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    Arts

    Subtext: Conversations about Classic Books and Films

    Subtext is a book club podcast for readers interested in what the greatest works of the human imagination say about life’s big questions. Each episode, philosopher Wes Alwan and poet Erin O’Luanaigh conduct a close reading of a text or film and co-write an audio essay about it in real time. It’s literary analysis, but in the best sense: we try not overly stuffy and pedantic, but rather focus on unearthing what’s most compelling about great books and movies, and how it is they can touch our lives in such a significant way.

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    Latest Episodes:
    What Falls Upon the Living in James Joyce’s “The Dead” Apr 11, 2022
    Show notes

    In 1906, presumably finished with his short story collection Dubliners, James Joyce wrote to his brother with dissatisfaction that, though he set about to create a comprehensive portrait of Ireland’s capital city, he had not managed to render its famous, unrivaled hospitality. His efforts to rectify this omission resulted in “The Dead,” the book’s final story. It takes place chiefly at a party in the home of the elderly Morkan Sisters on the Feast of the Epiphany, and fittingly its central character, the Morkans’ nephew, Gabriel Conroy, will have his own epiphanic experience by the story’s end. Gabriel preaches about Irish hospitality in his after-dinner speech but does not realize that he will grapple with a stranger of sorts later that night. How might the virtue of hospitality include the need to incorporate difficult feelings about our families, our homelands, and ourselves? And is the story’s ending, with its incorporative vision of snow falling on both the living and the dead, hopeful or hopeless? Wes & Erin discuss. Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, Buck Mason. To get a free t-shirt with your first order, head over to buckmason.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: In 1906, presumably finished with his short story collection, Dubliners, James Joyce wrote to his brother with dissatisfaction that though he set about to create a comprehensive portrait of Ireland's capital city, he had not managed to render its famous unrivaled hospitality. His efforts to rectify this omission resulted in the Dead, the book's final story. It takes place chiefly at a party in the home of the elderly Morkan sisters on the Feast of the Epiphany. And fittingly, its central character, the Morkan's nephew, Gabriel Conroy, will have his own epiphanic experience by the story's end. Gabriel preaches about Irish hospitality in his after dinner speech, but does not realize that he will grapple with a stranger of sorts later that night. How might the virtue of hospitality include the need to incorporate difficult feelings about our families, our homelands and ourselves? And is the story's ending with its incorporative vision of snow falling on both the living and the dead, hopeful or hopeless? Today we're discussing James Joyce's the Dead, published in 1914. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. And this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Wes, I've read in multiple places that a lot of people, including T.S. eliot, consider this possibly the finest story in the English language. I'm wondering what you think about that honor, and does this story deserve it, in your opinion? 1:37 Wes: Yeah, I think this story is a good. Is a good candidate and I guess we can try to say why. I don't know if you agree, but it's a story personally that I find very touching and I guess I've read it a few times, so maybe it's because I know what's coming, you know, the famous epiphany. Right. But I find it hard to put down. It's kind of, you know, with the little episodes within the story, they're very well thought out and there's a rhythm to the story. The buildup is pretty perfect. And then I think what's going on beneath the surface is really fascinating as well, which will get into. 2:25 Erin: Yeah, I agree. I think it's kind of funny that presumably the whole purpose of the story, which is to render this. This party at the Morkans' house is. Is really just set up for the final scene in the hotel. And so that's a little bit unexpected to me, I guess every time or not that what happens at the Morkans' party isn't consequential. And doesn't you Know, as you say, perfectly set up, what comes later, 2:51 Wes: you 2:51 Erin: know, it's a story in which not very much happens and everything that is occurring is occurring on a kind of subterranean level. And the central drama of the story is not even happening inside the character that we're following, at least not until the very end. Right. I think it's the central drama is occurring inside Gretta, and the main character, Gabriel, that we're following isn't aware that this drama is going on until the very end. And so every time there's a kind of twist, a surprise. So though it doesn't have this sort of obvious, like an O. Henry style plot twist, it's really surprising and satisfying to me. 3:35 Wes: Yeah, in a way, I think there are two climactic moments in the story. One is his speech, right. Which in a way, according to his, I think, preconception for the narrative of the evening. Right. That is going to be the climactic moment. And that's the thing that he's worried about. But of course, that ends up being kind of a. It's not entirely a false flag because I think it's intimately related. And the whole question of nationalism as well, and hospitality versus hospitality is related to what's going on with his wife and the epiphany he has about his wife. But in a way, Right. That climactic moment turns out not to be the end of things. And then we get this really wonderful poignant vision of his wife in a way that also leads to a kind of disappointment. So I think, you know, your question of whether there's something hopeful there at the end will be interesting as well. But, yeah, there are those two high points and the, you know, in the beginning, I think if you want to think about the inciting incidents of the story, you know, when they arrive, as you pointed out, you know, it begins with the bustle around this annual dance with the aunts and the niece and the servant Lily. And then there's the question of where Gabriel and his wife Gretta are. Right. Have they arrived yet? So I guess that's the first point of suspense. And the second one is whether Freddy Malins is going to turn up drunk. 5:07 Erin: There's actually no suspense there. 5:10 Wes: Yeah, exactly. You know, and then when they do arrive, when Gabriel and Gretta do arrive, it's. There's the kind of friendly or, you know, who knows? But there's the marital teasing back and forth. His wife took too long to dress, that's why they're late. And then she's making fun of him for the galoshes There's a whole interaction a little bit later on having to do with him being more cautious and concerned about health. But we'll. We'll get to that. And then the other, you know, the other thing that's really, in the beginning, sort of telling. The first thing that disconcerts, or the word is discomposed. The thing that gets to Gabriel is Lily, who. He makes some comment about how he'll see her married soon. And she basically says that all men suck and they only want sex. That's pretty much the upshot of what she. She says. What does she call them? Palaver. Palaver. I don't know how you pronounce it. 6:04 Erin: They're full of palaver. Yeah. 6:06 Wes: Yeah. And they only want to get something out of you or something like that. 6:11 Erin: They're all for what they can get out of you, I think, is what she said. 6:14 Wes: Yeah. 6:15 Erin: You know, the moment of teasing that you mentioned, I think can be read a lot of different ways. The marital teasing. I think there is a humorous note there, but I think that also it can be read a little bit more sinisterly. You know, he. Gabriel has an iron grip, we'll say, on his household, demanding, you know, what people will wear. And so you can see it. I think it's really clever this way. I think you can see it as a moment of teasing about a good natured husband who cares about his family's welfare and their health. Or you can see it as a guy who has to be in control, who considers himself very smart and very up on things. Right. And who has to sort of force his family into alignment with his own conception of the world. I suppose. So I think that need for control is something that we see later in the hotel room. And so the groundwork is very subtly laid from the first moments that we see Gabriel and Gretta. We see that they have, you know, a good marriage and that he loves his wife, but also that there's this lack of understanding or maybe a point of slight contention between them that is released in this. In this teasing and could be read in a lot of different ways, this interaction with Lily. I mean, like I was thinking last night about Gabriel's name being Gabriel and how he has this sort of, like, annunciation that he wants to deliver to everyone, his speech over the course of the night. But then he's sort of visited by these three. These three women who all, you know, have messages for him, I guess. And Lily's is maybe the most confusing in a way. I think what she's responding to. You know, correct me if I'm wrong, is his infantilization of her. Is that right? 8:04 Wes: You think she's unhappy with him? 8:06 Erin: No. Well, yes, yes and no. 8:10 Wes: So she's complaining about boys. 8:14 Erin: I think that his interaction with her has spurred this feeling, this negative feeling. And so she may be responding to this kind of infantilization by way of, like, these negative feelings about men. She may not know that she's responding not only to the content of what Gabriel is saying, but to sort of his manner of putting things right, assuming that she's still in school. And that sort of everyone is following this narrative trajectory towards marriage, which at the time was a really complex subject matter for the Irish because of the fact that Ireland had the lowest marriage rate in Europe, like a shockingly low marriage rate at that time. And as we see with the Morkan sisters and with Mary Jane, it's very common for a woman to end up alone. So the assumptions and the kind of liberties and the infantilization that Gabriel takes spurs this reaction in Lily. And maybe she gives a kind of a stock answer, but I think it's important that it's been provoked in the way that it has. 9:18 Wes: Let's see. So Gabriel had known her when she was a child and used to sit on the lowest step nursing a rag doll. So to her, he's much older at this point than her and he's known her as a child. And he's. So there is an element of fatherliness and I don't know how old she's supposed to be. Pretty young. I don't know if it's a teenager or early 20s, but. But yeah, she could be that. That point in life where she wants to say, don't. Don't treat me like a child anymore. Which is not the way I was reading it, although I think that's a possibility. So his words exactly are, I suppose we'll be going to your wedding one of these fine days with your young man, eh? Regardless of whether it's infantilizing or good natured. That's always the sort of thing that can get you into trouble because you love life is often a sore spot with a lot of people you don't know. It's like saying, you know, I suppose you're gonna be going on a vacation to Paris with all that. With all that money. There's. There's an element of luck in here which he's not acknowledging. So when she responds, the men is now only all palaver and what they can get out of you. I think so I took this purely as her cynicism about this sort of thing. And I think he, you know, he ends up being surprised, I think in part because he doesn't expect that cynicism out of her, perhaps because she's still young. Right. She hasn't really had that much time to become that cynical. And I don't know if this is a comment on the way values are changing. You know, there's always that possibility things have become more socially unstable or more liberal, or the moral fabric has compromised in some way and that her response could reflect that. But I think what you're suggesting, which I think is a possibility, is that she is also saying, I'm not just a little girl who's dreaming about my wedding. I already know what men are all about. 11:19 Erin: Well, no, not quite. I mean, I think that. I don't think I put this very well, but I think that what Gabriel is assuming about her is infantilizing and it provokes, you know, it's assuming that she's not old enough to have a realistic view of her prospects for romance or that she has had no negative experiences with men and that she's full of this youthful hope and a kind of blindness at this point. So I think that it's not like she's saying, hey, don't think of me as a little girl. I think that his mode of addressing her is infantilizing. And she's not. It's not like she's saying, hey, take me seriously, or something like that. I think that it's provoking bitterness from her because of his assumption and his mode of talking to her so that she's not aware. 12:06 Wes: I think this is a good assumption in like a normal way that someone his age would talk to someone that age. So I don't see it as inherently infantilizing. 12:17 Erin: I think it's a good assumption too. But I think that it has the unintended consequence of doing that. 12:22 Wes: Yeah. So I think he doesn't know something about her, obviously, which she's much more jaded than he expected. 12:29 Erin: Right. And that's the thing. He doesn't seem to know her very well at all. 12:33 Wes: And it's interesting, it's right after that that I like this word discomposed by, you know, he's discomposed by her retort. And that sends him into a kind of worried rumination about the speech he's going to give and a kind of self attack. So this, you know, your idea here, that he doesn't know her very well. He starts to worry in a way that he doesn't know his audience very well. So their grade of culture is different than his. It'd be ridiculous to quote poetry in front of them. He would just be kind of showing off with his superior education. So these are, in a way, they're at the same time condescending thoughts. Which kind of supports your reading of the interaction with Lily. Because now we kind of get the extension of the condescension beyond the relationship with Lily to basically his relationship with anyone, with all of them. It reflects that his education has sort of created this distance between him and his. His family. But on the other hand, he's quite self critical about that distance and his. His inevitable condescending relationship to people because of his education. 13:47 Erin: You know, his whole interior monologue is ultimately kind of silly. Right. I mean, he's just giving a speech at his aunt's house that he gives every year. And it's kind of funny in the end. I mean, it's a great speech in a lot of ways, but it's kind of funny that, you know, the whole night he's sort of consumed with the speech when it's really kind of a low stakes enterprise. And it's really important. I think it's important emotionally to his aunts and Mary Jane and they are obviously really moved by it. And it's a beautiful experience for the people at the party. But it's also. It's not like he has to speak before parliament or something like that, Right? 14:23 Wes: Yeah, but I would feel the same way. I mean, if I had to speak in front of any audience, because I've done it. I just do nothing but worry about it all night until it's done. 14:33 Erin: Th…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    Finding Home in Stephen Spielberg’s “E.T.” (1982) Mar 14, 2022
    Show notes

