Reprint: 2 or 3 Things I Know About Robert Bresson

Since I'm a media nerd and a neat freak, I chose to spend one of my few remaining days off sorting through and cleaning out my hard drives. I guess that's just how I roll. Anyway, I discovered a file of articles I wrote for a previous weblog, and damned if this one isn't interesting. I have not seen a Bresson film since I wrote this, so I can't say whether I still agree with my argument; besides, you know how polemical youthful arguments can be. Regardless, however, it is a window into the development of my current aesthetic perspective, as well as being a nifty, if derivative, piece of writing (the tone and structure is loosely based on Robert Christgau's famous critique of the Eagles). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did revisiting it!

2 or 3 Things I Know About Robert Bresson
February 14, 2004

Today I caught Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard, Balthazar at the AFI Silver Theater in Silver Spring. This is a “supreme masterpiece,” according to J. Hoberman, and “one of the 50 Great Films” according to the latest prestigious BFI Sight and Sound Poll. Jonathan Rosenbaum lists it in his Placing Movies collection as one of his dozen or so favorites, alongside Playtime, City Lights and The Tiger of Eschnapur, which are all favorites of mine that I discovered through Mr. Rosenbaum’s criticism. Besides being the brunt of a Christgau joke, I challenge you to find a critic or cinephile that doesn’t praise his work.

Like Diary of a Country Priest, which I saw last week by way of the gorgeous Criterion DVD, Au Hasard, Balthazar is presented simply—every scene is clear and narratively focused, and his themes are only just below the surface. I deeply respect how attractive his composition is without bringing attention to itself (though I found Diary of a Country Priest more attractive). And the editing is brisk, so that even when the themes are heavy, the filmmaking is not. And the acting (by non-actors supposedly) is beautiful.

I loved a scene near the end where the donkey, Balthazar, is employed by a circus, and Mr. Bresson cuts between one-shots of animals in cages and Balthazar being led to his trainer. We obviously never know exactly what Balthazar is thinking, but this scene is very moving—the proud and ferocious tiger and the energetic monkey are both kept from being themselves by these cages, and we sympathize through the eyes of this donkey who understands the pain of being held down. To top it off, the scene illuminates just how much we personify animals and objects around us, and how this is a very human and, given the creative liberties we allow our sympathy, a somewhat humorous thing for us to do.

That said, I now add that, like with the Eagles, what I find most interesting about these films is how much I dislike them. In a nutshell, and obviously over-simplified, Au Hasard Balthazar and Diary of a Country Priest are about the cruelty of the world and how that affects people. Mr. Bresson has very rich observations on the subject, and apparently they resonate with an audience. I admit that the endings of both films are movingly gentle, like Diary of a Country Priest’s “all is grace” finale. And I agree with Mr. Rosenbaum that they are accessible—except for the fact that I think they’re boring.

I’m paraphrasing from my notoriously faulty memory, but Godard supposedly proclaimed this film “reality in an hour and a half.” I don’t know about your life, but in mine, when life’s got you by the balls, you crack a joke. You smile to the cashier even when you’ve had a rough day, and miraculously, they smile back. You make terrible decisions then laugh about them over a beer with your friends or over the telephone. Unless I’m missing something in the translation, these films are humorless.

I didn’t like Diary of a Country Priest, but gave Au Hasard, Balthazar a chance (and an hour’s drive) because it has a donkey, and even if this donkey isn’t cute, at least he’ll be sweet—or maybe, I thought, since his role as a metaphor is blatant, Mr. Bresson will be blessedly obvious and maybe even playful. As a Charlie Chaplin and Alfred Hitchcock fan, as a Joss Whedon fan, as a Sonny Rollins and Ornette Coleman fan, I prefer the obvious and playful, and usually sneer at taste—not because subtlety is bad, but because it’s less interesting. Mr. Bresson is oozing with taste—to the point where it feels antithetical to reality and actual human experience. And he’s a real bummer.

