Behold, the value of hindsight

Back in August, I made a post right after the U of C's jump in the US New ranking, heralding Ted O'Neill for maintaining the unique application process while increasing our numbers. Based on what's been going on lately, the post seems hilariously obsolete. Among the ancient highlights:

As long as we have the Uncommon Application and the "where fun comes to
die" stereotype, we'll still be the U of C. I'm just happy to see us finally
get more of the recognition we warrant.

Even though the US News rankings is an albatross that feeds on itself, the main reason Chicago has lagged behind in application numbers, I would venture to say, is not because of US News but instead because of the Uncommon Application. Ted O'Neill has consistently refused to give in to pressure from the outside on his application policys and recruiting strategies, and it has served to maintain Chicago's unique body of students and intellectual focus. The fact that he can stick to his guns and still succeed in a ranking that has been a major source of his problems is a landmark in his already celebrated career as Dean of Admissions.

I guess I should give my stance on the switch to the Common App. Like everyone else, I was disgruntled when I heard about the switch. I was relieved when I then heard we're keeping the essays as a supplement, but I was still a little dissatisfied. I have no beef in theory with the Common App, but accepting the application does mean we'll lose one of our major marketing techniques. I was also a little upset about how we found out about it; Zimmer's given loads of information on other plans for the U of C, but he passingly dropped the bomb in this case at an informal discussion with students. I also find it a little sad on O'Neill's part. He was the biggest critic of the Common App, it defined his status in the national debate over college admissions, and he was forced to back down from his biggest campaign by his new boss.

That being said, I think the campus' response is outrageously misguided, and it reflects a big problem in Chicago's attitude. No one would doubt the U of C has some of the most unique, ingenious minds in the world, but there are a lot of people who aren't uniquely ingenious who think they are. I can't even bring myself to read more than two posts on the "Save the Uncommon App" facebook group (which apparently got over 1000 members within a week), because I'm overwhelmed with an elitism, self-absorded attitude with writing that certainly doesn't back up the reputation people at this school like to cling to (and seriously, don't these people have something better to do?).

Also, there's a textbook psychological response in work here. People hear we're accepting the Common App, and they initially get outraged. Even though they eventually hear we're keeping the essay questions and still accepting it's own application outside the common app (facts it took the 1000-member facebook group a week to get right), people are still shaped by that first impression, and come up with justifications to maintain that outrage. Hence, people think internet petitions are an effective way of changing an already determined policy (does anyone remember those emails you got in middle school to petition the Taliban to treat women better?)

The Trib lets critics redeem themselves

I normally can't stand the theatre critics from both the Chicago Tribune and the Sun-Times, but I'm actually immensely pleased with a feature the Tribune is running this week. Basically, they're letting their critics say "oops, I was wrong" in a feature where critics talk about their biggest misjudgments. Chris Jones seemed down to earth, for once, in his apology for his unfair assessment of Sarah Ruhl and Neil LaBute, and told an amusing story of how his underestimation of Twylia Tharp's ability to rework Movin' Out led him to vastly overestimate the potential of The Times They Are A Changin'.

I really must applaud the Trib here. Normally, even though critics change their opinions constantly, any changes that occur after a review is put in print are essentially worthless. Lester Bangs had to publish a superfluous article six months after his pan of Exile on Main Street to say "actually, it's the best Stones album ever." And theater critics normally don't even come close to the flexibility music critics have.

Faux Rock Nostalgia

The Washington Post ran an article on a particularly foolish documentary that seems to be yet another foray into the rant-docs that seem to be popping up all over the place today. This one tackles popular music. Before the Music Dies is a look on the "decline" of the music industry due to its increasingly conglomerate and less artistically-focused structure. The movie features interviews with Les Paul, Eric Clapton, Bonnie Raitt, and others from the rock and roll establishment. In a particularly Michael Moore-like tactic, the filmmakers interview people coming out of an Ashlee Simpson concert who have never heard of Bob Dylan and who scoff at the notion of music making people burn bras.

Apparently filmmakers Joel Rasmussen and Andrew Shapter didn't take Hume at the U of C, because they would find that bitching about the degeneration of societal institutions and longing for the simplicity and earnestness of the past was just as prevalent 2000 years ago. Notice how most of the interviews focus on people who were successful in the past, not the present. It also makes the argument that the corporate monoliths are cashing in where artistic ingenuity. Does it bother to mention the fact that sales are plummeting across the board for record industries?

It apparently tries to address the rising internet phenomenon, but fails to adequately deal with the subject due to its bias towards the past. If anything, the new structure takes away power from the corporate nature of rock and roll, but the old standards we have for music--album sales and radio play--are no longer accurate measures of success. Get with the times, squares.