    Stephen Spielberg once said that he was “still waiting to get out of [his] Peter Pan shoes and into [his] loafers.” Being a filmmaker, he said, was his way of remaining a child. Sort of. While his film “E.T.” is told from a child’s vantage point, it does not completely honor the wish to remain there. Like the alien he befriends, Eliot has been abandoned. And to this, many of us can relate. But in the end, the point of phoning home isn’t to get rescued by adults, but to avoid—even as we succumb to the responsibilities of adulthood—alienating our childhood talents for imagination and play. Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, Buck Mason. To get a free t-shirt with your first order, head over to buckmason.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: Steven Spielberg once said that he was still waiting to get out of his Peter Pan shoes and into his loafers. Being a filmmaker, he said, was his way of remaining a child, sort of. While his film ET Is told from a child's vantage point, it does not completely honor the wish to remain there. Like the alien he befriends, Elliot has been abandoned. And to this, many of us can relate. But in the end, the point of phoning home isn't to get rescued by adults, but to avoid, even as we succumb to the responsibilities of adulthood, alienating our childhood talents for imagination and play. This is Wes Alwan. This is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. Okay, so, Erin, it's been a long time since I've seen ET and this experience was quite different than the last time. For instance, I remembered the adult scientists in the film in a much more sinister way. I didn't remember that they were actually trying to save E.T. s life. I thought they just wanted to dissect him or maybe even vivisect him. But also I was thinking about whether or not I thought that ET Was cute or whether he was grotesque. And I know he's cute, you know, he's got a cute face, but I also found myself. Or maybe it's only components of the face are cute, but I found myself sympathizing with Gertie. When she said I don't like his feet and in general, his shape and the way he hobbles around, I thought, huh, that's really interesting because he's sort of iconically cute, but I hadn't really noticed the grotesque aspect. 2:03 Erin: Yeah, I didn't remember the lower half of his body at all. When he's lying in that ditch after Halloween, and then when we see him kind of fully laid out, he definitely's definitely bottom heavy, shall we say 2:19 Wes: he's got a pear shaped body, unfortunately. 2:23 Erin: Yeah, his legs are a little on the short side, but I find him adorable. I mean, how would you describe his head? It's sort of binocular or, you know, I mean, the eyes make it. 2:35 Wes: Yeah, it's got a periscope plus binoculars quality, I guess. You know, the neck. Periscopes a bit. 2:41 Erin: Yeah, the neck, yeah, yeah, the neck extends, but just the head shape itself is. 2:46 Wes: Yeah, very oblong. Obviously he's probably used to a different gravity, although, you know, he seems somewhat adapted to Earth's atmosphere, although not enough to not get sick, you know, eventually. 3:01 Erin: But I didn't realize that was the problem. 3:04 Wes: Well, I don't know if that's the problem, actually. It could be the. Because, of course, he rejuvenates when the spaceship, his comrades, or not comrades, fellow aliens, come back and get near. So it seems like the sickness might also have something to do with empathetic connection. 3:24 Erin: Yeah. I hadn't seen this film since I was maybe 9 or 10, so it has been a very long time for me, too. And I also remembered the adults being bad guys, and they're not, and I was surprised by that. I also remembered the mother being kind of a bad guy, or that was my impression. Like, you know, not an actual bad guy, but, like, I remembered her being somehow different. Like not sympathetic or something like that. But not the case. 3:50 Wes: I think there's an ambivalent relationship to the adults in the film. You know, it starts out very sinister with the scientists doing their searching and the Keys guy. Right. And we only get to see the waist. We don't get to see the faces until the end in which we. We find out that Keys doesn't want to hurt ET but he wants to save him, and that he's been dreaming about this since childhood. And so that, in a way, his childhood wishes have carried over into adulthood so that it no longer looks just like adult cynicism. I'm going to find this creature and dissect him. And I represent the powers that be. You know, the governmental powers are representative, as oppressive. But I like the complexity of this position, and it's not uncommon in Spielberg. It's a complex representation of adults and the relationship of children to adulthood. And one of the things about adulthood, and this is well represented in the mother, is just the intrusion of adult concerns. Right. So the mother is very harried. She has to work. She's been abandoned by her husband and now has to take care of all these kids. So there's something about adult concerns that are very alien to children or make them feel alien, I think Spielberg famously said. Right. His focus on aliens had something to do with the fact that he felt. And I think his father abandoned him as a kid as well, but that his feeling of being like a little alien as a kid, which I thought was very interesting, because, of course, there are ways in which ET Seems to represent, you know, children and childhood innocence. That didn't tee you up very well, I guess. 5:45 Erin: No, no, no, no. We're talking about this in relation to the mother. 5:50 Wes: Yeah. This is a variation on adulthood. It's not the same. She doesn't Work the same way as the scientists. But, you know, she just kind of similar to the way I remembered her, which is being very frazzled and standing, in a way. She's an object of sympathy for the kids because she has been abandoned as well. But she's also largely irrelevant. She's kind of in a flurry at the perimeter of what's going on. And we get to be in the childhood world and it's the children who have all the agency for most of the film. 6:29 Erin: Yeah. I'm thinking about how late she actually finds out that ET Is there. I didn't really even remember her finding it out. And there's that great sequence, of course, where she doesn't see him. 6:40 Wes: Yeah, exactly. Yeah. Which is a good metaphor, Right, for the way being adult closes us off to, let's say, the world of the imaginary. I don't know. 6:50 Erin: Right. Well, thinking about the mother and the sort of, like, fact of having this single mother who's gone for a lot of the day, he stays home from school or the sort of, like, inherent lack of supervision that comes from that got me thinking about the neighborhood itself. And I was really intrigued by this suburban backdrop, which seems. I looked it up, and it seems that critical opinion is split on this as well. But I seem to get, on the one hand, a kind of benevolence from the neighborhood and a kind of safety which is borne out as much in the mom as it is in the friends of the kids. I'm surprised that the mother, you know, of course, she has this initial reaction to trying to protect the children from this creature. But then she has a surprisingly rational, or whatever the rational version of a good reaction would be to this plot scenario. And she's sympathetic to Elliot and, you know, likes this little alien, as far as we can tell. And the children in the neighborhood too. You would expect them to foil the escape plan at the end. Instead, they help. So there's this kind of surprising benevolence and community in the neighborhood at the same time. It allows for this tremendous freedom. It's also rather alienating not to keep returning to that word. And it's a little bit cookie cutter, of course. Like, you could see the shots of it on the hillside are, on the one hand, kind of beautiful. On the other hand, they have that manufactured or prefab kind of look to them, the houses. And I was reminded of the neighborhood in the dissection scene which seemed to me to be just as the frogs were kind of identified with ET For Elliot, the individual little glasses that they were in with the chloroform I thought was kind of reminiscent of those houses on the hillside. 8:45 Wes: Exactly, yeah. That's great. I didn't think about that connection to the glasses, but I thought, you know, in thinking about this I thought again, I agree with you. And this is one of the, the things that's important about the film that it's not. This is suburbia, but it's not just, hey, suburbia bad, hey, adulthood bad, hey, science and technology and authority bad. Again, it's a much more ambivalent, complicated relationship. And I at one point, just thinking about some of these shots of the valley, right, we get to see this suburban, you know, I guess it's a suburb of la, maybe, I don't know, but mm, it's not suburbia. Filmed entirely from within. And as something completely bland. We get kind of a grand scene of it looking down into the valley. And I had an association which is it's kind of a loose one. But I was thinking about the sort of crater like aspect of the way the city is laid out in the valley. And I thought of War of the Worlds in which the spaceships kind of get buried into the ground a bit. So I thought, you know, it almost has that glittery aspect, right, which is something that Spielberg does with his alien spaceships, all the lights and it's. I thought, you know, in a way it's like a crash landed spaceship. I think the alien and the spaceship, they have something to do with our capacity to maintain a relationship to what is creative and imaginative and childlike in adulthood. And so here you see, it's not just where dreams have gone to die, but there's still a hint of some capacity for that. So yes, it's broken in a way. And adulthood tends to. The tendency is to break childhood capacities for being imaginative and for play and for creativity because adult concerns intrude. But there's still always that potential. And the wish here, I think is to be able to maintain some of that imaginative capacity into adulthood. So it's there in a kind of broken form, which means that to some extent it's potentially fixable. So the movement into adulthood doesn't have to be all that sinister in the way it seems at the very beginning of the film with the shots of the searchers, the scientists, in a very sinister way overlooking the suburban valley. It doesn't end up being necessarily that sinister. 11:16 Erin: Yeah, I like the brokenness, but also the idea of the landscape is holding those two things in tandem. Kind of like the keys guy, right? As adults, of course, we like. We maintain memories of childhood experiences and therefore, sort of holding together our childhood selves and our adult selves at the same time. And in that same way, I think you're right that the shots above that little town are pretty grand. And it's that integration with the landscape, I think, expresses like a very California kind of tension between living in this beautiful place and settling it, but it never really being settled. There's always the earthquake threat or the threat of natural disaster kind of looming over what's otherwise a kind of very hospitable place. And so you have that too, I think, in the house where it's like, it's safe and suburban and sequestered on the one hand, but on the other hand, because of the flexibility of the parent child relationship, it's unsafe. You know, your dad might leave you, your mom might be away from the house when you need her. And so there's both a tremendous freedom and safety and danger kind of all existing at once. And I think this is related, you know, the California idea, too, is really interesting when it comes to, you know, the movie associations and, like, being in the land of. Of movies. I think that membrane is pretty permeable in the movie as well, you know, 12:41 Wes: in thinking more about the appearance of ET and sort of. I don't know if my experience is generalizable, if others get that element of grotesqueness as well, but I thought, you know, it's interesting to represent childhood innocence in et, which I think is represented as something grotesque. And that led me to think of the ways in which those two things are related. So I thought of the way the fetuses at a certain, you know, certain points in development look, and the fact that there's an incompleteness. And that incompleteness, you know, it's not just physiological. So there's. There's a lot of that. Right. And ET's difficulty with mobility and. Which is a factor of childhood and not being an adult yet. And so. So being alien to an environment which. Right. We are adapted to that environment as adults, but not fully adapted to it as children. And incompleteness also extends to unformed character and lack of education. So children are more material and potential, or they're more a matter of potentiality than actuality. Right. There's. They're waiting to be actualized, but going along with that, there's a lot of vulnerabilities, which, you know, again, I'm connecting this to grotesqueness, but there's dependence and the prospect of abandonment, as you mentioned, there's a difficulty defending oneself. There are sinister adults who might abuse or molest, and so those capacities not fully developed. And then even the ability to flee danger is impaired, going back to mobility. And then there's the. Ultimately there's the danger of poor formative influences that lead to a kind of adulthood that is damaged to some degree or another. And there's dramatic forms of damage, but then there's just ordinary damage again, being caught up in the world of adult concerns and losing a connection to one's imagination and creativity. So I thought that's a really interesting bunch of things that you can pack into the appearance of ET and it doesn't have to be that way. Right. Because you. I love the Yoda crossover in the movie. Right. The gnarledness of the appearance can also represent old age and wisdom. And it also can represent, you know, as we saw in our analysis of Alien, it can represent sexuality. So I'm thinking of the frog scene there with a little girl standing, screaming as the frogs are on the floor, which, you know, if you're a Freudian, you're tempted to see that as a. Feelings about sexuality and ultimately. Right. That culminates in, in him kissing her. So he takes her down off the, off the chair and kisses her. So I think all those elements are there in the, you know, maybe it's a bit of a stretch, but you can read into, into the appearance that, you know, all of these different elements. 15:37 Erin: No, I think that's right. And I think, you know, in your description of childhood and of the fetus, you know, I was thinking too, of old age that all of those things could apply in like, the final years of one's life. I think there's the dependence, the senility, and also the kind of. It's not unform…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    The Power of Calm: Two Wordsworth Sonnets Feb 28, 2022
    Show notes

    William Wordsworth wrote no fewer than 523 sonnets over the course of his career. (By comparison, the second most prolific Romantic sonneteer was Keats with a paltry 67.) Two of Wordsworth’s best-loved efforts in the form are both Petrarchan sonnets with the same rhyme scheme, written in the same year, published in the same volume. Yet their messages, at least at first blush, are fundamentally opposed; one admires London’s cityscape and establishes a truce between the trappings of human innovation and the untouched features of the natural world, while the other laments a developed, industrialized, disenchanted England. How might we reconcile Wordsworth’s two minds on city life? What characterizes his so-called pagan creed? And must devotion to an ideal alienate us from the tune—however discordant—of our own age? Wes & Erin discuss Wordsworth’s “Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802” and “The World is Too Much With Us.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: William Wordsworth wrote no fewer than 523 sonnets over the course of his career. By comparison, the second most prolific romantic sonneteer was Keats, with a paltry 67. Two of Wordsworth's best loved efforts in the form are both Petrarchan sonnets with the same rhyme scheme, written in the same year, published in the same volume. Yet their messages, at least at first blush, are fundamentally opposed. One admires London's cityscape and establishes a truce between the trappings of human innovation and the untouched features of the natural world, while the other laments a developed, industrialized, disenchanted England. How might we reconcile Wordsworth's two minds on city life? What characterizes his so called pagan creed? And must devotion to an ideal alienate us from the tune, however discordant, of our own age? Today we're discussing Wordsworth. Wordsworth's composed upon Westminster Bridge and the world is Too much with us. This is Erin O'Luanaigh and this is Wes Alwan and you're listening to Subtext. So Wes, Wordsworth's first published poem, it turns out, is a sonnet that he published in 1787. And then for about 14 years, I think, he didn't write any sonnets. So the 523 came. Well, I guess 522 of them or 21 of them, because I think there might have been one other early sort of juvenilia sonnet effort. So 520 plus came after 1801. And I guess the sudden resurgence of interest in the sonnet happened when he and his sister Dorothy were sitting around, I think, at Grasmere and happened to open up a volume of John Milton's sonnets. And Wordsworth was rapt and suddenly decided to write almost, you know, a whole volume's worth of his two volume poetry collection from 1807 in the Sonnet form, which I think is so odd, it's so interesting that he then just went straight into it and then wrote over 500 of them. 2:20 Wes: Wow, that's amazing. Sonnet fever. 2:24 Erin: That's right. 2:26 Wes: Have you experienced that? Have you gone through a sonnet phase? 2:30 Erin: I did. I'm thinking about sonnets a lot right now because I actually am in a workshop where we were assigned a sonnet this week and apparently I've discovered it's one of those things I can do when it's not assigned to me. I write a lot of sonnets, or I have in the past and I've had people Also sort of prescribe sonnets to me. I remember when I was first getting into writing poetry, I had a semi mentor figure, this older woman I knew who was very accomplished poet, who said, if you want to be a poet, you should write a sonnet a day. And that's how you learn to write poems. And I did not do that, but I thought it was pretty good advice. And there's something about the sonnet form, I think, that is adaptable to any situation. It's extremely flexible and it has the capacity to kind of hold whatever you put in it. It's like a Mary Poppins bag or something. Take that with a grain of salt. Obviously, many poems are not sonnets for a reason, but I do think that there's something magical about the form, especially in English. 3:37 Wes: Why did you pick these two? So we just got done with Tintern Abbey, which we did as a two parter. And then you suggested that we do these two sonnets as a third Wordsworth episode. Why these two in particular? 3:51 Erin: Well, they're a really odd pair. They sit just a few sonnets apart in that poems of 1807, that Wordsworth book that he released obviously that year. And yet they're such an odd pair. I mean, they're so opposite each other in certain ways. It's rare to see a poem in which Wordsworth is praising a cityscape in which he's looking at something man made and admiring it. Though granted he admires it as if it's a landscape and it has some pretty odd features. And then the second one is sort of atypical for him too, I think, in that I find it odd that he seems so angry. I don't know if his anger registered for you, but he seems rather angry and it seems very strident in a way. And where he goes at the end of the sonnet is really surprising. So there are two really surprising sonnets that I think make an even O. And we could have done any number of his sonnets from that volume. Like there's London, 1802, in which he directly addresses Milton's legacy in England. And you sort of see this burgeoning conservatism really at that point in which he longs for an older and quote unquote, more authentic England, which would have been really interesting. But I just think these two together are such an interesting dichotomy and yet they kind of wrap around into each other as well, I think. 5:15 Wes: Yeah, I think they go very well together. And Composed Upon Westminster Bridge is a surprising poem for me because he's praising the city, Right. And he's doing it as if the city were a natural wonder. So we get something interesting and counterintuitive there, and that will extend through the poem. There are a lot of interesting, paradoxical seeming images and thoughts in the poem. And so, you know, it's a really good extension of our discussion of Tintern Abbey as well. And this sort of relationship between nature and the human and human artifacts and buildings in the city and the way they. The way those things interact. Do you want to. Do you want to go ahead and read it and then we'll go line by line? 6:07 Erin: Sure. Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802. Earth has not anything to show more fair. Dull would he be of soul who could pass by a sight so touching in its majesty. This city now doth like a garment wear the beauty of the morning Silent bare ships, towers, domes, theaters and temples Lie open unto the fields and to the sky all bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep in his first splendour, valley, rock or hill Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep. The river glideth at his own sweet will. Dear God. The very houses seem asleep and all that mighty heart is lying still. 6:58 Wes: Very nice. So Earth is not anything to show more fair. Wow. That's a pretty extreme statement. Very clickbaity. Wordsworth. 7:12 Erin: Yeah. 7:14 Wes: Interestingly, it's not anything. It's not any and thing or not together there, but anything. We are going to be given an ode to the city in a way. And the way it starts, it seems as if the city is something like a natural wonder. Right. It's just another of the things of the sublime things that one might appreciate in nature, which is obviously counterintuitive because the city is something that's made by human beings. It's human unnaturalness and artifact making at a very large scale. And then the other thing is, it's industrialized and cramped and filled with work and drudgery. Dirty, maybe crime ridden. All the ills that city suffers from. So we have to figure out how it is that as it'll become clear in this poem how it is, one might try to treat the city as if it were somehow another one of the things of nature. I was reminded of green to the very door in Tintern Abbey, the way he can treat human products and dwellings and so on as integrated into the natural landscape or overrun by the natural landscape. Something like that, sure. 8:33 Erin: Yeah. Well, you know, even before we have to figure out how he's going to Treat the city. He really buries the lead. I mean, we don't understand that this is a city even until line four. Right. I mean, I suppose the title is a clue, but Wordsworth is famous for being places and thinking of other places, so he could just happen to be on the bridge and thinking of something else. And so we really don't get what it is that he's looking at. He really could be describing anything. What is this sight? What's this thing that's so, so fair that you'd have to be an idiot not to see its beauty? I think Earth there, as you suggest, is a strange word because he is emphasizing a kind of scale which seems extreme. And fair is also an odd word, as if he's saying, let's be fair, you know, let's give this sight its due. There's, I think, the suggestion of fairness within that word in its other sense. 9:29 Wes: And also notably, it's not beauty. 9:32 Erin: Yeah. So there's something about. I mean, fairness is. Maybe Wordsworth would argue against this, and maybe he did argue against this in Tintern Abbey, but fairness is not something that we associate with nature in its second sense that I'm kind of suggesting. Right. And so there's the trappings of civilization that he's admiring and the things like justice and fairness that we get when we live in a city with other people and have to contend with others. So. 9:56 Wes: Yeah, that's interesting. I hadn't thought of that. Double meaning. Yeah. 10:00 Erin: Yeah. And then in the second line, dull would he be of soul who could pass by a sight so touching in its majesty? So he's. Again, he's suggesting, I think, that he really should admire this. You know, he's by himself and is sort of talking to himself here. And the dullness, I think, in the second line is really contrasted with, like, the images of brilliance and the glittering quality of the city in the later part of the poem. 10:30 Wes: Yeah. 10:31 Erin: This is interesting, too. You know, it's as if he's sort of chastising himself, maybe. At least I read into it that way, because anytime that Wordsworth is admiring something man made, I think that he must be kind of forcing himself to. 10:48 Wes: Yeah, I think that's right. It's a lover of nature who is perhaps, you know, surprised to be so affected by human industry. You know, this urban scene on a large scale. So, you know, the suggestion might be that romanticism itself contains the peril of dullness by ignoring the majesty of artifice on a grand scale. And here. Majesty. Right. Seems to be. Again, we're not getting beauty per se. And this sounds a lot more like sublimity, which I think the rest of the poem supports. Although the word beauty is going to be used as well or beautifully, you know, and that's. The sublime is something usually reserved for nature. Right. It's grand in scale and beautiful, but dangerous. And it reveals one smallness. It's dangerous in a way, but it's. But it's also, as Kant thought, we can appreciate it because we're not really in danger, but it's still evocative of something terrifying and dangerous. And so, you know, the typical examples of that are cliffs and the ocean and lightning and just these large, scary natural things. So to treat the city as an instance of sublimity, if I'm right in reading Majesty that way, is a really interesting way to look at this. 12:13 Erin: Yeah, I think you're right. And that makes touching even odder to me, because it strikes me as odd. I mean, are things that are majestic and sublime, do we say that they're touching? It seems an oddly domestic. You know, a word at a domestic scale. I mean, literally taken the whole idea of majesty and the sublime is something that seems out of our reach. Right. 12:40 Wes: Yeah. I think this is one of the many paradoxes of the poem, which is that by the very end of it, it's almost like when he talks about the houses seeming asleep and the river of its own sweet will gliding. It's almost like he's looking at a sleeping child or something. You know, that's almost like it's. Oh, this is very quaint. And so you get this mix, I think, of its grandness and its scale with these words like touching. It also argues. It could argue against my reading, obviously, but it could also just be an interesting tension. 13:17 Erin: No, I think you're right. I mean, there are so many paradoxes. Like the idea of. I remember trying to explain this to my students. The idea that the city is. Is like a person wearing clothing and yet it's bare at the same time. 13:31 Wes: Apparently Wordsworth thought of revising that later on because some lady in London complained about. Complained about that contradiction. But it's a really great contradiction because the idea that the city wears the beauty of the morning like a garment. So we get two ways in which the city is sort of integrated into the natural environment. The first part of it is more temporal. It's like the city is integrated into the diurnal rhythm of the day. And we're going to get some explanation of the majesty of the city in terms of Its silence, the fact that it hasn't really woken up yet, which is really important because we can imagine that the city, while awake, would not have the same majesty. Right. And once it starts producing smoke, which we find out it's not producing right now, which would be the garment of the active city. So here it's clothed in nakedness, paradoxically. Right. So the beauty of the morning and the sky, it's wearing the natural like a garment. But to wear the natural like a garment just is to be naked. And there's even more to that because. Right. The garments are a form of artifice, and they are, in a way, the original form of artifice. Right. With Adam and Eve. 14:51 Erin: Right. 14:51 Wes: The first. The first technology is the technology that covers up one's naked body once one becomes aware of that, even if it's just a leaf. Right. And the only artifice involved is taking it from the tree. So you get a recovering. Right. So the city is covered in the sense that it's already artificial, already a product of artifice. And then the recovering is the covering by nature. Right. The whole green to the very door thing, again, where to cover is to uncover. To cover will turn out to be open to the sky, open to the fields. That'll be the bareness. And it's a bareness associated with silence. 15:31 Erin: I like that. I don't know if you're giving Wordsworth too much credit, because if he wanted to edit it, he must not have been thinking about it. 15:38 Wes: No, no. Yeah, but. 15:40 Erin: But it's a subliminal genius that he has. 15:44 Wes: Yeah, well, my authorial intent is. It's not irrelevant, but it's not everything, of course, so. 15:52 Erin: But, yeah, no, that's great. 15:54 Wes: Yeah. One more thing about this idea of sublimity at work here, the sublime, one of its effects, right, is to make us feel our smallness as human beings in relation to…

