Review: My Name is Red

“The greatest compliment you can pay a painter is to say that his work has stimulated your own enthusiasm to illustrate” – Orhan Pamuk (excerpt from My Name is Red)

There is a moment in every great work, when it ceases to be merely good and takes the step towards greatness. There is such a moment when Holden Caulfield spends the first night in New York or when Mr. Darcy finds Elizabeth Bennet alone in the cottage and professes his love: There is perhaps a passage which is so profound and so deeply considered that it begs you to read it again and again, to try and to better understand its true purpose, to comprehend the very differing opinions that you yourself draw with each and every reading, or perhaps it just makes you want to give up everything and just write. To write just that one passage that will become immortal because of its greatness.

There is such a moment in My Name is Red, when the murderer confesses his crime to an old man. What makes it even better is that not only did it make me want to write to my heart’s content, I also fell the incredible urge to paint. Such is the quality and intellect of the conversation between the old man and the murderer just before and after his confession that I feel that I shall read this book over and over throughout the years. The book, up until that point, certainly has many moments where it begins to approach greatness, but it almost seems that those moments faltered at some point or another. Starting from the point at which the murderer is entering the old man’s house, however, everything changes, it becomes riveting reading.

It is actually quite difficult to explain precisely what makes this so good. For one, the entire passage is told through the differing first person accounts of the two characters involved. This is just like the rest of the book, which is told through multiple first person narratives, that always move the story along. Like the scene in question, there are several other conversations where we get to see what each person is thinking while being party to the dialogue. Perhaps far more importantly, for this particular scene and the novel, even though the murderer confesses, the identity of the murderer is not revealed to us. The suspense is maintained.

My Name is Red is in part a murder mystery, in part a love story triangle, in part the story of the making of an important book for a Turkish Sultan, and in part a reflection on Islamic art and religion. In the end though, taken as a whole, it manages to become a reflection on life itself. Perhaps that is what differentiates the truly great work from just the good, this ability to become something which is greater than the sum of all the parts. In essence Orhan Pamuk manages to create something that he himself describes within the pages as a signature of great art. This was the first novel that I read by the Turkish Nobel Prize winning author, and based on that experience, I thought then that I would go on to read all his other work. I have read Snow, The Black Book, and the non-fiction memoir Istanbul since then, and I have not been disappointed. But yes, My Name is Red is still my favorite.

It is possible to take on the negatives within the pages of this book. But as long as any piece of art can take me to another plane, even if for only one long moment then I don’t really mind negatives: let it have many as long as it will be able to take me there.

* It has been almost two years since read the book and wrote the above review. This August I have re-read the book as part of my book club. I have to say that my opinion about the book has changed somewhat during that time period. Certainly, the reflections on Art are as interesting as before and that is what makes the book worth reading, but the other part (the murder mystery) didn't hold up all so well and there was a distinct drop in intensity as the novel progressed into the second half. There is no doubt that I liked reading it, but it is true that it is not (like Austen) such that it can be read again and again ad infinitum. One probably has to give it a few years before attempting it again. Nor is this because of the searing intensity or emotion of the novel (such as can be in the works of Coetzee or say a Heart of Darkness). I will try and write more about Orhan Pamuk's books (the ones that I have read) soon and how reasonable the Nobel Prize was.

*This article first appeared on Illinois Institute of Technology's student magazine TechNews: http://technews.iit.edu/index.php?id=1259

Movie Review: In Search of Mozart (2006)

In Search of Mozart is a wonderful documentary about the life and music of Mozart. Even if one is well-versed with his history and music, there are still a number of things that one will learn from this film.

The best thing about this documentary is that it creates a seamless blend of the narrative about Mozart's development and the music that he is creating during that time. This is done through the use of recording a number of live performances of his pieces (more than 70 works performed in the film - listed at the film's website . In addition to the performances we are also given a number of interviews with the performers. This makes it all the more interesting because we get to hear what each musician thinks of his music and why they love it so. There are beautiful sequences showing how the musicians get lost in the performance and sway in time with the rhythm almost as if they were an extension of the instrument they were playing and their movement (pun not intended) is necessary for the best result (I know from my own amateur musical experience how important that is). The vocalists are even more interesting, because in a way they themselves are the instrument.

There is a sequence with the camera placed behind three violinists that I found particularly striking as they almost danced in unison with the joy of playing. That is one of the great things about this film that it manages to capture the joy of playing, hearing, listening and feeling Mozart.

