The collections of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, include more than 45,000 examples of textile and fashion arts. Once Lou and Lisa of the Adrian G. Marcuse Library made me aware of an exhibition there, I just had to go. It was amazing!
Ostensibly my reason for going was to take photographs for my online menswear course, and I was not disappointed.
Hippies are primarily associated with the United States, but versions of what might be described as the hippie phenomenon appeared in the U.K, Europe and as far afield as Australia.
The exhibition itself was broken down into five ‘Hippie Sections,” Trippy, Fantasy, Retro, Ethnic and Craft. Funnily enough, most of the clothing being exhibited came from the U.K. But what represented the U.S was incredible, for example the caftan shown below, by Rudi Gernreich, and the Swanbone suede-fringed jacket made by East West Musical Instruments Company depicted above and below. The garments were infamous for “stash” pockets sewn into the neckbands, which offered a convenient hiding place for illegal substances.
Lauren D. Whitley did an amazing job of curating this exhibition, and my only criticism concerns the choice of background music. What did “Bang a Gong,” by T. Rex, which was a “glam-rock” group, have to do with the 1960s? Where was Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, or Quicksilver Messenger Service? In reply to that question, Lauren emailed me: “I agree about the music. I did not have the final call on that. Apparently the problem was with the rights and licensing of songs. We could only afford to pay one licensing agency, and the other, BMI, would have charged a fortune to the rights to play Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, or the Grateful Dead.” Apart from that, the exhibition was perfection.
Professor Derek W. Cockle M.A.(RCA)
Fashion can be as serious or simply delicious as one pleases. Dressing Constitutionally: Hierarchy, Sexuality and Democracy from Our Hairstyles to Our Shoes, a new book about how fashion has shaped the law in the U.S., and how laws have shaped fashion, is insightful as well as delightful.
The author, Ruthann Robson, a senior professor at CUNY School of Law, is an expert on the conflicts that have arisen over fashion, civil rights, and sexuality throughout the history of the U.S. Although her book focuses on the present, it makes clear that fashion has always been a battleground where religion, class, and the struggle for equality have been contested.
Apparel and business issues are Robson’s springboard to more basic questions of self expression, political protest, and identity that clothing provokes. She looks into whether strip searches by the authorities—taking away the privacy clothes may provide, as may be the case in New York City’s debatable Stop and Frisk policy—should be legal. But she also explores when and where the law should allow strip teases. What laws are appropriate to apply to religious expression, from the hat that the Quaker William Penn wore to express his religion, to modern day conflicts over the wearing of veils, beards, turbans and other features of appearance that are part of religious devotion?
More and more law schools are developing courses, and even whole programs, that specialize in the legal and social issues that fashion raises. For young aspiring fashion leaders, Robson’s book is a fascinating exploration of a frequent conflict between generations. In a recent interview she mentioned that very often, laws about “public decency,” or expression through clothing, have been about “the old trying to police the young.”
When a hit British show is copied in the U.S., differences between the original and the copy are a window into the contrasting dreams and values of the two nations. The adaptation of the British show The House of Cards for American consumers is especially interesting for anyone who cares about industries that market style, such as fashion, home-design, video and film. In particular, the shows contrast how the British and Americans fantasize about beauty, women and thrilling political crimes.
There are no universal rules about cross-Atlantic adaptation, but it seems that whatever the genre of the show, Americans can expect that the copy will be more personal and less socially-oriented than the original. The British workplace comedy The Office, for example, focused on the stupidity of companies and bureaucracies. The American version highlights obnoxious and quirky individual characters instead. A similar shift took place when the British drama Shameless, a fairly bleak exploration of class-conflict, working-class culture and urban poverty moved to America. The emphasis became family dysfunction, wild personal behavior, and outrageously bad parenting, not the broad social issues of the original. Also, criticism of corporations—in the U.S. the financial sponsors of broadcast shows and producers of cable shows—is softer here than in Britain. The U.S. market prefers individual heroes and villains and intimate stories, and to go easy on companies and social analysis.
That is not to say that Britain does not produce fluff that captivates both countries, or that the British cannot create alluring surfaces. Downton Abbey, the British costume soap-opera, more rebroadcast than reshaped for American consumers, is not just excellent fluff, but illustrates a general trend in how women characters and issues are seen in the U.S. and U.K. The popularity of Downton Abbey in the U.S. seems to stem mostly from the audience’s love of romantic melodrama.
But perhaps even more, American viewers have been entranced by the show’s evening gowns, graciously appointed rooms, and the formality of manners and customs on the estate. Downton Abbey is an excellent rebuke to U.S. reality shows that visit the homes of the rich and famous only to prove that celebrities cannot buy taste, class, cultivation or refinement no matter how much money they spend. Nonetheless, Downton Abbey, for Americans, is about what’s “classy” (a good thing in relaxed American parlance). Yet in the context of the show, class is reduced to elaborate apparel and traditional interior design.
To make visuals so important to the conception of social class in the show, of course, restricts the female characters. The women of Downton Abbey, whether domestics or the daughters of the Earl, all want to break free of fashions in apparel, relationships, and careers. But betrayal of their loyalties, failure and even death are often the result. Partly that is because romance plots tend to be about marrying rich; truly independent women are spoilers. Beyond that, costume dramas on TV rely on the sexism of popular culture. Downton Abbey’s women are literally and figuratively laced up. American audiences apparently view that bondage with nostalgia--a fantasy about an imaginary gracious and orderly British past. British audiences, however, see the fetish for surfaces in Downton Abbey as a prettified vision of a retrograde era, when, disastrously, some people with titles and congenital wealth had actual social and political significance. Viewers of every nation love the gowns and furniture.