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    What Nature Betrays: Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey” (Part 2) Feb 14, 2022
    Show notes

    In Part 1 of our discussion of “Tintern Abbey,” we talked about whether Wordsworth was right to suggest that our experience of nature was good not just for restoring our weary spirits, but for helping us to mature and even for making us better people. In part two, we explore his justifications for this thesis, in particular the claim that nature connects us not just to our senses and baser instincts, but to our capacity to think, experience beauty, and ultimately act ethically and autonomously. Does nature really never betray the heart that loves her, or has the poet ignored her more sinister dimensions? Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Wes: In part one of our discussion of Tintern Abbey, we talked about whether Word Wordsworth was right to suggest that our experience of nature was good not just for restoring our weary spirits, but for helping us to mature and even for making us better people. In part two, we explore his justifications for this thesis, in particular, the claim that nature connects us not just to our senses and baser instincts, but to our capacity to think, experience beauty, and ultimately act ethically and autonomously. Does nature really never betray the heart that loves her? Or has the poet ignored her more sinister dimensions? That's the subject for today's discussion. This is Wes Alwan. 0:55 Erin: And this is Erin O'Luanaigh. 0:56 Wes: And you're listening to Subtext. So, Erin, on our first episode for Tintern Abbey, we got through, what is it, three stanzas, so we have two or three more to go. It's a poem that's worth two episodes, I think. We talked about the way in which his experience of a landscape, a natural scene, was a impetus for him to a contemplative frame of mind, at least in light of the fact that he was coming to it a second time. And so the scene is imbued with memory and experience. In the second stanza, he described what he gets out of, or what nature gives us. So not just sensations sweet, but something reflective, tranquil, restoration, and maybe some sort of effect on character, right, via unremembered pleasure. And then above all, this capacity for a contemplative frame of mind, the serene and blessed mood which becomes much more explicit in the. In the second stanza. And then in the third stanza, we talked a little bit about the. I think you called it city life and the way in which one can bring the memory of nature to that, to the drudgery of the everyday world and the mundane. And so that's where we left it. And now we're ready to get into the fourth stanza. So why don't we start with you reading that? 2:33 Erin: Okay, so the listener is going to have to bear with me because this is quite a long stanza. So here we go. And now, with gleams of half extinguished thought, with many recognitions dim and faint, and somewhat of a sad perplexity, the picture of the mind revives again. While here I stand, not only with a sense of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts, that in this moment there is life and food for future years. And so I dare to hope, though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills, when like a roe, I Bounded o' er the mountains by the sides of the deep rivers and the lonely streams. Wherever nature led, More like a man flying from something that he dreads than one who sought the thing he loved for nature. Then the coarser pleasures of my boyish days and their glad animal movements all gone by to me, was all in all I cannot paint what then I was. The sounding cataract haunted me like a passion. The tall rock, the mountain, the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms were then to me an appetite, a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest unborrowed from the eye. That time is past, and all its aching joys are now no more. And all its dizzy raptures not for this Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur. Other gifts have followed for such loss I would believe abundant recompense. For I have learned to look on nature not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still sad music of humanity. Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue. And I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts, a sense sublime, of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns and the round ocean and the living air and the blue sky. And in the mind of man a motion and a spirit that impels all thinking things, all objects of all thought, and rolls through all things. Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods and mountains, and of all that we behold from this green earth, of all the mighty world of eye and ear, both what they half create and what perceive. Well pleased to recognize in nature and the language of the sense, the anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, the guide, the guardian of my heart and soul, of all my moral being. 5:03 Wes: Great. Thank you for taking that long hike through poetic nature. 5:08 Erin: You know, I was young and then I grew up. A lot of things happened over the course of it. 5:11 Wes: That's right. I think we both got a little older and wiser. 5:15 Erin: I had a religious experience. 5:17 Wes: Animal movements. 5:18 Erin: Animal movement. That's one of the best parts of this. 5:21 Wes: Sounds like 19th century speak for sex to me. 5:26 Erin: No, Glad. Animal movements? Oh, it seems so. Geez. I guess you're right. You know, I so often read this as. You know, I had no idea, as I said last time, that he was only 23 in the before. Or rather, he was as old as 23 in the before picture. And his after picture is 28. And so I thought of this as like a little boy, you know, running around like a deer. Yeah, to him it is. And he is running around like a deer. But it's cuter when you think that he's 9, 10. God, animal movements don't have so much weight at that age anyway. 6:03 Wes: Yeah, I mean, we get the picture that what nature meant to him when he was younger, which was much more bacchanalian and had a lot more to do with impulses, including the implication does seem to be sex. And it's hard not to read at least a faint allusion to the fact that he got someone pregnant in France and then couldn't go back. Because I think he. It was right after he got back from France that he made his first visit to this landscape when he was in kind of a walkabout exile, unable to go back to his girlfriend. But there's an interesting. Here. I think we get three repetitions here that are kind of callbacks. There's probably more, but these are the ones that I've noticed. Callbacks to the first stanza. One of them is murmuring, right? So that was the river or the rolling springs that were murmuring in the first stanza. And now he's saying that he does not mourn nor murmur. So he doesn't murmur or complain in this sense because of the loss of this former, more youthful relationship to nature. And we get talk of the sky again. Right. There's that triad in the first stanza of river, cliff, sky. And the whole sky thing here gets expanded. And then this word rolling comes up in the first stanza. It's something that's applied to the river, and now it's been transferred into the sky. Right. So I think he says the blue sky. And in the mind of man, a motion and a spirit that impels all thinking things, all objects of thought and rolls through all things. So the sense in which everything is imbued with or suffused with spirit. 8:01 Erin: Well, with God, I think. Right. Just looking at the moments that you're pointing out, I'm thinking too, how much trouble Wordsworth would be in if he was in a poetry workshop. For a lot of reasons, thank God 8:12 Wes: there were no poetry workshops back then. 8:16 Erin: But we have, you know, we have the deep rivers. Let's see, what else. The tall rock, the deep and gloomy wood, the blue sky, even not the most interesting adjectives in the world. But then we have. Then we have the sounding cataract, which I think is really lovely. And a couple of other and I guess, glad animal movements. Maybe someone would circle that. And Put a question mark next to it. But I think that's kind of nice. 8:38 Wes: Yeah, they would. That's too. 8:41 Erin: What do you mean by that? 8:43 Wes: Everything interesting would get a question mark. 8:45 Erin: That's right. 8:46 Wes: Wordsworth, you come into my office. I'd like to talk to you about your adjectives. 8:53 Erin: This could use some trimming, I'm not gonna lie. Anyway, just the very first line. I'm already kind of wondering what he's up to, though. I mean, I think, like, this. You know, this has such a talky quality. And I mean that in a positive way. I mean, you know, it's easy to read. It goes rather quickly as we go through the lines. We're kind of bounding through them like a row ourselves because we're not really tripped up by anything. But then when you go back, a lot of interesting things are happening. So. Like, for instance, just in the first line, with gleams of half extinguished thought. You kind of know what that is. I think what so often happens for me in this poem is that you read through it really quickly. And then you're kind of like, oh, well, what actually is half extinguished thought? 9:32 Wes: Yeah, it's kind of like our question about unremembered pleasure. Right. 9:37 Erin: Yeah. That little qualifier, half extinguished, is just really funny. 9:42 Wes: So we have this, especially in light of the fact. Sorry. That, you know, he's just talked about how he's not blind. He's not like a blind man. Right. Yeah. 9:49 Erin: Right. 9:49 Wes: He's been able to sustain this earlier experience in memory even when in the city or elsewhere. 9:56 Erin: Right. And now it's like the movie is over. You know, the credits are rolling and his recognitions now are dim and faint. Which we would use to describe, you know, sight that's failing. And somewhat of a sad perplexity. The picture of the mind revives again. And so I guess what I'm asking is, in these four lines, is he losing it? And then. Oh, he gets it back again or what's going on there? 10:21 Wes: Yeah. It's interesting that, you know, maybe the memory starts to look dim in light of re experiencing something. Yeah. The picture of the mind revives again. So maybe there's the experience of realizing that what he thought had stayed with him hadn't quite stayed with him. I'm not sure how do we interpret sad perplexity here. Because then we get a transition to hope. These are the sorts of interesting conflicts that I really like and I think, like, sustain the poem regardless of whether it's sloppy or not. It's got that engine that keeps us bounding like roes, I guess. But, yeah, sure. I don't know. What do you make of sad perplexity here? 11:06 Erin: I don't know. Maybe that the images are kind of warring with each other. He's not sure what to make of them because he's just had this moment of emotion with that exclamation point that preceded this. So maybe he's almost a little bit. We've just left him at a fever pitch with, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods? How often has my spirit turned to thee? So, you know, maybe he's a little shy now. He's coming down from. From that moment, perhaps now. And, oh, I lost it. You know, he was at the height of some sort of passion, maybe. And maybe even through speaking it or writing it or whatever, he kind of loses it in the moment, even as he addresses it. Maybe that's what makes it escape him because he's finally addressing it directly. 11:50 Wes: I guess memory creates these different contradictory layers as he's described it. There's the first experience, which was all about youth and impulse and desire. And then there was the. You know, he brought in all these other effects. The ability to comfort us, you know, when we're in the office, let's put it that way. Character building. But above all, meditation. And, you know, the contemplative nature of all this stuff. And now, as he returns to it, it's one thing to have that contemplative aspect in memory, but now there's potentially a conflict. Right? So does. Does revisiting the scene, does that evoke youthful impulse? Now, if it's in memory, it can have that element of nostalgia. Right. And be worked over. But if you're coming back to it a second time, then what is it? Exactly? It's not what it was in memory. Precisely. So when the picture of the mind revives, he once again, he's told us this before, but he wants to do it again, which is that the experience now is not about present pleasure just as it wasn't in memory, but it's about hope now. So this is like a new thing to put on the list. Not just immediate pleasure, not contemplativeness, not character building. But now we get hope and also takes us out of the present. There's a lot of not being in the present in this, but go ahead. 13:20 Erin: Yeah. And he kind of wonders too, or hopes, rather, that even though he's not that unthinking being that, you know, sort of went traipsing through the woods five years ago that now he'll still be able to take. What does he say, you know, food for future years. And so there's this idea that even though he's now maybe more conscious of the fact that he is, you know, storing up for the, you know, the winter in town or whatever, about to, you know, go into his long sort of spiritual hibernation in the city, he's now conscious that that's what he's doing. So there's a little bit of, I guess, you know, meta commentary, you know. Okay, so he has all these wonderful memories of this place from when he experienced it in a more. In a less thinking way, almost implying that though that was a sort of a false orientation towards nature, that there was something less calculating about that. Right. Because he wasn't intending to remember this scene so well and to have it have such an effect on his life in the future. And now he's going back as a retreat, I guess, and almost as a deliberate, or rather as a deliberate storing up of memory in a way which I find to be. It never really kind of works that well. I mean, in personal experience, maybe this is the case for Wordsworth, but he's kind of hoping to recapture the lightning in the bottle moment. And my experience is that when you try to recreate a memory or go back to a place and expect to have the same experience, you very seldom achieve that. So I don't know, I read a little bit of desperation inside the hope. Maybe I'm wrong there. 14:58 Wes: No, I think that's right. I think you're getting at this sad perplexity. Right? Who goes. If he's feeling old at 20, is it 28 now he's going back to. In my view, that's still a baby, as I've said many times before. But if he's going back, they're feeling old now. And thinking back on youthful experiences, especially love, which is kind of implied in the background here, romantic experiences, then is that pleasurable or is it sad? Is it something I've lost or something I can take pleasure in simply as a memory or simply as an impetus to certain compensations, like the contemplative compensation. So this is about loss of a certai…