A note for all us creative types is that Mozart almost always worked for money or on a commissioned assignment and rarely did anything just because he felt like it. As one interviewee points out it was music being made for money (i.e. to earn one's livelihood) but "the genius leaks out" *. There are also interesting anecdotes about the kind of person that Mozart was, references to the toilet-humor prevalent in those days (something not considered uncultured or uncouth) and in general showing the kind of spirited person that Wolfgang was. There is also a nice discussion of his use of leitmotifs that I found very interesting - his ability to depict a person's character perfectly through the use of music.

* Having said that though I have to say that there is an important distinction between this and a lot of commissioned work in today's day and age. For example, even though Monarch X may commission Mozart to undertake to write say a concerto to commemorate a special occasion - it is still a concerto, and adheres to the concerto form and Mozart is free to write this concerto as he pleases (provided it satisfies the Monarch, which should be easy, seeing as it is Mozart doing the composing - if anything, I am sure the question is more about the work satisfying Mozart's own standards than the Monarch's). I suppose the thing that would be comparable to that now is a fellowship. An advertising (or other propagandist) commission does not count. And film is a discussion I leave for another time (Michael Kamen, Hans Zimmer, John Williams and A R Rahman will probably be discussed).

And in writing especially the issue becomes far more complicated and even remotely propagandist material/commissions may be off-limits.

Movie review: Note by Note - The making of the Steinway L1037

When did the word technician replace the word artisan? Or, what is the difference between the two words?

These are questions that come to me as I watch Note By Note, a feature-length documentary by Ben Niles about the making of a Steinway L1037. The documentary follows the entire process of the making of a grand piano (the L1037 is a 9-foot concert grand) at Steinway from the time that a person goes out to Alaska to procure wood to the time that it is delivered to a downtown New York City showroom.

We spend a year at the Steinway factory in New York from December 2003, when the wood is initially bent into the grand piano shape, to almost the end of 2004 when it undergoes its final fine-tuning. From the very opening shots at the factory, the movie draws the viewer into this world of pianos and piano-making. Interspersed with the making of the piano itself, we have various pianists ranging from Hank Jones, to Lang Lang, to Hélene Grimaud who speak about what different pianos are like, what it feels to play on different pianos and the process of making music. They speak as if each piano was its own person with a distinct personality, and as with people, they find some pianos appealing and others not so much.

Their feelings about a piano’s personality are echoed by the workmen at the factory, who talk about, among other things, what they do and how important their task is to the making of the piano. What is most striking about these interviews with the workmen, in addition to their sense of humor, is how much they enjoy the work that they are doing. And here is where the movie becomes really engaging. The subject is interesting in itself and one watches this entire process take place – something that in real life takes about a year, as I’ve said – with complete awe and wonder. But this other facet of it, the life of the human beings that are behind this piano’s creation, is fascinating. Throughout, there is also the sense that Steinway is one of the last piano-makers (and I am avoiding the use of the word manufacturer) who still does most things by hand. The craftsmen (and the pianists) make us believe that this is what essentially lends a soul to each piano and prevents it from being the same as every other piano out there. As we watch and we listen, we begin to understand the film-maker’s buried theme, which is that of the essential colorlessness of mass-production — and by extension, humanity’s rush towards sameness. We are all alike but we must not become the same.

The film is also an argument for hand-crafting a thing such as a musical instrument (we are reminded time and again that no electronic tuning is used in the entire piano-making process, aural tuning is used instead) and that therefore, under the weight of mass-production, this essential piece of culture is dying; because it seems that sooner or later Steinway will have to go the path of other piano-makers or face closure (many other piano-makers are mentioned as having gone out of business over the decades). The film then serves as a document of this valuable process. Perhaps, it argues, some hundreds of years in the future someone will pick it up and discover something amazing. There is also a hint in Niles’s lingering on the musicians, that somewhere in this new century Classical music is also slowly but surely dying a silent death.

These are all compelling arguments, no doubt. But I am not sure that I agree fully with all of them—which is okay. What is not okay is that in this haze of trying to say too many things at the same time, Niles has lost some of the power that he could have achieved if he had kept it simpler.

Consider, for example, the closing scene: after the Steinway L1037 has been completed, it is delivered to the showroom – this would have served as the perfect ending with credits rolling at that time – but no, we are given Grimaud playing the piano and telling us that she liked it. This is totally unnecessary. The audience clearly understands what a Steinway piano is worth, and if it’s fresh-made out of the factory, it must be a very fine instrument indeed. Then why is this footnote necessary? This makes the entire sequence become a little bit like trying to make things painfully obvious, and I’ll tell you, I for one, hate having points hammered into me. It would have been much better if the film-maker had trusted our intelligence.