Morrissey performed at Chicago, and I missed it

It pains me greatly that I did not get to see Morrissey at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago on Tuesday. I tried to get press tickets, but I was rejected, and by the time I got rejected the show tickets were already sold out and selling for $70 a pop on stubhub. Me and my greed.

As the only man other than me who has an equal fascination with punk rock rock and Angry Young Man playwrights--who else would be the president of the New York Dolls fanclub and cite John Osborne as one of his prime influence, I've always felt Morrissey was a fascinating figure, who gets knocked far too often for "mope rock." Dude, how many punks get questioned by the FBI for making anti-American comments?

I'm still waiting to see if someone can trick him into reuniting with Johnny Marr by "a guest appearance with Modest Mouse."

More Richards fallout

Entertainment Weekly's PopWatch blog made an interesting point on Monday that Michael Richard's rant and appearance on Letterman may, ironically enough, be a good career move. I've kind of thought that all along; even though we're making fun of him, even though we're disgusted, this is the most his name has been in the news in almost a decade, and lots of exposure is never a bad thing for an actor, even if it's negative exposure.

Nor is it knew for people to resort to stupidity to get attention again, as Dustin Diamond (aka Screetch)'s recent sex tape proves (or for that matter Paris Hilton). Richards would not
be flattered by a sex tape, so resorting to racial slurs may have been the next best thing (as in Mel Gibson). That being said, you can't assume he intentionally planned this rant as a career booster, as Richards had no way to count on videos of the incident appearing on YouTube. Then again, with a smart enough publicist, who knows?

The Michael Richards saga

As if anyone needed more proof of how YouTube has reshaped the American media, the latest saga with Michael Richards of Seinfeld fame offers more. A couple of years ago, you would have heard someone reporting about the guy who played Kramer going off on a racist rant at a show and would have been mildy amused. Now, if you type "Kramer racist rant" on YouTube you can see the video, and instead of passively being aware of the story, you are actively appalled.

I mentioned in the office a couple of weeks ago that just about every major news story of the year has some focus on YouYube. Of course, my awesome co-editor Eric Benson gracefully pointed out North Korea, and I was mocked, as usual, in trying to make an unfounded point.

Carrying on a legacy

Normally, I feel that Chicago is far and away the best school in Chicago and the country, and like most U of C students, I die a little everytime I hear the word "Northwestern." However, there is one man, and one man only, who makes me feel jealous of our North Side rivals. That man is Steve Albini.

In the early '80s, Albini became notorious in the Chicago press circle for his loud, obscene, abrasive columns for Matter magazine. He was not afraid to talk blunty about rape and use the word "nigger" to make a point, and many didn't see that he was intentionally trying to get under people's skins. He shunned virtually every big name band and strongly supported mind-bogglingly obscure bands, and in doing so, he created a thriving alternative rock scene in Chicago where there had been none before.

While it's not the same type of publication as Matter or nearly as abrasive as Albini, today I published a column in the Viewpoints section of the Maroon that will surely offend members of an otherwise complacent Chicago indie scene. The article is called "Let's be objective here: Sufjan Stevens sucks" in which I argue, in detail, why and how Sufjan got more recognition than his music ever deserved.

I'm interested to see what the response will be like, and I can only hope that, in my own small way, I will be continuing a legacy started by Steve Albini.

Washed up grunge star whores out some more

I was very saddened to learn that current Audioslave and former Soundgarden frontman sung the theme song for the new Bond movie Casino Royale. Here's the music video on Youtube, as you can see, it's not impressive.

What happened to Chris Cornell? He was a giant of grunge and of '90s music in general, and I would argue in terms of pure quality, Soundgarden is the most dynamic, repeatedly satisfying band to come out of grunge. Badmotorfinger and Superunkown are classics, and I would include Superunkown in my 5 best albums of the '90s.

Audioslave has been nothing short of a colossal dissapointment, and I can't say the decision to join forces with Rage Against the Machine was anything short of idiotic. He was also rearended by a truck while riding his motorcycle, and in the fallout from his divorce, he ex-wife and ex-manager Susan Silver stole his two Grammy awards. Ouch.

Chris Cornell helped define the sound of 90s rock. Why is he sounding like a bad Creed outake on a Bond soundtrack?

YouTube cheating and the ensuing debate

The LA Times ran an article on Sunday about the articifically inflated view counts on YouTube. Since many view YouTube to be a democratic force in measuring a video's popularity, many are angered by the rise of refresher programs, which automatically refresh open pages, and thus can inflate view counts by simply leaving the page open. V-Bloggers left and right are accusing other bloggers of using these programs to inflate popularity.