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    Mother Nature’s Nurture in Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey” (Part 1) Jan 31, 2022
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    After an absence of five years, the poet William Wordsworth returned to the idyllic ruins of a medieval monastery along the River Wye. The spot was perhaps not so very different from his last visit, but Wordsworth found that he had undergone a significant transformation in the intervening years. In a long blank-verse meditation, he explores the changes that the memory of this landscape has affected on his psyche and the role it played in his now-mature comportment towards nature, impulse, and desire. What can Wordsworth’s poem teach us about our own relationships to the natural world? Can Mother Nature truly exert a parental influence? Can nature even make us better people? In this Part One of a two-part episode, Wes & Erin discuss the first three stanzas of Wordsworth’s 1798 poem, “Tintern Abbey.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:08 Erin: After an absence of five years, the poet William Wordsworth returned to the idyllic ruins of a medieval monastery along the River Wye. The spot was perhaps not so very different from his last visit, but Wordsworth found that he himself had undergone a significant transformation in the intervening years. In a long blank verse meditation, he explores the changes that the memory of this landscape has affected on his psyche and the role it played in his now mature comportment towards nature, impulse and desire. What can Wordsworth's poem teach us about our own relationships to the natural world? Can Mother Nature truly exert a parental influence? Can nature even make us better people? Today, in part one of a two part episode, we're discussing Wordsworth's 1798 poem Tintern Abbey. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. The. This is Wes Alwan and you're listening to Subtext. 1:00 Wes: So, Erin, have you ever felt betrayed by nature? Or is it true that nature never did betray the heart that loved her? Or maybe you don't love nature that much, I don't know. But I wonder about this thesis. Nature never did betray the heart that loved her. 1:15 Erin: Yeah, I was thinking about that quite a bit too. You know, I do love nature and I was thinking actually about a really scary incident that happened to me last summer. I have a. A little state park near my house where I go hiking in the summer sometimes. Every single day, rain or shine. And I go when it's cold too. But anyway, I was kind of cocky about my ability to get up and down the mountain before this big lightning storm that was supposed to happen and ended up being scared out of my mind because there were literal. I literally saw a lightning bolt come down and hit the ground maybe about 20ft in front of me. 1:52 Wes: Wow. 1:53 Erin: Something like that. Yeah. It was really, really scary. It was really wild. The sky turned that kind of weird green color, you know, of like extreme weather, almost like a tornado kind of color. And this was in New England. So this is. I was thinking about this too. The backdrop of a relatively hospitable nature versus a more extreme one. Right. I mean, New England doesn't have terribly. There's like a lot of variation in the weather, which is the big joke. If you don't like the weather in New England, wait five minutes. 2:21 Wes: Yeah. It's not like you went crab fishing in the North Atlantic or something like that. 2:24 Erin: Exactly, exactly. Yeah. 2:26 Wes: To get in touch with, you know, the primal or. 2:30 Erin: I dried out and became Erin Jerky in the Serengeti or something like that. So there's a certain. Let's say domesticated element of New England and Old England, which I think much written about by Thoreau and Emerson. I was thinking about the Transcendentalist too, and Thoreau's experience of going up Mount Katahdin and his essay up there or his journal entry rather about how it made him see nature in a completely different way because it was so extreme and almost like. I don't know if you've ever been up there. I haven't, but I've seen pictures and it's like the surface of the moon almost. You know, it's all sort of slate looking. Not the happy chipmunks helping me do my laundry kind of. Thoreau, 3:13 Wes: which is really his mother and probably Emerson was doing some of it as well. 3:17 Erin: But it's easy to live in a cabin when you can just go to dinner at Hawthorne's house. But anyway, I love Thoreau and I love Walden Pond, which we should do at some point. I think that there is a more extreme. Wordsworth kind of grew up in more of like a Mount Katahdin kind of landscape to be fair. But yeah, I don't know. I guess so I'm throwing all these things out there just to say it's not as though nature can't be scary and extreme even in these, you know, more mild places, relatively speaking. But that relationship to nature, I think I fear na. I have an appropriate fear of nature, even if I take it for granted sometimes and try to outrun storms and stuff like that. 3:56 Wes: A healthy fear of nature, like being worried about sharks coming up through the shower drains. I'm sorry, that's a reference to a conversation we earlier had about Jaws. 4:10 Erin: And my fear of these things is intense and irrational. But I don't know. What's your read on that? What do you think? 4:17 Wes: I just thought that was a interesting throw off line because it's obviously the case that nature does betray the heart that loves her in some sense. Right. Because it's obviously the case that nature often betrays the hearts that love her and more so the hearts that love her. Not the people who stay on the couch watching tv, but the people who go out for hikes, even if it's not Mount Everest or the people who are outside more often get into more scrapes with nature and it's just a more dangerous place than the living room or the shower. Although maybe not if you look at the falls or the shark attacks statistics in showers, you might, but yeah. So it's something that we'll talk about as we go through. We're Going to go stanza by stanza. You'll read a stanza and then we'll discuss. So that'll be one of the ideas will be thinking about is just in what sense it might be that nature does not betray the heart that loves her. I will say that this poem was written in the context, should we say the title of the poem, the full title Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey on revisiting the banks of the Wye during a tour. July 13, 1978. 5:41 Erin: 1798. 5:42 Wes: Sorry, did I say. What did I say? 1978. 5:44 Erin: You said 1978. 5:45 Wes: Weird. Six years after my birth. Not six summers with the length of five long winters, but no, July 13, 1798, the year that dyslexia was discovered. 5:59 Erin: I think it is just important to say that Wordsworth would have been better acquainted than most people, maybe even most people living in the world in his day, with the fickle quality, shall we call it, of nature. I mean, he was an early pioneer of mountaineering. He was estimated to have walked something like 200,000 miles almost in his lifetime, maybe. I mean, he pioneered the idea of the walking tour. He was one of the early pioneers of it. He describes in the Prelude in his childhood, climbing out onto the mountainous crags that looked over the school where he was just a boy and taking eagles eggs, climbing up to where the eagle's nests were in the rocks. He was well acquainted with what we might say is the malicious kind of nature, or how malicious nature can be. And I think that's what makes this line so interesting. Because if anyone would understand nature, well, I think it would be Wordsworth. 6:56 Wes: Right. I was thinking also about the biographical context for the poem. So this is five years after a visit that he took not too long after he got back from France, where he had been for a while and he had a French girlfriend and he had gotten her pregnant. And then he had to come back, I think in part for financial reasons and to figure out how he was going to support a family and wasn't able to go back because France and Britain went to war. And this is in the wake of the French Revolution, which initially Wordsworth was enthusiastic about, but then became disillusioned with. And by this point he's pretty well disillusioned with it. So as we find out at the end of the poem, he's with his sister, who is very important to him. They were separated for about 10 years as children, and then they basically lived together as adults for the rest of their lives, including after Wordsworth got married. Not to his French girlfriend, but to someone else. Dorothy, his sister, was a big part of his life. And speaking of nature, she. I think she called him a worshiper of nature. And it's pretty clear by the end of this poem, right, that he's singing a prayer to nature. But he may be a worshiper of nature, but he's well aware of the perils of nature. But the context for this poem is the sort of perils of the human predicament, including war and unrest and injustice, all that stuff. And the ways in which nature can be a refuge from that, but a way of returning to that in a sense, or appreciating the sad plight of humanity. We'll get a little bit of that in this poem. You mentioned the walking tour. And in a way, after coming back from France, he was kind of in exile. So he was traveling around a lot. And, you know, he's not a wanderer in the desert, right? He's a wanderer within a lush landscape. But he was really quite upset about his predicament, which is that he wasn't able to return to France, where he had a child and baby mama. Where he had a child and the child's mother. So I think of his seeking of solace in nature in that context, you know. So it's significant that he's titling the poem in his way. And it's July 13, which is the eve of Bastille Day. And it's about five years after he came back from France. 9:31 Erin: Should we dive in and I'll read the first stanza or paragraph? Okay, here we go. Five years have passed. Five summers with the length of five long winters. And again I hear these waters rolling from their mountain springs with a soft inland murmur. Once again do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs that on a wild secluded scene impress thoughts of more deep seclusion and connect the landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day has come when I again repose here under this dark sycamore and view these plots of cottage ground, these orchard tufts which at this season with their unripe fruits are clad in one green hue and lose themselves mid groves and copses. Once again I see these hedgerows, hardly hedgerows. Little lines of sportive wood run wild. These pastoral farms green to the very door and wreaths of smoke sent up in silence from among the trees with some uncertain notice, as might seem of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, or of some hermit's cave where by his fire the hermit sits alone. 10:41 Wes: Very nice. This poem has always really grabbed me in the first two lines. This very interesting way of describing the time interval between his present experience of a place and his experience five years in the past. So five summers with a length of five long winters. Why put it exactly that way? I guess winters are emotionally longer than summers. Right. 11:13 Erin: Oh, that's good. 11:14 Wes: If they are technically the same length. 11:17 Erin: Yeah. And there's so much repetition here. But in those first two lines, the repeated five, five, you know, you have that number in your head at the beginning and then it sort of fades away. And I often forget that he's still talking about himself five years earlier. I mean, when he wrote this, he was only 28, is that right? 11:36 Wes: Yeah. 11:37 Erin: So he's talking about his youth, as it were, as a 23 year old, not as a 10 year old. 11:43 Wes: Alan. He's an old 28 year old. 11:46 Erin: Right. And so I think that's a little bit silly for me maybe sometimes. But he is really trying to sell up front just how much growing he's done and just how different things are now with this repetition. But it's also just really. I forget how hypnotic Wordsworth can be. I mean, the language isn't necessarily hugely flashy. I mean, it isn't as a matter of principle for him on most occasions. But the sinking in to the hot tub of his. Of his poem is just really delicious. I think you kind of get on its wavelength because of these repetitions. Again, again, secluded and more deep seclusion. It works really well for me. 12:29 Wes: Yeah, I was going to mention that as well. You know, we get 5, 5, 5 and then again, again, again. So that those repetitions, they syntactically convey the fact that this is a repeat. Right. The fact that this is about the repetition of an experience and the way it's informed by the initial experience. So I wanted to say too, that this idea of talking about five summers and five winters, so you could look at one way of measuring the time as objective magnitude. Right. And the other way as conveying emotional intensity. So I said winters feel longer than summers. But you could also just say summers feel more emotionally intense or something like that. And in winter we're more damped down. So it creates this contrast between the more, let's say, empirical experience of the world and then the way the world affects us emotionally, which is a very important theme for Wordsworth in general and of course for this poem. So right up front we get that, which I find to be really, really cool. 13:42 Erin: Yeah, that's really good. You're making me think too, of the sort of enchanted nature of the landscape in the summer, right? The waters have a murmur because of the fact that it's summer. And maybe they're not murmuring in the winter, they may be frozen over. But I like the fact that this idea that summer is so intense and it is kind of enchanted with this fairy tale quality. We get the murmur at the beginning and then down at the end of the stanza we get the signs of life that are there. It's a little bit fairy tale esque to me. Maybe. Yeah, maybe that's wrong. 14:16 Wes: Well, I think. No, no, I think that's right. So I draw a line right through the middle of this stanza. So I had read something about these being called verse paragraphs, but I guess stanza is. Is correct as well. I'm not sure, but. So we're going to call them stanzas. I draw a line in the middle of the stanza between here under this dark sycamore and view. And then the next line, the plots of cottage ground. Because that's the point where he turns from the landscape itself to the connection between nature and human beings. So and stuff that's man made, like cottages and copses and groves. And within each of these I see a kind of triad. So just thinking about the first half of the stanza, right, we get the river and the wild secluded scene that he says is surrounding it, which, you know, as the poem progresses, we'll see it as a representative of nature, but also instinct and youthfulness and desire, including possibly sexual desire. And then we get the cliffs, which he says are representative of a more deep seclusion than the seclusion of the scene. So something contemplative and in fact something that connects us to the sky, which we could take to represent gods or ideas, some kind of transcendent realm that's accessible via contempla…