There are similarly unnecessary scenes of people (and children) coming in to buy pianos (although the scene with a Steinway being delivered to a Jewish family is affecting). All the musicians’ interviews, though interesting, end up distracting from the central theme of the making of the piano and the story of the craftsmen.
However, having said all that, I should add that this is Ben Niles’s first foray into feature-length film-making, and as it stands it is an applaudable effort. I saw this film first in February at the Gene Siskel Film Center and certainly was more affected by it and less aware of its flaws than when I saw it last week at the Symphony center. And at that second screening, perhaps all the chit-chat that went on before and after the movie made it more demanding on my senses. It is definitely worth the experience of watching it for the first time, for any music lover and otherwise.

So, returning now to that question at the beginning: given the fact that Steinway relies so much on hand-crafting, it was strange to see the workmen referred to as technicians. That is an artifact of this century as well. I suppose, in a seemingly invisible way, life of this century has already encroached on life within the Steinway factory – which in many ways is like traveling back in time to the period at the turn of the 19th to 20th Centuries. The word artisan implies the word art embedded within it: these people who have worked at their respective roles for years have in some way mastered their respective arts and contribute in no small way to the world of art-making.

*The film is a little hard to find and information about future screenings and purchasing can be found at: http://www.notebynotethemovie.com/

*This article first appeared on Illinois Institute of Technology's student magazine TechNews: http://technews.iit.edu/index.php?id=1161

Music Review: 12 Ways to Live

Album: 12 Ways to Live (2007) – By Emily White [Folk Rock / Acoustic / Indie]

There is a danger in waiting too long to write a review (this album came out late last year) and that is that one can be too biased one way or another to write objectively. And unfortunately I am biased: I love this album; I really do. But then, I am not in the business of writing objective reviews (whatever that means) so I’ll just try and tell you why I think this album is so wonderful.

“12 Ways to Live” is Emily White’s second offering after “Every Pulse” in 2005. There is no doubt that most people who had listened to “Every Pulse” would have pretty good expectations from this one (because “Every Pulse” was a pretty good CD) and I was one of them. But Emily easily exceeds those expectations here with a thoughtful and genuinely beautiful work. She revisits similar themes of love, relationships, the female experience, oblique (and often direct) politics, and social commentary; in other words experiences being a sensitive human being. The musical and vocal style: simple, lucidly evocative; is not so much a re-invention as an expansion of her repertoire (and on present evidence it is quite a repertoire and growing). The writing is very much in the same vein full of visible imagery and heartfelt emotion. So this seems very much a logical progression from the first. But then again, that’s just a too simplistic way of looking at things, because this is also a much more assured Emily White: older, more confident, and just secure in her abilities as an artist. She is unafraid of taking more risks, pushing the envelope ever so much further with exceptional results.

One of the things to like for me personally is the writing. Traditionally, that’s something that I respond to the most (and something that I find sadly lacking in a lot of current work: that lyrically a song is a piece of poetry which grows with the accompanying music but stands its own in the absence it). There are songs here composed of beautiful lines; lines that remain with you long after the album is done and which return to you again and again at odd times. Consider “…there are things that water can’t tell you / For which water just doesn’t have the words” from “7th & A”; or “Turn me into Stone / So much better for the keeping”; or “they carved up the city to make more room for ships” from “bayou”; or something from “Mad Intuition” my favorite song in the album: “We cut through all of the noise/Windows are open to the sounds of steel”. And beautiful lines add up to wonderful songs such as “Georgia”, Secret Song” and of course “Mad Intuition”.

I am not sure what the “12 Ways to Live” of the title refers to. There is a piece of artwork listing 12 ways to live, ranging from “In love”, “On the Road” to “With Regret” and “Scared”, but I don’t think that half explains it. The songs range widely in emotion, tone and mood: from palpably aching to (hesitantly) upbeat; quiet to bustling with life; lonely, depressed to being comfortable, and in love. In a way, the “12 Ways to Live” might be 12 ways in which we all live at different times of our life, or maybe it’s just an expression of many people’s lives, because as she points out, “every story is the singer’s no matter what they sing.” But that kind of reminds me of a famous line credited to Fellini, “if I make a movie about a fish it would still be about me.” Throughout there is the feeling of immediacy, with the rawness of the vocals, the spare arrangements and personal lyrics, that some part of her is being revealed to us. And in effect, as I said before, it is her self-assurance that allows her to do this. The very personal nature of it is perhaps what makes it most special. Songs about love are not just restricted to a “lover” but includes her mother (Good Enough Reason). There is a song of a break-up… in friendship (7th & A). Certainly, these are stories from her own life.

