In defense of AVATAR: What Price, Originality?

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A few days ago, I watched the movie Avatar in 3D. I had heard Kenneth Turan (L.A. Times), who reviews movies for NPR say (possibly quoting someone; I could not find a good transcript on the Web) that the script sounded as though it was all the movies of the past "put in a blender." In other words, the script was being faulted for a lack of originality.

A few years ago, a colleague of mine, a teacher, an immigrant, was trying to explain to his class that, starting from the basic information that they were learning in class, they could create "something new." At that time, I had only a vague idea of what kind of originality was being referred to, here, but as time passes, I am beginning to see what the message was, and how it could be interpreted in a variety of ways.

The idea of originality is the standard-bearer of the American Economy. The Better Mousetrap was the first poster-boy of American Ingenuity, and over the last century or so, the American Economy has set itself up as the champion of all that is good about America, and has set up American Ingenuity as the engine that drives the American Dream: Even You can Be A Millionaire! Go to school, and learn all about Better Mousetraps, and BUILD ONE!

Record companies are driving themselves crazy, protecting their particular brand of musical mousetraps; the latest manifestation of this is the downloadable music cut, which (unlike a favorite record,) you cannot give to a friend. Kindle, Amazon.com's bid to create books that keep on giving to them, but not to the purchaser, is an attempt to extend the power of copyright. DRM is an attempt by certain sectors of the movie industry to limit the life of DVDs sold to the public. Everything we buy is being chained to some sort of planned obsolescence.

Together with the Gutenberg Project, The Gnu organization, founded by Richard Stallman and others, seems the lone standouts against this movement to monetize ideas systematically. Around the world --most significantly, the Western Hemisphere-- programmers and software engineers, as well as amateurs, are working to develop software that is free to all users. (Not free to exploit commercially, but free to use.)

What is the cause of this madness to control intellectual commodities? One reason could be that the US is finding it harder to find raw materials for physical commodities, and has to glorify "intellectual" commodities instead. Though in principle intellectual commodities are an inexhaustible source of wealth, the World will surely run out of spectacular ideas that make really big bucks one of these days. The industry of higher education, most notably the PhD manufacturing business (of which your blogger is also a beneficiary, to our embarrassment) is based on the fact that anyone desiring to join the ranks of academia should be able to write a thesis based on original research. It used to be the case that the lucky few who discovered something worthy were encouraged to document it in a dissertation, on the strength of which they would be awarded a doctorate. But this is America. If you are a professor, you should be able to do original research all the time, and advance your way through the ranks to the extent that your colleagues approve of your scholarship. The assumption is: If you're smart enough, you can do it. As a consequence, many of our best and brightest are sifting through the trash-heaps of knowledge, trying to find some trivial result that will earn them the coveted degree, which was originally intended to qualify one to teach. How much this intellectual scavenging equips one to prepare to teach is something that continues to puzzle many. It is amazing that this cadre of intellectual garbagemen succeed in teaching our sons and daughters anything. As for myself, what has helped me is less the nightmare of research than the fascinating hours I spent in the classroom, with instructors who happened to be decidedly not under pressure to publish.

Coming back to Avatar, the basis of its plot is how an Earth human, sent out to mingle with members of an alien society with a view to negotiating the rights to mine some miracle mineral, finds himself sympathizing with the aliens.   (Added later: in a purely sci-fi/fantasy setting, there would be speculation as to whether the aforementioned mineral might be the cause of, or be somehow related to, the amazing physical and mental powers of the natives.  This theme is found in the Phase/Proton books of Piers Anthony.)

Certainly, this is a recurring theme in fiction and in literature. Why? Because it is a recurring theme in post-14th century World History, a tragic strand in American history, one of the reasons for WW2, and indirectly one of the engines of the current wave of terrorism. The Arabs, and Muslims throughout the world, know that the US wants the oil in Iraq. Even if the US leaves peacefully, the original invasion, and the resulting loss of life, will be blamed on oil-hunger, no matter how much it is subsequently smoothed over.

