Blog #32. "I Just Killed Your Fucking Radio." Do The Right Thing.

Violence as a way of achieving racial justice is both impractical and immoral. It is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all. The old law of an eye for an eye leaves everybody blind. It is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding; it seeks to annihilate rather than to convert. Violence is immoral because it thrives on hatred rather than love. It destroys a community and makes brotherhood impossible. It leaves society in monologue rather than dialogue. Violence ends by defeating itself. It creates bitterness in the survivors and brutality in the destroyers.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I think there are plenty of good people in America, but there are also plenty of bad people in America and the bad ones are the ones who seem to have all the power and be in these positions to block things that you and I need. Because this is the situation, you and I have to preserve the right to do what is necessary to bring an end to that situation, and it doesn't mean that I advocate violence, but at the same time I am not against using violence in self-defense. I don't even call it violence when it's self-defense, I call it intelligence.
Malcolm X

These two quotes end the movie, and as Spike Lee said in the published screenplay of Do The Right Thing:

King and Malcolm. Both men died for the love of their people, but had different approaches for realizing freedom. Why not end the film with an appropriate quote from each? In the end, justice will prevail one way or another. There are two ways to that. The way of King or the way of Malcolm. 

Just to remind you of the ending:

And:

I wish I could find the final final scene between Mookie and Sal: Sal throwing the crumpled hundred dollar bills at Mookie (who's "like a son" to him), and the final exchange about what they're going to do now. Sam in second period sees this ending as a hopeless one.  I disagree. We'll talk about that tomorrow.

Before I ask the usual questions, here is some information that could help with putting the ending and the film itself in context. Please go to the following links. Howard Beach is what the crowd is chanting during the riot, referring to the incident I described at the end of class (not, though, in Bensonhurst, as I said). Eleanor Bumpers and Michael Stewart are name checked by the crowd as well. And as I said a couple days ago, the film was accused of wanting to incite riots. And like you guys, it left much of its audience scratching its collective head. What exactly is Spike Lee saying in this movie? On the other hand, its brilliance is grounded in that exact ambiguity. As Matthew Dessem writes:

Lee does a magnificent job of slowly applying pressure, so that when things turn violent, it's almost a relief, and I think that's part of the reason so many critics were up in arms about the movie. Lee doesn't say anything about institutionalized racism that would have been out of place on the editorial pages of the New York Times, and certainly the events of Do The Right Thing were not beyond the realm of possibility. Lee's crime, it seems to me, was to make a film where a perceptive viewer will identify to a disturbing degree with the anger felt by all of the characters, to understand why Sal smashes Raheem's boombox and why Mookie throws the garbage can. It's an article of faith in American discourse that racism is a solvable problem, an error of perception. It's also an article of faith in American films that racism is an error the characters make, for which the viewers judge them. But as Do The Right Thing forcibly reminds us, everyone has his reasons.

So:

1. Your reaction to today's viewing? In second period, there was a collective "Oh, my God." In fourth period there were a lot of questioning of what happened and why. So what do you think of the movie now that you have finished it? And what moment especially stayed with you and why?

2. If you were asked by someone who hasn't seen the film, "What is it about?," what would you answer? Don't just address this in 2-3-4 sentences, but really think about this and give a response that shows some grappling with the mess this film is.

3. For second period: who is to blame for the riot? And why?

3.  For fifth period: why does Mookie throw the trashcan? And do you agree with him? Why?

4. Is this a hopeful ending? Or, as Sam and I'm sure others of you feel, a hopeless ending? And why?

This is the last blog entry of the semester.  Make it a good one. See you tomorrow.

Blog #32. "Pop, What Can I Say? I Don't Wanna Be Here, They Don't Want Us Here. We Should Stay In Our Neighborhood." Do The Right Thing Part 2.

Pino: I'm sick of niggers, it's a bad neighborhood. I don't like being around them, they're animals.
Sal: Why are you so full of hate?
Pino: My friends laugh at me all the time, laugh right in my face, tell me to go feed the Moulies.

Indeed, Sal's question may be the main question of Do The Right Thing: why is everyone so full of hate? Or, as the late Rodney King asked, "Why can't we all get along?" The neighborhood is heating up even as the sun goes down, and the consequences will be incendiary.

Names dropped in today's viewing: Al Sharpton; Jesse Jackson; Tawana Brawley (the graffiti behind Mookie and Jade read "Tawana Told The Truth"); Kunta Kinte. The neighborhood is not in Harlem,  but in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn (Radio Raheem's t-shirt reads Bed-Sty Do or Die). For those of you who have been on Mars for the past sixteen or seventeen years, Jackie Robinson, whose jersey Mookie wears through most of the movie, integrated baseball in 1947, playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers.

So:

1. What do you think of the film now, having seen another 40 minutes of it? Did your reaction change now that we pretty much into it (there's 30 minutes left of it)?  What scene or moment in today's viewing particularly stood out for you—and why?

2. Pino and Radio Raheem, two characters who generally elicit strong negative reactions in my class when it views the film. Do you regard them negatively? Why or why not?

3. Sal asks Pino in the quote above, "Why are you so full of hate?" Pino doesn't answer, but if we are astute movie watchers, we know. Why is he so full of hate?

That's it. Get to class on time tomorrow, hope I've figured out the new movie system, and we'll finish the film.

Blog #31. "Fight The Power!" Do The Right Thing

Elvis was a hero to most
But he never meant shit to me you see
Straight up racist that sucker was
Simple and plain
Mother fuck him and John Wayne
Cause I'm Black and I'm proud
I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped
Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps
Sample a look back you look and find
Nothing but rednecks for 400 years if you check
Don't worry be happy
Was a number one jam
Damn if I say it you can slap me right here
(Get it) let's get this party started right
Right on, c'mon
What we got to say
Power to the people no delay
Make everybody see
In order to fight the powers that be

So sings Public Enemy in what becomes the unofficial theme to Spike Lee's hugely successful and hugely controversial 1989 film. People talked and raged about this movie (as you see more of it, you'll see why). Pro-violence? Anti-white? Designed to get black people to attack white people? Movies like this don't get made anymore, not even by Spike Lee. Lee was 32 when he made this movie, shooting on location in Brooklyn. The street on which he shot still had active drug dealing on it, so he got security from Louis Farrakhan's Nation of Islam. Imagine a Hollywood film made today with security provided by a group of severe looking black men in suits and bow ties? Then again, Lee was clearly making a film that was not anything typical for mainstream Hollywood. The credits with Rosie Perez fighting and dancing and thrusting? A cast of mostly unknown black actors? The language? Lee's first film, She's Gotta Have It, was an indie hit, while his second, made by a major studio,  School Daze, was a critical and commercial disappointment. Do The Right Thing was designed to make a splash, to get people talking...and it did both.

So let's get this party started right.

1. What do you think so far? Like? Dislike? Mixed reaction?  Why?

2. What scene or moment really struck you in what we viewed today? How so?

3. Which character appeals most to you right now—and why?

Tomorrow: give me your outline for your paper. And we'll keep watching.  Just to get you excited for it, watch the scene below from what we'll see tomorrow.  It's one of the most famous scenes in the movie.

Blog #30. "I Mean—We Are Very Proud People." A Raisin In The Sun, Act Three.

I was just watching the last act from the Kenny Leon television production starring Sean Combs as Walter. Compared to Danny Glover, Combs is a much quieter performance, but powerful nonetheless. We'll look at both performances in the next couple days.

A few final questions as we finish this most magisterial of American plays. But first, take a look at the scene from the original 1959 production starring the great Sydney Poitier, Claudia McNeil as Lena, Ruby Dee (whom we'll see again next week in Do The Right Thing) as Ruth, Diana Sands as Beneatha, Glenn Turman (for you Wire fans, he played the mayor in the first couple seasons, the one defeated by the white councilman Carcetti), and John Fielder as Lindner (he shows up again in the 1984 revival). Watch the first three minutes, then skip ahead to 6:25 and watch the rest. I find it strangely dated, but maybe you'll disagree. We'll watch the same scenes from the Bill Duke and Kenny Leon productions in the next couple days.

