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Nero Wolfe

Like any serious reader, when I find an author I really really like, I read everything that author has written. This is sort of like a love affair between author and reader. The author gives you as much as you want; the casual date takes a kiss and moves on, while the serious lover takes it all, sometimes even repeating a book when once isn't enough. This is not casually liking an author, or even loving a particular book. This is absorbing everything until there is nothing left. For most readers, this doesn't happen very often, just as with lovers in real life it doesn't happen very often. Who has the energy? But every now and then...

I've read a lot of mysteries, and enjoy a lot of mystery authors, and have even read the full works of some of them like Hammett or Chandler. But none have been such feverish affairs as the one I have had with Rex Stout and Nero Wolfe. I remember my first Wolfe novel, The Doorbell Rang. It comes in the middle somewhere of Stout's total output (48 Wolfe books altogether), but that doesn't really matter, because the first thing you notice about the series is that you can pretty much start anywhere. Most mystery authors nowadays, if you don't read their books in the order in which they were written, you're lost: they're one giant epic in serial parts, rather than stand-alone installments. This may be fine for committed fans, but it's murder on newbies who may pick up the latest and be immediately lost. You're never lost with Nero Wolfe, though. Still, there are occasional plot developments from novel to novel, and it doesn't hurt when you get serious to read them in order. But to start, pick any one at random. Then go back and do the rest. In other words, a real easy buy-in.

The novels are narrated by Wolfe's amanuensis, Archie Goodwin, and as Annabelle Mortensen points out in The Genius of West 35th Street, he is the perfect foil to his boss. Archie is hardboiled, while Wolfe is drawing room. They are from completely different traditions in mystery writing, yet they blend perfectly, and as some would have it, uniquely. No one else ever pulled off this mix like Stout. What you learn early on in any of the stories is that Wolfe has very specific rules about how he spends his time and where. One of the real joys of the series is seeing if those rules will broken. They often are, but they still remain as rules. Stout pulls this off beautifully.

If you don't know the Nero Wolfe books, I would recommend that, first, you read one. As I said, any one. Then take a look at Mortensen's fine article, to give yourself a sense of where these books fit in the genre. Then read the rest of them. Just to keep in with the spirit of things, I'm immediately going to put Fer-de-Lance on my Kindle. I need to read this book again real soon. It's been a couple of years since my last Wolfe. I need to rejoin the pack.
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Hello. My name is John. I'll be your hitchhiker this evening.

The idea that you would be driving along and would see John Waters with his thumb out on the highway was, shall we say, a little bizarre, except with John Waters, calling something bizarre requires a lot of thought beforehand. But there he was, hitching away, and one of the cars that picked him up was carrying a bunch of indy rock musicians, and the rest is history. And also fodder, apparently, for an upcoming book.

That's the thing. Waters is a writer, and a good one. His Role Models is undownputtable, and rather undescribable aside from saying that it is, indeed, about some of his role models. It was the first book I bought for my iPad: a baptism of trash, you might say, provided that you are the sort of person who values trash.

Waters is also a talker, and in addition to recommending his book, I recommend his film John Waters: This Filthy World. It's just Waters talking, and he's a great raconteur as he talks about his filmmaking roots. And of course, he is a filmmaker, with varying results. You've probably seen Hairspray (not the musical); if not, do so now. Or Cry-Baby, with Johnny Depp. Neither is for adults only, if that's a concern. They're certainly his most accessible works.

You're on your own after that.

BigThink.com has a bunch of Waters videos (and a lot of other people as well). I picked the two below as representative. Watch them, and then ask yourself, if you saw Waters hitchhiking, would you pick him up? I would, in an instant.