In addition to the spectacular visuals, there is much to be said about Avatar. More than the stunning effects of Star Wars (whose achievements the present movie hardly devalues), I was reminded of Kubrik's "2001", a movie that must have inspired my generation far more than Star Wars inspired that of our children. The glamor of technology just 20 years in the future is greater than that of several centuries to come! (or that of galaxies far, far away.) After all, we can imagine living this dream. So, to conclude, the beauty of Avatar, even if it's limitations in the area of writing and plot are deemed fatal by some critics, lies in the execution of the ideas. I personally did not like the endless violence, the huge explosions, the scenes of devastation (though they were, in retrospect, unavoidable, and minimal, given the story line,) and some of the repetition. But the flaws were forgivable.

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Hardship in the USA

. American politicians have always been afraid of the Great American Public, and its reluctance to even contemplate any sort of hardship. Left-leaning politicians especially, realize too late, once they get elected, in times of difficulty usually, that they can’t ask their constituents to tighten their belts even to the degree they foresaw when campaigning. All the programs they put forward as part of their manifesto depend on a certain amount of suffering, but it invariably turns out that their party and those who voted for them are called to suffer even more than planned, because this country does not believe in uniform suffering for everybody. Hey, say the Others, you elected these people in, and you knew there was going to be suffering, so you suffer; leave us out of it. The sophisticated economics that has arisen in the last several decades is based on the (according to the economists, the natural human desire to seek the) avoidance of hardship. As one commentator on NPR put it: the American public has come to demand good highways, jobs, Social Security for seniors, Welfare for the indigent, good, safe Airports, a strong Armed Forces, but without actually paying for any of it. So any government that goes along with the desire to not pay for anything eventually stays popular with the majority of the electorate (except for the few who insist on balancing the budget), while a government that attempts to balance budgets eventually becomes unpopular, at least among the majority of taxpayers. President Obama and his White House is coming under criticism from the Left, which had predicted that he would sell out to Big Business and the Insurance and Medical Services lobbies. He is coming under criticism from the Right, because he keeps saying that he wants to push through financial reform, stop the war, and reform health care, though he compromises at every turn. The Right has little cause to complain; the Bailouts helped mostly the friends of Conservatives. The failure of health reform is in the interests of all the shareholders of the Big Health Insurance companies. Obama, however, is a smart fellow, and there are lots of brains in the Democratic party which may come to the aid of his administration. No matter what the geniuses dream up, if there is no hardship for the next several years for everyone, the very poorest --now unemployed, and without health care or health insurance-- will suffer the most, while the rest of us look on with pity. So let us hope as hard as we can that rather than terrible hardship for a few, that there will be moderate hardship for all of us, and let’s be prepared to battle the “No hardship for anyone, please, least of all for me” gang in the next elections. If they have their way, you just know that hardship is only postponed, not eliminated. Historically it has been effectively kept offshore, in Mexico, Latin America, China, the places where people usually worked for low wages to enable us to enjoy cheap consumer items. Pretty soon they’re going to get hip to the inequity of the partnership.

An early composition by yours truly

This was written when your blogger was not quite nineteen.

I must dedicate this chorale-prelude to, in addition to Sounthy Philips, the original dedicatee, also Monica Abiaka, Chandran and Ranee Chinappa, Manel and Shelton Wirasinha, Ashley and Bridget Halpe, and Archimedes's Mom, all of whom contributed to my musical training.

[Added later: This is a version featuring "solo" instruments, and the score in High Definition.]

[Added still later: Here's The Last Rose of Summer.





