Yes, deliberate typos in the title. I was in a whimsical mood, Looney Tunes were playing in the background, hot Sunday afternoon....
I went into this course knowing that I can write. I don't mean that in arrogance, just a comfortable confidence. But I also knew I had some weak spots, in particular my ability to cite correctly and reference appropriately. The world of academia has rigid writing standards, and I tend to be very informal in my style and content. I am also not very fond of literary analysis, and my lack of interest in that particular form of writing lends itself to some personal abuses as I struggle and snarl to put ideas to paper.
Professor Cline, let me just say that your course hit those exact weak spots head-on, and I both curse and praise you for that.
As an aspiring psychologist/writer, it goes without saying that writing will be in my future, and knowledge of the formats and research will be integral to my career. I'm currently finishing an APA format research paper for Abnormal Psych, and I'm heavily leaning on the lessons taught in this class. So...if the paper bombs, I'll contact Professor Cline and demand an apology.
The best part about this sort of class is the ability to scan all the different perspectives and interpretations of assigned books and short stories. Our opinions of Bartleby, Ryan Bingham, and Ree Dolly & Teardrop probably didn't coincide, and that's absolutely magical. Wisdom comes with age, but it can arrive sooner if we can see the world from more than just our own two eyes. The mind's eye can lose its focus with the weight of prejudices, biases, and experiences tilting the view. Being able to discard that baggage for just a moment as I read David's paper or Aaron's synopsis is a wonderful way to find a fresh perspective, and by extension re-examine my own position.
I can't say that I enjoyed the writing or reading in this class, in all honesty. As I mentioned, I thoroughly dislike literary analysis. I can't deny, however, that this test of my willpower may come in handy over the next six or seven years as I continue my education through (hopefully) a doctorate program in psychology.
Who knows? Perhaps I'll finance my education with a book or two, if I can figure out how to do that without the work being discarded to the slough pile by a young intern who never even read the book nor presented it to the editor...
For my classmates, thanks for the input, thanks for laughing at my irreverent moments, and my best wishes for your future, whatever it may be. Just don't give up on the education, mates. Borrow, steal, kill...but keep hitting them books!
James Carr
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Rough Draft of Essay #4, Up in the Air
Cut n' Paste usually rips up the formatting, so don't mind that stuff, mates. Just critique the content, if you don't mind. Hey, last essay! Woohoo!
James Carr
Essay #4
Cline
4/20/2012
Hope: A Study in Contrasts
To say that the book version and film version of Up in the Air are different is the
understatement of the century. However,
both versions explore hope and the human element of compassion, admirable human
traits trying to force their way through the cracks of the pavement, the
bureaucratic world of American big business.
They approach their exploration of hope from diverse angles: the book focuses its attention on the
solitary, slightly unstable figure of Ryan Bingham and his quest for a million
air miles, his Holy Grail; the movie devotes most of its emphasis on a
healthier Ryan Bingham’s efforts to keep creeping technology from undermining
his job, while at the same time attempting to instill a sense of hope in those
he terminates. In the end, both Ryans
find a comfort zone within their solitary envelope, as one Ryan departs
Airworld forever, and the other Ryan resumes his life in the skies. In both cases, the elusive hope has been
captured, and a deep sense of optimism resonates in the final pages/scenes.
Set
to the music of different times in American life, the message is understandably
presented differently in each medium.
The novel was written during an economic upswing, and no one really
thought twice about Airworld or corporate America. Firing employees, while unpleasant, was still
viewed as business as usual. The film's
message was the same, but with a huge economic downturn gripping the country,
the message was presented with a great deal of positive feelings, and the movie
went to great pains to end the film on a confident, upbeat note, as the fired
workers came to terms with their dismissal and beheld the future with far more
hope than might be expected.
It
was an appealing approach. If the movie
had clung faithfully to Kirn's original ideas in the novel, the film would more
than likely have bombed, and such a bleak script might not have been much
incentive for Clooney to accept the role.
Post-911, with the economy in the toilet, the last thing the American
public would have wanted to view was an obsessive-compulsive business exec
firing people, giving morale speeches to zombies in hotel conference rooms, a
sister with mental illness, and a somewhat dismal, but uplifting, ending with a
brain tumor. While the message of hope
and human compassion exists in the novel, interlaced within Ryan's endless
quest for the air miles, it needs to be unraveled from the dreariness of Kirn’s
sharp, post-modern writing style. That
just doesn't make for good film, pure and simple.