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    The Fool Gets Hurt in Fellini’s “La Strada” (1954) Jan 17, 2022
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    Fellini called his film “La Strada” a dangerous representation of his identity, and had a nervous breakdown just before completing its shooting. Perhaps this identity, and its vulnerability, have something to do with the film’s portrayal of a disappointed hope that love might vanquish pride, if properly assisted by the forces of playfulness and creativity. The problem is that such forces are often themselves an offense to pride, and become the target of its cruelty. And so while the clown and tightrope walker Ill Matto convinces tenderhearted Gelsomina to stay with heartless Zampanò, his murder severs their tenuous, highwire connection. Wes & Erin analyze a classic. Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters can learn more about their online courses at tischpro.smashcut.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Wes: Fellini called his film La Strada a dangerous representation of his identity and had a nervous breakdown just before completing its shooting. Perhaps this identity and its vulnerability have something to do with the film's representation of a disappointed hope that love might vanquish pride if properly assisted by the forces of playfulness and creativity. The problem is that such forces are often themselves an offense to pride and become the target of its cruelty. And so, while the clown and tightrope walker Il Matto convinces tender hearted Gelsomina to stay with heartless Zampano, his murder severs their tenuous high wire connection. This is Wes Alwan. This is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. 0:55 Erin: Okay, Wes, So this is our first Fellini movie, is that right? Yeah, this is our first one. Okay, great. So are you a Fellini fan? Have you seen a lot of his films? And late career, early career? What's your exposure to him? 1:09 Wes: My exposure to Fellini, it started in college. It's not a lot. Again, my friend John Lebeck, who just keeps coming up when we talk about this sort of thing, is the person responsible for me seeing a few Fellini films in college. La Dolce Vita, Eight and a Half, City of Women. And then the film I remember most is just Amarcord because of the scene where the guy is in the tree saying I want a woman repeatedly, which sort of became a refrain among my friends quoting that I saw La Strada back then as well. This is like. God, this is like when I was 18 or something like 31 years ago. And frankly, with La Strada in particular, I remember not being terribly enthusiastic about it, being a little bit bored by it. But that was not uncommon for my 18 year old self to be in the middle of college to have that kind of reaction to these movies. I wasn't terribly excited about Fellini back then, but I was taking my educational medicine. The same thing with jazz. Just getting an education from this one particular friend. But this time watching it, it was just a delight. But in your case, I'm sure you started watching Fellini films at a much younger age and that it had something to do with the influence of your 2:31 Erin: grandfather, My grandmother especially. But this is her favorite film, I think one of her favorites. This was a very important film to me as a kid, and my first real. This and Bicycle Thieves and a few other things I watched as a kid. And I saw Gelsomina, I think, before I even saw a Chaplin film. And a lot of Critics, pretty much every critic mentions the Chaplin esque quality. There are lots of esques. 2:55 Wes: And she's Chaplin's favorite actress, Right. Fellini's wife, Giulietta Masina. 3:00 Erin: Giulietta Masina. 3:02 Wes: From what I read, he said no one had ever affected him or something like that as strongly as she had. 3:07 Erin: She's incredible. And I mean, on the basis of just this film, she would have a place in history. But of course, then there's Nights of Cabiria, which is actually my favorite. This is a weird thing to say, but that's actually my favorite Fellini film. I mean, I definitely think the best is 8 and a half and then LA Dolce Vita. But in terms of my favorite, you know, there's a kind of guilty pleasure quality in that. And I love Nights of Cabiria. I loved Gelsomina. I connected with that character so intensely. And there's something like very childlike about the film too. Seeing it at the age that I was, was really effective in winning me over to Italian films because I was so young. And I know that the character of Gelsomina Fellini, based on photographs that he saw of Giulietta Masina as a 10 year old, he was inspired by that, which I just think is so sweet and touching, that he was so sort of in love with her childlike spirit. And what he saw in these pictures of her as a little girl and wanted her to play it in that way. Like she had a certain way of smiling in these pictures when she was 10 where she kind of did this sort of like thin lipped smile. And he really wanted her to reproduce that for the film. So she smiles in that incredibly childlike way, which is really sweet. Like when she's waving and covers her face with her cape, she has that particular kind of smile on. But this was my first Fellini e arrivato Federico. And I love it to this day. It's hard for me to watch sometimes because it does make me cry a lot. 4:31 Wes: Really? 4:32 Erin: Yeah. 4:32 Wes: Which are the crying parts? 4:34 Erin: Oh my gosh. When are there not crying parts? At the beginning when she doesn't want to go with him. The scene of the rape, when she gets upset that night in the convent, of course, when Il Matto dies and she has that reaction to him dying as he's in the process of dying. And then afterwards when she's on the side of the road and he leaves her. And then of course at the end when he's on the beach, which is just the most incredible moment. Yeah. Plus more. I'm sure I'M forgetting some, but it's just very, very emotional for me. 5:07 Wes: So why this before 8 and a half or LA Dolce Vita? Is it just your personal connection to the film? 5:13 Erin: Yeah, my personal connection. And I think I understand this in a more intimate way. For me, this is a very relatable movie. And Eight and a Half or Dolce Vita are. I mean, they're incredible masterpieces. But this speaks to me personally. I think this is very, very. I mean, this sounds kind of dumb to say, but this is a very Italian movie. I mean, they all are, of course. That's why it's dumb. But, you know, in terms of the sort of grammar of the film, working in these commedia dell' arte traditions and seeing each of these major characters as archetypes or these roles out of commedia dell' arte and acting out certain fates. Fellini always works, I think, within these types of characters who are broad, physical types and who maybe represent different elements of personality. Or these commedia dell' arte characters, I think, grow out of these archetypes as well. But anyway, the simplicity of this, the childlike nature of it, and the fact that it's within this tradition, which for me, I grew up with seeing, like, Italian puppet shows. And there's this element of Punch and Judy routine, which also grew out of commedia dell'. Arte. I think the fact that it's so simplistic. I think it's deceptively simplistic and not so much wrapped up in a particular man's. I mean, I love Mastroianni, but his particular sort of ennui and all these other things that I couldn't really understand as a kid or as a teenager or in college when I watched it. But this I could understand. And this seemed kind of like a fable or some story that I would have read about as a kid. I had a lot of Italian folktale type books. And this was like. That. This had that kind of appeal for me. 6:45 Wes: Of course, I thought of commedia dell' arte as well. How do you see the characters lining up? I guess, obviously, the fool lines up with Harlequin, right? 6:54 Erin: Yeah. I think that maybe Zampano is supposed to be il capitano, maybe blustering and takes himself too seriously. Can't joke with himself. And Gelsomina, maybe like a Columbina, but with a more childlike slant. And the performances, the lazzi that they do together, the stock comedic routines where you do the same thing over and over again. Growing up, I liked Abbott and Costello. Do, you know, sort of modernized version of these, of a lazzo, which is similar to the trifle joke in the film, or to when the fool has Gelsomina play the trombone behind him and scare him. You know, just a little comic set piece. Those are associated with the harlequin, those types of recurring things. Which then makes me wonder if that's initially what turns Il Matto against Zampano in a way, is because Zampano is trying to appropriate the harlequin's comic routines, his own act, just a possibility, or one of several. 7:56 Wes: Yeah. It's interesting because the way he describes his teasing of Zampano is just that he can't help it, that there's something about him that induces him to do that. And it's not hard to see why. Right. Because Zampano is so rigid and full of himself. And also his act is really lame. So it's really interesting because it's not that she's just been whisked away to be a circus performer. She's been hooked up with this guy whose act is really pathetic. The whole bursting the chain with his chest routine. The first pleasurable thing that happens is that whole trifle performance that she's involved in. I mean, in finding her. Right. He's found someone who's like a natural born clown, let's say. Right? So she brings something real to the performance. And you know, in the very beginning, when the mother says why she has to go, it's really all about desperation and need. But by the end of it, she's talking about how she's going to be an artist and she's going to dance and sing like Rosa. Rosa is this figure who supposedly is dead. Zampano's a former assistant who comes up repeatedly in the film at critical moments, plays a big part in Gelsomina's imagination. So that interests me about the relationship, the fact that she's a dose of vitality, you know, whatever you want to say about her simplicity. She's a kind of vital principle that is being introduced into something that's quite lame. And it amazes me that Zampano makes any money. 9:19 Erin: I know. And he does keep getting hooked up with, I mean, a larger circus, though the circuses they are associated with are rather sad. It amazes me that he keeps getting absorbed into them, no matter how bad his routine is. There seems to be a market for it. 9:32 Wes: The first time that we see the performance on film. A lot of it, of course, is just about selling it, you know, talking about the danger of seeing blood, you know, if you have weak Nerves look away. But again, very routine and unconvincing. And his heart is obviously not in it. He's in it entirely for the money. It's not long before we get to see something actually much more exciting. Someone who's truly in danger. Right. So shortly after she escapes from him, we encounter the fool in his high wire act, which is really amazing because it's more than walking a tightrope. Right. It's eating spaghetti up on the tightrope. So then this really interesting mixture of dangerousness and funniness. But, yeah, there are performances that are actually exciting. So you wonder how Zampano fits into all that. 10:20 Erin: I don't know that he's totally in it for the money, though. I mean, I think he has a compulsion to perform and he does think of himself as an artist, which is kind of funny. I mean, it's supposed to be funny, but it's also kind of touching. I don't know, this is maybe his soft spot that Gelsomina can see in him, that no one else can see, the potential sweetness that's there, which I think only works because this is Anthony Quinn, and so we kind of know him as an actor. But that entire scene, when we're first introduced to Il Matto on the tightrope, we see the better version of what Zampano could be, but we also see kind of the much savvier version of what Gelsomina could be. Right. Because he has that assistant who narrates everything and then who passes around the hat, who's much more traditional of an associate for one of these acts. She's more commanding and she's on a microphone and she's savvy about the way she's describing it. She even has a kind of back and forth with the fool while he's 11:13 Wes: up there, too, after saying, be quiet, any distraction could lead to him falling to his death. And then she starts a conversation about 11:21 Erin: what's the weather like? 11:22 Wes: Yeah, does anyone want to go up there and have dinner with him? 11:26 Erin: And it's funny because we see someone who's far better than Zampano in the fool, but I don't know that the Fool's assistant in that scene is better than Gelsomina. Like, Gelsomina has that magical quality. I mean, everybody in the film kind of has a magical quality, but, you know, she has that spark that she can be an entertainer, too. And she does learn to play the trumpet eventually. I mean, would we characterize her as being Zampano's slave? Is that what this is? Psychologically or literally, in a way. I mean, she has opportunities to get away from him and doesn't. But just in terms of their artistic partnership is founded on this. So her mother sells her for 10,000 lira, right? 12:04 Wes: Yeah. 12:04 Erin: And they're never actually married. But I'm wondering about that as being the basis for this artistic partnership. The idea that she's his slave and doesn't really have any autonomy and learns to play the trumpet eventually. We don't really see it. We just see him being kind of a slave driver in trying to get her to become the proper associate for him, or the proper, whatever it is, the playmate of his character as they perform together. But his relationship to her is kind of a slavery and it's kind of an artistic training at the same time. And of course it's bad training because he's not very good. But she transcends it. And he denies her being able to learn the trumpet, but she does end up learning how to play the trumpet. So she keeps transcending these expectations. And I'm just wondering about the nature of that really tenuous relationship between them, you know, in which he's bought her, but at the same time, she's presented with numerous opportunities to be able to run away. He does at one point go and find her and take her back, but at certain points he basically gives her her quote, unquote freedom and for psychological reasons doesn't take him up on that. But I just wonder about the intersection between this idea of her being his slave and assistant and semi wife, his fake wife and his artistic partner. All of these things are very complicated and tied up together in that apprenticeship or whatever it might be. 13:26 Wes: Yeah, you had me thinking about the movie Whiplash while you were talking, which I haven't even seen, in part because I didn't want to see Crank. What's that actor's name? Cranky. 13:37 Erin: Oh, J.K. simmons. 13:39 Wes: Yeah. Being abusive towards a young kid. Play better. But yeah, in this case, of course, it's not.…

