman Melville’s sketch of a Dissenter in his late poem, _Clarel, a poem and pilgrimage in the Holy Land_ (1876). These works build upon the pervasiveness of the mad scientist in popular culture, made famous in spin-offs of Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_.  The best book I ever read on the subject of disenchantment was Tillyard’s short work, _The Elizabethan World Picture and Shakespeare’s History Plays_. As the Biblical higher criticism proceeded in the 19^th century, Melville nervously complained about the loss to imagination by historical analysis of the Bible. His despair reflected that of James Thomson, author of _The City of Dreadful Night_ . We are back again to Dürer’s Melencolia I and the panicky reaction by Church and King to the advent of the scientific revolution, the Reformation, and other seemingly apocalyptic events. If the Jews are constantly seen as the vanguard of modernity (either implicitly or explicitly: think of the diabolic trinity of Marx, Einstein, and Freud), they get the blame. And a scientific outlook becomes “reductive” and an abomination.

 4. If one is an upwardly-mobile assimilationist Jew (on the lam from mom?), it is probably little comfort to acknowledge the persistence of genteel antisemitism in the canyons of Manhattan, or in the heart of the non-Jew one has snagged. This hardly needs elaboration. Better to repress the entire subject.

     If we underweight antisemitism as a destructive force in the human psyche, imagine how bad is our underestimation of the power of sexism and patriarchy. To what lengths will the ‘feminist’ ‘anti-imperialist’ go to minimize the desire to control women and mothers in particular, and not just in the Muslim world? I will not belabor this point here, except to note that for Eric Gill,  Melencolia is a sick old lady who would be better off dead than modernized/urbanized. History for these antimodernists is not susceptible to human understanding and agency, but is a subset of “natural history.” When we understand that, there might be some progress in the teaching of the humanities.

This week on Vulpes Libris, the Foxes are taking on big topics.  From stages of life to life changing events to other lives altogether, we have challenges every day of the week.

On Monday, Jackie looks at 1950’s suburbia in Richard Yates’ first novel, Revolutionary Road.

On Tuesday, RosyB finds Somewhere Towards the End strangely uplifting as she looks at editor and writer (and nonagenarian) Diana Athill’s rumination on old-age, death and infidelity.

On Wednesday, Lisa thinks about RAF wives in Aliya Whiteley’s Light Reading and feels just a bit nostalgic.

On Thursday, Anne finds a seat on Thomas Keneally’s The People’s Train, but neither the journey nor the destination are entirely what she expected.

On Friday, Moira finds herself being drawn into Beverly Gage’s slow-burning The Day Wall Street Exploded and is fascinated – and chilled – by the modern-day parallels.

And on Saturday, Eve has discovered a sumptuous teen novel set in the 1940s; atmospheric, mysterious and beautifully written, it’s a compelling read.

Thanks to John (the management guru) and Linda for the lovely photo of a small Hugo carrying a very big find.

Revolutionary Road è un film del 2008 film britannico-americano diretto da Sam Mendes e interpretato da Leonardo DiCaprio e Kate Winslet. La sceneggiatura è di Justin Haythe ed il film è bastao sul romanzo omonimo scritto da Richard Yates

Leggi altre notizie su: | Drammatico | Sam Mendes | Leonardo DiCaprio | Kate Winslet | Michael Shannon

I’ve been dealing with a cold/flu with symptoms that go unmatched when compared to the last several times I’ve been ill. This one is seriously a doozy. Nose blowing, coughing, deliriousness, it’s been a real blast. Sans cable TV, a man who is ill can rarely find anything to pass his bacteria-infected time other than by reading. In October, I read a great deal of airtight reporting and just generally good non-fiction. There was a novel in there, too.

I’m liking my new subscription to Columbia Journalism Review. Brent Cunningham makes some strong points in his ‘Take a Stand,’ an essay calling for a massive realignment of mainstream journalism’s priorities to include an effort to “lead a discussion that is broad and fearless enough to challenge the systems and assumptions that shape America’s politics, its economics, and its civic and social life.” Read the whole thing here. On a somewhat related note, Graham Rayman at the Village Voice discusses the surviving seven newspapers in New York here.

I read Richard Yates’ Revolutionary Road a few weeks back. I don’t imagine you need me to tell you about this, but Yates’ 1961 masterwork is something I won’t soon forget. I haven’t seen the recent film version yet, but the book chronicles the day-to-day interplay in the suburban home of Frank and April Wheeler, a household defined by general despair and some pretension, heavy drinking, and biting arguments that are long rehearsed, each angle born deep within two people who are just dreadfully, dreadfully sad. Mine is a crude and all-too-brief summary when compared to the words that line this deeply affecting book. Here is an essay from writer Richard Ford, adapted from his introduction to the edition that I read.

The New Yorker profile of Wes Anderson is a great read — I like the idea of The Life Aquatic coming together over many lunches in a West Village bar. I’m rarely anything close to productive in a bar. Subscription required.

My friend’s son penned this heartfelt/-breaking column, Making a Phillies Fan: An Architecture of Heartbreak, about what inspires him to return to the Philadelphia Phillies every year, and I’m recommending that any fan of baseball have a look. It was particularly relevant a couple of weeks ago, but I think it will resonate with any enthusiast of the game.

In the wake of Gourmet magazine’s closing (RIP), I followed a hyperlink to a funny and bleak David Foster Wallace piece from their archives called “Consider The Lobster.” I really wish people wouldn’t eat lobster.