So:

1. Why Joseph Asagai? What role do you see him playing here? Why put him in here and give him such prominence in Act Three?

2. The ending of the play has been read by many as a "happy"ending. Is it? Why or why not?

3. What line in Act Three jumped out at you, and why so?

That's it. See you all tomorrow. (By the way, it's been reported—notice the passive voice—that this play is the only work by an African-American that high school students read. Is that true? I'll follow up on this in the next couple days.)

Blog #29. "That Money Is Made Out Of My Father's Flesh." A Raisin In The Sun Act Two, Scenes 2 and 3.

In thinking about the play this morning, I came to marvel at the way Lorraine Hansberry managed to incorporate as many disparate voices in it as she did. There's the family itself, as we've talked about. But then there is George Murchison (who leaves the play with such a sweet kiss off from Lena); there is Mrs. Johnson, who was cut from many revivals of the play; there is Mr. Lindner, the reasonable representative from the Clybourne Park Improvement Association; there is Asagai, who will return in Act Three. It's as if Hansberry put all of America—at least the America the Youngers would encounter—on the stage. It's not always a pretty picture.

I hope everyone had a good, relaxing break. To start off our conversation tomorrow and for the next couple days, address the following questions.

1. For the girls only.  Imagine the play without Mrs. Johnson (as it was for many years, as noted above). What would we miss by her absence? What does she bring to the play? Go ahead and quote from the play in your answer. Try to not repeat each other—add to the discussion with your comments.

1. For the boys only. Also cut in the original production and revivals that followed (it's missing from both the Bill Duke production we've been watching as well as the Kenny Leon television production with Sean Combs and Audra MacDonald which we'll glimpse at in the next couple days) is the scene at the end of scene two between Walter and Travis. Just as I asked the girls, imagine the play without this scene.  What would miss by its absence? What does it bring to the play? Go ahead and quote from the play in your answer. As always, try to not repeat each other—add to the discussion with your comments.

2. For everyone. Perhaps the most gut wrenching scene in the entire play occurs at the end of Act Two. You know which one—when Walter, when the whole family, discovers what happened to the $6500 dollars Lena entrusted to him. You reaction to the scene? Your reaction to Walter?

3. Finally, the aftermath to the scene with Lindner (this never gets cut). Look at pages 119-121, from Walter kicking the white man out to Lena's "It expresses ME!"  What strikes you about the way the Youngers deal with the first overt racism we see in the play?  Go ahead and quote from the scene (and everyone, do not use the same quote).

That's it. See you all tomorrow for the final push to finals. There will be a quiz on Tuesday,  the assignment of an out-of-class paper in the next couple days, and a revised schedule to take us to Christmas.

Blog #28. "Mama, There Ain't No Colored People Living In Clybourne Park." A Raisin in the Sun, Act Two, Scene 1.

Talk about what goes around...A little over 50 years after A Raisin in the Sun was first produced, playwright Bruce Norris writes a sequel of sorts to Hansberry's play. Clybourne Park is the unfriendly neighborhood where Lena has put down a payment for a house. Norris's play looks at the effect of their coming on the white people living in the neighborhood...and then looks at the effect of a white couple moving into what is now a black neighborhood fifty years later. The play was a smash on Broadway and won both a Tony Award and Pulitzer Prize. Proof for us that the waters that roil in Hansbery's play still bubble today.

Just a couple questions for tonight's reading.

1. What moment or line int he scene particularly grabbed you or struck you? And why?

2. Period Two: look at the scene between Walter and Ruth on 87-89. This gives us a new way of looking at the couple, given what we we've been seeing. What do you think happened to their marriage? Why is Walter so cruel to his wife? And why is Ruth so forgiving? Obvious questions probably, but worth acknowledging so we can move past the Walter is a mean husband reaction many have had.

2. Period Five: goodness, Lena bought a house! Their problems are over! Okay, I'm being sarcastic. How doesn't this potential move their problems? There are obvious reasons, of course, but consider too the less obvious problems associated with a move to Clybourne Park.

I understand that there will be overlap—there are only so many answers—but again, try to bring something new to your response: add to what your classmates say, look at what is implicit or not yet brought out by the other answers.

See you all tomorrow.

Blog #27. "Once Upon A Time Freedom Used To Be Life—Now It's Money." A Raisin In The Sun, Act One, Scene Two.

MAMA. Son—how come you talk so much 'bout money?
WALTER. Because it is life, Mama!
MAMA. Oh—now it's life. Money is life. Once upon a time freedom used to be life—now it's money. I guess the world really do change...
WALTER. No—it was always about money, Mama. We just didn't know about it. (74)

Money. Freedom. We can't away from these two subjects in this class. I didn't necessarily plan it that way, and I know damn sure that Scott Fitzgerald did not have a talk with Arthur Miller, David Mamet, John Jay Osborn Jr., nor Lorraine Hansberry about money and freedom and the American Dream. How can one talk about American without talking about money and freedom?

1. Let's keep this simple. Everybody respond to this question: looking at this exchange above and the response that Mama gives to Walter, and then Walter's anguished "You just don't understand, Mama, you just don't understand," who do you think is right—Lena or Walter? You've been saying for days that Americans are predisposed to be selfish and self-serving, driven by the desire for more money—that's just the way it is—yet here is Lena running a different narrative. And Hansberry refuses to answer the debate. So go ahead and do so.

2. Period Two: Would you comment on Joseph Asagai or the rat scene with Travis? What is its purpose, in your mind, in the play? And your response to the particular scene? Please don't simply repeat or agree with what others say—try to bring a new perspective or add to the conversation being made.

2. Period Five: Would you comment on Lena's reaction to the check finally coming or on Ruth's visit to the woman and putting a five-dollar down payment on an abortion? What is its purpose, in your mind, in the play? And your response to the particular scene? Please don't simply repeat or agree with what others say—try to bring a new perspective or add to the conversation being made.

Okay, guys. I hope you're enjoying the play. I've read it several times and still find it strikingly moving and complex. We'll look at Danny Glover as Walter tomorrow (and maybe in the coming days P-Diddy as Walter—he's not bad). See you tomorrow.

Blog #26, "What Is It That's Changing?" A Raisin In The Sun, Act One, Scene One.

"No—there's something come down between me and them that don't let us understand each other and I don't know what it is. One done almost lost his mind thinking 'bout money all the time and the other done commence to talk about things I can't seem to understand in no form or fashion."

This is Lena Younger at the end of scene one and it seems to me that her words capture perfectly the zeitgeist in which the play existed. Hansberry's play was first performed in 1959, the first play on Broadway written by an African American. The Civil Rights Movement is barely four years old. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is not yet a national figure. Five years later four little girls will be murdered in a bombing of a church in Birmingham, Alabama, and their killers will be acquited (the bomb maker will be eventually convicted in 2001). That same year, three Civil Rights workers in Mississippi are murdered with the help of local law enforcement. Congress passes its first Civil Rights legislation since Reconstruction. And to a great degree it all comes crashing down with the murders of both Dr. King in 1968 and Malcom X in 1965. (Of course, it's all good now, what with a black President and the post-racial age his election inaugurated...)

A Raisin in The Sun is universally hailed as one of the great contemporary American dramas. If this were a class on American theater since World War II, we would most certainly have read this play as well as Miller and Mamet's plays. It's a play that, like Miller and Mamet's plays, attracts the great actors. The original production starred Sydney Poitier and Ruby Dee (Mother Sister, to some of you, in Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing). Poitier was succeeded by Ossie Davis (Ruby Dee's husband and Da Mayor in Do The Right Thing). We'll be watching clips from the 1989 production starring Danny Glover as Walter. And the play was revived on Broadway in 2004 (and made into a television movie)
starring Sean Combs (yes, Puff Daddy—or is it P-Diddy?) as Walter, muti-Tony award winner Audra McDonald (most recently seen on Broadway in the new adaptation of Porgy and Bess) as Ruth, and Mrs. Huxtable herself from The Cosby Show, Phylicia Rashad as Lena. Like Death of a Salesman and Glengarry Glen Ross, A Raisin in The Sun has become a staple in the American dramatic canon. It's a magnificent play, and one that hasn't become dated in the 53 years since its creation. And I, for one, happen to love it.