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The greatest fashion show ever

In photographs, the Pantheon seems toweringly prepossessing. In fact, it is squeezed into a busy Roman street, or more to the point, a busy Roman street has sprung up around it, and this building that should be on a majestic hill is just plopped down in what is now the middle of the city. I point this out because it was on my way to visit the Pantheon that I first consciously realized that priests have to buy clothes too. And bishops and cardinals and nuns (oh my!). In a small but smartly appointed shop directly behind the Pantheon is a store where, presumably, the church elite does its shopping. There were miters and crosiers and chasubles all bejeweled and shiny in the window, fancier than anything else you might see in this fanciest of dressy cities. It was reading this article that brought it back to me, and then I remembered Fellini's Roma and the scene below, which simply is one of the most amazing pieces of film he ever shot, which is saying a lot. It's also the most amazing fashion show ever imagined, by any measure. Alexander McQueen had nothing on this.


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Today's science videos: Nao

If you were looking for a personal robot, we've got one for you. They're about $15000, but there is a discount if you purchase in bulk.

We were originally intrigued by this first video, where each dancing Nao (pronounced "now") is responding to a central computer. This article explains how; it's something called quorum sensing, which is how many bacteria coordinate. (You learn something every day.)



After watching this, via Mental Floss, I got curious about these little suckers, and went to the Nao website. This is their promotional video:



Apparently it does not come with rocket launchers to get revenge on the dolt who knocked it over without so much as a "Pardonnez-moi." I would suggest such weaponry as a future enhancement.

There are other videos out there on various versions of Nao and the different things it can do. After watching them, all you'll need to do to get one for yourself is to dig up that spare $15000.
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Italian Spiderman

In honor of The Avengers taking over the number 3 slot on the list of all-time money-earners, we present a film, in its entirety, that is not on that list. [Via Dangerous Minds]


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And then there's the Beach Boys

They're in the middle of their 50th anniversary tour. Unlike the Beatles, they didn't change music. Their role in the popular culture was to capture the California sun, surfer girls, and Thunderbirds in a musical simulacrum of adolescent angst that absolutely did that job, turning everyone who listened to it, gender notwithstanding, into a sixteen-year-old boy at the edge of beach almost having a girlfriend. In reality, the girls on the beach only seem to be within reach...

The music itself is a number of things, but most of all it's Brian Wilson. To call Wilson a genius is easy: he's the one who put all that stuff together, first in his head, then in the studio. But he didn't have an easy go of it. Brian Wilson may be a lot of things, but a quintessential beach boy isn't one of them. His mental sufferings have not made his life a particularly happy one, except, it seems, when he's doing the music. He hears voices, and doesn't want to. Sometimes it's been crippling, but now he's back on stage with the remaining Beach Boys and a big backup ensemble, and they have a new record coming out tomorrow that I have previewed and have no choice but to purchase immediately. Then again, I've bought every Brian solo album over all those years, the good and the bad, and some of them occasionally take off where only Brian can go.

The Beach Boys’ Crazy Summer is the best thing I've read on the reconstituted Beach Boys, and Brian, and the history of the group. At this very moment I'm listening to "Surf's Up" from Brian's solo reconstituted "Smile" album.

I've got to find a video!

poke poke poke

This one will do. Brian is looking awfully good on stage here. Not the Boys, but it does the job.



The Beach Boys are hitting their 70s. No, they're not boys anymore, by any stretch of the imagination. But music is still music, and we can only hope that there's more good music to come.
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Hating the Beatles

In 2012, the Beatles are a given. The Baby Boomers were their first fans, and kids today eventually discover them (not by virtue of having to dig particularly deep) and they become fans too. I've had arguments with teenagers over what album a Beatles or Stones song was on, which is a fruitless exercise on their part, as I've been listening to that album for nigh on 50 years, and they bought some compilation or a couple of downloads and read something on Wikipedia and think they're experts. No, you're not. I also had this exchange once with a high school student, when a Beatles song came up on my iPod mix over the car stereo. "I like the Beatles," he said. "What albums do you have?" I was taken aback by this. "All of them," I responded. Like, which one wouldn't I have? I mean, they broke up in 1969; by now I've been able to scrimp and save to get them all. Sometimes you forget what it's like to be a working stiff.