The American House of Cards wins, however, in a different realm of surface beauty. Its imagery and visual tone are far more effective than those of the original. That is partly due to the invention of high-resolution lightweight digital cameras made by the Red and Zeuss companies that did not exist in the 1990s when the British show was shot. Also, the new show, as Robin Wright’s dresses testify, has a much more stylish fashion closet than did the original. But most of the credit for the better look of the American show must go to filmmaker David Fincher. He can claim such perverse triumphs as having made the picture-postcard quads of Harvard look scary in The Social Network. Equal credit goes to Sidney Wolinsky, whose editing of House of Cards is much like his editing of The Sopranos, and cinematographer Eigil Bryld, who has also worked with The Sopranos creator and writer David Chase. House of Cards has the look of “neo-Noir,” a reprise of the dark and menacing atmosphere of Hollywood b-movie thrillers of the 1940's.
But let’s return to the crucial question of how the look, and relative value on visual excellence, affects the roles of women on the shows. In each version, an extremely attractive young journalist seeks to use the main male character, a diabolical politician, to advance her own journalistic career. Susannah Harker plays Mattie Storin, a rising reporter—highly educated, extremely bright, and rebellious beyond control in the British original. Her wardrobe is reporter-appropriate and therefore a bit frumpy.
But her mind is primarily focused on her work, which she sees as finding out the truth and writing articles that bring down crooked politicians. In the American remake, Kate Mara plays Zoe Barnes, an amoral, seductive and easily duped young reporter, who, although talented, is more thrill-chaser and fame-seeker than professional journalist. Mattie is a vulnerable grown-up with a tough facade. Zoe is a power-bedazzled child, possibly styled to see if American cable TV is ready for a mild version of the situations so lucrative for the nearly illiterate narrative Shades of Grey.
Are these female characters only mere tools (more in the American show than the original) because they are young and callow? No. The wives of Francis/Frank are both under the illusion that they, like their husbands, are powerful. But only in the British version (details would be a spoiler) does the wife actually have more power than it first seems. In both series, the wives accept that for Francis and Frank, sex is just one of many methods to manipulate people into advancing their evil schemes. Each wife gives permission for the affair with the young reporter and more serious exploitation of a subsequent lover. Wives and husbands do not have it much better in one series than the other. Both marriages recall that of Lord and Lady Macbeth. Viewers only have a choice of nastiness. The British show gives the affair a creepy incestuous element and makes the marriage codepedent. In the American version the affair has a sadistic side, and the marriage becomes a contest of wills and betrayals.
Perhaps it is no surprise that an American TV remake is glossier, more attuned to surface beauty, consigns women to sexier and less powerful roles, and is less concerned with social issues than the British original. But the most significant contrast between the two shows may be in the lead character and what motivates his crimes and megalomania.
The late Scottish actor Ian Richardson (a favorite in Royal Shakespeare Company productions), played Francis Urquhart in the original. He dispatches his political enemies (and lovers) with icy calm. In one of my favorite scenes, he wakes up the British King. Urquhart, as Prime Minister, has forced the king to abdicate the throne. But the king has still not grasped that his role in the world is to be a decorative artifact. The king thinks he can succeed in politics without his title, handlers, and staff. Urquhart says to him, “Haven’t you been listening at all? Do you still not understand? You come from a family with no talents, and you have no constituency.” Although Urquhart is a monster, it is hard not to appreciate his disgust with pretenders.
Urquhart wields such justified insights into the undeserving members of elites because he comes himself from a family of ancient wealth, privilege and prominence. He is also cultivated enough to quote poetry (which none of his political cronies recognize) from time to time and to acknowledge, aloud, that his cruelty has precedent in Machiavelli’s The Prince and Shakespeare’s Richard III. Urquhart’s clubby sense of his own place in the elite is accompanied by general misanthropy. He detests anyone he sees as weak, stupid, or unsophisticated enough to exclude from his own class.
Frank Underwood, Urquhart’s American counterpart, is also his social and class opposite. Underwood was a poor boy from a poor district in South Carolina. His fortunes were launched when he graduated from a military college transparently modeled on The Citadel. There is even a sort of flashback episode in which Frank pines a bit about a gay affair he had with another cadet. (Is the viewer to think that episode has something to do with Frank's coldness and evil? Apparently so.) Whereas Francis Urquhart was enraged by the failure of people to live up the qualities he imagines justify rule by an elite, Frank’s rage is fueled by contempt for fellow poor people who lack his ruthlessness and ambition. The American remake is a dark and dirty Horatio Alger story. It is suppposed to be poignant that social climbing succeeded for an individual but made him a thug. The American story is not much more democratic than the British one concerning social mobility. It simply makes the fruit of social climbing self-hatred instead of self-destructive snobbery.