I know some of you read the play in 10th grade. I hope our study of it will add something new to your understanding of the play. 

All this said, a couple questions:

1. Your reaction to the first scene? Like? Dislike? What draws you in—or what keeps you out?

2. Which character do you find yourself drawn to so far? Which character do you find yourself not drawn to so far? And, in both cases, why?

3. What line(s) in the first scene best captures for you what you think the play is about so far? And why?

Those of you who have read the play, try to the best of your ability to not give spoilers of what hasn't happened yet.

Tomorrow, we'll look at some of the first scene in class. The Death Star is alive again! See you then.

Blog #25. "Big Deal. So I Wasn't Cut Out To Be a Thief. I Was Cut Out To Be A Salesman." End of Glengarry Glen Ross.

Poor Levene. He thought he had it all made...He just never considered that Bruce and Harriet ("Harriet and blah blah Nyborg," in Roma's words) were insane. "They just like talking to salesmen," Williamson. Poor Levene didn't know they were not "talking," but "just talking." It cuts both ways.

Here is Roma's dressing down of Williamson.

And just a little later, Williamson turning Levene in:

And finally, something funny: Kevin Spacey as Williamson telling Aaronow to "go to lunch." How many different ways can this be said?

Cat said at the end of class on Tuesday, having finished the play, that she didn't quite know how to feel about the ending. A mystery is solved—Levene and Moss stole the leads—but at the same time did we ever care about who did the crime? It's just one criminal act among others; and if the others aren't exactly criminal, they are massive ethical breaches. These men have the ethical sense of piranhas. Yet do we end up caring, or at least being interested, in them? Weren't Roma and Levene brilliant in their almost successful scam of Lingk? They were making it up on the spot! And isn't there a part of you that thought Lingk deserved on some level the flogging he was taking—such a pantywaist! Should any of them be ethical in a system and world that has the same ethics as they? Mitch and Murry? Williamson? The contest board? As we said in class, to win in this world, you have to be a winner; and winning is the only thing that matters; and if you are a loser, the system is designed to keep you a loser so the winner can get all the good leads and continue winning...which is a win, above all, for Mitch and Murry. Yes, Roma "wins", but exactly did he really win? The opportunity to scam another sucker?

1. So...what did the end of the play mean for you? Think of the downfall of Levene and specifically the last moment when Roma rushes out of the office back to do "business" at the restaurant. And the final words of Aaronow—the survivor. What do you see Mamet saying with this conclusion? Agree and disagree with each other, of course, but don't simply repeat what others have said.

2. These men are admittedly awful. Yet is Mamet, to you, making them the villains? Is this a play that wants us to think of these men as despicable creatures? Is Mamet indicting them? Yes? No? Why?

3. The line in last night's reading that really stuck with you. And why?

4. Reaction to the play? Like? Dislike? Why?

We'll talk for just a few minutes tomorrow about the program today. Then we'll jump into Mamet.

My favorite line of the reading? The one I used for the heading. It says it all.
 

Blog #24. "What Are You, Friend of The Working Man?" Glengarry Glen Ross Through 72.

What we read in class on Friday: a master salesman at work.

Notice in the conclusion of this below the pamphlet Roma shows Lingk: "Make your dreams come true." In both classes you mentioned that selling really is selling a dream.

A moment from Act Two, Roma and his enlightened racial views:

And finally, where your reading stopped, with Moss's "farewell speech."

Well, these clips do prove that, a. David Mamet has a wicked sense of humor and a way with words, and b. Al Pacino in his prime was the man (Not that Ed Harris nor Jack Lemmon are slouches). The film came out in 1994, and now, almost twenty years later, Pacino, as we know, is spearheading the play's revival, but not as the young hotshot Roma but as the washed up Levine. I personally would love to see this production.

A couple questions to help our discussion over the next couple days.

1. Why salesmen? We talked a little about selling in class, but why make your heroes salesmen, whether its Willy or the men in Mamet or, today, a Don Draper in Mad Men? We may see these men as some of you said in class as "sleazy" or "shysters," but the fact is they don't see themselves this way—Willy didn't and Roma doesn't either. "'I got to argue with you, I got to knock heads with the cops, I'm busting my balls, sell you dirt to fucking deadbeats money in the mattress, I come back you can't even manage to keep the contracts safe, I have to go back and close them again...'" (62). Roma, approve of him or not, is busting his ass: he's working. So what makes, perhaps, the salesman such a resonant figure in contemporary American culture, enough so that three of the great works of popular culture in the last sixty years have put them at their center?

2. What do you think of these men? Are they heroic at all? Are they likeable? Are they good people? Do you care about them? If Miller gave us a tough group of characters to warm up to, arguably Mamet has made it even tougher with these men. Or maybe not. So what's your reaction to the characters here? And why?

3. Reaction to the clips above? Do they make understanding the text and characters easier? Is it the way you heard the dialogue in your head? What particular jumped out at you in one of the clips?

That's enough for now. Remember, quiz tomorrow. See you then.

Blog #23, "Our Job Is To Sell. I'm The Man To Sell." Glengarry Glen Ross, Act One, Scenes 1 and 2.

Moss. I lied. Alright? My end is my business. Your end's twenty-five. In or out. You tell me, you're out you take the consequences.
Aaranow. I do?
Moss. Yes.
Aaranow. And why is that?
Moss. Because you listened.

Moss. What's your name?
Blake. Fuck you, that's my name. (from the film version)

You may not believe this, but Glengarry Glen Ross is now considered a classic of contemporary American theater.  Right now it is playing in previews on Broadway, starring Al Pacino. Pacino starred also in the film version, but then playing the young hustler Ricky Roma: now, older and more grizzled, he plays Shelly Levine, the desperate salesman we meet in scene one. The play was revived quite successfully in 2005, with Alan Alda of MASH fame as Levine. If Willy Loman and Death of a Salesman are King Lear for American actors (and British too, as we saw in the last blog), then Mamet and Glengarry Glen Ross are Hamlet: some of the hardest dialogue written for actors, but some of the most pleasurable for actors. Mamet is also a screenwriter and film director, best known for his script for The Untouchables starring Kevin Costner and Sean Connery, his television series The Unit, and his play American Buffalo. As well as this play, clearly.

Mamet is hard to read on the page with all the pauses and all that's hinted at but unsaid, the convoluted cadence of his language. Take a look at 3 clips below. The first I gave you a couple days ago, with Alec Baldwin as Blake, the man sent from Mitch and Murray to "inspire" the sales office. It also makes clear what's at stake for these men. The second is a moment from scene 1 between Levine (Jack Lemmon) and Williamson (Kevin Spacey). The third is the opening of scene 2 with Moss (Ed Harris) and Aaranow (Alan Arkin).

So: 1. Your reaction to the play so far? What do you like? Dislike? Is it an easy read? Difficult? In either case, how so?

2. What's the play about to you? What line in the play so far best captures what it's about—and how so? 

Write a couple hundred words. I hope all was fine in class and that it helped you get the reading done.

Blog #22. What You Said Today, And A Little Preview.

Folks, I'm sorry I wasn't in class today. I hope Nat led a good discussion and you did well by him. This isn't the way I like to finish up books, particular books as important as this one. But we work with what we got. I'm probably not going to be in tomorrow, and so I'll leave the sub instructions.Be sure to bring a copy of Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet tomorrow. 

First: just for fun: a spoof of Death of a Salesman by that great old comedy group Second City TV. It's spoof and parody at the same time, as Fantasy Island, The Wizard of Oz, Star Trek, George Carlin and Jake Elwood of The Blues Brothers are all touched upon here. Most of the cultural jokes will probably not make sense to you—this is almost 30 years old after all. But imagine a time when television assumed its audience had the cultural background to make sense of such a bizarre satire.

Now: help me know what you all talked about in class today.