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    False Roles and Fictitious Selves in “The Awakening” by Kate Chopin Jan 03, 2022
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    In the late 19th century, the “New Woman” was a term coined by Henry James for a particular kind of feminist who demanded freedom of behavior, dress, education, and sexuality. Out of that paradigm came “The Awakening,” a novel that scandalized critics upon its publication with its tale of New Orleans society wife Edna Pointellier, who tries to throw off the shackles of society’s expectations for women and follow her own passions. What might the novel have in common with a fairy tale? How do Edna’s artistic ambitions frustrate her role as a wife and mother? And do Edna’s efforts to cast off her so-called “fictitious self” and live honestly constitute a triumph or a tragedy? Wes & Erin discuss Kate Chopin’s 1899 novel. Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters can learn more about their online courses at tischpro.smashcut.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Erin: In the late 19th century, the new Woman was a term coined by Henry James for a particular kind of feminist who demanded freedom of behavior, dress, education and sexuality. Out of that paradigm came the Awakening, a novel that scandalized critics upon its publication with its tale of New Orleans society wife Edna Pontellier, who tries to throw off the shackles of society's expectations for women and follow her own passions. What might the novel have in common with a fairy tale? How do Edna's artistic ambitions frustrate her role as a wife and mother? And do Edna's efforts to cast off her so called fictitious self and live honestly constitute a triumph or a tragedy? Today we're discussing Kate Chopin's 1899 novel, The Awakening. This is Erin O'Luanaigh and this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. Wes, when I suggested we do this novel, it was one that I had been familiar with for a while. I think I'd read it in high school and you mentioned that you had never read it before and in fact you hadn't even heard of it. And then I went to poll a bunch of friends and it turns out that people have either read this in high school or have never heard of it before. And there's no in between. There's no one who's heard of it but hasn't read it. At least that's my very inaccurate straw poll. So I'm just really curious to know, now that you have read it, what you think and if you think it's fitting in a high school or college curriculum. Do you think it's a classic? 1:39 Wes: Well, let me ask you a question first. Was there a generational divide? Because this may be the fact that I went to High School 20 years before you did. 1:49 Erin: I don't think so. The novel was rediscovered in the 60s and it entered the canon, I'd say, in the 60s, when there was this sort of feminist, one of the early waves of. Not of feminism itself, but of sort of feminist reappraisal of fiction. And so this, I think, became canonical then. So that would have been way before your time. 2:07 Wes: Yeah, in my time, by the way, there was a conscious effort to have an updated canon in high school. Like we read I Know why the Caged Bird Sings, which I'm sure you read in high school as well. 2:18 Erin: I did not. I read it on my own time. 2:20 Wes: But yeah, no, I had never heard of this, which I guess is kind of weird. You know, the writing is superb and I have a Meager sense of how to identify the kind of zeitgeist of what's going on stylistically at any given time. Right. But this seems a little bit ahead of its time. I don't know if I'm right about that or not. You can tell me. But it seems, you know, quite innovative. And it's very clear that she has influenced later, whether directly or indirectly, she's been an influence on writers who were working 20 years after this. So that was my first impression. I'm like, wow, this is. What was it the publication date? 1899. I enjoyed large parts of it. Parts of it were. For me, this is not the greatest criterion, but plot wise, I found parts of it slow. So towards the end. Right. Of course, predictably, when things are getting down to brass tacks and more dramatic, then I had trouble putting it down. Right. But in the beginning, it was not that way. It was more of an obligation, let's say, in the beginning, despite the, you know, the writing is great. 3:33 Erin: Yeah, No, I totally agree. And I think you would really enjoy her short stories, which actually she was best known for in her own day. Maybe those are something we can cover on the podcast, too. One of them, like the story of an hour, is a page long and it's just a masterpiece of this super condensed format. She was a really big fan of Guy de Maupassant and all of her stories have that, like, twist to it that's really satisfying. And then there's another famous one called Desiree's Baby, and there are a few other just tremendously famous ones that I think were, you know, they were sort of included in the Norton Anthology even before the Awakening was rediscovered or properly rediscovered. I could be wrong about that. But she was most famous in her own day for being a short story writer. And just to give a little bit of background for those listeners who don't know as much about Chopin, she was born in 1850. She was originally born in St. Louis, but her mother was from New Orleans. Her mother was French Creole. Her father, I believe, was Irish. And she married and she moved to New Orleans after her marriage. She got married at, I think 20 years old, and she had six children in nine years. So we can already see the feminist ambitions. 4:46 Wes: She sounds more like a Ratignolle than a Pontellier, but. 4:50 Erin: Yeah, exactly. Yeah. So she's sort of seen both sides of it, I guess. But she only started writing after her husband's death and. Yeah. And she was known in her day for these short stories and basically for the sort of regionalism, like these local color type stories, because she knew French Creole society so well. And that was considered quite interesting in its day, as I think it is now. And then, of course, in the 60s when this was rediscovered. I've never read Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique, but apparently this had so much in common with it that people were kind of remarking, what did it come out in, like, 63 or something like that? And, you know, the themes in it are the sort of, like, housewife is leading this. It's desperate domesticity. 5:32 Wes: Desperate domesticity. 5:35 Erin: Oh, yeah, yeah. That's how I. How I sort of classify everything from that time. I'm sure that's someone else's phrase. But anyway, the reviews in Chopin's day were really terrible. They were not, like, universally terrible. And people usually said, oh, this is really well written. It's too bad it's smut. Or, you know, whatever. Someone called it poison. Someone in the Providence Sunday Journal wrote. The purport of the story can hardly be described in language fit for publication. We are fain to believe that Ms. Chopin did not herself realize what she was doing when she wrote it. She's a clever woman, but she's put her cleverness to very bad use in writing the Awakening. 6:09 Wes: It is corrupting to the values of women. 6:12 Erin: Exactly. 6:13 Wes: The lady. 6:15 Erin: Which is funny because it's pretty tame. And it's also, like, very much within a tradition, you know, So I don't necessarily appreciate works of literature, full stop, simply because they. Simply because they, you know, espouse certain, like, values or whatever. 6:32 Wes: Right. 6:32 Erin: I mean, that's. That's not why I appreciate literature. I think that this has been classified as a feminist novel, and for reasons that I understand. But it's also very much in the tradition of. I mean, this is on a continuum with Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina and even Hedda Gabler. There's a lot of Hedda in this. So I don't think it's that far outside societal norms or expectations at the time for what their literature might contain. 6:57 Wes: And it wasn't ever censored or anything like that, right? 7:01 Erin: No, but I think it was the fact that a woman wrote it, which maybe is its own argument for it being called feminist, which I understand and I'm sympathetic to, to a certain degree. 7:11 Wes: What makes it feminist? Because when I was reading this. Let me put on my obtuse, insensitive. 7:18 Erin: Sure, we'll play at this. Leonce, you dog. 7:21 Wes: Is it Leonce? 7:23 Erin: Leonce. 7:24 Wes: So reading it, I'm thinking What makes this feminist as opposed to someone just feeling weighed down by, you know, this desperate domesticity, weighed down by the demands of domestic life and the way that anyone, male or female, would feel weighed down. 7:43 Erin: Yeah, I wonder about that. I think that's a really good question. I think that this is and isn't a feminist novel. I mean that in terms of like feminist in quotes as an ideology, clearly 7:53 Wes: it's not self consciously and it would probably suffer a lot if it were. 7:57 Erin: Sure. I mean, I think this is just a really good novel. I mean, it's unfortunate that classifying it as such would turn some people off. But, you know, I think that like Madame Ratignolle, Edna's friend, who's considered the 8:08 Wes: ultimate mother woman, the sensuous Madonna. 8:12 Erin: Right. I think that she's portrayed very sympathetically. I think that a lot of this clash between Edna and larger society is actually because of her artistic ambitions rather than her status as a woman. I mean, I think that those two things overlap on the Venn diagram. Right. But I think that Edna having these artistic ambitions and desiring this life of freedom are pretty twinned together and that the novel doesn't judge Madame Ratignolle for being a devoted wife and mother. Rather it admires her. She doesn't have the ambition. She has the artistry to a certain extent that Edna desires, but she doesn't have the ambition to try and do something with that. And so it seems as though it's the fact that Edna has these art ambitions and happens to be a woman rather than that she's so, I don't know, screwed up and she's rebelling against a larger society and she wants everybody to change or something like that. It's very personal, her ambition. 9:08 Wes: So, you know, I hadn't thought about it in those terms. I hadn't thought about her. Maybe this has something. Her ambitions as a. Is it paintings or drawings? Strictly drawings, but yeah. So her ambitions as an artist. Because at some point the narrator talks about the fact that she was divorced of ambitions as far as becoming well known or making money off it. It was purely absorbed in the work itself. 9:37 Erin: The idea that we have these two divergent models of womanhood. There's sort of a spectrum with Edna being pulled in either direction. Madame Ratignolle representing the ideal Creole womanhood, and Mademoiselle Reisz representing a sort of bohemian artistic lifestyle and a lifestyle which is relatively free as far as what the novel thinks about these two women. I mean, interestingly, everyone dislikes Mademoiselle Reisz. Including Edna. Edna's not a huge fan of her personally, but she represents something transcendent and. 10:05 Wes: But she is personally very disagreeable. Like, she doesn't really try to be nice, right. 10:10 Erin: And she's free to be disagreeable, which is another element of this. This idea of artistry is tied up in a kind of personal liberty, regardless of whether or not she can make any money off of it. I think it's this idea that you are in tune with certain forces, that you're not trying control certain elements of life or just sort of control yourself and keep yourself confined. You're free to do what you want to do. You're free to express yourself in ways that you wish to. And because Mademoiselle Reisz is unmarried and doesn't have any of these obligations, she has a lot more freedom and mobility in society. And so I think Edna's wondering, you know, why can't I have that kind of freedom? 10:48 Wes: I hadn't thought about the fact that this had something to do with her artistic ambitions. I was reading this entirely in terms of. Well, on the one hand, her interest in Robert and her dissatisfaction with marriage, which. Part of what's interesting about it is it's not like she has the worst husband in the world, right? At some point there's this line about how everyone thinks she has the best husband in the world. Actually, let me read that one. So all the ladies selecting with dainty and discriminating fingers and a little greedily, all declared that Mr. Pontellier was the best husband in the world. Mrs. Pontellier was forced to admit that she knew of none better. There's lots of very dry humor in this, which I really like. But, yeah, even the best husband in the world, right, may just not be that great. Maybe oppressive, right. In a way. Or maybe the best spouse in general. So he's not the worst husband in the world. He's clearly not the best either. But there's lots to be desired about him. But she's suffering in a very ordinary way that I think people suffer in, not just in marriages, but in relationships with people in general. You know, this ambivalence about dealing with people's bs, right? Wanting to be close to them, but dealing with people's bs. And what's interesting about her is, you know, she's dealt with that kind of. I think she uses this word mechanically, or she's been living, kind of following along habitually early on. I guess it's after her awakening when she returns and Leonce wants her to come in and she won't. And he gets upset. And she's like, you know, I'm not coming in. Don't talk to me that way. And then he kind of relents and comes out and smokes and drinks on the porch. And then she goes in and asks him if he's coming in. He's like, yeah, in a minute. Let me finish my cigar. So it doesn't take a lot to resist him. And it's not out of obedience. So another time she would have gone in at his request. She would, through habit, have yielded to his desire. Not with any sense of. Of submission or obedience to his compelling wishes, but unthinkingly, as we walk, move, sit, stand, go through the daily treadmill of the life which has been portioned out to us. So, yeah, she's been doing what a lot of us do with large portions of our lives. Which is sort of to subject ourselves to it unthinkingly. Because that's the structure we're in. And that's how we get things done, and that's how we get along. And the question of our own wishes in relation to that often gets blunted. Because there's a lot at stake, right? Are we gonna give up a marriage? Are we gonna give up a profession? How much dissatisfaction do we have to have before we're willing to make that jump? And for her, right, the trigger is this guy Robert, who flirts with all the ladies, right? And all the ladies take it as a joke, but she doesn't. 13:38 Erin: Yeah, I kind of want to talk about that. But maybe first we should talk a little bit more about Madame Ratignolle. And this idea of the mother woman, which I really like, because there'…

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    (post)script: Post-Wonderful Dec 27, 2021
    Show notes

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters can learn more about their online courses at tischpro.smashcut.com/subtext. Most (post)script episodes are paywalled. To get them all, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. This podcast is part of the Airwave Media podcast network. Visit AirwaveMedia.com to listen and subscribe to other Airwave shows like Food with Former New York Times food journalist and bestselling author Mark Bittman; and Movie Therapy, in which Siskel & Ebert meets Dear Abby. Email sales@advertisecast.com to enquire about advertising on the podcast. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:00 Erin: Welcome to Postscript, the subtext after show where we talk about things related and unrelated to the week's episode. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. 0:07 Wes: And this is Wes Alwan. So we just got done talking about It's a Wonderful Life. Well, I guess we didn't just get done. We're gonna do a little bit more talking about it and specifically about Clarence 0:21 Erin: and the Martinis and maybe a little Uncle Billy too. 0:24 Wes: And Uncle Billy, how do you feel about the. An Italian family being called the Martini? 0:30 Erin: First of all, Love it. 0:31 Wes: And owning a bar to boot. 0:33 Erin: Yeah, yeah. Well, that's part of the tradition of last names, telling you what you have to do. 0:38 Wes: And it sets up an important joke in the film. I hope it's not only just for 0:41 Erin: that, but yeah, the Martini family is really like. So it was so important, I think to me as a kid and I think it was really self conscious choice on Capra's part to put basically like a version of his own family into Bailey park, you know, and to have Potter be also like an anti Italian bigot too. 1:01 Wes: Right. 1:02 Erin: He says that George is. Does he want to play nursemaid to a bunch of garlic eaters or something like that? Yeah, there's a real significance to the fact that Bailey park has people in it that would not ordinarily be allowed in these types of, you know, single family home communities. 1:18 Wes: Yeah, we get several nods towards the importance of immigrants. Right? 1:22 Erin: Yeah, absolutely. And I love all those little kids piling into the back of the car with a goat. That is so, so typical. You know, my grandparents themselves, after they were married, they lived for a few years in the upstairs unit of a multi family house where downstairs lived my grandmother's Italian speaking parents in New Haven. But then they saved up their money and they moved into kind of like the equivalent of Bailey park, this post war residential neighborhood of single family homes just outside New Haven, where they raised their kids and where my grandmother still lives. And, and Wes, you've been to that house, very, very small house. And it's just great to see that and to know that Capra too, like as, as an immigrant and as like part of this very American tradition is including immigrants as part of that vision of a ideal small town life. 2:11 Wes: Which is cool and it's interesting. You know, you're talking about the business versus personal and the commerce and professional life and work versus familial and the communal. And in this case, you know, immigrants play a role in both of those. Right. So for Potter, it's just people to exploit. There doesn't seem to be a lot of thought by him about their social role. You know, he's sort of casually racist towards them. And I think he also, you know, he makes a reference to a discontented, lazy rabble at a certain point, which I take to be just like the worky working class. And he contrasts that to a thrifty working class, I guess. So that's his ideal. But for him, the existence of that social stratum, it's just there for him to be an object of his predation, let's say. And then there's the role of immigration and growth. Right. In the expansion of the United States, including its economic expansion. Very important to that. But also they play an important factor in the development of the social fabric. They're not just incidental to it or, as someone like Potter might think, some kind of detriment to it. Right. 3:22 Erin: And I think part of the implication of his statement about that thrifty working class thing is the idea that if you give them homes that are too nice, then they're not going to bother working as hard. So he wants to keep them in poor living conditions maybe to, you know, maybe there's a little bit of social Darwinism inherent in that, that they'll want to work harder to improve their station. And, you know, I kind of wonder if Potter is supposed to be. You know, there's that part where Potter sort of taunts George, who's come into his office to ask for the $8,000 that Potter has stolen. I wonder about Potter as a figure, if we're supposed to take him as a literal person or if he's really just too mean and ridiculous to be anything but a symbol of, like, fate or generalized forces of evil. But anyway, that scene is interesting to me because he says to George, you once called me warped, frustrated old man, something like that. And he says, well, you're a warped, frustrated young man. And I do think there's supposed to, inherent in Potter himself, yet another alternate reality thread there for what George might have become. Maybe is he supposed to be the sort of inner psychology of George or what George might be if George really put his entrepreneurial skills to work? Because here we have a man who's put up a lot of buildings and done, on a small scale, done a lot of things that George had the ambition to do. 4:43 Wes: So you're thinking about Potter as a reflection of a different possible future George Bailey. Is that the. 4:50 Erin: Yeah. Or maybe even the devil on George's shoulders or shoulder. The one shoulder. 4:57 Wes: Right. Well, he offers him a Job. Right. At one point, that is, I did the currency conversion equivalent of 3 or $400,000 a year in today's money. Wow. Very hard to resist. 5:09 Erin: Well, also, I wonder if the idea of joining forces with Potter is necessarily so negative. I mean, it is in the configuration of this film. So it is the possibility that he couldn't join forces and integrate a little bit more compassion and a little bit more of his own ideals into the way that Potter's structure works. 5:31 Wes: Change the system from within. 5:32 Erin: Well, exactly. And also, this idea of Potter as being. It's a curious one because Potter is so mean that it's like he's beyond conversion. You know, he's obviously a Scrooge figure, but a Scrooge who does not become converted. And so as the. The soul thrown into the outer darkness. I think that's a little chilling. You know, I mean, I want to see. I'm not a total softie or anything, but I would like to see Mr. Potter experience a conversion. I don't know. Maybe I'm asking too much. 6:03 Wes: Isn't that what the devil says to Jesus in the desert? Join me. You can change the system from within. 6:10 Erin: Yes. Yes, it is. That's right. 6:12 Wes: And Darth Vader to Luke Skywalker. 6:15 Erin: No, you're right. It's. It's. 6:16 Wes: I'm. Yeah. No, I'm just kidding. But. But, yeah, no, I get that. I mean, I was just making that joke because that's part of the temptation, right? 6:24 Erin: Well, no, I think there's something to that. 6:26 Wes: Yeah. 6:27 Erin: That it's impossible to change the system from within according to that formulation. If we take. 6:32 Wes: Right. 6:32 Erin: Potter as being a devil figure or it's. 6:35 Wes: I think maybe the danger is that you. And it's a very realistic danger, is it you will simply get corrupted by it. You will start to speak that language and get integrated into that culture so that the good that George Bailey might be able to do in that position will get undermined because it will transform him as a person. Do the sort of thing that you were bringing up before, which has created different possible future for him. Create a different variation on. On George Bailey. 7:08 Erin: Right. 7:09 Wes: I think we all face this problem because we are all worried about making a living for most of us. Right. We're worried about making a living. And we are always engaged in this rationalization to one degree or another. You know, to what extent do I need to sell out? And it's not just about making a living. It's about being part of an institution. It's about being a part of a community, right? So. But that always comes with constraints and it comes with influences. So, for instance, if I become a professional philosopher, for instance, right. If I'm tied to the academy and my bread and butter has something to do with publishing and delivering presentations at conferences, can I actually do the thing that I want to? This was a dilemma once upon a time. For me, it's not anymore. But can I do the thing that I really want to do, which is to be completely authentic, right. Which. Which seems to mean being completely free and not tied to the expectations of others and not tied to the criteria of professionalization and, you know, and scholarship and all those things which seem to just sort of chip away at originality and creativity. So we have to make these decisions about being tied to institutions and the necessity to make money and all of that stuff, and the conflict between that and who we might be if we can remain free of those influences. And again, it's even more complicated because we need those influences, as I pointed out. We need obligations and expectations and the recognition of others and their demands in order to do our work on a day when we might not feel like doing it. The other aspect of the immigration story in the Martinis is just the. That aspirational component, right? Because the communal, for the martinis means several different things. There's the communion bread they bring with them. There's a community into which they're being integrated. So that, in a way, the conflict between aspiration and community is different. Right. In some ways, aspiration lines up with community. I'm moving to America. I'm becoming part of this place. So that that sort of integration is freedom. I don't know if you were thinking about any of that with the Martinis. 9:27 Erin: The mere fact of being welcomed into Bailey park represents the realization of an ambition, right? 9:34 Wes: Yeah. 9:35 Erin: And still being able to be oneself. What I love, too, about that sequence is the fact that they are still, you know, they're still coming with the goat. They're still, you know, they're still getting a blessing where they're crossing themselves with bread and the wine, right. So that it doesn't involve having to sacrifice their values, but they can be integrated as themselves into this idealized community and not have to do the things that a lot of people had to do, which is to try to quash that part of their identities in order to integrate properly. The thing I was thinking about Potter, too, which might lead us to Clarence, is this idea that Potter is kind of like a supervillain, which is another. His extreme meanness and his, his slyness is a super villainy. And I think it's funny that. And very, very appropriate that on the other side we have, you know, the dumbest angel of all the. 10:28 Wes: Of all the angels. 10:31 Erin: I think that's also true. 10:33 Wes: The dumbest name, Clarence. 10:35 Erin: Oh, he's so. 10:36 Wes: Hey, I say that as someone. 10:37 Erin: Wait a minute. 10:39 Wes: Yes, I'm allowed. I'm allowed to say that. 10:42 Erin: That's right. 10:43 Wes: Clarence, myself. 10:44 Erin: Yeah, right. 10:45 Wes: Who goes, obviously, by a different name. 10:49 Erin: Sweet Henry Travers. I think the stupidity of the angel, the stupidity of goodness is really important here. You know, it's a common theme of the childlike faith or the holy fool too. But I love the part where Nick kicks them out of the bar in the alternate reality. And then we see him playing with his cash register and saying, like, get me, I'm giving out wings. You know, making it. Making the bell ring. There's something in that that strikes me as being really important. It's like the movie's self awareness of the kind of sentimentality of the bell ringing and the kind of, I guess how easy it is to make fun of goodness and to make fun of innocence. 11:36 Wes: I think he calls them pixies, right? 11:39 Erin: Yeah. 11:39 Wes: And I don't know if there was. If the insinuation was that they're gay as well, but at the very least that they are not manly. And there's a connection between not being manly and being unrealistic, let's say, or prone to silly fantasies or something like that. And that that in itself is tied to goodness. So if we're good, we're not tough and we're not realistic, right. 12:03 Erin: That moment is just, you know, aha. You know, Nick has found the loophole in faith. You know, that's everything that everybody want to. Wants to point out, right. About, you know, gee, isn't it stupid to believe in religion? You know, the. Look how silly it all is. Of course, that's the point. Or part of the point anyway. So I, Yeah, I just, I love that moment. But Clarence turns out to be, you know, it turns out like a stupid, stupid angel is better than a super smart devil. 12:31 Wes: Right? We get deceived by our intelligence, right. It's not our. In an ethical sense, we get duped not because we are too dumb, but because we're not dumb enough in some sense, because we're too smart. And this goes again towards the whole God thing that we were so smart that we can rely only on ourselves and only on our own intelligence for guidance rather than something that is outside of Us. And what looks dumb about someone inside the religious moment to someone outside it is just that they would rely on something that. For which there is no rational explanation or no obvious material motive or something like that. It's dumb in the sense that it is. It reaches towards a inexplicable foundation. And what's inexplicable is we find ourselves dumbfounded in the face of what's inexplicable. 13:29 Erin: Right. The one thing I wanted to say, too, is just how terrible the ending message is that he writes in the book. The idea that as long as you have friends. You wrote it kind of undercuts the strength of that final scene for me. 13:44 Wes: Yeah. What are the words exactly? 13:46 Erin: Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings. Love, Clarence. Yeah, I think that really misses the mark. 13:54 Wes: Well, I was wondering actually, this earlier. I forgot to bring it up, but what do you do? We don't have to discuss it now because we're ending. But if you tell the story about someone who's not George Bailey. Right. How do you tell it about one of the other schlubs in the film where they don't exist? Can you tell the same sort of story about the detrimental effects of there not being there? Does one have to be a George Bailey to be so important to the social fabric? 14:24 Erin: Right. And that's a really good question. I think that George's personal popularity can't be the message at the end. Right. Because it's still. Having a lot of friends is still…

