"For love of country they accepted death." — James A. Garfield
For me the most interesting thing about the Fox TV series House, the final episode of which aired last night, was the way the narratives balanced cynicism and compassion, doubt and faith, solipsism and humanitarianism. What was perhaps most extraordinary about the show was that it managed to accomplish this through the depiction of its complex central character, Dr. Gregory House, a cynical, manipulative, oddly selfish medical diagnostician whose great genius is applied to solving medical mysteries.
House has no spiritual beliefs and looks upon the human race with undiluted cynicism: "Everybody lies," he says, and that, to him, is enough. He is devoted strictly to the truth.
What "the truth," is, however, has always been the real mystery of the show. . . .
My high school alma mater is a Catholic school, and it’s been gathering some national attention this week after rescinding an invitation to its graduation keynote speaker because not only is he gay, but as well engaged to be married to another man. These facts were not volunteered to the school’s principal when he made the offer to speak, but discovered later by a visit to the young actor’s Facebook page. Apparently it came as a surprise to the erstwhile speaker, also an alumnus of the school, that this information might’ve been critical to his selection as speaker. The topic has become a cause celebre, and certainly a good career move for the young actor. HuffPo has weighed in, and a video made by the young man has gone viral. However, I stand by my alma mater’s decision, which is the topic of my column today in The Michigan View: http://www.michiganview.com/article/20120426/MIVIEW/204260499/Walker–The-First-Amendment-is-for-churches-too
Recently I had the good fortune to attend a screening of Stranger on the Third Floor (1940), arguably the first film noir ever made. Film noir is hard-boiled crime film that incorporates, from German Expressionist film, stylistic elements that communicate the moral corruption of the world as depicted by film noir, and also the psychological turmoil of the characters.
Film noir had its heyday in the decade and a half- or so following the Allied victory in World War II, and it is certainly a bit puzzling that, after such a great victory, there would be a bevy of films emphasizing the darkness of the world and the heart of man. Film noir also surprises those who regard the United States as characterized by optimism, even a certain naivete, and an indomitable can-do spirit. . . .
When Dexter Gordon passed away in 1990, Detroit Free Press columnist Mitch Albom penned an article boasting he owned every one of the jazz saxophonist’s albums while simultaneously lamenting the majority of his readership probably didn’t even know who Gordon was. Instead, Albom took the opportunity presented by Gordon’s death to tell his readership they were stupid, uncultured louts who probably knew all the lyrics to Madonna’s hit singles. Madge, you may recall in those days, was still somewhat of an enfant terrible. It was an apples v. oranges argument, in other words, and somewhat fatuous on Albom’s part. This brings us to the media storm surrounding the death of Dick Clark and the comparative cricket chirping attending the passing of Levon Helm. The former was a marketing-savvy promoter who broadcast rock, pop, and disco infomercials into America’s living rooms every week for decades. No harm there, as parents were assured by the smooth-talking, youthfully handsome, hip yet terminally white-bread host that rock music wasn’t really all that dangerous. Yes, the longhairs wielded electric guitars like blade-brandishing barbarians laying siege to Rome, but they were held back from complete victory by adhering to the strictures enforced by lip syncing to
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