My Dinner With Andre

I finally got around to watching the Louis Malle film, "My Dinner with Andre". I had been hesitant to watch it since I had so many friends who counted it amongst their favorite movies, and I didn't want to disappoint anyone if I didn't like it.

I did like it, but I didn't love it. Wallace Shawn, Vizzini in the Princess Bride, is fantastic, but his characteristic laugh grates.

This film exemplifies a trend I have noticed in real life and most aspects of culture: once you decide to tackle the deep issues of life - love, religion, meaning of life etc. - you sound like an idiot and you spout clichés. So I was pleasantly surprised to find that the film did treat these issues well enough that I was engaged and felt no compulsion to roll my eyes. Unfortunately, the characters were seeking greater meaning in their acting and performance, and I simply do not believe that art is life- it can bring pleasure, pain and insight, but I cannot be convinced that life's mysteries can be illuminated camping in the woods with Polish actors.

The discussion was much better than the 'deep' discussions I overhear others having in person, or even the misguided ones I myself have tried to have. And it was better than most literature that tackles tough issues, including the texts of major religions, most philosophers, and especially Paulo Coelho. (As a side note, I am disappointed that my sister was so enchanted by The Alchemist. On the other hand I am impressed by the authors devotion to open source.) In literature, I have found examples of authors who deal adroitly and effectively with these big questions, primarily by having action occur about the issues in a realistic manor. These authors include Milan Kundera (whose writing I love, but whose conclusions about life I do not agree with), Haruki Murakami, and Marilynne Robinson.

So pop "My Dinner With Andre" out of the DVD player and pick up one of their books instead.

Roald Dahl and Spies

I just finished the fantastic book "The Irregulars" by Jennet Conant- the non-fiction tale of Roald Dahl and the British Security Coordination, who spied in the US during WWII for the British. It was a fairly fun read (with a few poorly worded sentences)- and showed the truly glamorous side of spying. Dahl had numerous affairs, made high level friends, including the Roosevelts, and discovered his love and aptitude for writing. And all by the time he was 29.

Some of the fun facts I learned:
Dahl was 6'6" and a fighter pilot.
Lyndon Johnson was an attractive womanizer.
I need to read Dahl's short story "Skin" as I had liked his story "Lamb to the Slaughter" whose plot was suggested to him by Ian Fleming.
Leslie Howard, from "Gone with the Wind", was killed whilst on a spy mission during WWII.
Truman replaced Wallace as FDR's running mate for his fourth term, and this was approved by the Brits as they were scared of Wallace's socialist idealism.

And there was so much more, but I've been nattering on about it over drinks for a week now, so I think I've gotten it out of my system.