Funny People and The Hurt Locker: Two Visions of Masculinity

funny_people_movie_poster

Over at The Film Talk, Jett and I have posted our latest podcast for your listening enjoyment/provocation/an agreeable way to pass the time.

This episode is dedicated to two of the most engaging films I've seen this year - Iraq war deep focus minimalist action film 'The Hurt Locker' and 'Funny People', the Judd Apatow/Adam Sandler comic drama that's dividing audiences wildly (I can see everything that its detractors dislike about it; but the experience of watching was, for me, delightful).  If you've not heard The Film Talk before, you might want to try this episode.

the-hurt-locker-onesheet

John Hugheses I Have Known

Cameron-back-733441Cameron Frye: John Hughes' Alter-Ego?

1: The girlfriend who watches 'Some Kind of Wonderful' over and over again, as if it contains hidden treasures about the nature of Being that will only be discovered by multiple viewings.

2: The nerd who sees Ferris Bueller as some kind of role model; unreachable, superheroically attractive (I mean, singing 'Twist and Shout' on top of a float and bringing the whole of Manhattan Chicago to its feet?  Has there ever been anything as cool?) (Of course the answer is yes, but when you're eleven years old, your horizons are both expanded by your belief in fantasy, and limited by experience.)

3: The lonely, overweight, unhappy guy who devotes himself to selling shower curtain rings, and teaches a cynic to get in touch with his inner human while finding himself a new family.

4: The kid who learns to stand on his own two feet by turning his house into a burglar-intimidating castle.

5: The young guys who deal with their fear of women by creating the perfect female in a lab.

Now, I was a little too young to see the Hughes teenage films when first released; but Ferris Bueller had a life on home video that lasted long enough for me to wonder.  The notion of taking a day off school just for the hell of it collided with my Puritan-seeped Ulster Protestantism; but I like to think that my regular abandonment of study periods in favour of going for a walk was at least an echo of Matthew Broderick's archetypal centre of attention.  Having said that, while re-telling myself the typical Hughes narrative, in the hours since his sudden death was announced yesterday, it became clear that Bueller is far from his favourite character.

Hughes is with the underdog - the mousey girl who thinks she'll never be in love, the fat guy who needs a friend, and perhaps most of all, the thinking nerd with the difficult home life, who wants to be a good friend, and get his dad's attention.  Take a bow, Cameron Frye, friend of Ferris, whose experience after the credits roll intrigues me more than almost any other character I grew up with.  What happens to you, Cameron, when your dad comes home to find his sports car wrecked?  I always assumed that you would get your ass kicked.  I didn't want that for you; I hoped that the destroyed Ferrari would become the ashes from which you and he could build a new relationship.  But I don't think that's what happened.  I do think that the broken glass and mangled chassis became the ground from which you became an adult.

Nostalgia for John Hughes films can work in a number of ways - we can feel regret at getting older, we can romanticise the past (let's not forget that the reason we liked his films was rooted in how much we didn't like being kids), we can smile a wry smile at the memories of stupid things we did, or courageous.  For me, I think of Cameron Frye.  Not, himself, the coolest guy in the class; but the friend.  Not, himself, the sports hero; but the fan.  Not, himself, the king; but just happy to be in the palace grounds.  So used to being terrified of what the authorities might do to him when he makes a mistake that his only possible response to complete screw-uppery is to decide he's going to take it like a man, and in the process, become one.

Healthcare and Me Part 3

Part 2 continued. I have friends in the UK who are doctors, men and women who work in intensive and busy careers.  (Like many salaried positions, things get exponentially better the longer you're in the system.  And, like their counterparts in the US, UK doctors have to work such long hours for low reward at the start of their careers that many might ask if it's worth it.)  But once they've been working for a while, they tend to live in nice houses, take a couple of good holidays a year, drive nice cars.  According to the UK National Health Service’s own website, consultant doctors can earn the equivalent of between $120 000 and $285 000 depending on length of service and performance related awards.  And of course, none of that salary needs to be used for personal health care costs.

And if that salary isn’t sufficient for the doctor’s wishes, no problem.  The private health care industry in the UK is thriving too.  If you really want a routine operation done a little more quickly, in a hospital with nicer décor, I’d recommend it.  Plenty of surgeons who work for the NHS most of the time also do some evening and weekend work for private hospitals, supplementing their income by as much as $2500 per day.

This may all seem too simple – for these things are never just a matter of cash, many UK health professionals are discontent with this imperfect system, and my comments don't include the challenges of malpractice insurance (although the UK is a less litigious culture, and malpractice awards can always be capped by legislation).  Yet how is it possible that the UK is able to provide universal, free at the point of use healthcare, with a significantly lower national average salary, and lower tax rates than the US?

Is it the fact that US infrastructure is broken?  There’s certainly anecdotal evidence that government is often wasteful, and functions less efficiently than it should.  (After three visits to my local Social Security agency, I still didn’t have clear answers to questions I’d been asking since last September.)

Is it the fact that many of my fellow (US) Americans have bought the lie that a service isn’t worth anything unless you’re paying for it?  That the value of something is determined by its price?  Maybe – one of the criticisms of the UK system that I hear most frequently is the assumption that ‘free’ means ‘not very good’.  The fact that I have no tonsils, no skin cancer, my lower teeth haven’t collided with each other, and I can breathe at night are of course evidence to the contrary.  I don’t think I would have been more quickly attended to, or given a better service if I had had to go into debt to pay for my healthcare.

The foundations of the mythical value placed on privatization in the US should be creaking, given the events of the last year (now that the government is a majority owner of General Motors and the financial industry only exists because two Presidents threw ‘em a few bucks til the weekend).  But the belief that private industry always saves still seems to have the power of a religious dogma.

People will ask me how I think healthcare can be paid for in the future.  Well, as someone with a gentler voice than I might say, I don't know much about the science book; but let me hazard a guess: Isn't it just possible that there's already enough money in the system to pay for basic healthcare provision for everyone?  Money that might currently be being spent on other, less valuable things?  Call me irresponsible, but maybe the huge outlay of funding for misguided militarism in the past eight years might have been better spent?

Ultimately, with a tax rate lower than the US, a national average income significantly lower, and a healthier population, the question has to be asked: if the UK and northern Ireland can do it, why can't we take care of our fellow human beings, as well as our own families, and ourselves through the provision of basic healthcare, free at the point of need?

Why the USA is Different #1: Overheard in the Line at the Social Security Office, August 7th 2009

Security guard: "Now you all have important business to transact today.  So there are no weapons allowed inside.  No knives, guns, no pepper spray. Don't worry, you can just leave those in the car." Response: One of the guys in the line in front shook his head, and groaned the kind of groan you hear when an announcement is made that the movie theatre is sold out, or the restaurant doesn't have any shrimp; and put his gun back in his car.

The Man-Ape

ape Jett and I had the pleasure earlier today of interviewing the performer responsible for one of the most archetypal images in cinema: Dan Richter, the Man-Ape in Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey'.  Over forty years have passed since he threw that bone in the air, but time has not dimmed Dan's willingness to talk about this magnificent film.  He even goes to the trouble of explaining what he thinks it's all about.  I have been passionate about '2001' since my Dad first encouraged me to watch it on BBC2 on a Saturday afternoon ; it was a strange and beautiful experience to talk to the man who created an indelible vision in a transcendent piece of cinema.  Have a listen - you'll enjoy it.