The article seemed to suggest that refresher programs were a corrupter of a pure democratic system, but it's quite obvious that people would do this no matter what. It's foolish of v-bloggers to hold on to a purist notion of YouTube, because people were probably doing this well before YouTube was even established. The main problem is that view counts is the main factor in determining success of a blog when its clearly a flawed system. That's why most traditional blogs use the number individual visitors as the real measure of success, as opposed to raw number of hits. YouTube, however, only displays one number with no details, so the problem remains.

High Fidelity musical doomed to failure

The New York Post ran an article about the upcoming Broadway musical version of High Fidelity a book I loved and a movie I loved even more. So far, all signs are leaning towards disastrous flop. The musical lost $1 million in its Boston run, and pre-opening sales for the musical--which costs $10 million, have it barely scraping $600,000.

Of course, this being the Post, they're explanation was that the 20 to 30 year old crowd "would rather be caught in a gay bar than at a Broadway musical." I found that comment outrageous, especially since they also gave the obvious reason for its probably failure in the article--although the movie was successful largely due to its use of the rock canon, the musical features an original score.

How delusional have Broadway producers gotten? Virtually every attempt at the jukebox musical or the movie-based musical has failed. The ones that do succeed--The Producers, Hairspray! and Spamalot!, tend to be based on raucous comedies, not romantic comedies. Furthermore, they have taken the modest success of Moving Out to make failed jukebox musical after failed jukebox musical. Walk the Line, Lennon, The Times They Are A Changin'...the list is only growing larger.

Furthermore, the success of The Producers is not based on people's memories of the movie, but instead on a fantastically executed musical with top-of-the-line talent performing at their best. A half-assed, poorly thought out musical will fail whether or not it has a popular movie's name attached to it.

It should be noted, too, that most of the successful musicals of the recent past, Wicked, Jersey Boys, Avenue Q, The Drowsy Chaperone, Urinetown, are not directly based on films. The only real success among musicals based on romantic comedies is The Wedding Singer, which is a lackluster success at best. Forget all the arguments about the deterioration of Broadway. These are just fucking stupid decisions on the producers' part.

More Borat legal action

One of the most surreal scenes of Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan was, after seemingly losing everything, he hitches a ride in the RV of drunken South Carolina frat boys, who admit to wanting women to remain in the kitchen and pining for the days of slavery in the South.

Now, Defamer reports that two of the fratboys are suing the production company for providing them with alcohol, promising them the film would not be shown in the U.S., and egged on into saying particularly racist and sexist stuff.

To be fair, the comments did seem a little artificial in the movie, and I wonder how the editing affected that. There may be a bunch of other lawsuits to follow, as everyone from the rodeo manager to the Dallas hotel desk attendents is pissed off about this.

I think the backlash to the movie will be particularly interesting to watch, in that it shows how society will treat someone who deviates so greatly from the status quo. The fact that the movie is an overwhelming success should intensify the backlash somewhat.

Proof that the term "indie rock" is at this point meaningless

Somewhere in downtown Chicago Steve Albini is punching a wall. Or at least he would be, if he read today's New York Times, which featured an article on international "indie" bands being subsidized by governments from countries throughout the world to serve as a kind of cultural ambassador to the U.S., raising the nation's profile among American hipsters everywhere.

Wait, doesn't the term "independent" mean "not subject to the control of others?"

Apparently, Merriam-Webster does not apply to the world of indie rock, where governments realize that indie rock is a viable entertainment commodity, and have tried to export their finest products.

There's a market for it here in America too, as the success of the Hives (Sweden) Arcade Fire (Canada) the Delgados (Scotland) and Wolfmother (Australia) indicate anything. It's more proof of how delusional indie kids have gotten; how can they bash Modest Mouse for using their song in a Nissan ad but listen to government-financed rock all the same?

My only reconciliation, and I'll admit it's a sadistic one, is imagining what would happen if our government did the same. I'd like to see what happens if we sent Sufjan Stevens to Baghdad to show Iraqis what the U.S. is really made of.

50 year old Anger

It just occurred to me that 2006 marks the 50-year anniversary of the premiere of Look Back in Anger, John Osborne's play that founded the Angry Young Man movement and revitalized the British theater. Kenneth Tynan's review of that play is probably the most important work of drama criticism of the 20th century (and where I got my email address from). Here's Tynan's Review, published in The Observer on May 13, 1956

They are scum', was Mr Maugham's famous verdict on the class of State-aided university students to which Kingsley Amis's Lucky Jim belongs; and since Mr Maugham seldom says anything controversial or uncertain of wise acceptance, his opinion must clearly be that of many. Those who share it had better stay well away from John Osborne's Look Back in Anger (Royal Court) which is all scum and a mile wide.

