If I Were Still in Grad School

I have the greatest fondness for the Critical Studies courses I took in film school, and especially for the insane papers I was given license to write for said classes.

For Prof. Drew Casper's Hitchcock course, I explored Hitch's use and subversion of Cary Grant's public persona. This was hugely enjoyable, not least because it allowed me to a) watch Notorious over and over and over again and b) rail at length against the fiasco that is Suspicion. God! Just saying the name of the movie makes me angry all over again. It's a perfectly good, even chilling piece of suspense -- it even has a haunting scene involving a staircase, as in Notorious -- but with one glaring flaw.

Someone convinced/bribed/forced Hitchcock to re-edit the end of the movie, on the grounds that the American public did not want to see Grant as a bad guy. Result: You waste two hours of your life watching a movie that STRONGLY IMPLIES that Grant intends to kill his wife, and then see the whole thing go pouring down the drain when it ends with heavily doctored scene of the two actors, apologising to each other for all the previous two hours of misunderstandings, and agreeing to go forward in marital bliss.

(I say "heavily doctored" because each actor delivers the crucial lines with the back of his/her head to the camera -- the better to conceal that whatever's being said, it isn't what actually came out of the actor's mouth when they shot the scene the first time.)

Almost as enjoyable, but utterly indefensible as a serious critical studies paper was my James Bond paper, exploring the motifs from Thunderball borrowed/misappropriated by the BBC production team behind the mid-60s seasons of Doctor Who. This involved multiple viewings of Thunderball and a grainy, US-format videotape of a DW episode entitled, I believe, The Silurians.

I realize that might sound insane, but the production team actually admitted they had, in fact, based the Third Doctor and his various toys on James Bond, so in many respects, this paper was far more factual and academically valid than my Grant paper.

Film school is far, far behind me now. (Er, by which I mean it's been about a year since I graduated. Whoo hoo! Fourteen months of MFAhood!) But I still feel the urge, now and then, to hole up with a pile of books and a couple of DVDs and whip off 12 pages on some intersection of high and popular culture. In recent weeks, the list of possible papers has been stacking up in my mind, so I'm making a blog post of them, the better to inspire topic-hungry scholars everywhere:

Dollhouse vs. A Doll's House - Joss Whedon a) is a graduate of Wesleyan, with b) well-documented feminist beliefs (see: Buffy the Vampire Slayer), and c) has eyes. Therefore, there is zero chance he has not read/studied the ur-feminist drama, Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House. In this paper, we will explore the thematic commonalities between the two works, including the female protagonist who is underestimated by everyone in her world, the rigid institutions around both Echo and Nora that will not allow them to grow into full personhood, and the explicit debt each woman owes and is endeavoring to repay by "serving" in one or more roles within the existing power structure.

Becker vs. House - Two likeable comic actors, two surly misanthropic medical doctors. One is a monster hit, one is a little-respected sitcom now enjoying a belated popularity in syndication. What the hell?

From Fast Ball to Sleaze Ball: The Evolving Dramatic Personae of Ted Danson - The same guy that America scorned when he played a surly misanthropic doctor, now enjoying critical acclaim for his turn as an utterly corrupt pump-and-dump CEO on Damages. Is it the silver hair? What the hell?

Jack Lemmon: Stinking up the Joint Since 15 Seconds After Filming Wrapped on The Apartment - Yes, agreed. Jack Lemmon was amazing in his early films. And then he ossified in a horrific caricature of his earlier performances. So much so that I believe Mamet deliberately cast him in Glengarry Glen Ross because Lemmon's terrible, overly-mannered acting was the only way to show the audience exactly how rote his character's salesmanship had become.

Richard Dreyfus: The Anti-Jack Lemmon - Unlike Lemmon, I think Richard Dreyfus has delivered a lifetime of smart, unique performances. (Not counting his laugh, which is always the same, no matter what movie. But I can't hold that against him. A man's laugh is like his sex face -- it's not really the kind of thing he can change.)

(Mom, if you're reading my blog, now might be a good time to stop.)

But in 2009, there is an unthinking tsunami of critical admiration for Lemmon that he does not deserve, primarily because so many of his early films are considered classics. While Dreyfus, who has turned in marvelous performances in so-called fluff, such as Jaws, What About Bob? and Moon Over Parador, enjoys no such acclaim. I call bullshit -- it's high time we recognized Richard Dreyfus for the unique American talent that he is.

Quint's Indianapolis Monologue: A Critical Exploration - Yes, since you ask, I did see Jaws on HBO last week. So what? My larger point is still valid, i.e., as a piece of dramatic storytelling, Quint's monologue is without peer. It segues seamlessly between the drunken scar comparisons that come before, and the boisterous singing that comes after. It explains Quint's maniacal determination to bring down the shark, and it reminds the audience -- who hasn't seen anyone eaten for almost an hour at this point -- exactly what the worst case scenario is. And, of course, it sets up the dramatic irony that is cruising towards Quint in about 20 minutes time.

Getting High Off His Own Supply: Why You Never Want to See the Words "Written and Directed By" in the Opening Credits of Any Movie, But Especially If the Next Words Are "M. Night Shyamalan," "Paul Haggis" or "Charlie Kaufman" - I also saw The Lady in the Water on HBO last week. It was not a good experience. In the Valley of Elah made me so angry it gave me a headache.

And I cannot pronounce the world "synecdoche," so I'm throwing Charlie Kaufman in there for good measure.