When the Beatles first arrived, they were not a given. Rock and roll had been around, of course, and was regarded by the establishment as a necessary evil. It was for kids, it made money, and if you wanted to, you could ignore it. Rock was an offshoot of 50s culture; The Wild One and Rebel Without a Cause predated the debut of Elvis on network television. Mainstream culture could sneer at rock if it wanted, but it wasn't the main threat: it was teenagers, period, that were an upsetting phenomenon. It was the other way around in the 60s, where the popular culture became an offshoot of rock, and that all began with the Beatles. Their breakthrough marked a new music, an invigoration of rock via that music, a new look and style, and worse, it came from another country. Popular music was threatened by rock in the 50s; in the 60s, rock became popular music. And that was that.

The Beatles weren't alone in making this happen, but they were at the forefront. Their popularity was ridiculous, and the idea of Beatlemania, and teenaged girls going hysterical at concerts, must have been a little scary to the popular performers of the time, who had no one of any age going even mildly hysterical. In their days, folks like Sinatra had their hysterical followers, but at least they shut up during the performances of what it was they were hysterical about. Not the Beatle maniacs. They just never shut up until the Beatles finally gave up performing live. Who could blame them?

As the Beatles led their cultural upheaval, there was reaction. And if you think I'm exaggerating the extent of their upheaval, measure it by the extent of the reaction. From the mainstream to the depths, from Dean Martin to Homer & Jethro, the threat was clear, and the return fire fairly immediate.



I have nothing against Homer & Jethro, but please, guys, can't we just coexist?

The A.V. Club has put together The Beatles Just Got To Go?: 18 anti-Beatles songs, a roundup of reactionist music, mostly from the time, but a few a little later. I disagree with their interpretation of the Barbarians, but then again, Moulty, the one-handed drummer, was another story altogether. The collection just shows that the Beatles really meant change for a lot of people who didn't want that particular change.
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Riding off into the weekend with Mr. Toad

An opening day attraction in both Disneyland and Walt Disney World, only the smaller California version still exists. But, thanks to the interwebs, where people have time on their hands, you can still ride it, not via somebody's shaky handheld VHS video, but via...some software or other.

As far as we know at Grinwout's, this is the only Disney attraction ever to send its guests to hell. Except, perhaps, for "it's a small world," but we refuse to have that discussion.


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Gilbert & Sullivan

During a trivia night, I asked a group of teenagers to fill in the blank: "For I am the very model of a [blank]."

Blank indeed: blank stares all around.



Gilbert wrote the words, Sullivan wrote the music, and they were a big hit in their day. Patter songs, like that of the Major-General, were a feature in their operettas. So was patent silliness, like the encores in this trio. John Reed was a legendary G&S performer, and one imagines that his work with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company is representative of how the shows were performed when they were originally produced.



I can't resist Todd Rundgren and Taj Mahal having their go at it, but John Reed was better.



We could go on. The movie of The Pirates of Penzance is a perfectly good starting point for G&S noobs, although fans of the Marx Brothers might prefer the 1920ish The Mikado with Eric Idle. It doesn't matter. Either way, don't think of these as dead old examples of an art form that is long dead. Today's musical theater is nothing more than G&S in modern dress: singing, dancing and joking around at a high level. And the music is wonderful, and the lyrics, for the most part, timeless.

"Ring the merry bells on board-ship, wend the air with warbling wild."
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Star Wars recast

What we've got here is the radio play of Star Wars, performed by voice actors doing pretty much every voice you can think of from George Takei to Stimpy, changing roles after every scene. It takes a minute or two to go through the introductions and get started, but be patient. You will be rewarded.


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Marilyn

We've reached the point where Marilyn Monroe doesn't exist anymore. Instead, the girl born Norma Jeane Mortensen on June 1, 1926, has morphed into whatever the beholder wishes her to be. Needless to say, this arises to a great extent from the way she looked. Keep in mind that she died at the age of 36, which means that throughout her entire career she was pretty much always young (to varying degrees) and always sexy (ditto). She was referred to as a sex symbol during her lifetime, but worked hard to become a good actress. The pressure to be Marilyn Monroe was rough on her, as it would be on anyone. We don't have to look far nowadays to see people who can't handle the pressures of fame and publicity, but she was one of the first to suffer those pressures in a very public fashion (her stardom began as the studios were losing control of their publicity machines, not to mention the fact that her marriages to the world's greatest baseball player and the world's greatest playwright were noteworthy in and of themselves). Apparently she died as a result of those pressures.