[Added just today]  Here is yet another composition by me, nearing completion.  It was written for strings, but I liked the way it sounds played with a wind quartet (and a double-bass), as simulated by the music editing software.  It is being called serenade on a trial basis:


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Julie Andrews, One of the voices of the Century

When I learned that National Public Radio was compiling a set of 50 greatest voices, I immediately thought of Julie Andrews. Not only was Miss Andrews gifted with an amazing voice, she also had a unique charm with which she imbued everything she sang. I was looking for a good rendition of Handel's "Where'er you walk," a simple, lovely aria from his opera Semele. In the opera, the god Jupiter sings this to a pretty girl, and not really knowing the story I'm guessing that he didn't hang around very long afterwards; a simple benediction would have to do, and it was off to the next conquest. YouTube is full of unremarkable performances of this sweet, unaffected aria, but a few stood out: Julie Andrew's rendition of Where'er you walk among them. Listen to the diction. No one pronounced their consonants better than Julie Andrews, and she still does, whether she speaks, or sings. One may quarrel with the way she caresses a phrase, giving it just a little too much affection for classical singing, but then, she never set herself up as a classical singer (at least, not in her post-musical-theatre career); she mostly sang what she liked, and sang it the way she liked to sing it. There are no stories of her being a difficult woman; in fact one hears only about how easy she was to work with, how patient, how great her sense of humor was, how little temperament she displayed. I recently watched a clip of an interview of her on the Ellen De Generes show in which she let slip a remark that might have been considered a little undiplomatic by some, but I thought it simply brought home how uncomplicated a person she is, even for the grand old sexagenarian I believe she is at this date (2010). Unpretentious charm is the phrase that comes to mind when thinking about this delightful entertainer who has given us so much. (I must not forget to mention John McCormick's performance of Where'er you walk, which is just as satisfying as Julie Andrews's. While Miss Andrews endeavours to interpret the words faithfully, McCormack simply loses himself in the melody, content to speak the words in his usual beautiful diction (tinged with a slight Irish accent), without letting them distract him. In Handel's time, arias were not major dramatic moments in the opera, they were simply interludes in the action, which was conveyed in the recitatives. The famous Largo, for instance, is a paean to a plane tree in the garden of Xerxes, hardly a major player in the story. Finally, Handel, all his life, was a German-speaker, and there is some evidence to believe that his grasp of English pronunciation and intonation was rough, at best. In many of his greatest arias, in Messiah, for instance, the accents fall in the wrong places --even making allowances for the speech of those times. This means that a great deal of latitude is excusable when a singer adjusts the syllables of a Handelian aria to make better sense. I was often indignant, when I was younger, that singers took liberties with the arias in Handel, but the young, as you know, are often notoriously inflexible in matters of variance from what they're accustomed to. Both McCormack and Dame Julie tend to scoop just a little. This was an acceptable expressive device in an older style of singing, and indulged in to this day by operatic singers, and within the vocal traditions of the Roman church.) To get back to Julie Andrews: I sincerely hope these decades are kind to her, when she is unable to use her cancer-weakened voice to sing, but only appears on variety programs to commemorate major media events of the past, and provide some interesting insights about the making of her movies, and stories about her co-stars, with whom she keeps in touch. Arch

