A complete disgrace

I guess it’s only fitting that it should transpire thus: today, Oct. 21st, one of the greatest days of the year – and certainly my favourite of the month – finds me both monstrously busy and frustratingly sick.  I don’t have time to do the things I want to do.  I don’t have time to write the essay analyzing Nelson’s intricate character, his commingled glories and failings, his ferocious competence and devotion to his men.  I don’t have time to describe the risky maneuvers that saw his squadron deployed to such devastating effect against the combined French/Spanish fleet 204 years ago.  No time for the Combined Fleet’s departure from Cadiz, or for the two driving lines of the English.  I don’t have time to hail the fortitude of HMS Victory’s crew, taking continuous fire at one point for 40 minutes straight from four ships with 364 guns between them – one of them the Santísima Trinidad, then the largest ship on the face of the Earth – or of the no less glorious exploits of ships with names now firmly ensconced in the annals of naval history.  No time for Bucentare; no time for Redoutable.  No time for Temeraire, or Belleisle, or Royal Sovereign, or Achille.  No time for Cuthbert Collingwood.  No time for Captain Hardy, or Dr. Scott, or the surgeon Beatty, or even Vice-Admiral Pierre de Villeneuve.

No time for Vice Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson.  No time to remember his triumph and death.

No time to discuss the battle’ s dubious necessity or rationale.  No time to discuss its consequences.  No time to consider the unhappy clerical friend of Chesterton’s who maintained that the practical result of the Battle of Trafalgar was the make the world safe for aggressive, industrialized protestantism.  No time for any of it.

England expects that every man will do his duty.  I cannot do mine.

Hey look at that

I guess I took the weekend off. Sorry about that.

Getting back on track this evening.

Update: Actually I’ve got to finish some marking and do a bunch of other things, so it might be longer even than that.  I don’t want to get into this habit of not writing, again, but I just have to not write for a little while.

Kate Beaton tells the truth

I wasn’t crazy about her Isaac Brock comic, but she knows what she’s about:

Damn right you do.

Mournful and ancient regrets

The Letters of Note blog, devoted to the wider dissemination of all manner of interesting letters, postcards, notes and so on from both today and ages past, has a scan and a translation of a thousand-year-old form letter from China – a form letter – in which the author expresses his regrets for a previous night’s drunken foolishness. It’s pretty delightful:

Yesterday, having drunk too much, I was intoxicated as to pass all bounds; but none of the rude and coarse language I used was uttered in a conscious state. The next morning, after hearing others speak on the subject, I realised what had happened, whereupon I was overwhelmed with confusion and ready to sink into the earth with shame.

Be sure to check it out in situ. The scan is quite beautiful, and there’s a link to other material of a similar nature recovered from a stash of documents originally produced by the ancient Dunhuang Bureau of Etiquette

Let Me In

News! And not all of it bad!

In my original review for last year’s almost unendurably excellent Swedish vampire children movie, Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right One In), I concluded with a chilling look to the future:

As is often the case with foreign horror movies (and Let the Right One In is indeed a horror movie, whatever else it may be), an American remake is in the works and is due to be released in 2010. I’m betting they up the age of Oskar and Eli to their late teens and treat vampires in the Blade/Underworld manner, thereby ruining it. Oh, who am I kidding; they’ll ruin it no matter what they do. That’s what they do, now. They ruin things. Still, if it leads some intrigued viewers to check out the original, it may well be worth it in the end.

It turns out that my fears might have been misplaced, and there are a number of reasons for this.

First, Let Me In (as it’s now called) isn’t actually a remake. It is instead a readapation from John Ajvide Lindqvist’s original 2004 novel, and one that the director had apparently intended to make anyway even apart from the Swedish version. That’s something.

It’s also the case that they haven’t committed the seemingly inevitable crime of upping the children’s ages to the late teens to make things more sexy. They really are just kids, and I’m glad they’ll be kept that way.

What’s more, the kids themselves are to be portrayed by two young actors who have recently demonstrated considerable talent and potential. The role of Eli (now Abby) will be played by Chloe Moretz, who at the age of 13 already has four large-scale movies in production, and, if advance reports may be trusted, will likely destroy the entire world with her work as the adorable killing-machine Hit-Girl in the upcoming adaptation of the Millar/Romita comic series, Kick-Ass. Oskar (now Owen), will be played by the lesser-known Kodi Smit-McPhee, a 13-year-old Australian boy who will next be seen as The Boy in the hotly-anticipated adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. When Viggo Mortensen says that someone is one of the most gifted actors he’s ever worked with, it might be worth listening to him. It bodes well for Let Me In, anyway.

Finally, the film’s aesthetic direction seems to owe much to the Swedish version even if it’s intended as a new take on the original book:

Not too bad at all, actually.

So, my official stance on this production has gone from “worried” to “basically content.” Further bulletins once the trailers start to hit.