Both versions of House of Cards are nasty--and great TV. To see more interesting female stars, the American shows The Good Wife or even the comedy Parks and Recreation are better choices. A more genuine take on politics, evil politicians, and policy-making can be found in the trilogy of novels by Michael Dobbs from which the British show derives. Dobbs has had quite a career. He came from a working-class family, graduated from Oxford, financed his years earning a Ph.D. in international affairs at The Fletcher School by working as a reporter and columnist for The Boston Globe, returned to England to serve in high posts in the Thatcher government, held a top job at advertising firm Saatchi and Saatchi, wrote the bestsellers on which House of Cards in based, and was made a Baron. The novels are far more realistic than the show, and, as one would expect, careful about the details of contemporary policy and government, weaving in historical events and thinly disguised portraits of actual politicians. Dobbs has an insider's perspective on the horrible Thatcher years, which recently have been made over, at least in film and pop culture, into something like...Downton Abbey.
Beauty in the American remake resides in lighting, camera work, lovely and clueless young women, and tricking and destroying everyone in sight. Women have less power and intelligence than in the British show, but are sexier. Committing political crime in The House of Cards is to kill weaklings, hypocrites, snobs and incompetents, perhaps understandable in itself, while maintaining a tranquility about barbarous acts that was definitive of the ruling class when fuedal titles mattered. In the U.S. remake, political crime is an exagerrated version of all that is necessary and, implicitly, normal, to get ahead. The sexism in each show is native to pop culture overall, but even more striking since these shows explore the power that is denied to all but few women. Are they realistic depictions of misogyny in the service of promoting fairness and equality? Are they more typical pop exploitation of violence against women and sex that rarely fails to bring in a popular audience, standard marketing practices, ad revenue, and excitement?
Whether to prefer the British or American show may depend on one’s taste as well as cultural predispositions. We are in the happy situation of being able to let the more socially aware British series and more personal American one complement one another. Both could explore gender, relationships and social class with better insight, if that mattered to the producers. Each show is wicked fun, and, more convincing in the rawness of its story about power battles than, let's say, another 1990's original, The West Wing.
Suppose you went to see The Bling Ring because the idea of teenagers ripping off designer goodies from celebrities promised the satisfaction of seeing your private fantasies fulfilled in glorious color on the big screen. There were grounds for that hope. Sophia Coppola’s earlier Marie Antoinette featured brilliant costume design by Milena Canonero. Manolo Blahnik and Pompei created spectacular shoes specifically for that film, and the pastry and hair-styling of the movie have also gone down in legend. The cinematographer for The Bling Ring, Harry Savides, normally gives his movies a rich mood and memorable imagery. The visual tone, attire and accessories alone in The Bling Ring might be worth the price of a ticket.
Yet The Bling Ring may not satisfy those who want to see it for the quality of the imagery and apparel. Much more disturbing, however, is that Coppola’s movie has been taken by members of the general public, as well as observers of the media’s influence on American culture, as an accurate portrait of what young American girls are like today. Coppola’s film has been compared often to the much more melodramatic, violent and sexually-oriented film Spring Breakers. The two movies are taken for a trend, and evidence that young American girls have gone completely wild.
Sophia Coppola, in many interviews, has consistently expressed that concern, and said that she wrote and directed The Bling Ring in part to point out the dangers of celebrity culture. She told a reporter at The Daily Beast that “…I just think reality TV has become such a big thing and this idea that anyone can be famous and tabloid culture is growing and growing. Our culture has a big appetite for it. It think it’s fun and pleasurable once in a while, but the fact that it’s so dominant and growing...I think we need to look at where it is going.”
No one can deny that there are troubled, adrift and not-very-talented teens who are unhealthily obsessed with the lowest rung of celebrity life, especially since, as the publicity and title-sequence for The Bling Ring trumpets, the film was based on “actual events.” More accurately, the film was inspired by a Vanity Fair article about a group of teenagers who broke into and robbed the houses of Paris Hilton, Audrina Partridge, Orlando Bloom and other well-publicized persons. The teens then posted pictures of themselves with the goods they stole on Facebook.
Two movies, however, do not make a trend, and pop culture is not a mirror of reality or a representation of how the world has changed. As one of the founders of the field of media analysis, Raymond Williams noted, pop culture often depicts exactly the opposite of what is happening in the world. So, let’s go back to the opening paragraph of this post. The Bling Ring is about wish fulfillment and fantasy, but it never manages realism or accuracy about young people’s dreams or ideas of fulfillment—at least not the deeper aspirations of young women who live some distance from Hollywood.
Instead of the disaffected and drug-addled consumer-culture brainwashed characters in both films, without morals or intelligence, young people today may be more concerned with their spiritual lives than they have been for decades. Researchers at UCLA in 2003 found that among first year students, nearly 80% “believe in God.” As for their respect for moral rules, nearly 70% said that religious beliefs “provide strength, support and guidance.” A follow-up study in 2007 with the same students suggests that their faith and adherence to religious values wanes to an extent, but remains powerful throughout college. About ten percent of American college students describe themselves as “born again.”
The relationship of college students to religion in the films, on the other hand, is comical or nerdy. One of the Disney Princesses of Spring Breakers, Selena Gomez, is on the periphery of a not very appealing circle of evangelical Christians. The film is packed with sleazy as well as orthodox religious imagery of baptism, spiritual renewals sacred and profane at the poolside, and even ritual dance to the music of the “angel” Britney Spears. The overall plot depicts young women empowered by violence, but it is also clear that the young girls wish to return to the well-behaved world of their parents, bound by traditional religious ideals about being good and working hard to save their souls.
