Field Trip City

I think the material I've been reading for classes has had a hand in affecting my disposition lately. One of my courses deals with the failure of an artist to express himself the way he wanted, his talent beaten into the ground until he died a joke, a has-been, virtually creditless in the eyes of the general public. I watched The Lady from Shanghai today and was struck by the intrigue of the scenes in the aquarium, the Chinese theatre, and the hall of mirrors. But I can't watch it and not feel every instance of obvious studio-made cuts and awful overdubbing that could have been avoided if Welles had been allowed a final edit.

Another course gears toward the history of racism in this country, featuring story after story of struggle, senseless violence, loneliness, and persecution. Lately I've been reading short stories by Austin Clarke, stories that take place in the streets of Toronto, places I'm becoming more and more familiar with. While a lot of his work is terrific, it portrays black men and women time and again failing utterly in their attempts to be subjective notions of "Canadian." Often they die or are killed in the process. And I sit in my room in Toronto by myself and the despair gets to me, as it would anyone else with a claim to humanity, I would hope.

The power went out tonight for about half an hour. From my balcony, patches of the city were still lit, but the predominant area around the building was pitch black, even the traffic lights. It looked a bit like the end of the world. Strangely enough, I downloaded the new Radiohead record today. The last time a giant blackout hit Ontario, I was safely in a Montreal hotel on a trip to see Radiohead perform. I'd like to write something here about Radiohead and music in general soon. Music has always been something I've had a strong passion for, and I don't devote it the attention I used to.

I spent about six hours in Robarts today, hunching over Bibliography and Touch of Evil readings, taking notes, and checking out the film Kiss Me Deadly - an insane film noir from 1955 that obviously influenced Tarantino, Scorsese and even David Lynch. Towards the end of the original noir era, the films had the tendency to explode out from under themselves. The protagonists would often experience delusion and go crazy. But this film is unparalleled in how it falls apart. It has to be seen to be believed.

I'm in love with Media Commons. They're well stocked in old movies that I can sign out for a couple of days at a time, hence my being able to watch Shanghai and eventually Bergman's Smiles of a Summer Night in the comfort of Jay's own home. By the end of the school year I figure I'll be able to attribute about a fifth of my tuition to money otherwise spent on video rentals.