Period Two: what did you say—personally, whether you spoke up or not—about who the hero is of the play? The first person to answer, let me know what the class said, and others in the class can add to that.

Period Five: What do you, personally, think about the question of whether this is an anti-capitalist or anti-business play?  And same as above: first person to blog, let me know what the class said, and others can add to this description as everyone blogs.

Finally. As a preview to Glengarry Glen Ross, look at the two clips below.  It's a scene not in the play, but was added to the film adaptation by Mamet himself. It sets the stage well for both the subject and theme of the play. The company man, Blake, is played by Alec Baldwin (he plays the same guy, really, in 30 Rock: just a lot nicer and funnier); Levine is Jack Lemmon (in the new production on Broadway at this moment he is played by Al Pacino); Moss is Ed Harris; Aaranow is Alan Arkin; and Kevin Spacey is Williamson.

Remember: "Coffee's for closers."

"Always be closing."

See you guys tomorrow or more likely Thursday.

Blog #21, "He Had The Wrong Dreams. All, All Wrong." End of Death of a Salesman.

Biff: Why am I trying to become what I don't want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous fool of myself. when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am! (132)

Biff: I'm a dime a dozen, and so are you!
Willy: I am not a dime a dozen! I am Willy Loman and you are Biff Loman! (132)

Biff: Pop, I'm nothing! I'm nothing! Can't you understand that? There's no spite in it any more. I'm just what I am, that's all. (133)

Happy: I'm gonna show you and everybody else that Willy Loman did not die in vain. He had a good dream. It's the only dream you can have—to come out number-one man. He fought it out here, and this is where I'm gonna win it for him. (139)

Linda: I search and search and I search and I can't understand it, Willy. I made the last payment on the house today. And there'll be nobody home. We're free and clear. We're free. (139)

"Beating the odds begins with a positive attitude."

That last line I heard on some show aimed at children on Saturday morning cable t.v. The segment was on a young boy who didn't have arms but played soccer and whose goal was to play professionally. And one of the two hosts—good-looking twenty-somethings, one white and female and the other black and male—made that statement. It's the kind of statement Willy Loman heard all his life.

Get ready for some clips. First, something very different, an acclaimed British National Theatre production from 1996. It is a revival of an even earlier production starring the same Willy, Warren Mitchell,  but with—wrap your heads around this—Mel Gibson as Biff (who is not in this production). And Mel got great reviews.

Now look at part of the same scene from a 1966 movie starring the original Willy and Linda, Lee J. Cobb and Mildred Dunnock. This is 16 years after that original production and Cobb is old and perhaps not up to the task—but perhaps that adds a certain poignancy to his portrayal.

Now, Hoffman, Malkovich, Kate Reid and Stephen Lang.

And finally, the final scene and requiem from this production.

It's funny to hear British accents in the first clip, but for me it doesn't take away from the power of the play (and this is a play that has been performed in translation in Israel, in China, in Japan: which says something of the universality of its themes). So:

1. A comment on the different interpretations of Willy in these clips? 3-4 sentences. Perhaps address which one you liked? Which one worked for you? A brief comparison or contrast of the different actors?

2. Your reaction to the play now that you have finished it? Now that you've finished it, what would you say the play is ultimately about—and why? (I know, the American Dream: but make that not the end point but the starting point for your response)

3. What line in the play best captures its meaning for you?

4. Answer in a couple sentences: is Willy heroic at the end? Don't cut this question off with "He committed suicide, and that's not heroic," even though I imagine some of you feel this. Arthur Miller wrote, "I must confess here to a miscalculation...I did not realize while writing the play that so many people in the world do not see as clearly, or would not admit, as I thought they must, how futile most lives are, so there could be no hope of consoling the audience for the death of this man. I did not realize either how few would be impressed by the fact that this man is actually a very brave spirit who cannot settle for half but must pursue his dream of himself to the end."  You obviously don't have to agree with Miller, but at the very least, grapple with what he says. Like much of the play, Willy's suicide asks us to confront what we have been told of the way the world works. Work hard and you will succeed; the best cars or washing machines are the ones with the biggest ads; business must make people into old dogs, fruit, or widgets; beating the odds begins with a positive attitude. Suicide may or may not be cowardly. But think of, for example, soldiers who willingly give up their lives for their comrades, knowing full well that what they will do will result in their death.  We say, "It was suicidal, what they did." Indeed. With that in mind, consider Willy's final act.

There will be a quiz tomorrow in class. See you all then.

Blog #20, "No, That's Not My Father. He's Just A Guy." Death of a Salesman Through 116.

Bernard: But sometimes, Willy, it's better for a man to walk away.
Willy: Walk away?
Bernard: That's right.
Willy: But if you can't walk away?
Bernard: I guess that's when it's tough. (93)

Maybe the above exchange helps explain a guy that is so hard to understand. Can Willy walk away from the way his life went? Can he walk away from the myriad of bad choices and mistakes he made? Can what he did well—his efforts to be a good father and husband, his dedication to a job that is killing him, his nearly unshakeable belief in his dream—make up for all he didn't do well? Can we walk away from our dreams? This is the quandary for Willy, for all the Lomans: how do you walk way from the life you've created, problematic as it has been? It appears only one Loman can even comprehend this option. Biff.

Take a look at the scene in the restaurant below, from pages 112-115.

This is a crucial moment in the play.  The focus of it subtly changes from Willy to Biff, I would argue. And now we see something begin to happen that provides a glimmer of hope in a general hopeless narrative. If this is at all true...

1. Think about what happens in the restaurant, not just in the scene above, but from the moment Biff shows up on 101. What is possibly, potentially, the glimmer of hope that we see here? Go ahead and quote a couple times from the play.

2. For period two only: we haven't really talked about Biff or Happy. So what do you think of Happy? How would you characterize him, using this scene in the restaurant as a starting point?

2. For period five: Willy realizes he has one friend in the world, Charley.  Charley, who admits to "nobody [being able] to say I'm in love with [Willy]." Yet he does what Howard won't: he gives Willy money. Is Charley a fool for doing this? Why can he do this while Howard can't or won't?

3. For those who didn't talk in class today. What would you have said if you had spoken up? What point would you have made for any part of the discussion today?

3. For those of you who did talk in class today. Willy behaves awfully toward Biff in the scene above. Either Dustin Hoffman or the director Volker Schlöndorff or both together emphasize this almost petty cruelty in Willy that pops up every so often, mostly when he's at his most stressed. Yet even here, Biff—like Charley—does not reject Willy. It's as if they both recognize something that allows them to overlook the cruelty in Willy. What might they recognize?  What makes them not reject Willy?

That's three questions for everybody. Write a couple hundred words. Thanks for the hones responses you gave in class today. We'll see you tomorrow.

Blog #19. "A Man Is Not a Piece of Fruit!" Death of a Salesman Through 87.

Howard: This is no time for false pride, Willy. You go to your sons and tell them you're tired. You've got great boys, haven't you?
Willy: No question, no question, but in the meantime...
Howard: Then that's that, heh?
Willy: All right, I'll go to Boston tomorrow.
Howard: No, no.
Willy: I can't throw myself on my sons. I'm not a cripple! (83-84)

This, to me, is one of the greatest moments in American Theater, Willy Loman's destruction. Take a look below at this scene with Dustin Hoffman and Jon Polito as Howard:

This is the moment where Arthur Miller truly tests our commitment to Linda's view of Willy—if we are committed at all to the notion, as we said at the very end of second period today, that we have to respect the sanctity of Willy's humanity, as Linda pleads with us to do. In the past, many students could not go there. "Business is business," Howard tells Willy in a country whose business is business: and what that saying means to Miller becomes brutally clear here.

So:

1. Quick question. Do you care about Willy's fate? Or has he alienated you to the extent that you don't care whether or not he is fired? As I said in class, Miller deliberately made Willy a difficult character, as many of you said in class today. This is particularly clear during the Loman Brothers scene where Willy constantly belittles Linda. So do you still find yourself caring about what happens to Willy?

