Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Topical Versus Timeless

Years ago, when I was working as a tutor at a community college in New York, I was having a conversation about something (I don't remember what) with a fellow tutor of mine who was from Nigeria. In relation to whatever we were discussing, I mentioned "the Civil War". I took it as a given that my colleague would know which war I was talking about (THE Civil War), but he said to me in reply, "Which Civil War?". Good question. There have so many civil wars over time, and in relation to Nigeria alone the Nigerian Civil War, or Biafran Civil War, from 1967 to 1970 -- at least 100,000 military casualties and millions of deaths from war-related starvation -- is much more recent than the war I was referring to and took for granted he would know I was talking about, the American Civil War. Of course, he did know which war I was referencing, but he wanted to make it a point that I was being a little American-centric in saying "the" Civil War when maybe that isn't the most important civil war, historically speaking, to every person from every country. Anyway, it's odd, but this was a thought I had leaving the film Civil War, which I went to the other day.



First off, let me say, I liked the film, which is an exercise in grim, almost non-stop tension. And I get why Alex Garland, in conceiving and then executing the story, did not want to make it so topical in its reference points to US current events that people watching the film, say, ten years from now might find it hopelessly dated. But at the same time it seems a little bit narratively disenguous to title a film Civil War at this particular historical moment in the United States and then make it so vague in its political underpinnings that it in effect becomes a film about war, or civil war, in general, a war that could be taking place anywhere in the world. That in and of itself is not a paltry aim, and, once again, the film is compelling. It doesn't sugarcoat anything. But a United States in which the states of Texas and California, forming the Western Alliance, are allies against an authoritarian president who has refused to leave office after a second term begs for at least a little explanation. Or is it the film's oblique suggestion that the two large and powerful states, which are are so different in their politics, have indeed banded together to fight a common fascistic enemy? This does seem to be implied. And there are other alliances mentioned in the film such as the Florida Alliance. In other words, the United States has descended into a state of semi-chaos, and I think a character mentions at one point that once the president's loyalist forces are defeated, the forces fighting the rebellion very well might turn against each other, a development that has happened in many a civil war in many countries. Once the enemy is defeated, allies become enemies and war grinds on. The film is plausible, and in today's world it is true that things change so fast and alliances are made that are so unexpected, but I for one could have used a bit more background, however speculative, in exactly how the country has devolved into the state portrayed in the film.

As it stands, journalists are the film's heroes, and there's nothing wrong with that of course. In this regard, the film reminded me a bit of the excellent 1983 film Under Fire, starring Gene Hackman, Nick Nolte, and Joanna Cassidy. That film is set during a real revolution, in the last days of the Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua, as the government forces and a horrible authoritarian regime are being overthrown by the rebel Sandinista forces. Like Civil War, the conflict is seen through the eyes of journalists who put their asses on the line to document the war. It's a film absolutely worth seeing, by the way, and not unlike Civil War, Under Fire ends at a moment almost everyone can agree is a relative high point, a brief moment of optimism, before the inevitable fighting that will ensue between the victorious forces and their factions. Before the new authoritarians, before the inevitable corruption of ideals, the defeat of the one who deserves defeat happens. Civil War, like Under Fire, ends on just the right beat.


Is it possible to make a politically oriented film that is almost aggressively topical but not so topical in its references that it dates fast? It's difficult, but besides Under Fire while watching Civil War, I also thought about films from the Cold War era that tackled nuclear war fear and all the anxieties the US had about Soviet and Chinese communism. The best films of that time, whether dramatic or satiric, tap into then current events and the audience's worries but also do stand up to later scrutiny because they're detailed, well-told stories, films like Fail Safe and The Manchurian Candidate, and, yes, Dr. Strangelove. Those are films both specific to their time but also that can illuminate aspects of human weakness, aggresstion, stupidity, and so forth that are timeless. They are good models for capturing and understanding a particular historical moment in the United States but that also have a broader scope. Civil War almost if not quite gets there, but what is there in the film is strong.