The Return of the Prince

Books and Culture has a fine article in its most recent issue about the latter-day revival of interest in the works of G.K. Chesterton in North America and elsewhere. It’s pretty thorough, and contains at least one shocking and unprecedented sentence:

Here one might briefly note the role of Christian rock in the revival of Chesterton in America.

Now you have to read it.

Still, there is at least one deficiency:

[Christian musician Larry] Norman found [future American Chesterton Society president Dale] Ahlquist reading a book by C. S. Lewis and asked if he was familiar with Chesterton. Upon discovering that he wasn’t, Norman cryptically remarked that after reading Chesterton one doesn’t even “need” Lewis anymore.

Oh come on.

Back from Bulgaria

As the title of this post suggest, friend-of-this-blog Craig Burrell has finally returned from his recent trip to Bulgaria.  Good!

October 15th – Exile and Disgrace

1815

Following his great loss at Waterloo, Napoleon Bonaparte went into hiding.  He did not hide for long, however, as the triumph of his enemies at home and abroad was impossible to deny.  His dominions had fallen, Louis XVIII was restored to the throne, and the call was put out from one end of Europe to the other that the Monster was finished at last.  One of the most tenacious and unconquerable men to ever sit upon a throne, it became his inevitable and horrifying duty to formalise his own defeat.

The process began in July of that year, a month after the battle that destroyed all his hopes and so aggravated his poor health that many of those close to him thought he would die within weeks.  Under the careful protection of a retinue of loyalists, Bonaparte made his way to the docks at Rochefort, on the south-west coast of France, and there presented himself to Captain Frederick Maitland of HMS Belerophon, which happened to be moored there at the time.  After attempts to get Maitland to allow Bonaparte to sail for America failed, the Corsican Tyrant formally surrendered himself to the Englishman.  A letter addressed to England’s Prince Regent was given to Maitland to deliver; its contents are worth reading:

Your Royal Highness,

A victim to the factions which distract my country, and to the enmity of the greatest powers of Europe, I have terminated my political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw myself upon the hospitality of the British people. I put myself under the protection of their laws; which I claim from your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies.

Napoleon.

The voyage back to England was largely uneventful, but was naturally marked by the deep significance that Bonaparte’s involvement demanded.  Maitland’s memoirs of this journey, published in 1826, are also worth browsing if you have the time.  It was all that I could do to stop reading them myself, just now, so that I could even make this post at all.

There was some question among the English as to what, precisely, was to be done with Bonaparte.  As his letter indicates, he had thrown himself upon the mercy of England and her laws, and to deny asylum even to the Monster of Europe would have been a betrayal of the ideals that had so long been seen as standing in stalwart opposition to his own.  There was a significant camp among those passing comment on his status as a prisoner who wished to see him executed for his “crimes,” but in the end cooler heads prevailed.  Bonaparte was sentenced to exile, again, and sent to the island of St. Helena, a truly isolated spot in the Atlantic – roughly 2000km from any major coastline.  He arrived on Oct. 15th, 1815, and would stay there until his death on the 5th of May, 1821.

Many would look upon this as only fitting, and in no sense a sad or unfortunate thing.  I cannot agree.  Whatever Bonaparte’s flaws – and they were many – he was nevertheless one of the most remarkable men to ever walk the Earth, and it is something bordering on a tragedy that his charisma, intellect and pure logistical brilliance could have been put to no use whatsoever.  He fretted his remaining years away on an island of no consequence, his life governed by an English commander – the infamous Hudson Lowe – who did not accord him the respect and dignity he deserved, and who implemented frequent measures designed to infringe upon his rights as a prisoner and to break from the genial treatment that had been the hallmark of all other English custodians up to that point.  The greatest European since Charlemagne was defeated, bound in isolation, and forgotten.  What he could have done, in concert with sympathetic English authorities, can only ever be the stuff of sad fantasy.

Incidentally, it was also on this day in 1894 that the Dreyfus Affair began its awful course in France with the arrest of the Jewish artilleryman Alfred Dreyfus on charges of espionage and treason.   Although he would later be exonerated, the affair was an ugly moment in French history, and indeed in that of Europe.  More on that some other time; for now, however, it is enough to pause and remember.

Oh really

It is being maintained by some of those in the know about such things that the imminent Michael Jackson movie, This Is It – a rushed compilation of archival footage, rehearsals, classic performances and new material, all presented in HD – will throw all notions of conventional earning to the ground and take in a staggering $250 million over its first five days of release.  This is based on advanced sales, which are inordinately strong, and the apparently insatiable demand for the movie that exists among the viewing public.

Why do I feel like they’re in for a big – and disappointing – surprise?

I’m hardly the target audience for this production, so I won’t try to extrapolate my own lack of interest onto the public as a whole, but it remains the case that the only people I’ve seen talking about this thing are media analysts and those who were directly involved in producing it.  I spend a lot of time in theatres and music shops and public places, and I talk to lots of people about these things, and not one of them – not a single one – has shown even the slightest awareness that This Is It exists or that the’yre supposed to be flocking to it.

