Tuesday, March 6, 2012

selfspeare



When reading Money, I like to imagine the character of John Self as a distorted stand-in who embodies the worst qualities of Amis himself. Although Amis establishes a self-titled character in his story in what I believe is an attempt to stray these ideas away, some similarities between the personal lives of Self and of the real Martin Amis leave it hard for me to believe that there is no connection. In an interview with Amis online, he reveals that he spent a year living in the United States. This might have lead Amis to believe he was partly American. The same can be said about Self, who is half american and immediately feels comfortable with the country, in contrast to traditional british protagonists who go to the US and are horrified by its excesses. The fact that Amis speaks to his audience through the lens of a fictional (but strikingly familiar) character applies to Shakespeare's belief that “All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players.”.

Shakespeare's protagonists are always fully-drawn characters, while his minor characters are often one-dimensional representations of gossip, sinfulness, long-windedness, etc. In the same way, Amis's protagonist directly engages the audience and "breaks the fourth wall," whereas his minor characters, whose names usually consist of puns, are representations of vices or characteristics. Shakespearean acting also implies that certain characters will develop a relationship with the audience through asides, while other characters will ignore the audience. In terms of Money, the puns and vices used by Martin act as a way of developing characters by ignoring the audience: their names say enough alone.

Self's character is extremely actor-obessesed. He often notes certain actions and they take and movements they make with their bodies such as Spunk's "actor-stare". What is ironic about this is that within the movie he is making, each character is casted in a role that he finds embarrassing or uncharacteristic compared with his usual work. I am unsure of the significance of this, but would like to ask the class and Robin what you guys think.


Tuesday, February 28, 2012

John Self expresses his comedic output in an incredibly Cicero way. Although Self is an admirable figure (his job, money, women, etc.) he plays himself down to be an "average Joe". In a witty way, he nitpicks at his every flaw (not to say he doesn't have many). Self looks disgusting, his mentality is completely warped, and the way he conducts his everyday life is easily satirized.

On page 123 and page 124, Self constantly refers to his "sore back" like it's a living being. Of course, his sore back is not in fact living, but by personifying it, he makes himself relatable to an array of people that may or may not have anything in common with his life or personality. One vital step to comedy is enabling one's reader/viewer to either relate with something they can make fun of themselves for, or something they can make fun of others for. Self both pokes fun at himself, and almost everybody surrounding, therefore creating a pleasurable comedic environment and atmosphere for his reader.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

"Deep down, I'm a pretty happy guy. Happiness is the relief of pain, they say, so I guess I'm a pretty happy guy. The relief of pain happens to me pretty frequently. But then so does pain. That's why I get lots of that relief they talk about, and all that happiness." -pg. 74


The name "John Self" says a lot about Amis' narrative character. "Self" is definitely a word that can be paired well with the character's personality and interests. The more he speaks,the more his hedonistic, sybarite, douchebaggery agitates, amuses, and disgusts the reader. Self's Connotation alone is enough to have one loathing not only the narrator, but his or herself as well. 


Of course, in the provided passage, Self uses a psuedo-definition of 'happiness' to mold to his narcissistic personality. "Happiness is the relief of pain," he says. No. This definition does not apply to everybody. Happiness is a purely subjective emotion. Oh right, subjectivity, there's something else John Self has no idea exists (or at least could care less about). Everything that happens in the world revolves directly around him. One might say that by denoting such a sensitive, malleable adjective in the way he does, that he is not so far off; however, after constant denotation of words such as "happiness", I begin to question the legitimacy of what this guy says. 

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

crashenberg



If anyone were to attempt (I say attempt with reason) to recreate J.G. Ballard's Crash into a motion picture, of course it would be none other than the infamous David Cronenberg. Now I love a multitude of Cronenberg's films (most notably/importantly: The Fly and Videodrome), but this guy needs to realize that he just picks the wrong books to re-create. Between Crash and The Naked Lunch, Davey boy managed to pick two anti-sctructualist books with little-to-no plots. 

What makes reading Crash such an amazing experience to read (although a fuck-turning-books-into-movies cliche) is being able to paint each scene in your head. Sorry to say it Dave, but watching awkward car sex on screen is not nearly as exciting as erotically reading about it. Hearing and watching Deborah Kara Unger (whose image in my head of the mom from Silent Hill refused to pass) speak of what different semen tasted like was just not doing it for me. James Spader as Ballard? Also not doing it for me. The only aspect of the film I found somewhat enlightening was Rosanna Arquette's performance, which was not enough to bring this adaptation past a three-out-of-ten.

Overall, Cronenberg: you need to learn how to pick your battles. Literature with strong plots can make meaningful movies. Generally, books lacking a strong plot create a directorial masturbation derived solely from how the director believes to the story to play out; therein almost ruining the book for the rest of us. Stick with original screenplays Croney, you're good at that.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

blow


he refers to cocaine as "concentrate". nuff said

ballarderps

I entered the shithole that he called an apartment and unzipped my pants. My flaccid penis fell out of the opening of my semen-stained undergarments. I had not bathed in about a week and my testes wreaked like the prostitute's anus with whom I had been living. He dropped to his knees as his head fell against my stomach. Smiling as he spoke, he stammered, "bigger than I had expected." I told him to shut up and get it over with. He wrapped his mouth around the shaft of my penis. I cringed as his cold tongue explored my glans. No matter how pleasurable this mans mouth felt, I could not build an erection. I had never been with a man before. He reached into the back-side of my underwear and stroked my anus with his thumb. No progress. 
After ten minutes of remarkable effort, the man accepted failure. We dressed ourselves and I walked towards the door. As my hand touched the doorknob, he reached into his pocket and handed me a cigarette-cellophane packed to the top with cocaine. I crumbled it into my coat and left the apartment. Blood rushed through my penis and with my first step into the hallway, I was fully erect. 

Sunday, February 5, 2012

apophasis + crash

The theme of "technology turning against us" is prevalent in a variety of twentieth century media(s). Films like David Cronenberg's Videodrome and literature such as J.G. Ballard's Crash exemplify this apophatic approach to satire in an efficient manner. What differentiates an apophatic satire from say a "literal" satire (such as Mike Judge's Office Space) is the implication engrained within. In both Crash and Videodrome, the "technology turning against us" theme is not directly vocalized at any point. Cars crash- people die: people watch Videodrome - and then they die; but the director/author never formally explains their ethos. 

My question brings us back to a class discussion where we addressed the difference between directors "hovering above your head and dropping their messages onto your nose" and solely implying, relying on the viewer to decipher his or her message. With these two options of delivering an ethos, I am curious to know what people think about these approaches. Does using the first method deter from the work itself? Is the latter method stronger?