Saturday, April 27, 2024

by

Scott D. Parker

(The day job ate up all my time this week so I'm posting another rerun, this one from 2021. I am working on two new posts starting next week.)

Sometimes old things trigger new questions.

For the longest time, our front living room was television-less. That’s where the library is, it’s where we set up our Christmas tree, and it serves as the guest bedroom. We didn’t mind not having a TV in the front room, but during last year’s NFL season, I pulled out an old TV we had and one of those digital antennas and converter box and set up the TV. I’m the only one in the house who enjoys football and I didn’t want to hog up one of the good TVs just to watch a game.

It’s been kind of fun having that old TV available. I plugged one of our VCRs (yes, really) and a portable DVD player so I could watch the occasional show on it. In terms of live television, however, when it’s not being used for football, it’s on MeTV.

Imagine my surprise, a couple of weeks ago, when suddenly MeTV was not where it usually was. The network recently purchased a station here in Houston and started broadcasting from that new channel. A channel my old converter box/antenna combo did not receive. Cue a drive to Target to purchase a new combo setup. Viola! They work perfectly and I now can get MeTV.

But this new converter box also has a recording feature. It’s like a DVR but only for over-the-air channels. No problem for me. So one afternoon I pulled out the instruction manual to figure out how to record things.

And I received a happy surprise.

“Happy Days” was airing at that time and wouldn’t you know it, the episode in question was “Hollywood, Part 3.” What? You don’t know that episode by title? Well, it’s the exact fifth episode where Fonzie jumps the shark.

Naturally, I ended up watching the rest of the episode.* Yeah, it’s as cheesy as you remember it to be, but I reckon my nine-year-old self was glued to the TV in suspense, just like the Cunninghams were.

The term “jumping the shark” has been used to define when a TV show went off the rails. That is, when it stopped being the original thing it was and became something else, usually a shell of its former self. Just me writing this brings to mind many a show to your minds. That time when Bruce Willis and Cybil Shepherd got together in “Moonlighting.” That time when Victoria Principal discovered Patrick Duffy’s Bobby Ewing in the shower and they told you the entire season you had just watched…was a dream. That time when David Duchovny left “The X-Files.” Those are just off the top of my head.

Then I got to thinking: Are there literary “jumping the shark” moments? Are there books in long-running series that jump the shark? I know there must be, but I’m not coming up with any. Granted, I’ve not read many long-running series. There are 52 In Death books by J.D. Robb (Nora Roberts). John Sandford has written 31 in the Prey series. Twenty-five Jack Reacher books exist and I don’t even want to start counting the number of series James Patterson has written. Erle Stanley Gardner wrote 80 Perry Mason novels (and 30 Cool and Lam novels). The old pulp writers Lester Dent (Doc Savage) and Walter Gibson (The Shadow) wrote a novel a month for years.

The point is, there are many a long-running series in the book world. Have (or did) any of them jump the shark?

Follow-up Question


By the way, Happy Days went on for another six years, eleven seasons in total. Were all those post-shark episodes bad? Probably not. The TV show Dallas recovered from the Bobby-in-the-Shower moment, but The X-Files and Moonlight didn’t.

So if there is a book series that jumped the shark, did that series recover?
 

*Side note: The other plot for this episode (and probably parts 1 and 2) was Richie mulling over a choice of whether or not to attend college or head out to Hollywood and sign a film contract. I had completely forgotten this since I probably saw the episode on the date of its airing and then never again since. But there’s a nice scene between Richie and his dad. Howard Cunningham gives his son a nice pep talk, ending with a reminder: no matter what Richie choose, his father will support him and be proud of him. Now that I’m a dad myself, this scene got to me in a way my nine-year-old self couldn’t possibly have imagined.