Piano Concertos, Mozart and Beyond

. The Piano was invented over the course of the lifetimes of Mozart and Beethoven. There is some belief that J. S. Bach himself had the opportunity to examine an early piano towards the end of his life, but an instrument resembling a modern concert grand was still not in existence until some years after Beethoven's death. Pianos could be played both soft and loud, simply by varying the force on the keys. Harpsichords had to be set to play with some level of sound, and there was little one could do to vary the volume over a phrase, for instance. But pianos had this flexibility that performers so highly, so that even while it was being invented, Mozart was writing compositions to showcase them. That's essentially what a concerto is: a composition to showcase an instrument and a performer. Mozart was perfectly candid, privately, about the fact that he was not above self-promotion. He had Royal patronage to some degree (that is, the King or the Emperor would give him a small stipend to hang out at court, and write and perform compositions), and so did the Bishop of Salzburg, who had his own court. But Mozart despised the Bishop, and hated having to toe his line and submit to his discipline (as Amadeus portrays very convincingly, but this is all in accord with contemporary records taken from diaries, journals and letters). So when Mozart wrote a piece, it was in order to show himself to the best advantage. In these days, of course, composers are at pains to represent themselves as having other considerations than simply the financial one, and this was true even back in the late 1700. However, starting as early as Piano concerto nos. 24 and 25, we can see that Mozart's instinct to simply write music for its own sake was strong, bursting through the sheer entertainment motive, which would earn him money. A concerto that has expressive elements that outweigh it's "bling" factor has been called "symphonic", and many critics regard Mozart's piano concerti as beginning to assume symphonic attributes. Here is the first movement of Mozart's Piano concerto no. 20 in D minor, conducted and performed by Friedrich Gulda. (You can read details about the opinion of whoever posted the clip at the site; sometimes these remarks are interesting.) No one can convince me that this piece was written purely for entertainment. Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 24, in C minor, is an amazingly powerful concerto, and Malcolm Bilson's recordings are very worth acquiring (as are Robert Levin's). The theme in the first movement, though worthy of Beethoven, is nevertheless absolutely Mozart. I have a suspicion that Beethoven not only performed this concerto, but that it was one of his favorites. Next comes Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 25 in B Flat, played here by Mitsuko Uchida, one of the great Mozartians of our time. This one, though it grows on you like crazy, does not appeal immediately. It tries hard to be grave and grand, and only succeeds some of the time. Behind the bluster I think I can sense anxiety. (Quit incidentally, the conductor here is Riccardo Muti, whose daughter Ornella Muti portrayed the lovely Princess Aura in the movie Flash Gordon in 1980.) Beethoven's Concertos were written in a similar artistic and economic environment to that in which Mozart was performing, but the independence of the piano performer was beginning to be accepted more widely. The new improved pianos must have helped, because they were louder, and one could compete easily against the big orchestras that were beginning to be put together in the early 19th century. Beethoven's first few concertos--though gorgeous--are a contrast with his last, the Fifth. The third, in this clip with Murray Perahia and the Academy of St Martin In the Fields and Neville Marinner, is already very much in the style of mature Beethoven. The symphonic attributes of this one are so interwoven with the virtuosic that it is hard to ignore the glory of the piano and focus on the sheer power of the music. This is not music to have a supper to, by any means. The Fourth Concerto is a little more contemplative, and a little more lyrical, at times almost prayer-like. Here is Dmitris Sgouros, playing with the Czech Philharmonic under Charles McKerras. The phrase just about 2:45 seconds into the movement is just a sublime passage. The Emperor Concerto, no. 5 in E flat, is one of the great piano concertos of the repertoire. It is a rollicking work, written by a very Jupiter at the keyboard, especially the grand opening movement, introduced by a flourish on the piano. The first theme actually enters just about at 1:46. The final movement is so amazing, one can hardly stay seated for it. Here is a version on original instruments. It is a crazy waltz, appropriate for a musician who lived and worked in Vienna. A very important composer whose works are rarely heard by any except insiders of the classical music world is Robert Schumann. Schumann, not only a wonderful composer himself, but a great admirer of his fellow-composers, artists and poets, established a salon in his home, at which the greatest of the musicians of that time delighted to perform chamber works, not least his own wife, Clara Wieck Schumann, and Johannes Brahms. Unfortunately, Schumann suffered with mental instability for which he was institutionalized, leaving Clara to keep the household running by herself. Fortunately for us, a few symphonies, numerous songs (Lieder), and miniatures (small solo pieces, e.g. Kinderscenen) have come down to us, as well as a glorious piano concerto in A minor. Hearing this it is impossible not to regret the frailties that kept Schumann from being more prolific. Actually, it was hearing the beautiful Grieg piano concerto in A minor this morning that inspired me for this blog post. Edvard Grieg of Norway is usually, and not inappropriately, categorized as one of the Nationalist category of composers of the 19th century, though his importance transcends that narrow description. The piano concerto alone would have made Grieg famous, and arguably, it has. It is delightful, genial, tuneful, redolent with wonderful allusions to Norwegian folk songs and ballads (as I understand; I wish I knew for certain!) This concerto is thought by some to have been influenced strongly by Schumann's concerto mentioned above. Finally, there are the wonderful concertos by Chopin, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and Rachmaninov. Chopin wrote two, both fairly well known. Brahms, too, wrote two, and Rachmaninov at least two (I could be wrong). Here is Brahms's Concerto no. 2 in B Flat. It is utterly romantic, and Brahms spills his guts. We can imagine that he premiered it (this fact can easily be verified). The Tchaikovsky Concerto no. 1, with the famous theme from movement 1, (used in the popular song "Tonight we love," in the sixties). It seems that this concerto, influenced the music of Charlie Chaplin, who was a closet composer of no mean talent. Here is Evgeny Kissin and Herbert von Karajan. Finally, here is Rachmaninov's concerto No. 3. Rachmaninov's idiom seems to come from Russian folk songs, and have a kinship to Hebrew music as well. Well, happy listening! I provided clips of the first movements, since most people remember the opening movement theme when given the name of a concerto. In some concertos, however, the remaining two movements often equal or surpass the beauty of the first movements. Enjoy! Archimedes