2. Dysfunction, thy name is Loman. The problem with the Lomans we see so clearly with Happy's "feasible idea" of the Loman Brothers. What does this show to you about the Lomans?

3. Finally. Should Howard have fired Willy? And why?

That's it. See you tomorrow.

Blog #18. "The Woods Are Burning! I Can't Drive A Car!"

Willy: I got nothing to give him, Charley, I'm clean, I'm clean.
Charley: He won't starve. None of them starve. Forget about him.
Willy: Then what have I got to remember? (45-46)

Why is Willy so fixated on Biff's success or failure? The quote above answers the question pretty well. And how terrifying is Willy's descent into madness or senility, into what Linda simply says is something "terrible" (56)? The post title addresses that succinctly as well. Look below at the clip from the film version of the 1984 Broadway revival starring Dustin Hoffman, Kate Reid as Linda, John Malkovich as Biff, Stephen Lang as Happy, and Charles Durning as Charley. It captures powerfully the way the past overcomes Willy's present.

Two questions for you all tonight.

1. Your reaction to the clip above? Does it fit what you've been seeing in your mind as you've been reading the play? Does it make clearer what we've been talking about in class? What do you think of Dustin Hoffman as Willy? Of course, in the play, Willy says, "'I'm fat. I'm very—foolish to look at" (37), but that's because the actor originally cast as Willy, Lee J.Cobb, was a big man. Miller originally had a small man in mind. (Notice too how Linda is as big, if not bigger, than Willy: in the original production, she was a tiny woman compared to Willy)

2. The reading ends with Linda's passionate defense of and argument for Willy. It's a powerful plea for this man who Linda acknowledges isn't "great." Please look at 55 to 57, starting with "Biff, dear, if you don't have any feeling for him, then you can't have any feeling for me" and ending with her characterizing Happy as a "philandering bum." Do you agree with Linda's argument for Willy here? All of it? Parts of it? Are we supposed to accept everything she says as the gospel truth? What does she say that particularly jumps out at you, and why? Go ahead and quote what she says to answer that last question.

Have a good night and we'll see you tomorrow.

Blog #17. "'It's All Right. I Came Back.'" Death Of A Salesman Through 37.

What you have begun reading is unarguably the greatest American drama of the post-World War Two era. That doesn't mean it is a perfect piece of art, but as New York Times critic Charles Isherwood said of this year's Broadway production starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Andrew Garfield (Jenny saw it): "'Death of a Salesman' remains a touchstone work of American drama that speaks as powerfully to readers and viewers today as it did to audiences in 1949, when Miller’s dissection of the moral rot at the heart of an average American family left audiences stunned by the force of its perceptions."As I said in class, Willy Loman is Hamlet or King Lear for American actors. It is the great American character and has been played by actors as dissimilar as Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Dustin Hoffman. Whether you end up liking the play or not, you are reading a true American classic.

To get us started. Below is the opening minutes of the 2000 Broadway production starring Brian Dennehy, an actor known more for his action roles like in First Blood, the original Rambo movie, or  in the "classic" Tommy Boy. Who knew the man had the serious acting chops to pull off Willy Loman?

My questions:

1. Your reactions to what you've read so far?

2. Which line or lines have jumped off the page for you? Or which line or lines best defines what you see the play as being about so far? Quote the line or lines and tell why you picked them. I want everyone to choose something different, so there should be 28 different line or lines.

Write a couple hundred words answering these 2 questions.

We'll see you on Monday.

Blog #16. "'What Was Your Name?' Kingsfield Said, Stepping Past Hart. His Voice Sounded As If It Came From A Long Way Off." The Paper Chase Ch. 56-58.

Like Kingsfield does with the lessons in his class, Osborn the writer manages to get us from day one of Hart's law school education to the last day—and beyond, to what has to be the most important part of the class: the grade, of course. And we never find out what the grade is. The film version wusses out on this crucial point, perhaps the most important part of the book, by showing Kingsfield grading the tests; and, surprise, surprise, Hart gets an A. Maybe the novel implies this—Hart is just itching to take his exam, unlike the students "moving blindly toward the nearest seat in a short mindless dance, their arms hanging limp at their sides" (219). Kevin's not wrong about Hart. Hart does have it made. But not, the novel implicitly tells us, in the way Kevin defines having it made.

I've always loved the ending of the book: Hart wins. It's important to note that he does not quit law school in a moral huff—in today's terms he still will get that $165,000 job after graduation (and a student of Hart's caliber will get that job). So will Ford. So will Anderson. Bell, on the other hand, probably not. But the novel asks as we've been saying for the last week, what is the price for that success? And the novel dares to posit "success" as something different than what Anderson sees it as, different than it is for those students who felt compelled to write down "Planet of the Apes" in their notes when their professor uttered it in class, different than what it is for the professors who expect doors to be opened for them by their students, and different than the way Kingsfield presents it to Hart. So:

1. What is success to Hart? How do we know this? Quote in your response.

2. The novel comes to a peak with that great chapter showing Hart and Ford studying for a week. This is the logical conclusion to Hart's journey through the novel. What does this show him—and Ford—having learned?

3. "'What was your name?'" This is our last glimpse of Kingsfield. What do you think of him at this moment?

4.  Finally: your reaction to the novel? Like? Dislike? Why?

Again, feel free to respond to what others say. PLEASE do not simply repeat in agreement what others have said: use that agreement as a stepping stone for you to make your own unique, individual commentary.

See you all tomorrow.

Blog #15. "'I'll Think I'll Pass,' Hart Said Quietly." Paper Chase Through Ch 55.

Well, things are happening at good ol' HLS as the school year comes to an end. Those darn kids are giving their beloved professors gifts and party favors, there's hugs and kisses all around, lessons are learned, and everyone can't wait until next year to do it all again. 

The television adaptation of our text which ran for four years never went this far, but, if you remember, or go back to, the clip I posted last week, it was close.The title song by pop rock faves Seals and Crofts set the tone:

"The first years are hard years
Much more than we know.
With good friends to love us
We'll field every row.
Stay open to all things,
Unknown and new.
Then one day, we'll all say,
Hey, look we've come through
The first years."

I'm not sure what the theme song would be for the novel we're about to finish, but it sure isn't this song. For me, it's terrifying book in many ways. Isabella asked in class today, "Why would anyone go through what we see go in the book, even for $165,000?" And Jimmy as he has before asked the essential question,"Is the end worth the price one pays?" The book certainly points out that many willingly accept the price the book illustrates. It also gives us a main character who is rapidly now figuring out how maybe to change the rules that everyone else have accepted as necessary for achieving the goal: passing. "'Just grade point,'" Anderson tells Hart about why he studies Kingsfield's movement from afar. He doesn't share the love-hate relationship Hart has with the imperious teacher nor the way Hart sees the building as some living thing, "like an animal"; Anderson doesn't feel the passions Hart does. He simply feels the need for an A.

This said:

1. Your reaction to Kevin's suicide attempt? We've seen it coming for awhile now: either he was going to kill someone else, or kill himself, the book has implied for a long while now. But this moment still is shocking, still horrifying. So your reaction? Along with this, could you say how this makes you see Kevin: a pathetic loser, a guy who couldn't cut it and got what he deserved—or something else? And what made him try to kill himself—was it simply or only his obvious failures at the law school, or were there other factors involved? Please don't simply agree or disagree with others, though you can: try to add to our understanding of this moment of the novel with your answer, okay?

2.  "'I'll think I'll pass'" (210). Your reaction and the meaning of this moment to you?

3. Finally. One of the points I have on the board concerning our discussion of what the book is about—and a question that we have to always refer back to—is what is the school teaching these students? The book clearly says it's teaching them more than law. It's teaching them as lawyers, as perhaps Harvard educated lawyers, how they should see the world: how they should see their position in the world: how they should conduct themselves in the world. No better place where we see this, though there have been others, than the class's reaction to Hart's refusal to answer Kingsfield's question. Your reaction to the class's reaction? And can a line be drawn from their reaction—their behavior—to the classroom itself, to specifically how Kingsfield has taught them?