And to add to this there are little touches which may seem surprising at first but are probably the things that make the album grow on you. There are “aching refrains”, little inflexions and changes in vocal modulation, memorable musical interludes and changes in the rhythm/style midway through a song. These all sometimes add up to the sneaking suspicion of having heard or known this from somewhere before, like the chorus on “Believe in Me” or the instrumental passage in “Bayou”. My theory about why that happens is because for certain pieces of music, certain songs there is an implacable logic to it, when things just fall perfectly into place it seems so natural. Of course, this feeling is nothing new, it’s happened to me many times before with music, books and more. But it’s oh so exciting when it happens with something new.

One of the most interesting things for me has been that each person that I have recommended the album to has a different song (or songs) that they like. That in itself shows the variety and quality of the work. My personal favorites in addition to “Mad Intuition” are “Georgia” and “Secret Song”. In truth I like all the songs to varying degrees. As a whole Emily White’s “12 Ways to Live” has now become a worthy addition to my Essential Collection. The long wait and resulting bias in writing this review is justified.
Emily White’s Website: http://www.emily-white.com/
MySpace Page: http://www.myspace.com/emilywhite
Buy it here: http://emily-white.com/store.html
OR http://cdbaby.com/cd/emilywhite2

*This article first appeared on Illinois Institute of Technology's student magazine TechNews: http://technews.iit.edu/index.php?id=1079

Pessimism vs. Optimism

I was inspired to write this after reading a statement describing Kieslowski and his film-making as being pessimistic. I disagree passionately with this description of Kieslowski. For me, Kieslowski is a realist. He is able to see a lot of the evils that are present in the World that he sees. That he chooses to depict these in his films shows that he is willing to concede that these things exist and in a way perhaps with his films he is trying to change some of these. If he succeeds at any level to do that, then he is far from being a pessimist isn't he?

I define pessimism as being devoid of hope. Kieslowski's films are never devoid of hope. In fact, towards the end of his career the wonderful Three Colors Trilogy and especially the third film of that Trilogy Red are films that have a lot of hope for the characters and the state of the World in general. In some sense Kieslowski always works with the idea of Blind Chance and most of the things happening (especially to the characters) is completely random or co-incidental. This is a common theme in a lot of his works. Not just the last films but also a lot of his earlier films have a keen interest in what happens to people because of chance - a phone call just missed, a chance encounter with a stranger, an accident narrowly avoided and a train ride just missed. The film Blind Chance is completely about three different outcomes for a character who could catch a train just in time or just misses it. So Kieslowski is always saying that there are always other factors that lead us a certain way in life. But that is not pessimistic is it? One might say that this means that there is no hope for us in doing the things that we do because we are led by blind chance alone. But to say something like that would be to disregard everything else that happens in his movies. This is because because always at the center are the characters, and good things happen to them because of these unusual co-incidences. Moreover, the stories always closely consider how the characters react to these co-incidences. And it is their reaction to these events rather than the events themselves that ends up being more important.

There is no point denying that such a think as chance exists. One can be as optimistic as much one wants but what does one do when one dies in a car accident. True, you don't go out every time expecting an accident, but it is not completely foolish to consider the possibility every now and then (who knows you might drive more sensibly and be more cautious - which may end up saving your life and that of others). I reckon a lot of the reckless drivers out there are unflappable optimists (at least as far as their welfare on the road is concerned) - I wish there were less of those.

There is an important saying which goes, hope for the best but expect the worst. From personal experience that has been the best thing for me. The most important thing to remember is that expecting the worst thing is not the same thing as wishing for it to happen. One needs to be ready for absolutely anything, and you will find that those who go far in life are the ones who can easily take setbacks (perhaps because they were already expect it to some extent). Hoping for the best can lead one down when the outcome turns out to be far from what was expected. One may get crestfallen and in fact, turn a pessimist thereafter. Expecting the worst, almost always ensures that you will put in more than the effort than you thought was necessary and that often becomes the difference between getting the results and not. Of course, there are those who will not put in effort simply because it is too hard. Well, we are not discussing those for the moment. There is that other saying that says that one should aim for the sky, at least one will end up hitting the roof. Is that a very optimist saying?

Returning to Kieslowski and chance. One of the things that strikes me about the movie Blind Chance is that what happens to the character may be due to the whims of chance, however is his thought process really his own. I think in each case, the fate he ends up with is because he is easily impressionable and so a chance encounter with a stranger or strange circumstance fashions the remainder of his life. Now, consider this for a moment, that we are all at the mercy of chance, but how much it will affect us and our entire destiny is dependent on us?

This is the key then for me: whether you are happy or not for the most part depends on you and not your circumstances. Modern society's obsession with spirituality certainly suggests that this is true (because we are not very happy at the moment and looking for ways to be). Then, if you are always expecting golden outcomes, you are likely to be disappointed constantly. On the other hand, if you already expect the worst then anything you get is much better and you're happy.

So you decide: optimism, pessimism, or realism?