Who knows, maybe I’ll like A Man Escaped. Regardless, at least one good thing about not being a film critic is that I don’t have to like Robert Bresson. I’m not crazy about Ingmar Bergman either.

Best Albums of 2008

As if to save us all from Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes, Robert Christgau posted his preliminary top 20 albums at Slate this morning. His final list is usually published in February, but, until then, this will do. Similarly, Alex Ross posted a list of favorite Classical recordings of the year at the New Yorker's online blog, and Tom Hull posted his top 10 jazz albums for the Village Voice on his personal blog.

Christgau and Ross are my eyes and ears for music every year, and Hull is always interesting: upon first listen, the William Parker album that claims his top spot is something to treasure. So what are you waiting for? I'm going shopping just this afternoon! God I love this time of year.

Xmas Mixtapes

I love music lists. Love 'em. I recently dug up the Village Voice's post '69 jazz album poll, as well as their 1980s list (I'll post them both soon), and compiled huge iTunes playlists to try to come to terms with some kind of canon for jazz after 1970, AKA the jazz nether-world. A revisionist history of the seventies is already underway, but it turns out there was tons of fabulous music recorded in the eighties as well, and some of it is slowly coming back into print, most significantly with eMusic's exclusive American distribution of the Black Saint/Soul Note catalog.

In the spirit of canonization, inexpensive holiday gift-giving, and scholastic procrastination, I rekindled my obsessive love of making mix CDs, and gave myself two enormous tasks: compile single CD compilations, one for the history of hip hop, and one for the entire history of jazz. Projects like these are nothing but omissions. However, I meet people everyday, even fellow musicologists, who are like, "oh, yeah, jazz, I want to learn about that. Can you recommend anything?" I can, and I do, but I end up overwhelming them with dozens of CDs to listen to first, which they promptly forget about, even given the best intentions. It's just too overwhelming for those who simply need a way in. The same can be said for hip hop, which even now doesn't get the ear of most academics, even considering the wealth of scholarship on its meaning as a genre and cultural phenomenon. But as music, it often gets a condescending shrug.

So, here are the two lists. I think they work miracles as learning tools, and I made sure they flow like a good album should. Each is in chronological order. If I had more time, I'd go into why I picked this or that, or omitted this or that, but that's really pretty boring for most people. Briefly: I tried to represent every "major" artist with a fabulous song. It may not be their most famous performance, but I promise it's a good one. I also tried to cover every major "development" in the history of each genre with these major artists, though I don't believe quality or value needs to be based on an performance's place in that aesthetic development. However, despite my reservations about the typical, modernist presentation of the history of jazz or any music, these CDs do give shape to the modernist, aesthetic developments of each genre. So, anyway, here they are. For some readers, perhaps you'll find this in your stockings this year.

[I've revised some of the jazz selections since giving these away at Christmas. If you would like the new mixtape, just let me know!]

A Chronological Survey of Jazz

1. Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five, "Hotter Than That" (1927)
2. Duke Ellington & His Orchestra, "Rockin' in Rhythm" (1931)
3. Fletcher Henderson & His Orchestra, "Queer Notions" (1933)
4. Billie Holiday & Her Orchestra, "A Sailboat in the Moonlight" (1937)
5. Charlie Parker Septet, "Moose the Mooche" (1946)
6. Thelonious Monk, "Epistrophy" (1948)
7. Ella Fitzgerald, "Night and Day" (1956)
8. Sonny Rollins, "I'm an Old Cowhand" (1957)
9. John Coltrane, "Naima" (1959)
10. Ornette Coleman, "Ramblin'" (1959)
11. Charles Mingus, "Original Faubus Fables" (1960)
12. Stan Getz & Charlie Byrd, "Desafinado" (1962)
13. Miles Davis Quintet, "Footprints" (1966)
14. Keith Jarrett, "Silence" (1977)
15. Dave Douglas' Tiny Bell Trio, "The Gig" (1995)
16. David S. Ware Quartet, "The Freedom Suite: I." (2002)