Again, be willing to ask each other questions: and everyone come back once and respond to a classmates' comment. By the way, I really enjoyed class today, both classes: lots of good thinking going on.

Blog #14. "He Tried To Bring The Facts Of The Next CaseTo MInd. The Facts Slipped Away From Him. Was That It? Was Kingsfield Trying To Scare Him Into Forgetiing The Facts? And Then, Once He'd Forgotten, Nail Him Before The Class?" The Paper Chase, Ch. 34-39.

Hart is losing it in Chapter 34. And as was said in both classes today, one of the great questions of the novel is how deliberate Kingsfield is in his treatment of his students, particularly Hart. Does he really not know Hart's name? Was he deliberately ignoring Hart's desperate condition after Hart's debilitating four days? Is he here consciously punishing Hart for, as Hart thinks, "the unfinished paper" (151)?  Certainly Kingsfield is capable of, to use Isabella's word from today, cruelty: the way he calls on Kevin—the hands down worst student in the class—when Kevin has moved to the back row, having ceded his seat to another more confident student. "'Is Mr. Brooks here today?'" Kingsfield asks when he knows for certain he is (156).  Hart thinks earlier in the novel that "back benching," as it's called at HLS, made for these students like Kevin "an uneasy experience, possibly because the professors respected this truce and would not try to ferret out a student from the anonymous group at the back" (33). An implicit contract: the professors generally accept the arrangement...until they don't, as Kingsfield doesn't at the moment he calls out Kevin. And again, we are compelled to ask the question, is this right on Kingsfield's part? Is he carrying out the implicit contract he has with his students—or, as Sam said today, the contract he has as one human being to another.

This is what I wrote on last night's blog. I don't know how many of you read it; it was up on the board today as well.

I want to add to Jake's comment. Does Kingsfield care about Hart? This goes to the question I posed about the implicit contract Harvard Law School has with Hart the student. Molly stated that you go to Harvard Law School to get a law degree. Indeed. That is the overt contract. Hart works—and if he survives, as the television Kingsfield intones—he will get a law degree. That's school. BUT. Does a school, a place of education, owe its students more? Is the school you attend only about the degree you get at the end of senior year? Is that all school is supposed to be? Osborn asks in the intro to my edition, "The idea of reciprocity [that is, a mutual exchange] is important for contract law because it has to do with the expectations of those who form a contract. When people enter into a deal, they expect something in return." It's clear that Hart feels a responsibility to Kingsfield to finish the paper he's worked on for nearly three weeks and in the process exhausting himself. Look at the quote:"In a burst of moral responsibility—a feeling that he owed more than he could repay, that Kingsfield had trusted him and he'd destroyed that trust—Hart decided he would finish the paper" (135) . Does Kingsfield owe Hart some degree of compassion and kindness, if only to look at him when he is in his presence? Look at how Kingsfield is described as Hart asks for more time because Hart felt he had a "moral responsibility" to fulfill the trust his teacher gave him. It is not a legal contract, of course, but Hart does believe in the concept of reciproctiy, which is at the heart (no pun intended) of the course Kingsfield is teaching him. In Chapter 1, Kingsfield asks Hart what he thinks the doctor owes the boy whose hand was made hairy by the doctor's treatment—so what does Kingsfield owe Hart as his student? As someone who feels a trust with his professor, his teacher? as a fellow human being who worked his butt off to both impress and do right by his teacher?

So...

 1. Does Kingsfield owe Hart anything? Kingsfield does not owe Hart anything based on the explicit contract the two have as professor-student at HLS: but as both Sam and Cam brought up in second period, and as I ask in my response above, doesn't Kingsfield owe Hart more than he gives in this moment?  Why or why not?

2. A few of you, Andrew most vocally, said that there is no implicit contract between you and me in the classroom. There is a contract with the school, but not with me. Is this true? What is the contract you have with me—and that I have with you, in your eyes? 

Please don't answer these questions quickly. As I said in class today, you have to be truer to the text than some of you have been—Hart did not complain to Kingsfield. And some of you are writing responses that appear as though they were composed in 5 minutes or less, even if they weren't. I want more from you. So write a couple hundred words to answer the two questions. Feel free, as always, and I love it when you do, to comment on what your classmates have written.

See you tomorrow.

Blog #13. "'One More Thing,' He Said, Not Turning. 'You Ought To Get Some Sleep.'" The Paper Chase Ch. 28-32.

"In a burst of moral responsibility—a feeling that he owed more than he could repay, that Kingsfield had trusted him and he'd destroyed that trust—Hart decided that he would finish the paper" (135).

Hart has reached the first crucible of his year at Harvard Law School, and we see that Susan indeed has reason to worry about him. One lesson of Chapter 32 for the reader, particularly the student reader, is "don't try this at home."


 Respond to the following statements based on your reading of Chapters 28-32.

1. Hart is becoming the dick the law school wants him to be.  Agree or disagree. Support your answer.

2. Kingsfield is a sadist. Agree or disagree. Support your answer.

3. Harvard Law School has broken its implicit contract with Hart. Agree or disagree. Support your answer.
What I'd like for everyone to do is come back to the blog and respond to an answer by someone in your class: agree, disagree, add to, complement. I'm wanting you all to actually read what your classmates are saying (not that you aren't already) and let them know you're thinking about what they're saying.

Finally:

This is about 10 minutes of the 1973 film version. It's much more romantic than the novel, not surprisingly. But if you skip ahead to about the 6:40 mark, you can see the entire study group as it is portrayed in the film. Kingsfield asks his question, and, in succession, we see Anderson, Bell, O'Connor (now an ex-member in the book), Ford, and finally and unfortunately for him, Kevin. Take a look: I'll ask you what you think of this portrayal tomorrow in class.

See you guys tomorrow.

Blog #12. "'You're The Kind The Law School Wants.'" The Paper Chase Through 20 (Cont).

"'Do you think anyone cares about the robots? The law school hates the guys who regulate their studying habits. The law school gets them without trying. The law school wants you: the earnest ones. You've got class. The law school wants to suck out your Midwestern class. You can't flunk. That's why I'm worried about you'" (115).

This is Susan, of course—ironically perhaps, being the youngest of the young people who inhabit the novel, and being a woman in a world that is predominately male—being the voice of wisdom, knowledge, and experience.  Like the law school, she finds his earnestness irresistible. Unlike the law school, she actually worries about him.

I imagine some of you may be pulling a Hart tonight (minus the instant coffee and warm tap water—you'll soon get the allusion). Perhaps some of you are Andersons in disguise, organized to a tee. Either way, do the best you can with the paper due tomorrow. Please look at the MLA rules I handed out earlier in the week. I'm expecting the periods to be in the right place on quotes. Quotes of more than four lines, block. Two or more people talking, do block dialogue. Page citations are just the page number, that's it. No (pg. 45), but simply (45). It's not hard.

Knowing the paper is your larger priority, I'll keep the questions here direct.

1. Why Hart as the protagonist? We know, he has "heart"; we know he is sensitive in a way that his classmates aren't (a perfect moment to show this: Chapter 22, when Hart is gushing about Kingsfield to Ford, other students are tromping in their wet, dirty shoes all over Ford's notes that have fallen out of his notebook). But Hart as protagonist is more than that. So why might Osborn made him our main character as opposed to the others in the group—or even Susan or her father? What's at stake for Hart in this war, as some of you have called it, called law school?

2. Your reactions to the interpretation I gave of Chapter 24 on Friday? I know some of you didn't buy it—I know some of you at least considered it. If the interpretation works for you, how so? If not, why not?

That's it. Good luck: remember to proofread and spell check, something I'm not always so good at, as Nick pointed out to me last week when I gave you the quoting guide. See you tomorrow where we'll start talking about Hart specifically.

Blog #11. "'Something's Happened To Your Mind.'" The Paper Chase, Ch. 13-20.