Please don’t miss this excellent celebration of long-form journalism from Mark Reynolds at PopMatters. If you didn’t have the chance to read any of the other pieces that they ran as a part of their ten-year anniversary, I strongly recommend checking them out. Happy Birthday, PopMatters. And track down Issue 37 of Wax Poetics — MJ is on the cover. As usual, it’s chock full of insightful music writing wrapped in marvelous design. (Here, also, is the RSS feed to the stuff I Digg. Please find recent choices to the right of the page — it’s updated regularly.)

Quase comprei “Beleza Americana” (American Beauty, 1999, Sam Mendes) no Bourbon hoje. R$12,90. Aliás, do mesmo diretor, um filme menos badalado mas tão bom quanto é o “Foi Apenas Um Sonho” (Revolutionary Road, 2008). Leonardo di Caprio e Kate Winslet repetem o casal de Titanic (1997) mais maduros e excelentes. Os dois mereciam oscars (oscares?) ou outros prêmios pelas atuações nesse filme…

There is a quote by Thomas Szas that says

“Insanity is the only sane reaction to an insane society.”

This makes sense. If anyone has ever seen the movie “Revolutionary Road” with Kate Winslet and Leonardo Dicaprio, you would understand this better. The only person in that movie who made any sense was the guy who was locked in a mental institution. Sometimes I look around the world and I feel crazy, like I should be locked up, but I honestly think I am just way ahead of my time. And I’m not saying that because I think I am better than anyone or feel “holier-than-thou”, in fact it is the exact opposite.

I have self diagnosed myself with Avoidant Personality Disorder (AvPD). Here are the list of symptoms from Wikipedia:

* Hypersensitivity to criticism or rejection
* Self-imposed social isolation
* Extreme shyness in social situations, though feels a strong desire for close relationships
* Avoids interpersonal relationships
* Feelings of inadequacy
* Severe low self-esteem
* Mistrust of others
* Emotional distancing related to intimacy
* Highly self-conscious
* Self-critical about their problems relating to others
* Problems in occupational functioning
* Lonely self-perception
* Feeling inferior to others
* Utilizes fantasy as a form of escapism and to interrupt painful thoughts

After learning about this in Abnormal Psych class, I read over the symptoms a few times and it was like a giant slap in the face, because every single one of those is me.

I go to school, but I avoid social contact like the plague. I try to be friendly to people and smile but only because I don’t want people to not like me or think of me as a bitch. I would much rather eat lunch alone than with a group of friends. The reason for this is because I prefer living in my own world to having to socialize with the members of this toxic society. There are so many “insane” standards we are all supposed to live by, none of which I meet! I am not considered beautiful by society or have the right body type or think the same way or believe the same things and I feel incredibly alienated by the rest of the world so I avoid it.

Ever since I was a small child, I have escaped into my brain and created fantasies for myself to live in so I didn’t have to deal with reality. I recently learned that this is a survival mechanism used by many people in the world, including people who were held prisoner in war and victims of the holocaust. I have also learned that I am not the only non war survivor who does this. I believe everybody does this at certain times in their life to escape from every day troubles because honestly, how could we survive if we didn’t? If we were constantly living in the ‘real’ world, how would we be able to cope?? Why do we think books and movies and tv shows were created?? To help us escape the hardships that exist in the world. I am just one of those people who don’t necessarily need books or movies to help me, my own brain is enough.

I am always someone else in my fantasies, or at least a better version of myself. I am what society considers to be beautiful and thin and normal. I am just your everyday girl looking for where she belongs in the world, only she is brave enough to go out there and find it. She is brave enough to create herself.

I do believe I am different from people in the world, but I don’t necessarily believe I am crazy, or I have a ‘disorder’. I believe in 50 years from now people will think everyone who lived during our time to be ignorant and oblivious, just like we feel about our society 50 years ago. People will look at me and people alike as the John Givings of the early 21st century. We were thought of as insane, when in reality, we were the only sane ones living in our time.

November is my favourite month. This year – once again – it surprised me with few little miracles in my private life and to counterbalance – few new challenges in my more professional commitments.

Novembers can be very gloomy, provoking me to stay at home and hide under a warm blanket with a warm cup of Pu Erth. Which I intend to do as often as possible. I managed to kick off my marketing studies with readings and new passion for Economist, as well as few little books in between. I read ‘Trust Agents’ again, this time not really taking notes – just enjoying it as it is. I watched ‘Revolutionary Road‘, quite frankly identifying my last relationship with many of notions pictured in the film. I speared an evening on ‘the Reader’ (movie) too, and must admit that Auschwitz related topics still give me shivers…maybe it was not such a good idea for my dad to lie I was 10 when he took me there for the first time, I think he overestimated my emotional intelligence that day:/ Somehow I did not feel so bad after the book, I must say. And somehow the motive of guilt dominates more in the movie production, I have to say.

November means evenings with friends, and I am glad I could have them over and share the tender warmth of fireplace as opposed to out usually heavy conversations. I am also looking forward to this week’s guests – old university mate, and lovely GVers. It’s good to serve as host sometimes, after weeks of travelling here and there – I think the fall brings out the introvert in me…

November is my time to write, reach out for dusted journals and put down on paper all those thoughts that keep me awake at night or whisper in my ear at 5AM. It’s time to cherish written word, in my native language for a change. Time to look at the sentence and learn the new self. I think due to my childhood Catholic tradition I tend to spend autumn on meditating my yearly achievements to be able to move on to celebrating later, and making new plans over in January..maybe that’s it.

Whatever is the case – I am quiet, trying to relax as much as I can. And the new people in my life, even those who bring pink roses, are there to share those silences and to dig out the other side of me – the poet, the artist, the observer, the outsider in a way…the ghost I sometimes feel like in the crowd of the unkind.

It feels good.:)

Last month, New Zealand’s number one student magazine Salient put out the last issue of the year. Here is the column reviewing the year in film (despite the fact it was only October).