The Hip Hop Starter Kit

1. Sugarhill Gang, "Rapper's Delight" (1979)
2. Funky 4 + 1, "That's the Joint" (1981)
3. Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five (feat. Melle Mel & Duke Bootee), "The Message" (1982)
4. Run-D.M.C., "Rock Box" (1984)
5. Beastie Boys, "Rhymin and Stealin" (1986)
6. Eric B. & Rakim, "I Know You Got Soul" (1987)
7. Public Enemy, "Bring the Noise" (1988)
8. LL Cool J, "Around the Way Girl" (1990)
9. A Tribe Called Quest, "Check the Rhime" (1991)
10. Ice Cube, "It Was a Good Day" (1992)
11. The Notorious B.I.G., "Gimme the Loot" (1994)
12. Fugees, "How Many Mics" (1996)
13. Eminem, "My Name Is" (1999)
14. Atmosphere, "Party for the Fight to Write" (2000)
15. Panjabi MC feat. Jay-Z, "Beware (Jay-Z Remix)" (2003)
16. Kanye West, "All Falls Down" (2004)

Saturday Night

There is a raging fire to the northwest, but we are all thankfully safe here in our area of Los Angeles. Earlier this evening Becky and I packed up a few essential pictures and documents in case there is an emergency, but there's likely no need for us to evacuate. So Becky and our kitten Linus are sleeping peacefully while I work on my term paper.

Prog Rock in the New Millennium

Robert Christgau made a call for papers over at the National Arts Journalism Program blog concerning Euro-centric musical ideas in music of the new millennium. I couldn't think of anything to recommend, but I did add my two cents in the comments section. Since I haven't contributed to my blog in a while, I thought I'd repost it here:

Dean Christgau,

I wish I had an article to recommend to you; I'll have to keep looking. In the meantime, I certainly have a lot of ideas about this style of music. I read a recent article unpacking Theodor Adorno's analysis of form and narrative cohesiveness in Webern's Op. 11 that is extremely relevant to bands like Battles and the Mars Volta (the article is: Julian Johnson, "The Nature of Abstraction: Analysis and the Webern Myth"). Basically, like Webern in his Op. 11, these bands rely on our understanding of traditional song form (or in Webern's case, sonata form, which is a lot like contemporary song form) to "surprise" us with their tricky song structures and avoidance of conventional (musical) thematic material. I worry that without these culturally-shared musical expectations, and the surprise factor of avoiding them, that their songs don't make a whole lot of sense (esp. the Mars Volta).

In contrast, I feel that most seventies prog rock aimed to lengthen or expand traditional song structure, either with solos or just by adding more themes or sections that are related to how ideas are expressed in traditional song form (for example, Yes or Genesis). These newer prog bands, however, sound to me like they want to disfigure traditional song form, so that their commentary on traditional song forms and themes is recognizable, but the aural result is a grotesque alteration of these traditions. I guess this is meant to prove how clever they are. In Adorno's terms, they are forcing structural ideas onto their music, rather than letting the material grow out of the music itself to produce a more satisfying "truth content." (He uses Stravinsky and Schoenberg, respectively, as his examples in Philosophy of the New Music.) That's vague, I know, but there are plenty of books explaining Adorno: I'm glad I don't have to write one. (Have you read Adorno? Though he's a classical music guy through and through, you have a lot in common with him Mr. Christgau.)

Perhaps Radiohead's use of form and thematic content relates to both the seventies and the new millennial categories of prog rock, perhaps with OK Computer and In Rainbows, respectively. (I would argue that Kid A uses song form that comes out of the musical material, and is thus more successful.) I'd have to listen back to all of this to see if I'm on to something, but at least this may start a conversation somewhere. In the meantime, I'll listen to the new Randy Newman or maybe Los Campesinos! instead, who actually create new song forms to organize their original thematic material that doesn't sound forced or exhibitionist. (Oh, and Jaguar Love--thanks for that one Dean.) I have to add that Newman's alteration of blues form in the song "Harps and Angels" is just completely masterful.