So says Susan after she and Hart almost die on a not-so-frozen pond. What looks stable isn't; and from a distance, as the two of them are trying to not fall through the ice into the freezing water, Hart "thought what they must look like from top: like children playing in the snow, making angels" (79). This is a great moment in the book, and aside from being a cautionary tale for those of you who will end up in college where there actually is ice, snow, and frozen lakes, streams, and ponds, it speaks to something else—it has to speak to something else—going on this story of Hart, Susan, Kingsfield, Harvard Law School, reciprocity, contracts, competition, and not losing your soul.

Before I give you the questions: one, this is the law school in the book. The first two buildings pictured in all their severe majesty (notice the barren trees and dark skies: that's winter in New England) are really one building, Langdell Hall. In it, of course, is Kingsfield's classroom that Hart cannot get out of his mind, even as he is about to die in the pond. This is a funny, telling, horrifying moment in the book.

Second: you've already seen the opening of the 1973 film directed and written by James Bridges. A few years later, the book was, as I've already told you, made into a television show that actually ran for four years. John Houseman was back as Kingsfield, and fresh-faced James Stephens is Hart, minus the moustache of the movie Hart and now with a first name, James. Look 3:37 into the following clip (or watch the whole thing to see what was being shown on television in 1978), and you will see the opening credits for "The Paper Chase," but now in the guise of an uplifting story of friendship, loyalty, and the joys of learning. As Kingsfield told us week after week, "'You come in here with a skull full of mush—and if you survive, you leave here thinking like a lawyer.'" It actually made me think about going to law school.

Osborn's novel doesn't necessarily make us want to go to law school. So...

1. What is the picture of law school we are getting in the novel? What word or phrase best characterizes it for you?  And what is the moment or example in the novel (anywhere in the novel) that best supports your characterization?  Go ahead and quote in the novel. And don't everybody repeat what's been said already, okay?

2. This is for 2nd Period only. A couple of you have talked about in class the italicized inter chapter vignettes that Osborn occasionally inserts. There was the one that we discussed of the student who killed himself. In the most recent reading is one on 60, about a visit by Robert McNamara, John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson's Secretary of Defense during the height of the Vietnam War, to Harvard. As Andrew pointed out, these pictures don't have an overt connection to the narrative we're reading—this one takes place in college, not Law School, and as far as we know, the narrator is not even in our story. Yet there obviously is a reason Osborn puts them in the book. So what might be the reason for this vignette on page 60? What might it have to do with what we're reading? I would like all of you in 2nd period to respond to what one or more of your classmates have written.  That means, if you're the first to post, come on back and post again.


2. This is for 5th Period Only. Chapter 18 is a turning point in the book, it seems to me. This is where Susan tells Hart she can't see him anymore. "'Something's happened to your mind'" (80). What has come to a head in this chapter that causes Susan to desert him? What, in fact, is (are) the crucial difference(s) between Susan and Hart that Osborn is highlighting here—and to what purpose?  I would like all of you in 5th period to respond to what one or more of your classmates have written.  That means, if you're the first to post, come on back and post again.

3. For everyone. What moment in the reading particularly jumped out at you—and why?

Remember: there's a quiz tomorrow. See you all then.

Blog #10. "'Let Me Ask You Something. Why Did You Decide To Go To Law School?'" The Paper Chase, Cha. 1-6.

Before we really jump into this 1971 novel by Harvard Law School Graduate John Jay Osborn Jr., take a look at this clip from the 1973 film version. This is the opening scene from the novel transposed almost verbatim, that is, word for word, from the book. John Houseman won the Oscar for his portrayal of Professor Kingsfield. Timothy Bottoms is Hart. And yes, people dressed this way and had hair like this in the early 70s, even at Harvard Law School.

Hart—no first name, just as the fellows in his study group have no first names, except for Kevin (why that might be we'll discuss)—hails from Minnesota, from Nick Carraway country. And like Nick, he has made his way east in in the name of opportunity, in this case, a law degree from the prestigious Harvard Law School. You might say to yourself, it better be really f@#$%!!  prestigious to be treated the way he's treated by it, it specifically embodied by Kingsfield himself, who has been treating students like young Hart like this for thirty years. Indeed, by the time Susan asks Hart the question that leads the blog entry, we might be—or perhaps should be—asking the same question.

1. What's your reaction to the book so far? Like? Dislike? What scene or moment—other than the one above—sticks with you? Quote from the novel here. And everyone try to not pick the same scene, okay

2.  The scene above sets the stage for what we'll see occur throughout the novel in the classroom. (This is a book about school where there actually is a lot of schooling in it for a change). What is your reaction to this particular scene in the book (and you can talk about the movie as well)? How would you like it if this was the way class was conducted here—in this class for example?  Is Kingsfield within his rights as a teacher to put Hart on the spot the way he does? Does being the teacher give him the right to do this? By the way, this is "Socratic Method" that is still used at Harvard Law.

3. Finally. If you've been listening to the news the past couple weeks, there was a major cheating scandal at, strangely enough, Harvard. It's major. The captains of the basketball team have taken a leave of absence so that they wouldn't lose their eligibility if they stayed and were found guilty of cheating. Others have done the same. Some graduates could have their diplomas rescinded if they are found guilty of cheating. I thought about this when we were reading Gatsby. Gatsby is the cheater here, willing to do whatever he had to to get to the green light, an A in this case. Read this piece from a Harvard professor. Does it surprise you that there so many students would cheat? What is your response to what this article, what the writer, says about the rationale given for cheating? Is this applicable to Paideia?

I hope you enjoyed your class trips. Expect a quiz on Thursday. I'm looking forward to hearing what you think about our new book—which wasn't only a movie, but also a television series on both CBS (for a season) and Showtime (for three seasons). Who'd a thought a story about law school could last for four years on American television?

Blog #9. "And As I Sat There, Brooding On The Old Unknown World, I Thought of Gatsby's Wonder When He First Picked Out The Green Light At The End Of The Dark."

So we come to the end of what's been called the great American novel. It may or may not be, but it sure holds up well.  I should know, I've read it probably a dozen times, and as I've said in class, I still find new things in it. And especially in this latest reading, the first time I've ever taught it to an upper level class. The energy of the first weeks of discussion ebbed a little here at the end; maybe the discussion felt a little drawn out by this time. If so, sorry about that. But this is a book, for me, that never gets old. It's as relevant and timely today as it had to have been in 1925, in the midst of the wild jazz era of Prohibition where the rich indeed cavorted the way our characters do. Little did they know that the good times were about to come to an end in a few short years when the Great Depression will devastate America and the world. Fitzgerald obviously couldn't tell the future, but the clarity with which he saw the world of the rich, the clarity with which he saw the climate of America at this moment, both point to a breakdown, a crash, moral if not financial, that had to come. And it did.

Fitzgerald has not finished with Gatsby's life story, even at the end of the novel. His father appears, and he declares "'If [Gatsby] had lived he'd of been a great man...He'd have built up the country," to which Nick can only reply, "'That's true'"—"uncomfortably" (176). We get our last little bit of evidence of where Jay Gatsby began: "'Look here, this is a book he had when he was a boy. It just shows...Jimmy was bound to get ahead. He always had some resolves like this or something...'" (182). So...

1. Clearly, Mr. Gatz is wrong about the Gatsby we know—as Nick himself knows. Yet, given this last bit of evidence Fitzgerald provides in the book of adolescent James Gatz, could Gatsby have been a man to have built up the country? Why?

2. The final part of the American Dream narrative implicit in Gatsby's story on the last page of the novel where Nick, before heading back to morally upright and uniform, postcard-like memories of his mid-western home, looks one last time on Gatsby's "huge incoherent failure of a house" (188). "I then," he thinks, "became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailor's eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new world.." Look at the rest of the page to the end of the novel. What do you make of this final moment of the book? And in what way(s) does this, perhaps, reinforce the American Dream aspect of the story?  Quote a couple times in your response.

3. Finally. Is Gatsby great? If so, in a sentence, say why. If not, in a sentence say why Nick would think that he is (though he never comes out and says it).