One wonders what she would have been like if she had not died. Would she have matured into a great actress? Would she have faded away as her sexy image was passed along to younger actresses?

I'm betting that young people today don't know much about MM's work. They certainly know her name and her fame, but have they seen any of her pictures? Some Like it Hot is still one of the funniest movies ever made. It should be on everyone's must-see list. Bus Stop is corny fifties drama, but it's good corny fifties drama and MM is perfect in it. Watch The Misfits if you want to judge where her acting was headed. And if you want to see her shine at her best, check out How to Marry a Millionaire or one of her other signature roles, Lorelei Lee, in this one, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes:



Whatever you do, do watch the movies. The Marilyn Monroe that the movies created was the one on the screen. See that one, and let it go at that.
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More Eurovision

Hairpin entertains (?) us with songs that didn't make it to the finals this year.

I can't imagine why. Especially the popo guys.

Five Songs That Should Have Made It to the Eurovision Song Contest Finals

And here's our original link, if you missed it.
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The depths of ventriloquism

Automatonophobes of the world, unite! You are not alone. Coulrophobia gets all the press these days, but let's face it: clowns aren't half as scary as ventriloquists' dummies. It's due to the old uncanny valley: the more something that isn't human approaches humanness, the weirder it gets. And what approaches humanness without actually getting there as well as a good old-fashioned dummy, especially one that's been through the mill of time and would be weird looking even if it weren't a dummy?

io9 starts the ball rolling with their Vintage ventriloquism portraits were incredibly unnerving, but then there's the link back to Flickr with more gems than the average person can bear: the one with the woman and the soldier will be keeping me up nights, I'll tell you that.

A little research into ventriloquism uncovers what you would expect, that it goes back to the ancient Greeks and had all sorts of ups and downs and connections with witches and whatnot up until the birth of popular culture, where it found its metier on the stage, and ventriloquists learned to drink water and throw their voices at the same time (except for Albert Brooks, whose dummy used to drink water while Brooks himself talked, but that's postmodernism for you). The greatest popularizer of modern ventriloquism was Edgar Bergen, who gained his popularity on the radio. Which is a poser. Think about it. A ventriloquist. On the radio. No wonder his lips moved so much when he finally made it to television.

Ventriloquism isn't seen much anymore, but automatonophobes can get their fix at places like Walt Disney World, where the automatons are animated and in many cases are even more uncanny. My vote for the one to avoid?



When the Mouse starts talking, I'm out of there.
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Queen Victoria's diaries

The youngest child of Victoria was, of course, Princess Henry of Battenberg. Which immediately raises the question, where exactly is Battenberg? That's the great thing about looking this stuff up. You learn all sorts of things that you didn't need to know. Battenberg, in addition to being a sponge cake, is located somewhere in Germany. Once upon a time on the continent semi-autonomous states were all the rage, and European royalty was rather, uh, common, so to speak. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting the odd duke, but that was then, and nowadays they're all on the Euro and things ain't what they used to be.

Princess Beatrice of the United Kingdom, the aforementioned princess of Battenberg, was designated by her mother to always be by her side as her unofficial secretary, a chore to which she resigned herself apparently quite gracefully. Her Majesty intended for Beatrice to remain single unto the grave, but Bea managed to find the rather dashing Prince Henry of Battenberg, and convinced her mother to allow the marriage. Unfortunately Hank died young; Beatrice on the other hand carried on admirably, the last child of Victoria and Albert to pass away, in 1944. She also acted as the literary executor for her late mother. Most notably, she transcribed Victoria's diaries which, thanks to QEII (the woman, not the boat), we can now read online.

Let me put it this way: once you start diving into this material, you will surprise yourself with how long you will stay there. I guess you can't be Queen of England for, well, ever and not leave behind a thing or two of interest. Nice sketches. Interesting writing. Check this site out; if you have any interest in history, you'll really enjoy it.
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Tommy Emmanuel

Or, the best guitarist you've probably never heard of. He was born on May 31, 1955.