2009. It’s not over yet, but it might as well be considering this is the last issue (the ultimate issue, if you will) of Salient. Hells teeth, where do I begin. Has 2009 been a good year for film? Well, I would say yes. It was certainly a damn sight better than 2008 but still perhaps not as good as the No Country for Old Men-There Will be Blood-Zodiac trifecta that ruled my 2007. I always keep my movie stubs so the following is an attempt to try to make sense of the little torn up pieces of paper, which are the only physical reminders of the things I saw on the silver screen this year.

For starters, Hollywood was up to its worst tricks again. The big Blockbusters came in the stupidly long Transformers 2 and the just plain stupid GI Joe. Once again animated films like Up proved that Pixar is pissing all over everyone else when it comes to good storytelling. A little film called Bruno pulled no punches in making Americans look like fools (again), and managed to fill the screen with a giant talking penis. Michael Mann disappointed me greatly with his sub-par Public Enemies, while Tarantino divided critics with Inglourious Basterds.

At the Oscars, Slumdog Millionaire, a terrible picture that everybody seems to love won way too many awards. I’m sorry, but the ending was nonsense. Its main competition The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was rubbish too, a shame because Fincher’s Zodiac was so unbelievably good. Leonardo DiCaprio was at his best in Revolutionary Road but didn’t even get a nomination (nor did the very solid film for that matter). Instead Sean Penn’s Harvey Milk trumped Mickey Rourke’s stellar comeback in The Wrestler. Kate Winslet hoisted the Oscar for her role in The Reader and Heath Ledger became only the second actor to win posthumously for his superb turn as the Joker.

Some cool people died this year too. Patrick Swayze (above) lost his battle with cancer, as did Farrah Fawcett. English rose Miranda Richardson and old timers Henry Gibson, Dom Deluise and Karl Malden all said their last goodbyes. John Hughes left, taking with him part of my adolescence. David “Kill Bill” Carradine died in bizarre circumstances (Bound for Glory jokes aside). And of course they’re still talking about some small timer named Michael Jackson.

In July the festival came with swag of good pictures. Antichrist was not one of them—I hated it. Ponyo was Miyazaki in fine form. Che was a brave, often fascinating four-hour masterpiece. Palme d’Or winner The White Ribbon was near perfect. Aussie classic Wake in Fright had the most beer and Kangaroo wrestling I’ve seen in any film. I still haven’t made heads or tales of Jarmusch’s The Limits of Control, but Chris Doyles photography was beautiful. Moon was as good a sci-fi as I’ve seen in years.

Writing for Salient has been great because Uther was radical enough to let me scribble about stuff I really like, in the hope that maybe other people will like it too. Hence I blabbed on about my New Hollywood favourites like Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia and Two-Lane Blacktop, mainly because they both star Warren Oates. Go watch them, they are the best. I also got to write on the greatest television show of all time, The Wire, which even proved a hit in the Salient office. If you haven’t seen it yet, sheeeeeit, make sure you do.

So what does 2010 bring? Well, if Avatar lives up to its absurd hype, cinema might ‘never be the same again’. Frankly, I think this is nonsense. Even if the 3D experience is amazing the film looks like a ten-foot blue turkey. Expect Transformers III and GI Joe II. As long as people keep going to these movies, Hollywood will keep making them. Expect all the best movies to come in the festival and expect them to have subtitles. Expect Megan Fox to make her relationship with Nic Sando official. Expect there to be too many movies to watch, and not enough time in the day.

In proper Salient/High Fidelity tradition here are some top fives.

Top 5 films of 2009 (that I saw)

1. The White Ribbon
2. Che
3. The Wrestler
4. Revolutionary Road
5. Ponyo

Top 5 films I saw in 2009 (from any old year)

1. Happy Together
2. Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia
3. Opening Night
4. A Taste of Cherry
5. Being There

Top 5 films of 1971 (for my loyal readers)

1. Two-Lane Blacktop
2. The Last Picture Show
3. Harold and Maude
4. McCabe and Mrs Miller
5. The Hired Hand

Top 5 movie quotes

1. “If I’m not grounded pretty soon, I’m gonna go into orbit.”
2. “Get the meat.”
3. “If you keep looking at me you’ll see me kill you.”
4. “Pipe dreams Dad, I’m a barber’s son.”
5. “GARBAGE DAY!” or alternatively “CARPET DAY!”

Top 5 other things…

1. The video for ‘Welcome to Heartbreak’ by Kanye West.
2. The trailers for Must Love Jaws, Brokeback to the Future, and Shining.
3. Alexander Skarsgard (above).
4. HSX.com.
5. My blog! therushmorefilmsociety.wordpress.com.

I just finished reading A Tragic Honesty: The Life and Work of Richard Yates by Blake Baily (who has also recently written a bio of John Cheever).  Lacking enough time to pleasure read, I had to renew it from the library twice so for about three months I carried this hefty 650 + page book to and from work, hauling it out to read on transit. In the age of e-readers and soft covers, let me tell you, a hard back, very thick book elicits stares. Not that I noticed them really, Mr. Yates‘ life was so engrossing that a couple of times I almost missed my subway/bus stops.

As a self-confessed literary snob, and reader of what I consider fine literature, I’m feeling a bit sheepish that I only discovered Yates last year, because of the pending film treatment of Revolutionary Road. He was writing in my adult lifetime therefore I could have bought his books and helped, at least in a small way, to contribute to his livelihood. That’s probably a ridiculous thought but it does occur to me that a man who is more well-known posthumously as one of the greatest contemporary American writers could have used at least one more reader while he was alive.