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    The Pain of Anonymity in “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) Dec 20, 2021
    Show notes

    Though sometimes accused of a sentimentality dubbed “Capracorn,” Frank Capra’s films are clear-eyed about the suffering of the everyman. A quintessential director of the Great Depression and World War II eras, Capra expressed better than most the desperation at the heart of a young country’s ambitions. And as a chronicler of his age’s disillusionment and alienation, he joined an American cultural landscape stretching back to Hawthorne, Melville, and Twain. How is George Bailey, a purveyor of the American dream, representative of the anonymyzing terror of 20th century society? And how might Christmas, rather than providing merely the heart-warming scaffolding for Capra’s tale, form an integral part of his message? Wes & Erin discuss the 1946 holiday classic, “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters can learn more about their online courses at tischpro.smashcut.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:12 Erin: Though sometimes accused of a sentimentality dubbed Capracorn, Frank Capra's films are clear eyed about the suffering of the everyman. A quintessential director of the Great Depression and World War II eras, Capra expressed better than most the desperation at the heart of a young country's ambitions. And as a chronicler of his age's disillusionment and alienation, he joined an American cultural landscape stretching back to Hawthorne, Melville and Twain. How is George Bailey, a purveyor of the American dream, representative of the anonymizing terror of 20th century society? And how might Christmas, rather than providing merely the heartwarming scaffolding for Capra's tale, form an integral part of his message? Today on a special Christmas episode of Subtext, we're discussing the 1946 holiday classic it's a Wonderful Life. This is Erin O'Luanaigh and this is Wes Alwan and you're listening to Subtext. So, Wes, It's a Wonderful Life. Do you have a yearly tradition or did anyone in your family have a yearly tradition of watching this movie at Christmas time? Or what was your experience of it growing up? 1:19 Wes: Well, I'm embarrassed to say that no, there wasn't a tradition. The movie that I watched every year at Christmas was the wizard of Oz. 1:29 Erin: Oh, that's right. 1:29 Wes: And there may have been others, but it wasn't It's a Wonderful Life. And I may not have seen this for the first time until college. And once again, my friend, the jazz pianist, the late, great John Lebecque, is probably responsible for getting me to watch this. 1:46 Erin: I watched it all the time as a kid and to the point where now my family, I think, probably won't watch it with me anymore because I had to watch it every Christmas or else I would get. I would think that it would. It was not Christmas, would not be up to the standard without watching this. But I do remember, like, the one time that I really remember watching it as an event was I watched it in college with a bunch of friends. We went to, like the classroom building and somebody brought in a DVD and we watched it on the big screen that sort of like comes down at the front of the lecture hall, you know, which sounds not very nice, but it was actually wonderful. There was a big gang of us in there watching it. And then I remember in the ending, scene one, this was just so magical. I don't know why this stands out to me except for this reason, the ending when George comes back to the real reality. And it starts snowing again. It started snowing outside. It was one or two days before the end of term and it started snowing very, very heavily. These big, big flakes that kind of looked like fake snow, you know, the fake snow of the movie. And it ended. And I remember we just, we walked out in this sort of like daze at night and it was snowing and we just were like dancing through the snow. And it was a perfect. So that was my best memory of this. But I think that George as a character, George Bailey, is it common to identify with him on like a very deep level? Because he's one of the few movie characters that I think I really truly identify with. Is that true for you too? Is he the everyman in that way? 3:18 Wes: That's what you identify with, the everyman quality? 3:21 Erin: I guess not. I think George for me is like part reality maybe and part aspirational. I think that maybe what was once every man about him, the characteristics of like living in small town America, basically all the things that George hates, right. Those are now kind of enviable. And so I wish for that kind of a world, I guess I wish for a world in which a town that's the equivalent of a cheers bar, you know, where everybody knows your name. I know that that comes with pitfalls and gossip and stuff like that, but I've always longed to belong to that kind of a community. I'm lucky in having a kind of a Bedford Falls type place to go home to. Not in terms of that character of the town or the close knit community, but in the pre war sense of a st geographical location in America to which my family has been tied consistently since they left Italy. So I have that, but I don't have that communal environment. And that's something I've always really wanted. But I think insofar as George is frustrated and he has all of these thwarted ambitions, maybe it's an oldest child thing, but I think I really understand some of George's frustrations and thwarted ambitions. Though few of my ambitions have been thwarted, I think there's that that tug towards home that George kind of represents, which is very responsible and about taking care of the larger family. 4:35 Wes: It's interesting that you're focusing on the thwarted ambition aspect of this because it's one of the things that I was took most note of. And I don't think it's the way probably people typically think about It's a Wonderful Life. Right. I don't think what occurs to people when they hear that title Is. Oh, you know, there's an interesting reflection here on a conflict between someone who wants to go out and do big things, you know, lasso the moon and at least, you know, get away from a small town. Right. And between the values of being part of his community and really, you know, if that whole counterfactual towards the end of the movie is correct in a way, a kind of linchpin of the social fabric there, for whatever reason. And we can talk about why, you know, what qualities and him might lead him to be that sort of person. But. Yeah, so he's, you know, there's a conflict between aspiration and community, between freedom and domesticity, between work and love that plays out here. And in a way, he feels trapped in Bedford Falls. Right. But I just wanted to go back to your question about identification with George Bailey, because I can't really think about that character apart from Jimmy Stewart and his whole shtick, let's say, or his personality. 5:59 Erin: Shtick is a loaded word. 6:01 Wes: I know, I'm sorry. It was a little. But, no, it's a little pejorative, maybe. But, you know, his Jimmy Stewartness kind of intrudes to a great degree. And so what is that exactly? I mean, there's a kind of boyishness about him, and there's plenty of goodwill and heart, but maybe at times a little bit of benign cantankerousness, you know. 6:25 Erin: No, I'm glad you brought this up, because actually, I don't think that there's much about him that is benign. I think this is one of the complexities of him as an actor. I think that he can definitely do that cantankerous thing, and it is benign in this film, but there's also this volcanic, underneath the surface danger lurking there. It was exploited, I think, in certain films later on in his career, starting in the movie Rope. Hitchcock really saw in him someone who could be the main character in Vertigo, you know, a little bit unstable. There's a quivering quality to him that makes him. It's bizarre because it's kind of like his idealism. It's like flickering flame or something like that that gives him this vitality and energy. But then there's also the implication with that that that flame might be fanned into something outside of his control and outside of our control. I think there's a little bit of danger there. So I think that the. You know, my defense of the film in the intro about this idea that sentimentality is something typically associated with Capra. I think that this is a terribly unsentimental film. I mean, people at the time didn't like it because it was too depressing. And I do think that it works because Jimmy Stewart is showing signs of that later career danger. You know, I mean, he's. He does seem really unstable. And, you know, when he yells at his kids, that's a really believable moment. I mean, we've all been in that level of frustration before where you feel 7:55 Wes: like you're gonna snap, but you start abusing children. Of course. 7:58 Erin: Of course. Yeah. Not enough violence in this film for my. I'm just kidding anyway. No, but you know, that. That kind of like feeling like everything's falling apart, you're gonna snap, whatever. And he does snap. And it's scary, I think. 8:12 Wes: Yeah. So there's an edge. And I forget if we discussed this in our Rear Window episode. In fact, I had forgotten that we had already done a movie with. 8:23 Erin: That's right. That's right. 8:24 Wes: Jimmy Stewart. 8:25 Erin: Those were the days. 8:26 Wes: We've been doing the podcast long enough now that I can start forgetting about which episodes we've done. But anyway, yeah, we may have discussed this a bit and I may. I don't think I get as much of an edge from Jimmy Stewart. You know, that's what I was calling the benign cantankerousness. So maybe it's not. Maybe it doesn't seem as benign to everyone or I don't get a sense of dangerousness. Although it is a good point. That scene where he's being mean to his family is hard to watch and it's convincing and it's. You know, I can't help but think of him in a way as a kind of harmless guy. 9:04 Erin: Yeah, I think he is in most films, but I think this is just part of his complexity. Maybe. Or maybe I'm giving him a little too much credit, but. Credit for being Mr. Danger? Yeah. So this episode is going to be released on December 20, which is shortly before the first ever time that we ever recorded an episode of this podcast. So we're now at two years in. I just wanted to say that. Yeah, we're on the brink of our two year recording anniversary, which I celebrate as our actual anniversary. 9:33 Wes: Right. 9:33 Erin: So it is. So this is great. I love. 9:36 Wes: I feel like we should break into Auld Lang Syne now. 9:39 Erin: I know, I know. We're the richest men in town. Oh, damn it, I'm gonna cry. 9:44 Wes: Rich in recordings. 9:45 Erin: That's right. No man can be thought a failure if he has podcasts. 9:50 Wes: I was about to say that. 9:53 Erin: No. Oh, gosh. Hilarious. So, anyway, back to the regularly scheduled programming. 10:00 Wes: So we were trying to get at Jimmy Stewart and the character of George Bailey at least, and the extent to which he's a. Has some sort of edge or darkness or is just kind of a affable, kind hearted everyman. But we are also pointing to the central conflict between ambition, wanting to go out and do something, and then serving this role in his community. 10:27 Erin: Yeah. So I think that another element of fantasy that I'm thinking about here in terms of my own personal identification is not just to have the community, but also, you know, this, this linchpin quality that you're talking about. It's very inspiring to think that if someone is removed from the larger social fabric that there will be negative ramifications of that and not positive ones. So I think that's part of the fantasy for me too, about one's place in the world. And I was reflecting quite a bit and thinking about this film, about how common that societal removal theme is in American literature. It's really significant. For instance, I was trying to think, you know, why is Clarence lugging around Tom Sawyer? And of course there's the famous scene in Tom Sawyer where he fakes his own death and watches his funeral. There are other instances in American literature, short stories and things like that that maybe we'll, we'll cover later of people removing themselves from society and seeing the effect that they have. There's. I know I've referenced this before and we should definitely cover it at some. But there's that Hawthorne short story, Wakefield. Maybe I've gotten at it from so many angles now that it wouldn't be worth doing a separate episode on it. But it's very suggestive to me of this kind of theme in which this guy just decides, you know, he's mischievous, whatever, he just decides to up and leave his wife, just walk out of his house, put on a disguise and live in a house around the corner as a stranger for 20 years to spy on his wife. I was first introduced to this story in grad school in my mfa and then I used it to teach my students a little, A little unit on American Short Stories because I was so affected by it. And I would frequently bring in It's a Wonderful Life in order to explain this, because I think it's part of this idea that it's like being a cookie cutter or something. You have to remove yourself from society somehow in order to see the size of the hole that you've left. And so I think that's part of this for some reason, Americans are interested in this. And I think it's because of this idea of ambition and wanting to make an impact on the world and, and various other anxieties which I think are becoming prominent in the 20th century at this time. 12:37 Wes: Yeah, that's really interesting. I think it's hard to actually see ourselves at all. Right. And we try to see ourselves by way of our social effects, by way of our experience or our fantasies or presuppositions about how others are experiencing us, how others are thinking of us. And ambition, of course, enters into that because it's very focused on, I want to build. What does he say? I want to build the longest bridge. Yeah, but of course it's something, it's a task we can't ever fully accomplish to get outside ourselves. And the suggestion here is that if we could run a kind of experiment, one experiment is just to thought about this sometimes. What would I learn from. If someone had secretly videotaped me for very significant moments in my life? What, what horrifying things would I learn about myself? Well, I mean, originally it's, you know, what useful things would I learn about myself and how could I change because of that? But it's also, for me, it's kind of a horrifying thought experiment. It's like reading someone else's diary. Right. Or hearing gossip about you or, or something like that. I've. I've never, I've always worried that I just, I don't have the fortitude to withstand that kind of self scrutiny. Right. Despite my interest in psychoanalysis and all that stuff. So he…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    (post)script: Is “Die Hard” a Christmas Movie? Dec 13, 2021
    Show notes