I will not be in school tomorrow, unfortunately—I'm nursing a raging sore throat (not that you really needed to know that). You'll get your first essays and Gatsby topic on Friday. Tomorrow I want you to discuss your responses as a class (Nat should be your sub, and he, smart man that he is, loves this book). No quiz. Friday we will wrap this up. Next week you will work on your essays in class. I look forward to reading your responses tonight. Have a good class tomorrow—give Nat a reason to rave about great, attentive, and smart—wicked smart, as they say in New England—you are. See you Friday.

Blog #8. "If That Was True He Must Have Paid A High Price For Living Too Long With A Single Dream." Gatsby, Ch. 8.

"And the holocaust was complete" (170).

It all comes to a tragic end—or maybe a totally ridiculous end—as Wilson tracks down Gatsby, kills him in his swimming pool, then turns the gun on himself. How are we supposed to feel about this? Nick goes from "I disliked him so much...that I didn't find it necessary to tell him he was wrong" [about anyone seeing his car] (151) to "They're a rotten crowd...You're worth the whole damn bunch put together." And again, Nick reiterates how he "disapproved of [Gatsby] from beginning to end" but still felt compelled to write about him as a heroic figure who was "exempt"(6) from the contempt he had for all the others in this world. If Nick himself cannot seem to get his feelings in consistent order about Gatsby, so how are we supposed to think about the man in his "gorgeous pink rag of a suit"(162)? This, of course, will be our conversation for the remainder of the week, tied in with the connection between Gatsby's dreams and The American Dream.  But first:

1. "He had intended, probably, to take what he could and go—but now he found that he had committed himself to the following of a grail" (156 or 149). Grail? Daisy has become his grail? What does this mean? And how does this help explain his mad, obsessive pursuit of this (my words) truly ordinary girl?

2.              "God sees everything," repeated Wilson.
                 "That's an advertisement," Michaelis assured him. (167 or 160).
We've not talked about the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg, other than as a reminded of the lack of vision the characters have (Gatsby seeing Daisy as a grail, as a stairway to heaven, for example). But here nearing the end of the novel, Fitzgerald finally addresses this bizarre feature in the landscape of the book. Is Wilson simply being insane here—the incoherent ramblings of a deranged husband? Or does he have a point—does he "see" something that others, including the readers, have missed? Is Fitzgerald messing with us or is he telling us something essential and profound about this world? What do you think of Wilson's observation? What is Fitzgerald saying with this?

Write a couple hundred words. Finish the novel, if you haven't already, for Thursday. There will be a quiz on the end of the book on Thursday, and the paper assignment for the book. See you tomorrow.
 

Blog #7. "'I Disliked Him So Much By This Time That I Didn't Find It Necessary To Tell Him He Was Wrong." Gatsby, Ch.7.

"So the whole caravansary had fallen in like a card house at the disapproval in her eyes" (120).

What began with stairways to heaven and shirts thrown like confetti into the air has become a full flung daily affair conducted in broad daylight as the parties have ended and Gatsby's servants are replaced by "villainous faced" men who won't "gossip" (120-121). Who finds Daisy and Gatsby cute now?

The conflicts come to a head, truths are revealed, innocents die (and I would call Myrtle an innocent in this sickened and sickening world, "sick" a state shared by both Wilson and by the end Nick himself—though I'm not sure Nick is so innocent at the end of this chapter). 

1. So what is your reaction to this chapter? What quote or moment or scene particularly jumped out at you or stayed with you even after you read? And why? Go ahead and quote in your response.

2. I asked Friday if Daisy objectively was worth what Gatsby did to get her back. How would you answer that question now (and by the way, this is the last we see of her in the novel)? In fact, what do you think of Daisy now? Quote once in your response.

3. "I'd be damned if I'd go in; I'd had enough of all of them for one day and suddenly that included Jordan too" (150). Fitzgerald could be speaking for all of us by this point in the book. Who have you had "enough" of the most by the end of this chapter—and why? Go ahead and quote in your response.

Take a few minutes to answer this: this 200 words or so in all. Don't forget that I'm looking for proper spelling and mechanics in your responses. Try not to repeat each other.

Finally. Not only is Gatsby coming to the 24 screen metroplex nearby, but is also returning to the stage in New York appropriately enough. Gatz is a nearly 7 hour reading aloud of the entire novel. It was a hit when first performed by the experimental theater troupe Elevator Service Repair.  There is a review of the original production on my board next to the clock—and a positive review it is.  Take a look at this and this. And PLEASE look at this. This is how the production actually looks.

Tomorrow we start pulling everything together and seeing what really does the book have to do with American Dream. I bet by now you can tell me. See you then.

Blog #6. "His Bathroom Was The Simplest Room Of All—Except Where The Dresser Was Garnished With A Toilet Set Of Pure Dull Gold." Gatsby, Ch. 5.

Go about a 1:15 into the trailer: notice Tom on his horse and the immenseness of his mansion. And a few seconds later notice the brief clip of Gatsby flinging his shirts into the air:

Watch, too, this clip from the 1974 version of the novel (or you can simply go to the 10 minute mark). I think it's pretty much as major a failure as it can be as an adaptation of perhaps a nearly unfilmable book (we'll see how the new one works out). But it gets this moment right: Gatsby (Robert Redford), again, flinging those shirts, and Daisy (Mia Farrow) burying her face in one and sobbing about its beauty.

Isabella said this was one of her favorite moments in the novel—as it is for me as well. And like the Valley of the Ashes it begs for interpretation. Look at this moment in your book, page 92 (97 in my edition), that begins with "Recovering himself in a minute, he opened for us two hulking patent cabinets which held his massed suits..." and finishes with Daisy sobbing, "'They're such beautiful shirts...It makes me sad because I've never seen such—such beautiful shirts before.'"

This is one of those head scratching moments in the book: why is Gatsby flinging his shirts ("piled like bricks in stacks a dozen high") all over his room, and why is Daisy so visibly moved by them? Is it really because she's never seen "such beautiful shirts before"?

So—tell us, why is Gatsby flinging  and why is Daisy crying? Go ahead and quote three times from the book in your response. As always, feel free to respond to others in the class. Write a couple hundred words—take 15 minutes or so to write.

Tomorrow we will talk about this great romantic couple, Gatsby and Daisy.  See you then.

Blog #5. "It Never Occured To Me That One Man Could Srart To Play With The Faith Of Fifty Million People—With The Single-Mindedness Of A Burgler Blowing A Safe." Gatsby, Ch. 4.

Nick's description above is not of Gatsby (though as I write this, knowing the rest of the book, themes like deception, faith, and money will come to bear concerning our titular hero). It's Meyer Wolfshiem, he of the human molar cufflinks and ferociously delicate eating habits, and his mind-blowing claim to fame is fixing the 1919 World Series. Fitzgerald based him on a notorious New York gambler and gangster, Arnold Rothstein. Fitzgerald's use of real events and thinly-veiled real figures speaks, I'd argue, to his desire for the reader to see the currency and timeliness  of his story, and particularly the currency of Gatsby's story. Like a mystery writer, Fitzgerald is parsing out the details of his "hero" carefully and selectively. And while Nick may be taken by Gatsby, we must be more discriminating and careful.

1. So speaking of discrimination and skepticism, go back and take a look at the life story Gatsby gives Nick on 65-67(69-71 in my edition). Do you buy this story—do you believe it? Why or why not? Quote a couple times in your response.

2. Nick ultimately does buy it. What's does that say about him to you?

3. "'It's pretty, isn't it, old sport?'" Gatsby says proudly of his car on 64 (68 in my book). Nick does admit that everyone has seen the car, but he neither agrees nor disagrees with Gatsby's assessment of it. Look at the description, another great one by Fitzgerald. So is it a "pretty car"? And what might be the significance of the car if it is pretty—or if it isn't? Quote a couple times in your response.

4. Finally: we now know that Gatsby and Daisy had a relationship once. And we get Daisy's back story for the past five years (she met Gatsby when she was 18, which makes her in the present of the story 23—much younger than I expect every time I read the novel). How do you see Daisy now, now that you know something of her past? Do you find her sympathetic? Not? Does she seem worth buying a mansion to be near you? Look at 74-77 or 69-83.

This is due by 8AM on Tuesday morning. No more make-ups anymore. See you then!