Emmanuel is Australian, but in one video I watched (and let me tell you, it was absolute torture to pick the videos for this post—life can be awfully nice sometimes) he claimed to now live in the US. I've only seen him live once, because he doesn't come around often, but in concert he is dynamite.



It wasn't until I was doing the research for this post that I discovered he has a brother, who also plays guitar! Talk about your sibling rivalries!



Not much video out there on Tommy playing with his hero. They have recorded together, though.



My favorite of his pieces tend to be the lightest. What a touch!



Happy birthday, Tommy. And please come back to the neighborhood. I need another concert.

A song adventure - Dream a Little Dream of Me

I see something and begin to track down versions of a song, and before I know it, I'm lost.

I started with this article on The Mamas and the Papas, which was pretty interesting, because I've always liked the group, mostly because I'm a big fan of close harmony. But let's face it. This group was all about one thing, Cass Elliot's voice. The others are fine, but she was a treasure. Even Tommy Smothers hamming it up can't ruin it.



The Ms & Ps recorded the song, but it wasn't new. It was written in 1931 and first performed by Ozzie Nelson's band.



Pretty rinky dink, but cute in its way. So let's take the greatest duet team ever paired and hear what they did with it.



Lots of other people have at this sucker, with varying results. Diana Krall jazzes and smokes it up, for instance, but as much as I like her, I wasn't taken with the video I found of her doing it live. On the other hand, since this is 2012, and the ukulele has for all practical purposes replaced all other instruments as the ax of choice, I did feel it best to close with Sophie Madeleine, one of my new favorite people, to add to all these other favorite people. (She has a bunch of videos worth exploring, and watching enough of them will sooner or later convince you to start buying her music.)


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Getting the book invented properly

Douglas Adams, of Hitchhiker's Guide fame, recorded this little piece in 1983. The Literary Platform made a competition out of it, just in time for Towel Day last week. Entrants were asked to make an animation to accompany the audio (which they could play around with). I've posted the winner here, and it's pretty cute. What's nice is that they've posted all the other entries as well, so you get to see a sort of visual theme and variation on the piece. Everyone's got a unique approach. What would you do?


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Believe the obvious

I learned three things last week. That there is only one restaurant specializing in fried anchovies in Brooklyn. That people who work in cubicles bemoan their loss of privacy. And a movie based on the game Battleship is unlikely to break box office records.

I was shocked, shocked to hear it. All of it.

This video has been making the rounds, but if you haven't seen it, well. it does Battleship one better. (Maybe they'll sell anchovies at the concession stand.)


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Heavy breathing

The best breathing in film? 2001: A Space Odyssey. Second best: Darth Vader. They're more connected than you think.

The thing about sound in a movie is that, if it's any good, for the most part, you don't notice it. It's just right. But in some movies, the sound is so integral—not the music, but the literal sound of what is happening—that it becomes part and parcel of what we most remember about the movie. Hence the breathing in 2001, for instance. There are times on the screen when that is literally the only sound. Sound man Ben Burtt refers to that when he discusses his own work on Star Wars in Ben Burtt on Star Wars, Forbidden Planet and the Sound of Sci-Fi. Kubrick's most influential of science fiction films, which made "Thus Spake Zarathustra" into a top ten hit and Elvis Presley's intro music, has an awful lot of silence in it.

When it came time for Burtt to create the sounds of Star Wars, it wasn't about silence, it was about making it real. On seeing the original film when it was released, one of the first things everyone noticed was how lived-in it looked. This wasn't some ooo-OOO-ooo science fictiony universe, this was the real universe. Ditto the sound. Although Burtt does get the credit for the two most science fictiony ooo-OOO-ooo sounds ever, the lightsaber and R2D2.

The interwebs have been all over themselves these last few days celebrating the release of Star Wars 35 years ago, with everything from song sets to plot-only videos to stamp collections. True fans of the film, and of SF films in general, should check in with this interview with Burtt in Wired for some solid reading.

Oh, and here's a little solid listening:


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