In The Bling Ring, the burglaries are really worship-rituals at the pharaonic temples of conspicuous consumption owned by celebrities. The holy of holies is the dozen-tier racks of the imaginary Paris Hilton house shoe-closet, or the supposed reliquary in which Orlando Bloom stores his innumerable Rolex watches. One droll part of The Bling Ring is to see Leslie Mann play a well-meaning but ditzy mother who homeschools her daughters in what she thinks is the profound religion of the motivational clichés of the book The Secret.
Have American teenage girls really gone wild? Perhaps instead, Hollywood has always been bad at depicting any religion but its own media-driven cults of consumerism and celebrity. Yet Hollywood has done a much better job of depicting celebrity culture in the many versions of A Star is Born than in Spring Breakers or The Bling Ring. Even so, films of this year and the recent past, such as The East or Mary Martha May Marlene, or the star-writer-director Vera Farmiga's Higher Ground, have done a good job of exploring the dynamics, demons and moral zeal of religion, and the desire for values, community and justice (The East) as those impulses play out for young people right now.
Secular and persuasive social analysis of the moral, spiritual and cognitive development of college-age students is also easy to find. Howard Gardner, a Harvard psychologist and expert on education, who has performed large studies of young Americans and their ambitions, is one source. See his Truth, Beauty and Goodness Reframed: Educating for the Virtues in the 21st Century. Gardner has conducted well-documented discussions and large surveys of high-achieving U.S. youth that do reveal a worrisome preoccupation in young people with fame and getting rich. But his work, unlike that of movies, does not chase fame or money itself. He takes no advantage of young people and pokes no fun at them. Gardner also offers impressive accounts of young people who have values and get things done to combat poverty, reduce environmental threats, nurture corporate responsibility and waste little time on gossip sites.
That Seventies Show is not a documentary about my own generation. (Hollywood film neglected us, fortunately) Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and The Breakfast Club do not truly illuminate the life of 1980s teenagers. Slacker, Dazed and Confused and other artifacts tell me little more about high school students in the 1990s than would a parody TV show. Instead of wild, could it be that real-world teens have gone conservative?
That bears exploration. The constant contact that college students today have with their parents, the much more strict rules we have today at colleges than in the past in dorms, classrooms, and exam rooms for that matter, and the harmony about morals and spirituality that often holds between parents and teens are much more revealing than films that capitalize on the thrills and dangers of fame, drugs and violence. Those movies are really about an understandable quest for fame on the part of the filmmakers themselves. The movies offer good old unclean fun, and thank goodness for that. We need those fanatasies as escapes, but not for insight.
Although a scientific poll would probably locate several, I have not found a single incoming college student who knows that in the year 2000, when today's first-year students were in primary school, Google formally adopted the sentence “Don’t be evil” as its company motto.
Social media is a great source of jobs, includes socially responsible corporations, and can help to change the world for the better. But let's look, for a minute, at a darker side of the industry so that our choices can be wiser.
Equally unfamiliar to most students are organizations like the Electronic Freedom Frontier, which includes some founders of the world wide web, and had a utopian dream, now grown quaint, of a digital world of free-of-charge information, authority-challenging insights, and the free exchange of ideas, feelings, exciting games, and ordinary people speaking truth to power.
Cash-strapped students do, however, know about Coursera, Iversity, and moocs. They recognize that online courses from traditional schools, free courses from private companies, and face to face courses are in a market competition in which brand and price can often be at least as important as course content and quality.
Nor do students expect Facebook, Google or social media companies to work against their primary reason for existence—to sell search, demographic, consumer preference, affiliation, and personal information to other companies.
Nonetheless, seeing social media companies in bed with anti-science and anti-fact political allies may be somewhat surprising. Google recently hosted a lunch—$2,500 a plate—fundraiser for Senator Jim Inhofe, (Rep.) of Oklahoma. Inhofe believes that the Bible disproves global warming. He also approves of the smear campaign based on the falsehood that President Obama was not born in the U.S.
Contrary to Inhofe, Google’s executive chairman, Eric Schmidt, has said on record that global climate change is a fact. But Google runs a large data center in Pryor, Oklahoma. Quibbles about science, and the Bible as the bedrock of public policy, are less important than the need for Google to have friends in the Senate.
Do such alliances betray the dreams of liberal-minded young entrepreneurs? It’s worth asking whether many social media entrepreneurs are liberal, even in the sense of the “liberal arts.” Does having nerf-ball, free massages, or dogs in the workplace make one young, anti-authoritarian and free?
Silicon Valley corporations, Facebook the most visible among them, have lead a campaign to lessen U.S. restrictions on the immigration of highly skilled workers to the U.S. Liberal politicians who are supported by labor unions, and conservative politicians who want to protect U.S. workers as their first priority, have both attacked such Silicon Valley efforts to open immigration to more engineers, mathematicians and credentialed talent.
As in the fashion industry, one view is that outsourcing to the cheapest labor possible in poor nations, sweatshop or round-the-clock factory, is essential to compete with rival companies. Moreover low-wage sweatshops and factorues are among the best that a poor country can offer. Yet in the U.S., we eventually, though relatively briefly, paid fair wages, increased worker safety, and most of all, pursued the greater profits that high-skill factory labor provided. Tech industry profits are a huge avalanche. Is out-sourcing and finding the cheapest and unprotected poor-nation labor really necessary? Does tech only really need highly paid engineers and marketing specialists?