Yates did possess a tragic honesty, in his writing and in his life. He lived in ways people couldn’t understand, perhaps not even himself. He wrote about things people didn’t necessarily want to see in the world and recognize in themselves. It occurred to me while reading about his efforts to get those wonderfully crafted stories published in various magazines (esp. his heartbreak over the elusive New Yorker), that the era of reaching career pinnacles is somewhat behind us. The struggle for an agent, publisher, good review, film contract – these are dying goals in an age when you can publish your own blog, thoughts in 140 characters, and books to sell on consignment in stores. Hell, we might not be needing bookstore soon. So reading this biography was in so many ways a look back into an increasing lost time of the great struggle for lasting art.

Yates was one of those creatives who really couldn’t fully see his own talent – all the while using it – and his stories were often rejected because his characters seemed “bleak,” the atmosphere “dismal.” In actual fact, he was writing about human foibles and realities that are largely inarticulated, even still. Some criticized the fact that he mined the same field – that of his chaotic childhood, father-less (for all intents and purposes) and mother-ful (always there but terrifically selfish). I just think autobiography is  what most artists circle back to. His writing was so much more than a mere account of wrongs done to him. He nailed human intention vs. behaviour – for better or worse. I can’t think of anyone I’ve read who does it better.

Now I’m back to reading (in some cases re-reading) his novels and stories, which are all the richer by knowing what influenced and affected him. Like many artists, he was his own worst enemy, procrastinating writing by poor living habits, and sadly because of  his post-war ill health, made worse by his  alcoholism. Although I have yet to write my first novel, and have only published one short story, I can certainly relate to the difficulty of having to hold down a responsible “day job”  that leaves no free time, physically or mentally, for writing. I fully relate to his frustration with the “PR dodge” an anathema to any kind of creative writing. In true form, he came up with the perfect phrase to encapsulate the rally of many writers between paying the rent and contributing artistically.

Obviously anyone who admires the work of this master should read this book. After I exhaust the far two few books in Yates’ library I plan to go back to the book and author that drove his writing ambition, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby Thought I’ve read it numerous times, this time around I want to try to see it through the keen and sensitive writerly eyes of Richard Yates.

I was discharged from the hospital yesterday around 3:30. It took them about 2.5 hours after my doctor took my drain out and told me I was going home to get everything together. I guess my doctor did not tell them (by word of mouth) that I was being discharged. I think it was just put into the computer and if the nurse etc. didn’t check it they would have missed it. She didn’t realize that I was able to go home!

I got home around 4 p.m. and it was just so nice being in my own place. I instantly felt comfortable and happy. I took a short nap and then Radcliffe brought dinner over and we watched a couple of old The Office’s on TV ( I know, that doesn’t really make sense, but we watched re-runs from The Office). Last night I pretty much fell asleep on the couch at 8:30 and woke up only a few times to adjust and take some tylenol. It makes a big difference when you get some sleep!

Today I have felt really good most of the day. I had some visitors (Andy, Audrey, Rebecca, Lynne and Mike!) for about 45 min. and was getting tired about 30 min. into it. Lynne asked me if I was getting tired and I had to confess that I was. They all left around noon and I relaxed some more until lunch and a movie. I watched The Proposal with my mom. My co-worker had suggested it. I actually really liked the movie! Seriously, Rebecca, you should watch it. I got teary and laughed all at the same time. My laughing “voice” is little odd still, but each day it is getting better and stronger.

Tonight we are getting thai food and watching another movie, Revolutionary Road. When Radcliffe comes over … right now!

It’s been raining like crazy today! I want to go for a walk tomorrow though, no matter what.

A blog. A log on the web in which I give my wonderful, personal opinion about whatever the hell I feel like. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to know who I am. So, I’m going to jump straight into it.

It’s really warm out today. It’s perfect. But it freaks me out a little bit, yeah? I mean, it’s almost November and it’s almost 80 degrees. I don’t live in L.A. This should not be happening right now. I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. But still, I wouldn’t be surprised if some freak, monster thunderstorm popped up out of nowhere. You have been warned.

I feel like sitting down and watching a good Kate Winslet movie right now. I have Revolutionary Road. That’s not a good Kate Winslet movie, it’s a Can-this-film-make-me-feel-any-worse-about-marriage Kate Winslet movie. I mean, I love it, but it’s dead depressing.

Now for some random thoughts:

• A zipper on the side of a dress is stupid.
• My neck hurts.
• I officially have a thing for Adrien Brody.
• Russian is really hard to learn.
• I have a hot chocolate addiction.
• I’d rather shoot myself in the leg than do my math homework.
• I’m starving right now.
• Going to math class would be really productive.
• Not going to math class would give me time to eat.
• I think I’m going to flip a coin on the whole math class thing.

Thanks for listening, Loves.

Sam Mendes takes the indie road.

Away We Go is a film about a young couple who are expecting their first child. After learning that the child’s paternal grand parents are moving away, the couple decides they have no reason to remain in their rural town, and begin visiting family and friends across the United States and Canada to try to find the perfect place to raise their soon-to-be family. Along the way they learn vicariously through other couples what they should and shouldn’t do once they become parents.

Director Sam Mendes seems to always make films about the basics of the human relationships, just look at his other films like American Beauty and Revolutionary Road, but instead he takes a fresh and humorous take on relationships.

The one really great thing about this film is that it was really nice to see the couple already in love, and how they actually do understand each other, and really can communicate with one another. They take on their lives together as a team and you see how they comfort one another when things are looking their worst.

The film is more sweet than it is actually funny. The writing team consist of real life husband-and-wife team Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida, and you can tell these are how real couples talk and react to one another after knowing each other for so very long.