Two additions to the film helped the flow of the story
immeasurably: Natalie, Ryan’s ambitious
but naïve protégé and the technological ability to fire people remotely. The presence of Natalie allowed the viewer a
glimpse into Ryan’s particular worldview.
“How much does your life weigh?” (Up in the Air, 2009) he asks during
his motivational speeches, obviously viewing life’s standard trappings as
encumbrances to be discarded. “The
slower we move the faster we die,” (Up in the Air, 2009) he also remarks,
clearly demonstrating his apparent repugnance for setting down roots. However,
Natalie’s awkward moments with love, career, and Airworld routines gave Ryan
the opportunity to show his inner gentleness, and in the end, his motivational
benchmark comments are shown to be only skin-deep, as Ryan literally and
figuratively walks away from his own message to chase down his growing
attachment to Alex.
The computer-firing aspect pushed by Natalie and
supported by Ryan’s boss is a twist unique to the movie, but it allows for the
film to have a more contemporary feel.
It also provides a remarkable contrast between Ryan’s style of
termination and the cold, robotic ambiance of impersonal technology, a coldness
and robotic-ness shared, amusingly, by Natalie.
This stark comparison really underscores Ryan’s humane approach to his
job, and allows the viewer to “prefer” the Ryan-termination with its undertones
of hope and forward-looking optimism with the abrupt dismissal advocated by
Natalie. Rather than a hatchet-man, Ryan
seems to feel more like a benevolent guardian angel of sorts, steering men and
women into their dreams and away from the cubicles of nothingness. “The stars will wheel forth from their
daytime hiding places; and one of those lights, slightly brighter than the
rest, will be my wingtip passing over” (Up in the Air, 2009). This approach to his job would clearly
resonate with today’s audiences, considering the harsh economic climate.
Kirn’s novel dwelt almost exclusively on Ryan’s quest for
a million air miles as well as his consuming desire to quit his job. While Ryan is comfortable in his Airworld, we
repeatedly see signs of discontent, and he manifests behavior that seems oddly
dependent on his experiences in Airworld.
Kirn notes that Ryan “takes his self-esteem from how well he’s treated
by flight attendants” (Kirn interview), and his unwillingness to foster stronger
relationships seems to be an indication of Ryan’s grasp of the superficial
nature of his unique world. “Fast
friends aren’t my only friends, but they’re my best friends” (Kirn pg. 6), Ryan
remarks very early in the story. Not
only does Airworld and his professional life seem to be grating on his nerves,
but his increasing eccentricity and downright paranoia during his journeys
seems to suggest something else is seriously wrong with the novel’s hero. As Kirn remarks:
“Our
identity there [Airworld] has to usually do with an ID card or a number. You’re looked at suspiciously at every turn,
always having to prove you are who you are, and that you have honest intentions
and aren’t carrying a bomb. And I think
for someone who’s as nervous and stressed out as Ryan, this all makes for a
kind of general paranoid state” (Kirn interview).
But Ryan has fond memories of his family, even if they
irritate him from time to time. His
affection for his younger sister is very clear throughout, and while his older
sister exasperates him, he still obviously respects her. He describes his childhood years as “a golden
Mark Twain boyhood,” and with “so few shadows, so much, such varied, light”
(Kirn pg. 54). Kirn mentions that “most
of our journeys in America are round-trip, circular and, in the end, without a
real sense of destination” (Kirn interview).
The novel-Ryan clearly has a destination in mind, once his Mecca is
reached, and it is obviously a return to a place of fond memories, warm
currents, and a benediction of hope…and, as Kirn reveals in the last page, it
is a one-way trip.
The
novel demonstrated one man's rejection of the cold, impersonal world of modern
American business, devoid of hope and human compassion (beyond superficial and
extremely brief encounters), just in time to enjoy his last years with his
family. The film demonstrated a good
man's efforts to give hope to those unfortunates that suffer the indignities of
dismissal from the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, even
while his own personal hope is occasionally trampled. While the mediums presented the story in
markedly different styles, reflecting the economic times of their era, they
both kept true to the ideals. As Kirn
explains, “the movie was not the book, and the book was not the movie, but they
had the same genetic code” (Kirn interview). In the end, however, hope for the
future is the underlying theme: a
different future for novel-Ryan, a comfortable future for film-Ryan, an
uncertain future for those whose lives they’ve touched, but a future worthy of
exploration nonetheless.
Works
Cited
Kirn, Walter. Up in
the Air. New York: Anchor Books, 2002. Print.
Kirn, Walter. Interview by David Kestenbaum. Interview: Walter Kirn Discusses His
New Novel, “Up in the Air.”