Not surprisingly, such news rarely appears in social media itself. One has to look to dinosaurs like The New York Times and Time magazine to learn about the political buying power, and often business-allows-any-evil, strategies of social media companies. The link below is to an excellent piece in Time that is the source for this post.
When is the “right time” to have children? What challenges will children bring to balancing career and life? Will the rewards of being a mother outweigh the sacrifices? If your habit is to give 150 percent to your job, where, realistically, will energy and time for family come from? What does it mean to “have it all”?
Sheryl Sandberg, the COO of Facebook, answered such questions by offering women advice about how to climb the corporate ladder and raise children: exude confidence, get noticed, do not be afraid to negotiate, and make oneself be perceived as being as fully present and motivated as male peers, even when one is planning a family. Sandberg made those points and others in a video-lecture on the TED website, which led to a bestselling book (Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to Lead). She then founded an organization for women to promote her ideas. The TED talk has had 2,533,238 views as of June 5th, 2013. Sandberg’s all-available-channels strategy reached a huge audience.
Anne-Marie Slaughter, an expert on international policy and law, has a different perspective. An article she wrote for The Atlantic magazine cited Sandberg, explained where they disagreed, and quickly went viral. Instead of focusing on individuals, Slaughter—a former Director of Policy Planning for the U.S. State Department—pointed out that despite lip service to “family values” and the empowerment of women, practical changes to corporate practices were essential if women were truly, and in large numbers, to lead them. She stressed that if more women were leaders, it would be a profitable outcome for companies and talent-enriching one for nations. Her article is entitled “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All.”
Garden-variety journalists reported this discussion under the cliché headline “The Mommy Wars,” using what editors call the “conflict formula” to enliven articles. Supposedly at war were: rich women vs. working moms, older vs. younger feminists, professions like law and university teaching vs. social media entrepreneurs, or Conservative vs. Liberal values.
Craftier writers at Salon, The Huffington Post, and Slate attacked the media instead. They pointed out that the media (that is, the rest of the media) were simply churning up a dispute to gain attention. Most articles misrepresented women, work and careers, and oversimplified a complex subject. All true. The clever writers often ended by noting the vile dilemma that whatever choice women made, someone would criticize them for it. But what were mothers, or those who want to be mothers, to do?
Let’s look to common prejudices and business for one answer. I am male and have no children and therefore disqualified from more definite suggestions.
Consider financial rewards and bedrock cultural values. Do Americans ever want to hear that any person is not the lone master of his or her own soul? How popular is the message that someone cannot rise to any height that their hard work and other virtues will take them? Let’s compare the sales of self-help books and serious books about social policy for our answer. But the ideals of radically individualistic success of Ben Franklin, Emerson, Fitzgerald and Hemingway (with severe caveats) and, perhaps especially, Helen Gurley Brown, the long-time editor of Cosmopolitan who coined the phrase “having it all,” could all be brought into evidence.
Then tally the lucrative rewards for projects with dubious social worth. Self-help books always have one, or even two, helpful hints. But, since Samuel Smiles wrote one of the first ones, (Self Help, 1845) guides to self-improvement rarely contain enough wisdom to truly change the reader. They also seldom provide insight into the larger forces that help to shape the reader’s life. That is why the genre is a goldmine: readers buy one after another self-help book after feeling a brief lift from each.
Anne-Marie Slaughter has been a policy-maker, scholar, professor of law and writer for popular audiences—four strikes against her for those who think those occupations must mean that she is impractical. Sheryl Sandberg, as successful as she has been in business, and as sexy and new as social media may be, wrote a tweaked but predictable self-help guide. Slaughter delivered less appealing news: corporations and academia are still sexist, they undervalue family life, and schedules and work rules and even the notion of success really do have to change. Picking the right life-partner, or a strategic sequence-plan to raise children, does not solve the problems. That remains true no matter how committed to work, how talented they are, or what kind and level of occupation women choose.
Listen to Sandberg as well as Slaughter. There is far more overlap in their arguments than the conflict model of journalism suggests. For young women realistic about succeeding, the more ideas that go beyond the individual, the less they think the choice is only about their own situation and values, the greater the chance that they will actually lead.
Sheryl Sanberg’s TED talk: http://www.ted.com/talks/sheryl_sandberg_why_we_have_too_few_women_leaders.html\
Ann-Marie Slaughter’s article in The Atlantic
When I am grading exams, I find that my students occasionally (and unintentionally) make me laugh out loud. This semester, in answer to “Who was Thor Heyerdahl?” one student wrote so delightfully to the point that it made me guffaw: “A guy on a raft.”
I awarded her the full two points, because what was Thor Heyerdahl if he was not, indeed, a guy on a raft? Yet this summer’s sleeper movie, Kon-Tiki, shows that he was far, far more than that.
The Norwegian production simultaneously filmed English and Norwegian versions, so although I caught the English version, the film is still “foreign” in that it has had a limited U.S. distribution. In Manhattan it is being shown only at The Paris and a tiny theater in Forest Hills, Queens.
That is a terrible shame. Kon-Tiki takes us back not only to Heyerdahl”s epic adventure, but to the days of exciting, feel-good films with a dashing hero and a real message (in this case, “Have faith,,” line that Thor says often to his ever-skeptical and ever-sunburned, crew).