The only problem I had with this film is that it starts to get a little to indie for me. The soundtrack that consist of indie folk starts to get a little over-played as each song almost sounds the same, and the usual scruffy looking people staring into space. Also it seems to pose too much as a low-budget film, when really it wasn’t low budget and made for 21 million dollars. Also the quirky humor mixed in with a very melodramatic and convenient ending just seem to make this film a little bit too over indie.

The thing that really makes this film is it’s performances from the two leads. When you have a road film about a couple you really do need 2 strong performances from the leading stars and in this you get it. Maya Rudolph really does step up from her stints on SNL, and shows the depth she can have within a character in a drama. I was a little hesitant with John Krasinski because I thought he was going to be too much like Jim, from The Office, but he really does a great job and adds a lot of good humor to the film. Many of the side characters are all great in this film, and to point out one would be unfair cause each do great with their respectable parts.

Consensus: Though it get’s a little too indie, Away We Go is brutally honest, well-acted, and actually pretty funny, but overall shows a wonderful portrait of the real blessings and sometimes the real tragedies of parenthood.

9/10=Full Priceee!!!

The new issue of Philosophy Now magazine (Sept./Oct. 09) is available. The issue is dedicated to existentialism, and in it you’ll find my review of Revolutionary Road, the film, mostly, but also Richard Yates’ incredible novel, which I couldn’t resist talking about as well.

I’ve copied in the full text of my review here, but I encourage you to buy the magazine. There are a number of terrific articles for all of us parlor existentialists to enjoy. It’s a great issue.

Revolutionary Road

Nick DiChario asks if it’s existential, or just depressing.

All April Wheeler wants is for her husband Frank to shut up. Chances are you’ve felt a similar frustration. You suffer a setback in life – not your run-of-the-mill disappointment, but a game-changer, one of those epic collapses that forces you to take a long, hard look at who you are and what it means to be alive in a world that has turned against you; a moment that makes you reassess a life-long dream and decide whether it’s time to give up on it for good – and you just need a little time and space to think it through.

This is exactly where April is in the opening scene of Revolutionary Road, the film based on Richard Yates’ classic 1961 existential novel. April always wanted to be an actress, and she went to acting school before she met Frank. When she joined the local production of The Petrified Forest, it was mostly to remind herself of her former life, to rediscover the flame that once burned brightly inside her. Connecticut isn’t exactly Broadway, but for a woman of thirty-something, mother of two, opening night at the high school was a big deal. If she had performed admirably – if she had gotten a standing ovation, or even a sincere round of applause – it might have been enough to justify her existence. But she was awful – so awful that she knew she would never act again, and most likely had no talent to begin with. Although this scene is passed over quickly in the film, Yates gives it a good measure of attention in his novel. It is an important moment, a moment in April’s life when desire runs hard up against truth and comes out the worst for it. Frank does his best to console her, make her feel better about her failure; but all she really wants him to do is shut the hell up so she can think, put it all in perspective and rearrange her psyche to cope with the death of her dream. Not too much to ask for – but Frank is incapable of giving it. During the ride home the couple argue violently, each saying things they know will deeply hurt the other. Welcome to the lives of Frank and April Wheeler.

Sam Mendes

Revolutionary Road is directed by Sam Mendes (Jarhead, Road to Perdition, American Beauty), who makes the most of Justin Haythe’s inspired screenplay. Viewers follow the Wheelers from setback to setback as the unhappy couple readjust and compromise their dreams of living interesting, artistic, avant garde lives, and conform to the standard roles of husband and wife, just like all the other husbands and wives in the falsely idyllic suburb in which they live. They always imagined themselves better than the rest; but this illusion fades before their eyes and ours as the film inches forward. Frank once laughed at his father for toiling his life away as a salesman for Knox Business Machines, but through a cruel twist of fate, Frank ends up working for the same company, toiling in much the way his father had toiled. Every time reality becomes too much for the Wheelers, they fight. The kids they never wanted; the job that’s stealing Frank’s best years; the dreadfully boring existence of a housewife… neither of them asked for this life (did they?) – and yet both of them are living it, hating each other for it in their own small ways, and denying one of the most important tenants of existentialism – taking responsibility. Their fights lead to affairs, their affairs to fights. Time and again April asks Frank to shut up because she doesn’t want to talk about it; and Frank, who loves April and is terrified that at any moment she might leave him, can’t stop talking. Their relationship is built on needs not met, and through the first half of the film there seems to be no way out. But is there a way out after all? April comes up with an idea, another potential game-changer.

April is the real star of this story. Without her inner torment there would be no existential conflict. April decides to take control, to meet the enemy head on. Existentialism is concerned with the freedom of choice and what one does with it. It tells us that we are not only fundamentally free to choose, but obligated to make authentic choices. To choose authentically means we are individually responsible to undertake the challenge of continually creating ourselves. This existentialist responsibility is too often misunderstood as dark, moody, and just plain depressing, when in fact it is a call to action, what Sartre describes as “the sternness of our optimism.” After years of denial April finally sees her responsibility for her own life and understands that she and Frank have not been true to themselves. She comes up with a plan to go to Europe “for good.” Frank was stationed in Paris during his stint in the military, it’s the only place he ever talked about returning to, so April decides they must move there. She sees this as her chance to change their course, set things aright. She discovers that she can make good money as a secretary for NATO, or in any number of government agencies overseas. Frank can then, finally, take some time off and discover what he really wants to do with his life. “Don’t you see?” April begs, “You’ll be reading and studying and taking long walks and thinking… For the first time in your life you’ll have time to find out what it is you want to do, and when you find it you’ll have the time and the freedom to start doing it.” Paris is Shangri-La, and if she can convince Frank of this they’ll leave the wretched burbs behind forever. But be prepared, there is a problem, and the viewer can see it coming from a mile away. Only April doesn’t see what is obvious to us: the plan instantly frightens Frank. For all his brave talk, he seems to fit the role of coward just fine. He says he despises his job, but appears to find comfort in it. He claims to be disenchanted with the dull routine of his days, but discovers relief in the tedium, in the daily ride on the train, in the office banter, and in the meaningless affair with the secretary.