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of “Die Hard.” The first (and much longer) part of this discussion can be found here. Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters can learn more about their online courses at tischpro.smashcut.com/subtext. Most (post)script episodes are paywalled. To get them all, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. This podcast is part of the Airwave Media podcast network. Visit AirwaveMedia.com to listen and subscribe to other Airwave shows like Food with Former New York Times food journalist and bestselling author Mark Bittman; and Movie Therapy, in which Siskel & Ebert meets Dear Abby. Email sales@advertisecast.com to enquire about advertising on the podcast. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:00 Wes: Welcome to Postscript, the subtext after show where we talk about things related and unrelated to this week's episode. Just got done talking about Die Hard. We're not really done, but we were almost done talking about Die Hard. We're going to talk about it a little bit more here. One of the things I got a little bit. I'm watching this movie, I watch it through your eyes a little bit and think, oh, yeah, Erin doesn't like that. 0:25 Erin: Oh, what parts. 0:26 Wes: There's the obligatory 1980s nudity, which somehow we moved beyond, thankfully. I think there was a time when the nude sex scene thing, there always had to be something in any given 80s movie. I think they thought it was, well, we can do this now. So we have to. This marks it as something for adults, right? People gave up on that, as far as I can tell. 0:48 Erin: And what is more adult but boobs. It's always boobs, right? 0:52 Wes: Exactly. Just a flash of the boobs and then you're done. You did your due diligence. Maybe they gave up on that for cynical reasons, like getting a PG13 rating or something. Or a PG rating. I don't know. But then there's the violence, you know, which I know you don't necessarily enjoy. I guess it's not too terrible in this movie. 1:12 Erin: Well, I really hate that Mr. Takagi's. That's like really bloody because it's displayed on the window behind him, all that blood and everything. 1:21 Wes: And it's also a very cruel moment, the way it's done when you see a bad guy get waxed, as McClane puts it. Does that you feel good about that the way I do? 1:31 Erin: Do I feel good about it? No, no, not personally. 1:36 Wes: You know, I guess when you're killing henchmen, you can't really feel good about that. It's just more. They're in the way. But, you know. And when Gruber gets his comeuppance at the end, which is a great, awesome scene, where. Another bit of film trivia is that they had Alan Rickman do that stunt himself falling from the building. 1:54 Erin: Oh, yeah, I know about that. Someone told me. 1:56 Wes: Yeah. And then they did the 1, 2, 3 thing, but they didn't get to the end of the count and let him go before so that he would genuinely look surprised. And then they also had. They invented this automated focus system because it was impossible to keep the focus on him as he fell. They wanted the focus, his face, to be the focus as he moved away from the camera. And it would happen too quickly to manually adjust it. So they invented some automated system which only worked partially, so you only get a little bit of that fall from that angle before it cuts away. Is that scene like a. Yeah. Moment. The bad guy. The bad guy is dead? 2:32 Erin: No, not really. It's cool, though. I mean, I think that's like someone maybe on Facebook or something pointed out that I'm inconsistent with my hatred of violence, because I did mention. Not that they were like, it was a gotcha moment, but they thought it was interesting that I talked about how Godfather 1 is better than Part 2 because the deaths in Part 1 are so much better. And it is true that I do. If it's an interesting and inventive kind of death, then maybe I appreciate the artistry of that. 3:00 Wes: So you can appreciate the aesthetics of violence. 3:03 Erin: Yeah. 3:03 Wes: Right. You must love Tarantino. I'm just kidding. 3:06 Erin: Oh, no, no, no, no. Well, that's terrible aesthetics. It's like cartoon violence. Not that I've ever fully looked. 3:14 Wes: I've heard. 3:16 Erin: Yeah, well. Cause that's the thing. Like, I've only ever half seen a lot of this stuff, so if it's, like, a cool thing and then I can sort of, like, peek at it, then it's interesting to me. But I think, like, Alan Rickman falling, that shot is really cool. But the idea of falling off a building is, like, the worst thing ever. I think my problem is I have so much empathy for anyone getting killed on film. Like, maybe it's actually. And I don't mean to compliment myself. I mean, maybe this is, like, a selfish thing, actually, that I just imagine myself getting killed in that way. And then I think that it would be terrible to have that happen. So. Yeah. I don't know what to say about that otherwise, except that I think that's an awesome shot, and I love the look on his face as he falls. 4:00 Wes: Yeah. 4:01 Erin: I think the funniest part, though, is the guy hanging from the chain who comes back out at the end so that Powell can shoot somebody. 4:08 Wes: So ridiculous. 4:09 Erin: It's so funny. He looks so crazed. He looks like a deranged He-Man after his head has been like. After somebody's sister has tried to give the He-Man doll a perm or. Or done something crazy with the hair, and he comes out and is. Oh, gosh. It's hilarious. 4:24 Wes: Yeah. It's such a Hollywood screenwriter thing to do as well. Right? There's like, we got to complete Powell's arc. We got to. You know, we got to have the story about the kid he killed pay off, you know? 4:34 Erin: Right. 4:34 Wes: And have him get over his. His hang up. But because the movie is a satire. Like just. Just in the same way that all the other caricature and silly stuff that happens is it. Is that it is what it is. It still, as far as I'm concerned, works within the context of a satire. So you. You get away with a lot once you enter that realm. And I think action movies work very well in that realm. I mean, that's. It's kind of the way James Bond movies, I think, used to function. Not so much anymore, but early on, almost a little like. Yeah. Even more. Not just satire, but very goofy. Right, sure. 5:12 Erin: Well, I think Star wars functions that way. Indiana Jones, anything with Harrison Ford as an action star. 5:21 Wes: Yeah. 5:21 Erin: My One True love. 5:23 Wes: Well, it's funny too. Cause right before that you get the embrace between Powell and McClane. And you can't help comparing his reunion with Holly, which is very passionate. There's that kiss. Right. But with his meeting of Powell, which is for the first time, but you know, in person. But it's powerful in a way. And inevitably, I think in a way it's more powerful than the reunion with Holly. Just because we don't see their relationship during the film, really. 5:53 Erin: Right, right. 5:54 Wes: That's one of the interesting things about the film is there's just no real development of their relationship because they're apart. Their relationship takes on the form, a very primal form, which is just me, man going to protect wife. You know, that's it. 6:08 Erin: I don't know. I do think that there's something interesting about the fact that she's hiding the marriage. Because she's hiding the marriage to begin with. Or rather she's cast it off. Right. By being. By going by her maiden name. And then there's something interesting and sort of like a communication through silence or subversion. Or like you, you know, she is trying to protect him throughout the whole film by making sure that nobody knows that he's her husband or what his real identity is. And he goes by Roy. Right. For Roy Rogers. But I do think that there's an interesting kind of communication in that because it takes what she was doing, which is casting off the marriage and makes the divorce into a plot to sort of keep the marriage together or to keep him alive anyway. 6:53 Wes: Right. I think that. Yeah, that's an interesting point. 6:56 Erin: It's kind of like a comedy of remarriage plot. Like a screwball comedy plot where the maiden name becomes the protective mantle for the husband and for her. Right. Cause he's trying to do the same thing too make sure that she's not implicated in him causing trouble for the pseudo terrorists so that she will not be singled out. 7:14 Wes: She's very well characterized. She's kind of the perfect hybrid of mother and career woman. Right. Because she's authoritative but not too harsh. Right. They just, they try to hit that, that mark and do it perfectly. And she's protective and she's intelligent and so she's well characterized during the movie. And I was thinking, well, they don't really communicate with each other. There's no relationship dynamics. It's not like a typical movie where they'd be interacting with each other through the movie. But yeah, what you've said about communication is very interesting because by virtue of she's altering his, the environment in which he's functioning and moving, right. She's affecting the events, she's affecting what's going to happen to him by protecting to him. So there is a, you could call that a, at some very primal level. That's the communication, right? 8:07 Erin: Yeah. She's changing the terms of their separation so that what was divorcing them literally is now uniting them in a shared effort to protect each other's, you know, identities. 8:18 Wes: Well, I was just thinking of this word, cooperating. They're actually engaged in a cooperative endeavor, interestingly enough, without direct interaction. So they can. And of course, that is what marriage is all about, right. If it's going to be successful. It's a cooperative endeavor to accomplish something. It's not just, you call it a relationship, but it's not just, hey, we're living together, have kids together, even that we love each other. It's an activity, one might want to say, of preservation. 8:48 Erin: So this idea of mutual preservation resolves, I think like the issue of career preservation or however you want to cast that conflict from the beginning of the film. So I think that his relationship with Powell also serves as, I don't know what happens in subsequent films as far as his relationship to la, if he then, if LA then becomes his home base or whatever. But I'm assuming that also the idea of his involvement in a friendship with another family man in the area and also having a like minded person in the LAPD is supposed to be a kind of an entree for him to feel at home in la. I mean, there's nothing like subverting a terrorist plot to feel at home in la. But there's also the, you know, needing a friend and someone, a like minded person who's also engaged in the life of the family to be a support System. And so he also gets that over the course of, you know, he gets like two. Two relationships for the price of one by the end of the film. 9:44 Wes: Yeah, we need that male bonding for him to be the family man and someone with heart. We need something like that. Cause again, he's. Otherwise, he's alone through the most of the film. But again, that's one of the things that makes his, you know, his meeting Powell in a way, more emotionally compelling than his reunion with Holly. 10:04 Erin: Well, I think it's really romantic though, that, like, it surprised me how not Powell. 10:10 Wes: I'm sorry, that's what I thought you were saying. 10:12 Erin: No, no, it surprised me at the end of the film when he gets in the back of the limo with her. And it just, I think because of the rapidity with which everything wraps up, that hearing that song, the Christmas song at the end, Let It Snow when they get in the back of the car is like very emotionally satisfying. I kept wishing that someone would put him on a fricking stretcher since he's still walking on his cut up feet. But when he gets into the car, the two of them together, I think it's. Yeah, I find that to be just as satisfying. As much as I love Reginald VelJohnson, I think it's just as satisfying. The romantic thread wrap up well for 10:49 Wes: me at that moment, it feels like the end of an allegory about a marital spat where we've had a knockdown, drag out fight. Both of us are really cut up from it, cut up, exhausted from it, but we've made up and now we are just going to walk away like nothing has happened. La de da da da. And everyone else is there cleaning up the mess. I don't know. 11:12 Erin: Heads are bloody but unbowed. 11:14 Wes: Yeah, there's something about the, you know, the way they leave the. And again, this is part of the comedic and satirical element of this. Right. It's not, oh, I'm traumatized. Let me sit with my special shiny thing, blanket that they put over trauma victims. Right. And this might as well not have happened. Do you know what I mean? Exactly. It's like the substance, I guess the thematic element of the film takes over. This really all along was about them making up and the scene that they're leaving behind. You know, it might as well almost be as if they had just made that movie together. You step outside the frame a little bit, right? 11:52 Erin: Yeah. No, this is part of the comedy of remarriage too. I mean, like, I think of, you know, for instance, the awful truth in which there's like a total demolition of their cultural standing in the community. You know, like Irene Dunne comes in and just like destroys Cary Grant's reputation in front of these very high class people and pretends to be his sister and. Right. So there's all this like crazy stuff that happens. But in the end, it's like none of it happened, none of it mattered. The point was just getting back together through whatever means necessary. Whether it's, you know, pretending to be your husband's sister and making a fool of yourself at a party or subverting a terrorist plot. It's all like coming out of the same unreal displacement of marital dysfunction in antics or whether those be like action movie antics or comedic antics. 12:42 Wes: Yeah, I think that's very good. And it, you know, I'm thinking now that it speaks to the prioritization of that relationship over social concerns. So society be damned. This is the fundamental unit. This is the family unit or the romantic unit. And the integrity of that unit is everything. And if it costs skyscraper, you know, if you have to destroy a skyscraper and if you have to endure a hostage crisis and quasi terroristic incident and all that stuff in order to preserve it, then so be it. 13:19 Erin: Right. 13:19 Wes: It is of ultimate value. I think that's what you're helping me understand, that feeling that I get at the very end of the movie. 13:25 Erin: And I think that's why this is all part of McClane's realization about how bi coastal culture clashes be damned, that ultimately the marriage and the children are the most important thing. 13:37 Wes: Right. 13:37 Erin: Yeah. So it's very, very satisfying for me. I was recently started watching Brooklyn Nine. Nine. Not recently, I…

    Full show notes at the publisher

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