Its hero, a provincial graduate who runs a sweet-stall, has already been summed-up in print as 'a young pup' and it is not hard to see why. What with his flair for introspection, his gift for ribald parody, his excoriating candour, his contempt for 'phoneyness', his weakness for soliloquy and his desperate conviction that the time is out of joint, Jimmy Porter is the completest young pup in our literature since Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. His wife, whose Anglo-Indian parents resent him, is persuaded by an actress friend to leave him; Jimmy's prompt response is to go to bed with the actress. Mr Osborne's picture of a certain kind of modern marriage is hilariously accurate; he shows us two attractive young animals engaged in competitive martyrdom, each with its teeth sunk deep in the other's neck, and each reluctant to break the clinch for fear of bleeding to death.

The fact that he writes with charity has led many critics into the trap of supposing that Mr Osborne's sympathies are wholly with Jimmy. Nothing could be more false. Jimmy is simply and abundantly alive; that rarest of dramatic phenomena, the act of original creation, has taken place; and those who carp were better silent. Is Jimmy's anger justified? Why doesn't he do something? These questions might be relevant if the character had failed to come to life in the presence of such evident and blazing vitality. I marvel at the pedantry that could ask them. There will be time enough to debate Mr Osborne's moral position when he has written a few more plays. In the present one he certainly goes off the deep end, but I cannot regard this as a vice in a theatre that seldom ventures more than a toe into the water.

Look Back in Anger presents post-war youth as it really is, with special emphasis on the non-U intelligentisia who live in bed-sitters and divide the Sunday papers into two groups, 'posh' and 'wet'. To have done this at all would be a signal achievement; to have done it in a first play is a minor miracle. All the qualities are there, qualities one had despaired of ever seeing on the stage - the drift towards anarchy, the instinctive leftishness, the automatic rejection of 'official' attitudes, the surrealist sense of humour (Jimmy describes a pansy friend as 'a female Emily Bronte'), the casual promiscuity, the sense of lacking a crusade worth fighting for and, underlying all these, the determination that no one who does shall go unmourned.

One cannot imagine Jimmy Porter listening with a straight face to speeches about our inalienable right to flog Cypriot schoolboys. You could never mobilise him and his kind into a lynching mob, since the art he lives for, jazz, was invented by Negroes; and if you gave him a razor, he would no nothing with it but shave. The Porters of our time deplore the tyranny of 'good taste' and refuse to accept 'emotional' as a term of abuse; they are classless, and they are also leaderless. Mr Osborne is their first spokesman in the London theatre. He has been lucky in his sponsors (the English Stage Company), his director (Tony Richardson), and his interpreters: Mary Ure, Helena Hughes and Alan Bates give fresh and unforced performances, and in the taxing central role Kenneth Haigh never puts a foot wrong.

That the play needs changes I do not deny; it is 20 minutes too long, and not even Mr Haigh's bravura could blind me to the painful whimsey of the final reconciliation scene. I agree that Look Back in Anger is likely to remain a minority taste. What matters, however, is the size of the minority. I estimate it as roughly 6,733,000, which is the number of people in this country between the ages of 20 and 30. And this figure will doubtless be swelled by refugees from other age-groups who are curious to know precisely what the contemporary young pup is thinking and feeling. I doubt if I could love anyone who did not wish to see Look Back in Anger. It is the best young play of its decade.

Borat make nice!

As proof of the validity of internet hype, Borat's opening weekend is being considered a huge success. In a Hollywood environment where "success" is based on meeting opening weekend expectations, Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan was the top grossing film this weekend with $26.4 million—the largest opening weekend gross ever for a film released in under 1000 theaters. That's 33% higher than Snakes on a Plane, a movie opening in many more theaters that was considered a disappointment and caused some to question the effectiveness of internet. Thankfully, Borat had two recent marketing trends in its advantage: the SOAP-esque internet hype and The Passion of the Christ-esque controversy hype. I think this is perhaps the greatest victory of all for Sacha Baron Cohen, as this movie would have been a minor release if he hadn't so cleverly manipulated Hollywood conventions. And unlike SOAP, Borat is as much as a critical success as it is commercial.

Look for my take on Borat and Cohen in Tuesday's Viewpoints section of the Maroon. To be brief, I consider Borat to be the definitive Hollywood story of 2006, and I think Sacha Baron Cohen has earned his place as one of the most ingenious comedians of our time.

And to get your Borat fix even more, try searching for Borat fake facebook profiles. You'll be amused to see how bad people spell "Sagdiyev," Borat's last name (which, may I add, is Hungarian).

Dzienkuje!