Make no mistake, this is the stuff of existentialism, and existentialism is perhaps best served on a literary plate. Many seminal works of existentialism can be found in the stories and plays of Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Franz Kafka, Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. But rarely do dramatic works of existentialism translate well into film, especially of the Hollywood blockbuster type. The internal monologues; the ruminating, self-evaluation and angst; the subtle things that make living in the world absurd, have all produced great literature, but not always riveting cinema. Mendes, however, pulls it off through an intuition for picking the dramatic scenes from Yates’ novel and squeezing the intensity out of each one – the bitter fights, the horrible things the characters say and do to each other, the affairs, April’s clumsy attempt at aborting her unexpected pregnancy… Mendes lets us become intimate voyeurs, and in this way breathes a certain kind of awful life into the film. Even the tortured and psychotic John Givings is used mercilessly to shine a light on the protagonists’ flaws. John at first admires the Wheelers for their plan to escape to Paris; but when he learns that they’ve abandoned the idea he becomes distraught and demands to know why. Frank tells him that April is pregnant – a shock to them both, they hadn’t planned on it, but “suppose we say that people anywhere aren’t very well advised to have babies unless they can afford them. As it happens, the only way we can afford this one is by staying here. It’s a question of money, you see.” He explains this to the psychologically-damaged John as if he’s explaining it to a five-year-old rather than to an adult who once had a brilliant career as a mathematician. But John is not so easily convinced. Money is an excuse, not a reason, and he lets Frank know this: “Don’t people have babies in Europe?… What’s the real reason? You get cold feet, or what? You decide you like it here after all? You figure it’s more comfy here in the old Hopeless Emptiness, or – Wow, that did it! Look at his face! What’s the matter, Wheeler? Am I getting warm?” It’s a brutally honest scene, and the most damning in the film: the patient out of the psychiatric ward on a half-day pass is the only one who has the courage to speak the truth.

It’s an existential wake-up call, but it comes too late to stop the downward spiral of events that lead to the tragic climax. Everything has already been set in motion. April has missed her window of opportunity for a safe abortion, and Frank is responsible for the cold, calculated dismantling of their dream. In the end, the Wheelers suffer not from what they perceive to be the trap society has set for them, but from refusing to act.

Revolutionary Road is a brilliant novel, and I highly recommend the film. You won’t often get a chance to see good existentialism on the big screen. In fact, I have not seen a better attempt since Lo Straniero (1967), based on Albert Camus’ The Stranger. To his credit, Mendes is unfailingly faithful to the novel, picking up on the high-drama points of Yates’ story and paying attention to the nuances. Kate Winslet as April and Leonardo DiCaprio as Frank play their parts magnificently. The minor characters are wonderful as well, especially Kathy Bates as the well-intentioned and irritating Mrs Givings, the real estate agent who sells the Wheelers’ their house on Revolutionary Road.

There is no ‘tosh’ (the word Virginia Woolf was fond of using for frivolous or silly writing) in this tale of self-inflicted wounds. In his famous lecture Existentialism Is A Humanism, Sartre tells us that people must take responsibility for themselves, whatever the situation: “We are alone, without excuses. That is what I mean when I say that man is condemned to be free.” Yates seemed to have been intimately aware of this. He struggled as an author, and never achieved great success or notoriety in his lifetime, suffering acute alcoholism, and mental problems which sent him to a psychiatric ward. This novel is about the truth of human experience, and Yates’ life experiences were pretty ugly. Perhaps the anguish of his own life allowed him to read between the lines of his generation and identify what was ailing it. He used his personal adversity to feed his work and wrote through it all with a clear, sharp, realism that wasn’t appreciated nearly enough in his day. I first read this novel in college and thought it was okay, although a bit boring. It’s amazing what thirty years of perspective can do for a work of art… I have more of an appreciation and sympathy for Yates’ personal sufferings now, and the obvious influences they had on this classic story of disappointment and loss in America. He expertly pulls apart the social order and how we all compromise ourselves to death behind a veneer of cozy acquiescence. Although set in the post-WWII era, it could just as well have been written today.

I can understand why the story might have seemed dull when I was a kid in college; but today, after having inevitably lived some of the disillusionment Yates wrote about, it’s a whole new disturbing ball game. There must have been times when, much like his character April, Yates just wanted everyone to shut up so he could put it all in perspective. In the final scene of the book, and as the film fades to black, in one of the few humorous moments in an otherwise uncompromisingly relentless tale of existential angst, April finally gets her wish.

© Nick DiChario 2009

Nick DiChario was nominated for the Hugo and World Fantasy awards. His novels A Small and Remarkable Life (2006) and Valley of Day-Glo (2008) are published by Robert J. Sawyer Books.

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Medelålderkrisen är inget nytt påfund. Igenkänningen känns nästan skrämmande i vissa avseenden. Slutet gör berättelsen extra minnes”värd”.

I boken serverades många drinkar och snittar, liksom på vår DLK kväll.

Betyg:

this interview was originally published in the Middlebury Campus and is presented here in its unedited form.

The Reel Debate (TRD): First, what attracted you to the novel (Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates)?