Surprisingly, it has taken more than sixty years for a dramatization of the Kon-Tiki expedition to appear. For those unfamiliar with the story, Heyerdahl was a young Norwegian anthropologist who, in 1947, defied mockery by his professional peers to support his theory that Polynesia was initially inhabited by the Pre-Columbian peoples of South America, and not (as was believed) by people indigenous to Asia. One reason Heyerdahl's theory was instantly dismissed was because it seemed impossible for Pre-Columbians to have made a voyage of 5,000 miles in balsa-wood rafts. Heyerdahl, only 33 years old, decided to prove the world wrong by voyaging on such a craft to Polynesia himself. His raft, The Kon-Tiki, was named after the Maori god Tiki, said to be the First Man on Earth.
Assembling a motley crew of half a dozen friends (one of whom could operate a radio, yet one of whom was a refrigerator salesman who had never been to sea), the Kon-Tiki set sail from Peru with no means of navigation in order to prove Heyerdahl’s theory that Pre-Columbians simply floated to Polynesia upon the Western currents.
That it was a dangerous mission is an understatement--especially in the case of Heyerdahl himself, who had never learned to swim! However, he had the foresight to film the epic voyage. The resulting movie, The Kon-Tiki Expedition, won him an Oscar for Best Documentary in 1951.
After 101 treacherous days floating around the South Pacific, the Kon-Tiki and its crew crashed into a reef half a mile from the beaches of Raroia in the Polynesian island chain of Tuamotu, suggesting that Heyerdahl’s theory was possibly correct.
The handsome Heyerdahl instantly became world famous, and his account of the voyage, The Kon-Tiki: Across The Pacific By Raft, was translated into 70 languages and sold 50 million copies. The adventure seized the imagination of a world still experiencing postwar gloom.
Further, the adventure also helped launch the “Tiki Craze” of the 1950s, an obsession with anything Polynesian, which saw the opening of bars and restaurants like Trader Vic’s and the popularity of the Mai Kai, a drink that promised a “taste of paradise” and “native excitement” to the uptight Cold War crowd.
Directed by Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg, and starring Pal Sverre Hagenas as Thor Heyerdahl, this year’s Kon-Tiki came as a surprise. Cynical as always, I approached the film with trepidation. I had seen the explorer’s original documentary, and wondered if there was any point to making a dramatization of what was already a thrilling documentary. There was!
The original was, of course, not only filmed by amateurs, but in the distanced formal style of 1940s documentaries. Although the book illuminated the emotional dynamics of the crew on the voyage, that element was absent from the original film. The new film corrects that shortcoming, and provides a portrait of Heyerdahl”s fanaticism as well as the genuine fear that the intrepid Norwegian’s faced for every one of their 5,000 nautical miles. Yet it is Pal Sverre Hagen who carries the movie. His performance as a young man out to vindicate himself (always retaining his Nordic politeness) make for a hero worth rooting for.
Because it was beautifully shot and necessarily included cgi, (the real Kon-Tiki was relentlessly besieged by sharks, and was threatened by whales, and as sharks and whales are not cooperative actors, cgi was needed!), the new film about Kon Tiki has been compared (mostly favorably) to last year’s Life of Pi. Yet those comparisons miss the point; true, both films centered on protagonists on rafts. Yet Pi was a fantasy. Kon-Tiki was real.
And that is what ultimately made the movie so unbelievably moving; this was a real story about real heroes who did something epic and amazing (and not a little nuts), and truly deserved the celebrity thrust upon them.
I went to see Kon-Tiki with my father (David Wolfe, “The Fashion Dad”), and over a pre-movie lunch, he taught me a new word; “fauxmous,” which refers to people who are famous for doing absolutely nothing of note (Kardashians, the Housewives, et al). So it was with mixed emotions that I left Kon-Tiki; in a world that is glued to watching television about fauxmous people shopping in Beverly Hills or getting their nails done, it was wonderful to be reminded that there was once a time when people became famous for doing something great.
David Wolfe and I both live in Sea Cliff, a village on the Long Island Sound. “I want to build a raft and see if we can float to Port Washington!” The Fashion Dad joked as we drove home from Queens. Yet behind his humor lay a genuine desire to “do something great” that this movie inspired.
Although hard to catch at the cinema, I was delighted to see that Kon-Tiki (nominated for Best Foreign Film in this year’s Academy Awards) is already available on Blu-Ray DVD. I urge you all to see it. Today having a dream (let alone following a dream) is often derided, so it was truly uplifting to see a movie that, instead of cynically applauding the violence of some snarky anti-hero or comic book character, celebrates a true and brave accomplishment.
Because, at the end of the day, aren’t we all (metaphorically) “a guy on a raft”?
Amanda Hallay is a full-time faculty member at LIM College, where she teaches courses on the relationship between fashion and popular culture past and present. Her course Who Wore What When includes discussion of indigenous art and dress of the South Pacific.
Most of us teachers spend far too much class time suspiciously watching for kids sneaking glances at their Facebook on their phones. So, it might seem odd that I am writing a blog about the virtues of social media as a teaching tool. Yet for the past three semesters, I have been using Facebook Groups as a tool in my Pop Century: A History of Popular Music course. For their Final Project, the class divides into groups and teaches an entire class on an assigned genre of music. It is a huge project that involves a lot of research, music sourcing, and--most of all--communication--between the group members.
In past classes when group work has been assigned, I have sometimes felt more like a referee than a teacher. Members blame each other for a less than brilliant project. “She never answered my emails,” “He didn’t send his work through,” “She couldn’t come to the group meetings because of her internship” were just some of the cri du coeurs I’d hear on the day that the projects were due. So, I decided to do things differently in Pop Century because so much of a student’s Final Grade in that class is a result of how well they did on the final project.