National Public Radio. Morning Edition,Washington, D.C., July 30,
2001. Transcript. URL: http://search.proquest.com.proxy.yc.edu/docview/189815694?accountid=31701
Up
in the Air. Directed by
Jason Reitman. Paramount Pictures,
2009. Film
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Hope: A Message In Flux
To say that the book version and film version of Up In The Air are different is the understatement of the century. However, both versions are exploring hope and the human element of compassion trying to force their way through the cracks of the pavement, or through the cracks of the bureaucratic world of big business.
Set to the music of different times in American life, the message is understandably presented differently in each medium. The novel was written during an economic upswing, and no one really thought twice about the Airworld or corporate America. Firing employees, while unpleasant, was still viewed as business as usual,...unless, of course, you were the one being fired. The film's message was the same, but with a huge economic downturn gripping the country, the message was presented with a great deal of positive feelings, and the movie went to great pains to end the film on a confident, upbeat note...as the fired workers came to terms with their dismissal and beheld the future with far more hope than might be expected.
Were the movie's creators speaking to the American public, I have to wonder?
It was an appealing approach. During harsh economic times, emotional disorders rise
(http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=100600029). If the movie had clung faithfully to Kirn's original ideas in the novel, the film would have absolutely bombed, if indeed Clooney had even accepted the role. Post-911, with the economy in the toilet, the last thing the American public would have wanted to view was an obsessive-compulsive business exec firing people, giving morale speeches to zombies in hotel conference rooms, a sister with mental illness, and a somewhat dismal ending with a brain tumor. While the message of hope and human compassion exists in the novel, in Ryan's endless quest for the airmiles, it needs to be unraveled from the dreariness. That just doesn't make for good film, pure and simple.
The novel demonstrated one man's rejection of the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, devoid of hope and human compassion (beyond superficial and extremely brief encounters), just in time to enjoy his last years with his family. The film demonstrated a good man's efforts to give hope to those unfortunates that suffer the indignities of dismissal from the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, even while his own personal hope gets trampled occasionally. In the end, however, hope for the future is the underlying theme, a different future perhaps, but worthy of exploring.
On a funny note, I have to thank Professor Cline for a humorous moment this weekend. I was watching the film, and Clooney and 'Alex' had just had their...um, encounter, near the beginning of the film, when my daughter walked in.
"Daddy, why is that woman's butt on the TV?"
As I spluttered a moment, my wife, sitting nearby on her laptop, said, "It's okay, hunny, I don't think your daddy minded much." She glared at me and took our daughter into the playroom.
"Um, hun?" I called. "My teacher is making me watch this. You don't actually think I liked that, do you?"
hee hee
Picture link:
Friday, April 6, 2012
Flight 19, Destination: Mental Disorder
I must confess right at the outset that I haven't finished reading this book yet. With an Anatomy/Physiology Exam this week, I've had some major studying to do for another class. I'll finish it this weekend.
I'm up to Chapter 10, over halfway, and thus far this book seems to provide a remarkable glimpse into the world of abnormal mental health. Ryan, the main character, seems to suffer from a mild case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (http://www.bing.com/health/article/mayo-MADS00189/Obsessive-compulsive-disorder-OCD?q=obsessive-compulsive+disorder&qpvt=obsessive+compulsive+disorder), combined with a deep loneliness and odd moments of blackout. His preference for Airworld and it's quick, superficial moments of human contact is very telling, as is his obsession for a mysterious agency, his frequent flier miles, and his youngest sister.
This is a man that I would consider a ticking time bomb.
His younger sister seems to also have her share of mental disturbances, and one could only imagine the hair-pulling the older sister must be enduring to keep her own sanity.
I have to wonder, at this point in the story, if Ryan had the mental disorders prior to his job in the cold, vanilla world of bureaucratic business, or did he pick them up as time went on? There are vague references to past traumas, so I would imagine that he was cracked going in, and Airworld has widened the cracks.
I'm not a big fan of Kirn's writing style. I can't really put my finger on the why, however. It just seems like he writes a whole paragraph of fluff, and then hides a vitally important sentence deep within, so if you miss it, you might not understand some other detail later. Unfortunately, the fluff gets old, so the reader starts skimming...which, of course, forces the reader to miss the important stuff...
Ryan really seems to be a small sparrow with a broken wing chasing an uncatchable dream in a heartless environment. I can't imagine how it ends yet, but somehow I think the sparrow is going to be sucked into one of the jet's engines...
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