Justin Haythe (JH): I’d read the novel with a novelist’s hat on first. Then I was approached by the BBC for an adaptation, and it is a very filmic book in certain ways. So I felt that it could be done justice because it is a great literary novel which rarely makes a great movie, but I felt there was something cinematic and dramatic about it, inherently. There was a kind of mystery posed as to, I mean, literally in the novel the two people are by the side of the road screaming at each other about which one of them is trapped in the marriage, and the film is posing the question: which one is it that is trapped? I had a couple stipulations, I just wanted to make sure they were going to do the abortion and they were going to drink and smoke as much as they do in the book. It’s a pretty unlikely piece of business in Hollywood. They don’t usually crack into books that are that heavy, that dark. So I leapt at the opportunity.

TRD: Can you just take me through the production and how it got started. You said you were approached by the BBC…

JH: I was approached by the BBC and I wrote a draft. Kate Winslet, who shares the same agency as I do, read the draft and became attached as an actress, which is rare, but Kate is someone with great instincts, and we, together, explored different director possibilities. Clearly she was doing what she could at home to convince Sam Mendes, her husband, to direct. He became involved and about six months later Leo (DiCaprio) became involved and then we were in production almost immediately.

TRD: What was your level of involvement during production?

JH: I was at rehearsals, there were three weeks of rehearsals, and he (Mendes) really ran it like a theater company. There was a rehearsal every day, and I was on set every day, which is pretty rare. Sometimes it was thrilling and great. Sometimes not. Film sets are very charged places and in many ways the writer is useless there until he is required.

TRD: I know that Sam comes from a background in theater, and in theater the playwright is paramount, so were there many changes made to the script (during the course of production)?

JH: Yeah, the difference between writing a book and writing a screenplay is that it’s very much alive until the very end, that’s part of the pleasure of it. And it evolves through the editing process, which is very different. You may edit a play during rehearsal but you don’t edit the final product. In some ways (film) isn’t a writer’s medium for that reason, it’s much more a director’s or an editor’s medium than it is a writer’s or an actor’s medium.

TRD: What were some of the problems that you were confronted with while adapting a work that is as well respected as Revolutionary Road is?

JH: There is a devoted following, and the most common comment I got was people coming up and saying, “Whatever you do, don’t f**k it up.” That was their note. [Laughs] The big challenge was that you can’t try and do the novel, because movies are much closer to short stories in shape than they are to novels, so I had to pick something about the novel. One of the great strengths of the novel are the interior words of these characters, it’s largely what this book is about. That was a real challenge, especially finding a way to dramatize how these people miss each other, and what they wish they had said. That was the most obvious challenge.

TRD: I know that your first film, The Clearing, was an original story done by you and director Pieter Jan Brugge. Can you talk about the differences between working on an original idea versus working on an adaptation?

JH: For one thing, the film business is much more comfortable with an adaptation, because there is a feeling that we can look at the object in front of us and generally agree, “We want it (the movie) to look something like that.” There are different kinds of novels. Richard Yates’ novel is one that you live with throughout the process, because it is so cinematic in certain ways and so well dramatized. He is a kind of master at dramatic writing, down to staging and dialog. And you use as much of it as you possibly can. But at the same time as you have a guide, there are also some constraints; whereas preparing an original story there are no constraints. You can follow the story wherever it goes. I was not going to even begin to entertain changing certain parts of this book. It’s not the kind of novel where you combine characters or change the ending. It’s not doable.

TRD: While reflecting on both The Clearing and Revolutionary Road I felt like both films were, to a certain extent, a critique of the American dream. Was that something you were conscious of while writing the films?

JH: No, it’s interesting because I think that Revolutionary Road, in many ways, missed the zeitgeist. When we began the process there weren’t as many people who were dying for a dead-end corporate job and a house in the suburbs. I mean, 6,000 people a month are losing their jobs and it’s a different moment. And so, I don’t think it was any kind of conscious attack on the American dream. I think that there are definite similarities between the two stories in the sense that people felt that they were promised something and when they get to the finish line they find that it wasn’t really the way it was described, at least it doesn’t feel that way. I think class is a pre-occupation of mine, especially because it’s supposed to be invisible in America.

TRD: When I saw Revolutionary Road for the first time I saw it with someone who described the actions of Frank and April Wheeler (the characters played by Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet) as being born out of desperation, whereas I saw them born out of anger….

JH: I mean there can be angry desperation or there can be quiet desperation, but Yates described them as living lives of quiet desperation, which is amazing considering how much they yell and scream at each other. You know, Yates described himself as an anti-feminist and the book, I think, has risen with time and it has become, in many ways, prophetic. But at the time he was, like it or not, characterizing some of the constraints on a woman. Were abortions legal she would not have died. The options to a housewife are a little more limited, but on the other hand there are a wider set of constraints on both characters that I think are still as relevant today as they were in 1955.

TRD: Can you speak to some of those constraints?

JH: Well I think when you get to my age, a lot of women friends I have begin to feel the pressure to have a baby, and I think that pressure and the musical chairs of it haven’t disappeared. I think that the pressure associated with the sense of what a woman is if she isn’t a mother and a wife is still very prevalent. I think what Revolutionary Road is concerned with to a wider degree, and the reason I thought it was worth telling again and what I think is so unique about the book, is that its about people who had an idea about how their lives would turn out and their lives are not tragic but they just haven’t lived up to what they hoped their lives would be. I mean, there’s a question about the book and about the film, and I hope we haven’t really answered it; is it a story about a man growing up and coming to terms with who he is, or is it about a man selling out his better self? I have my ideas about which I think it is, but the world is full of Frank Wheelers who tell themselves that if weren’t for this constraint or that constraint they would be off doing something more interesting. I think that they’re quite happy in their wasted potential, perhaps.