Above: Lauren and Marlyana of The Country & Western Group help each other pick the various aspects of the genre to cover.
I wanted to create a ‘venue’ where students could easily communicate with each other, where it would be easy for them to post articles and links, and where I could supervise their progress, give them suggestions, and keep them on the right track (and see which students were doing the most work and which were slacking off). As every single student in Pop Century has a Facebook account, I instructed every group to create a Facebook Group for their genre.
Paola leaves a clip for Luciana (both were in this semester’s Easy Listening and Lounge Group), while Samantha asks me for some guidance.
The results were a great success. Students may ignore email messages from LIM College, but they positively live on Facebook. Updates, questions or suggestions about their presentations are seen and responded to almost immediately. Moreover, if I’m fooling around on the Internet and find a clip or article that might be useful to a group, it is far easier for me to simply leave it on the Facebook Group page, especially if I’m out and about and operating from my phone or tablet.
Knowing they are being watched, Big Brother style, by their instructor, encourages every group member to actively participate, as well as allowing the students in each group to get to know each other in a familiar setting. I have noticed that many of the students go on to add each other as friends on Facebook after working together on their group page.
From a teacher’s point of view, the Facebook Groups are a wonderful way to stay on top of students’ work, give guidance and encouragement, and avoid the “He Said, She Said” Syndrome oft associated with major group projects!
For any of my fellow profs out there tasked with substantial group projects, consider Social Media. To join a Facebook Group, you don’t have to add its members as friends (our lives are our own, after all). But it really has proven to be a wonderful teaching took; it turns Facebook into Workbook, and in such a way that students don’t even realize they’ve just spent two hours online chatting about their group presentation.
And of course, as it’s Facebook, there is always room for a little fun, too!
Amanda Hallay is a full-time professor at LIM College where she teaches courses that concentrate on the relationship between fashion, history and culture. She is a firm believer that the Internet is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
This week, People Magazine announced that Gwyneth Paltrow was The Most Beautiful Woman in the World. Wow. That is some accolade, but is it true? To be sure, she is cute and fresh-faced (which is nice) and certainly seems to have a funny and engaging personality. But put her next to Greta Garbo (whom The Guinness Book of Records still maintains had ‘The Most Beautiful Face of All Time’) and Ms Paltrow rather pales into cutesy insignificance. The same can be said when comparing Gwyneth’s toothy sweetness to the drop-dead gorgeousness of Hedy Lamarr, Rita Hayworth, Sophia Loren, Gene Tierney, Ava Gardner, Elizabeth Taylor, Faye Dunaway and – yes – even the world’s most beloved blonde of all, Marilyn Monroe.
All these women were considered among the most beautiful woman in the world in their various heydays, and although they all look very different, they are united by one strong and remarkable factor. They are women, not ‘girls’. Paltrow (even at her age) still looks like, sounds like, and dresses like a girl. That’s okay, I guess – but clinging to girlhood as so many of our currently stars are wont to do, (Jennifer Anniston especially keen at 44 to present herself as a Malibu teenager on a volleyball team) should perhaps be enough in itself to disqualify a star from an accolade intended for a woman.
Of course, our ideals of beauty are constantly changing. I teach this every day in my courses Who Wore What When and Cultural Connections to Fashion. Diminutive redhead Clara Bow wowed ‘em in the Twenties. But she would not have stood a chance against Amazonian Raquel Welch in the 1960s. Yet both were considered the ‘ideal’ in their day. In his interesting book, On Beauty, historian Umberto Eco neatly ties ideals of beauty to their broader socio-economic landscapes, explaining why the oval faced and slender elegance of the Medieval ideal differed so much from the cherub cheeked rosiness of the 18th century. History’s aesthetic sensibilities are forever in flux. So what does this say about us?
People’s headline set me thinking, and I tried to isolate which of today’s female movie stars one would truly describe as The Most Beautiful Woman in the World. Angelina Jolie comes close. Her looks recall the great beauties of The Golden Age of Hollywood (to paraphrase Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, “They had faces then!”). Yet when it comes to the legions of cute blondes who are heralded as beauties, I confess, I can’t truly differentiate Naomi Watts, Kate Hudson, and Charlize Theron (except when the latter played that serial killer and wore false teeth!).
Have we become so bland and homogenized as a society that cute is now beautiful? As long as a woman has blonde hair, blue eyes, good teeth and clear skin, she is declared a legendary beauty? It seems that looking the same is the new standard of female perfection, which is probably why when people such as Christina Hendricks hit the scene (fiery red hair, Betty Boop speaking voice and va-va-voom Size 14 figure), she caught everyone’s attention simply by virtue of not being just another blue-eyed blonde (or uber-tanned, long-haired brunette, a la The Kardashian clan).
Cookie Cutter Prettiness seems to have replaced the idea that for a woman to be beautiful, her face must have some character. We joke about the Old Hollywood system of type casting’(where it would be decided that an actress was the "sultry" type, or the "girl next door," or the "femme fatale," or the "tomboy type"). Yet at least this system offered up an interesting array of faces. And beyond the Golden Age of Hollywood, there endured a belief that if a face had character, this could be--by way of talent and charisma--transformed into its own kind of beauty. It is difficult to imagine Barbra Streisand being allowed to reprise her Broadway role in Funny Girl on the big screen today. Yet in all of her earlier movies, the interesting looking Brooklynite was given leading roles. Her romantic co-stars were drawn from such legendary hotties as Robert Redford and Ryan O’Neil. Today, Streisand’s looks would condemn her forever to the life of a character actor, a fate the wonderful Toni Collette is seemingly suffering. Why? She does not fit into our current, cookie cutter ideal of feminine beauty.