The “new” single (actually written by Jackson and Paul Anka in the early 80s for another artist who ended up performing it many times) after which the movie was named received its radio debut a few days ago, and the response was underwhelming.  The song itself is only so-so – it’s more remarkable for the production values, which are immense; orchestration, back-up singing and synth effects were added seamlessly to what was previously just a voice and a piano – and CNN reports that, on average, only about half of the radio stations to which the song was sent for its debut performance actually played it within the expected timeframe.  Indeed, it was only the 21st most-played song that day even across the stations that actually played it, and the numbers could only go down from there.

So can the 21st most-played song presage the single biggest film opening in the history of Hollywood?  It’s hard to say.  Look at the viewing public’s appetite for concert films in general.  The original report from Deadline Hollywood above notes that This Is It is outselling the previous record-holder for advance sales – the Hannah Montana: Best of Both Worlds concert movie – 2 to 1 in the same timeframe.  That’s nice, but keep it all in perspective: it only earned about $70 million overall (albeit in a more limited release; still, this is the record-holder), and it would be difficult to say that Michael Jackson’s star is really any higher than Hannah Montana’s, at this point.  His recent death will certainly be a bump, as will the wider release, but will it be a $180 million bump in the first five days?  I don’t think so.

Other concert features performed even less spectacularly.  The Scorsese/Rolling Stones concert doc Shine a Light – which was great – had a worldwide haul of about $14 million.  U2 3D earned $22 million.  It’s not a huge field, although the modest budgets typically involved ensure a good return on investment.

Anyway, I’m not predicting a flop opening for This Is It.  Its advance ticket sales really have been strong, so there’s clearly an interest, but it’s not an interest I’m seeing anywhere other than in news reports about it.  If I were feeling extravagant, I’d put the five-day haul at $100 million – no more – but more likely in the $70 – $80 million range.  Be sure to check back in two weeks to see how it pans out.

October 14th – Heroic Defiance

Hastings

At the Battle of Hastings, on this day in 1066, King Harold II, of the Anglo-Saxons, was killed during the course of his desperate resistance against the forces of the Norman invader, William the Conquerer. With their king dead, and suffering the full onslaught of William’s highly-trained archers and cavalry, the Anglo-Saxons broke and fled. A Frenchman would sit upon the English throne by Christmas of the same year.

“The Bull Moose”

In a much more positive moment for the English-speaking world (sort of), it was on the same day in 1912 that Theodore Roosevelt, running for president again under the new flag of the Progressive Party, was shot in the chest by a would-be killer while preparing to give a speech in Milwaukee. The moment was a positive one, anyway, because the bullet’s path was obstructed by Roosevelt’s eyeglass case and thickly folded speech, both of which happened, by the whimsy of providence, to be in his breast pocket. Roosevelt, already the greatest man who ever lived, grabbed the moment by the throat in his customary way and forced it to its knees, solidifying his place in the annals of badass history by delivering a ninety-minute campaign speech with an assassin’s bullet in his chest. Much of it was extemporaneous, in fact, the original having just been pierced through by a bullet; you can read it here. Be prepared to laugh, too, for Roosevelt’s continued assurances to anxious onlookers becoming increasingly excellent. “Don’t you waste any sympathy on me. I have had an A-1 time in life and I am having it now.”

Uprising at Sobibor

Prisoners at the Sobibor death camp in Poland staged an uprising on this day in 1943, killing eleven SS officers and making possible the escape of 300 Jews. Many were quickly recaptured, however, and only some 50 or so of those who escaped survived the war.

The Conscientious Destroyer

Relatedly, the noted German (I will not say Nazi) general Erwin Rommel died on this day one year later, in 1944, murdered by his own superiors for his involvement in the plot to remove Adolf Hitler from power. Given the choice between exposure, a lengthy show trial, and the collective punishment of him, his family, and everyone they knew, on the hand, and Rommel’s willing death on the other, the illustrious general chose the latter. His exact fate is unknown, for there are two competing traditions: while it is relatively certain that he was driven to the outskirts of the town of Herrlingen, one story maintains that he was given a cyanide capsule and left alone in the car to do what needed to be done, while the other holds that he was shot by the two military policemen who had driven him out there in the first place.

In any event, Rommel’s family and friends were spared the complete doom that would otherwise have fallen upon them, and Rommel himself was buried with full military honours, the official story being that he had died heroically in the line of duty. The truth about his execution, and the reasons for it, would not come out until the Nuremberg Trials. These revelations bolstered a reputation that was already extraordinarily good, for a member of the German general staff, owing to his battlefield competence, far-reaching chivalry and complete refusal to follow Hitler’s orders concerning the brutal treatment of Jews, prisoners and Allied commandos. As it was with Robert E. Lee, the man and the cause were not always the same.