TRD: One of the more interesting characters was John Givings (played by Academy Award nominee Michael Shannon). It’s a brilliant performance, and the character walks a fine line between being comedic and tragic. I imagine it was one of the more difficult roles to write…

JH: Well, John Givings, more than any other character, I took as much of Yates’ dialog as I possibly could. I think that, potentially, John Givings is the most creaky device in the book; the brilliant mad man who speaks the truth. In a way he speaks what the author wants to say. I think that he survives partly because of Michael Shannon’s brilliant performance and Sam Mendes’ direction. It can very easily seem like a device, but it doesn’t. I think that top to bottom the film is unbelievably well cast. Some of the supporting players are truly amazing. Kathryn Hahn, David Harbour, Kathy Bates, Richard Easton, who plays Kathy Bates’ husband is a wonderful stage actor, Zoe Kazan, Dylan Baker, who plays the hard drinking buddy at work. That’s what’s so great about Yates, I’m sure you know people who regale you with their drunken stories so it’s all very true.

TRD: I feel like now, with films like Revolutionary Road and TV shows like Mad Men, there is a desire to look back at this time period.

JH: Yeah, I wonder why that is? I wonder if it’s because it was a time that felt relatively flush, as we just did until about six months ago. It’s not quite the generation that made us, but this is the World War II generation. These guys went off and fought in war and had these life defining experiences which, in many ways, feature almost not at all in both the novel and the film. Thinking back on that you realize that you would have been off fighting Germans at age twenty and everything else would feel like a pale imitation of that experience. I think maybe there’s been a feeling that America has become more conformist over the last decade, more prosperous over the last decade, more consumerist over the last decade. Those are all aspects of the 1950s.

TRD: One of the things that I think is interesting about the film is that its depiction of marriage is never pretty. In fact, it seems to me that the only relatively happy character is John Givings-

JH: I’d say he’s pretty miserable.

TRD: Really?

JH: I think he’s got a dark life ahead of him.

TRD: Of all the couples, though, I’m struggling to come up with a happy one amongst them.

JH: I think that’s absolutely right. This is, by the way, Yates’ world view. If you read his books or any of his stories you get it over and over again, and they’re terrific. Easter Parade is a wonderful novel and makes Revolutionary Road look like a happy story by comparison. I think by the end of the book, and the film is a little bit different, you check in with all the people again. And I think, at best, they’re co-habiting; surviving. Not happy, but Yates’ world view is that they’re got it as good as you can expect to get it. Grim, huh?

TRD: Well, I felt like the ending was happy in an odd way. I almost felt like Frank Wheeler was liberated by April’s death.

JH: Well, that scene is different from what’s in the book. At least it feels different. In the book he gives the children up for adoption to his older brother, who he doesn’t like. People read that scene of him sitting in the playground with them as if he didn’t do that, but he could be visiting his children. We don’t know. That’s the interesting thing about visual storytelling. The kids are always peripheral, in the background, out of focus. It was a very conscious decision by the filmmaker. And in the script. At the end he is sitting facing them, and that’s a difference. A profound difference. I don’t know if it’s happy, but I think at least there’s some sense that he’s going to hold onto what he’s got.

TRD: For me, the most striking scene is the fight that April and Frank have toward the end of the film and the subsequent scene where April cooks him breakfast-

JH: It’s devastating.

TRD: It’s really heartbreaking.

JH: Well I think Yates said it was the best thing he’d ever written, the breakfast scene. I think there’s a lot of truth to that, and I think it’s the most honest they ever are with each other.

TRD: I think that’s what I appreciated about the film were the aspects that were very subtle and very true. In any relationship, after a fight there is always a moment of quiet where you try and go back to normalcy even when going back to normalcy is almost impossible, but that’s something you don’t see in films very often.

JH: One thing I wanted to capture from the book was that shudder of recognition. So much of film is about empathizing with the actor. I think that’s something that makes a successful screen actor is somebody who people can identify with. This is a different kind of identification, and one the audience doesn’t always want.

TRD: And that’s especially true considering that there was a lot made of the re-pairing of Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio.

JH: Absolutely, I mean you survive the boat and this is what you end up with. [Laughs] I mean look, you only get to make a film that is this dark with a certain number of actors, and Leo and Kate are among that small number. By the way, when I say the list is very short, it’s short when it comes to those with ability and are also stars. And I think Leo and Kate are unbelievable in their performances. There is also a certain dialog that the audience has growing up with these people that I don’t think you ignore, and I think Sam Mendes was very conscious of this. It’s something you use to your advantage in storytelling.

TRD: Was that ever a concern of yours during the casting process that people’s associations with the two of them would supersede their characters?

JH: No, I always thought it added something.

TRD: Is it difficult to balance screenwriting with your fiction work?

JH: It is. It’s been more difficult over these past few years because I have very small children. So, I have much less time.

TRD: Which came first, writing fiction or screenwriting?

JH: Fiction.

TRD: And how did you get into screenwriting?

JH: Stumbled. Blindly. Accidentally. I had a friend in the business who encouraged me to give it a go.

TRD: And are you happy you did?

JH: Yeah, very much.

TRD: I assume there are different things that you get out of writing for screen that you don’t get from writing fiction and vice versa…

JH: The pleasure of writing for screen is that it’s collaborative. There’s also the fact that it’s so alive, from beginning to end through the editing process; the fact that you’re in the world, in the sense that it’s a business, which is interesting. Writing a book is much more solitary, but the satisfaction of it is that it’s a writer’s medium and film is not so much a writer’s medium. There are more restraints on your imagination writing for film because of the practicality. You’re writing a blueprint for something that has to go up on screen. A script that doesn’t end up on screen isn’t successful. Or it’s at least a partial birth.