Nothing in Particular (Actually Changing Weather Patterns)

I guess I have been pretty harsh on Christians of late, and for those of my readers who are Flat-Earthers, I think the Universe can use you, too, dear friend, even with all your flaws.  It's not that The Universe gets some vague satisfaction by incorporating you into its scheme of things; it's just that depending on what we do, the human species might become less of a force in moving the Planet Earth towards more turbulent atmospheric patterns (a.k.a. global warming in some quarters), or --which is an acceptable substitution-- more of a force towards moving the Planet away from human activities that aggravate severe weather and warmer temperatures, thus giving the species an opportunity to get off the planet, and maybe do some exploring out there.  Otherwise, of course, we are doomed to become extinct right here, which does not bother me personally, unless conditions become very difficult for us over the next decade or so.

Some folks (including me) believe that humans are warming up the planet.  Let's call them the Humans are the Culprits camp, or HAC.

Other folk think that the planet is warming up, but humans have nothing to do with it, and it's just the Sunspots, or whatever--natural causes, anyway.  Let's call them the No Blamers, or NB.

Another position you can take is that Humans help the warming, even if they're not entirely responsible.  Let's call them the Humans are Not Exactly Innocent, but are Not the Primary Instigators Of Planetary Destruction Either group, call them NPI.  I don't mind allying myself with this gang, but honestly, they may as well give it up and join the first group (HAC), for all the difference it makes.

Finally, there is a group that thinks: whoever or whatever causes planetary warming, Humans can make a difference, and slow the process down, thus enabling most of the residents of New Orleans to rebuild the residential parts of the city on stilts, before it is flooded once again next summer.  (Don't blame me for being prescient.  I'm just the messenger here.)  Let's call this group, the Humans Can Help Reverse The Trend group, or HCHRT.

Why can't everybody join this last group?  What philosophical objections can there possibly be to joining it, except that some people can't bear to deprive themselves of conspicuous energy consumption?  Whether or not you subscribe to Al Gore's position, which is essentially HAC, we can all subscribe to his call for action.  Suppose someone is killing all the cats in your town.  Whether you believe that it is a person or a wild animal, you can certainly agree that perhaps temporarily it makes sense to keep the cats safe in the nights, or maybe spray them with skunk juice, to repel the killer, or whatever.  It makes no sense to defer action until the exact culprit is determined.  The amazing thing is that so many professional physicists belong to the NB group, and also to the Let's Not Do Anything To Moderate Planetary Temperature because It Does Not Need Fixing, or IDIOTS, for short.

I'm getting worked up, and one reason is probably that I haven't had supper yet.  I had better take a snack.  Anyway, that's all I have to say.  TTYL, before it gets too warm around here.

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