Saturday, April 20, 2024

History Comes Alive With The Lincoln Conspiracy

by

Scott D. Parker

(To commemorate the Apple TV series, Manhunt (the story of the search for John Wilkes Booth and his co-conspirators), here is a review (from 2020) of a book that looks at the first attempt on Lincoln's life.)

There's a moment in The Lincoln Conspiracy: The Secret Plot to Killed America's 16th President - and Why It Failed where the President-elect hears dire warnings from two independent sources that his life is in danger and he takes action. He agrees to sneak out of a pre-Inauguration Day party in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, don a disguise, and be whisked away by train, all in an effort to thwart the plot to kill him in Baltimore. That moment consists of me breathlessly wondering: Is he gonna make it?

It's been 155 years since his death. There's a giant statue of President Lincoln in Washington, He's on the penny. He's one of the most famous Americans of all time. He might be recognized in nearly every corner of the world here in 2020. Of course he makes it.

But that's the testament to the writing skill of Brad Meltzer and Josh Mensch: they weave the story and the details in such a way as to make history read like a thriller. And dang if this story won't thrill you.

We all know Lincoln's ultimate fate on Good Friday, 1865, but few know of the first plot to kill him before he even took office. I'll admit I learned about it back in grad school at the University of North Texas but it was only in passing. I knew it was foiled and that private detective Allan Pinkerton played a key role. But I never knew the details that fill over 350 pages in this remarkable book.

Much like they did with The First Conspiracy: The Secret Plot to Kill George Washington (2019), Meltzer and Mensch dig deep into the details of this 1861 plan hatched by a cabal of Southern loyalists. They didn't want the president-elect—who carried no slave-holding states in the recent election—to take his place in the White House. At the time, the Republican Party was against the institution of slavery even if Lincoln himself tried to steer a narrow line between free and slave.

Following a tradition dating back to America's first president, Lincoln traveled from his home in Springfield, Illinois, to Washington, D.C., in the weeks leading up to his inauguration. Two things gave the Southerners fuel for their plot: Lincoln's itinerary was published in many papers and the rail-splitter from the west would have to change trains in Baltimore. What made this transfer problematic was not only was Maryland a slave state, but the transfer wasn't merely changing trains in a single station. No, this change from one rail line to another involved literally moving a train car about a mile from one station to the next. In that time, with the expected throngs of Southern sympathizers clogging the streets, the president-elect's life would be in jeopardy.

Hired by one of the railroad men to protect threats against the railroad, Pinkerton and one of his agents, Kate Warne, uncovered the real plot. It was then Pinkerton urged Lincoln to change his plans. The new president demurred until a fateful night when word of the plot arrived from his recent rival and future Secretary of State, William Seward. Convinced of the threat, Lincoln finally allowed himself to be disguised and sneak into the nation's capital under the cover of darkness.

Like they did with their Washington book, Meltzer and Mensch write their prose in the present tense. It gives the story an immediacy, a will-he or won't-he vibe that's pretty darn exciting. Often, they'll recount a scene and then cut to a contemporary scene in another part of the country. You really get a bird's eye view of the whole situation.

If you are a fan of audiobook, preeminent narrator, Scott Brick, reads the book. He could read the phonebook and I'd pay to hear it. He narrates everything he does so well, and I especially like the timbre of his voice as he reaches the end of the book and reads the last lines from Meltzer and Mensch.

History isn't just names and dates, laws and wars, pop culture and events. It is people, real people, living their lives and making decisions based on the best knowledge they have at any given time. Some decisions are momentous: the outcome of the 1861 election, the secession of the Southern states, the foiled assassination in 1861 and the successful one four years later. This book peels away some of the veneer Lincoln now lives with in the American imagination in the 155 years since his death, showing us a real guy, beset by personal and national tragedy, who is doing the best he can. Ditto for Pinkerton, Warne, and the Southerners.

Books like these breathe life into history, and as a historian, we need more books like this so folks in the 21st Century can be entertained and learn a little something along the way.


Highly recommended.