As I write this, my thoughts drift to what truly makes a woman beautiful. Again, to borrow a line from a Classic Movie (my personal favorite, Now, Voyager), “There is a kind of beauty that can be attained.” I know so many women whom I would describe as truly beautiful, yet their physical beauty is mostly the outward manifestation of beautiful qualities: intelligence, humor, kindness, gentleness, lovely speaking voices, stylish self-confidence, etc. When taken all together, these beautiful qualities make for a beautiful woman.
The other aspect of People’s proclamation that annoyed me was that their Most Beautiful Woman accolade always goes to a famous person! If the headline read, The Most Beautiful Woman in Hollywood, then fair enough. But yet again, our current obsession with celebrity has tainted our common sense, and if Garbo’s modern-day doppelganger is working as a kindergarten teacher in Ohio, you can bet the world in general would still vote Paltrow prettier. How could a kindergarten teacher possibly be prettier than….a movie star?!
I know it sounds like I’m knocking little Gwyneth, but I’m truly not. I can prove it, because, guess what folks--I do think she’s beautiful. But it’s not because of her cleanly scrubbed face, flowing blonde hair and cute little figure. She is beautiful because she seems kind and funny and smart and, above all, engaged in a world beyond her own love life and career (quite a rarity in Hollywood today). But is she The Most Beautiful Woman in the World? Well, probably not. I am sure that out there, somewhere, there is a woman who--as I write this--is devoting her every deed and thought to helping others, going without so that others can have more, and doing it all with generosity, grace, and a smile on her face--and maybe even a bit of lipstick.
And in my opinion, she is The Most Beautiful Woman in the World.
Amanda Hallay is a full-time professor at LIM College where she teaches courses that concentrate on the relationship between fashion, history and culture.
Reviews for Baz Luhrmann’s 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby have been mixed. Critics focused on the incredible 3D special effects and CGI. Most of them condemned Luhrmman’s sumptuous interpretation of Fitzgerald’s Jazz Age classic as so "unrealistic" as to "ruin a good story."
That was my expectation about the movie, too – until I saw it. Ready to hate it above all things, I went to a matinee with my father, fashion guru and LIM College Advisory Board member David Wolfe. We braced ourselves to be annoyed at best or incandescent with rage at worst.
Within the first five minutes, we found ourselves eating handfuls of humble pie along with the sandwiches we sneaked into the theatre.
Gatsby is one of the most beautiful movies we had ever, ever seen. Fitzgerald’s words floated out from the screen in the 3-D version, literally. Famous passages from the text appeared on the screen, and then floated out into the audience. Long Island looked like a Tahitian paradise. Gatsby’s mansion rivaled the Disney logo castle. The costumes were bright and outrageous, as was the music. Twenties Manhattan soared and bustled like Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. The "Wow" factor was so extreme that negative critics have been screaming that this is “just a fantasy view of the ‘20s,” that “no homes in America were ever as big as Gatsby’s,” that “Long Island could never be that beautiful,” and that “nobody danced The Charleston all the time!”
They are absolutely right, but miss the point. Lurhmann isn’t presenting a fantasy of the Twenties. He is telling the story as Nick Carraway remembers it. The narrative in the original text as well as the movie is a flashback. What we see on screen – the ludicrously extravagant parties with a million dancing girls – the tropical sunsets over The Sound – the fairy tale castle in which Gatsby dwells – is how Nick remembers things, not as they really were.
Memory magnifies, and we all remember the past as brighter, more beautiful, and more dramatic than real life ever could be, or (when it goes wrong) uglier and more horrible than anything Stephen King could produce. The same is true of Baz Luhrmman’s interpretation of Nick’s memories. As soon as you realize this, the movie moves from interesting to brilliant.
If you realize that, you also understand the strange performances from the cast. Leonardo DiCaprio’s stiff and actor-like performance at the start makes sense when you remember that Jay Gatsby was playing a role. So, DiCaprio does double duty as an actor playing a man who is playing another man. Yet when his confident, outer shell crumbles we see the "real" Jay Gatsby, far more vulnerable than the character probably was, like a broken little schoolboy in Carraway’s memory. Tobey McGuire makes for a smart and sympathetic Nick, and Carey Mulligan takes her Daisy from sweet and put-upon victim to the ultimately weak and self-serving character she truly is (a “careless” person, as Fitzgerald put it, “retreating into her money”).
So, having already told anyone who’d listen just how awful Gatsby would be, I am eating my words and urging everyone to see it. There isn’t much levity in Gatsby, but humor came by way of my dad, who remarked at the end, “Poor Leo! That’s two movies where he’s died in water. Oh well, at least he gets to die in a fancy Long Island swimming pool this time. Sure beats the North Atlantic.”
Amanda Hallay is a full-time faculty member at LIM College and teaches courses on the relationship between fashion, history and culture. She thinks The Great Gatsby is the finest novel of the 20th century, although she prefers Lolita (more laughs).