As for the Arcade Fire, at least on Neon Bible, they use extremely simple song form and traditional thematic material underneath their orchestral arrangements. The orchestral textures may sound complex, but they are just decoration over a thoroughly conventional harmonic and melodic framework. Perhaps that's why it's so cohesive and powerful. I can't sit through Funeral, so I can only vouch for Neon Bible. I hope this throws some ideas out there for someone who is not procrastinating their school work due this afternoon, and can take up the baton and run with it. Any takers?

More Records Than the KGB

Ladies and gentleman, we are approaching a utopia. First, we get Barack Obama, and now this: 21st century genius M.I.A. has a top 5 single. I'm not kidding. "Paper Planes" is the fifth biggest song in the country according to Billboard. My mind is officially blown. Note for newbies: Kala is a masterpiece. Buy it now.

P.S.: M.I.A. is not a terrorist. Don't be an idiot.

Jesus' Son

I just finished Jesus' Son, a collection of short stories by Denis Johnson published in 1992. The book reminds me of singer-songwriter Todd Snider when he offers sublime observations from characters most would call complete fuck-ups: alcoholics or drug addicts drifting between happy hours, scheming and homeless, opportunistic. Funny how these same characters can speak so clearly about the world around them.

Below are a few passages from Jesus' Son that hit me pretty hard, either for their writing or for their startling honesty. Notice how Johnson's characters find catharsis in someone else's tragedy, and infer that this expression of emotion is what they're looking for most of all in life. In the case of Johnson's characters, that catharsis is often sought through drugs or alcohol, and is rarely if ever achieved. Finding catharsis through pain or catastrophe: how 1990s! (And 21st century? God help us all.) Anyway:

"Down the hall came the wife. She was glorious, burning. She didn't know yet that her husband was dead. We knew. That's what gave her such power over us. The doctor took her into a room with a desk at the end of the hall, and from under the closed door a slab of brilliance radiated as if, by some stupendous process, diamonds were being incinerated in there. What a pair of lungs! She shrieked as I imagined an eagle would shriek. It felt wonderful to be alive to hear it! I've gone looking for that feeling everywhere." (11)

"And here we were, this afternoon, with nearly thirty dollars each, and our favorite, our very favorite, person tending bar. I wish I could remember her name, but I remember only her grace and her generosity. All the really good times happened when Wayne was around. But this afternoon, somehow, was the best of all those times. We had money. We were grimy and tired. Usually we felt guilty and frightened, because there was something wrong with us, and we didn't know what it was; but today we had the feeling of men who had worked. The Vine had no jukebox, but a real stereo continually playing tunes of alcoholic self-pity and sentimental divorce. 'Nurse,' I sobbed. She poured doubles like an angel, right up to the lip of a cocktail glass, no measuring. . . You had to go down to them like a hummingbird over a blossom." (65-6)

"Her sofabed was two steps from the kitchen. We'd take those steps and lie down. Ghosts and sunshine hovered around us. Memories, loved ones, everyone was watching. She'd had one boyfriend who was killed by a train--stalled on the tracks and thinking he could get his motor firing before the engine caught him, but he was wrong. Another fell through a thousand evergreen boughs in the north Arizona mountains, a tree surgeon or someone along those lines, and crushed his head. Two died in the Marines, one in Vietnam and the other, a younger boy, in an unexplained one-car accident just after basic training. Two black men: one died of too many drugs and another was shanked in prison--that means stabbed with a weapon from the wood-working shop. Most of these people, by the time they were dead, had long since left her to travel down their lonely paths. People just like us, but unluckier. I was full of a sweet pity for them as we lay in the sunny little room, sad that they would never live again, drunk with sadness, I couldn't get enough of it." (159)

It's an excellent book. Next up is Madame Bovary.