Showing posts with label Professor Too-Late. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Professor Too-Late. Show all posts

Friday, November 8, 2013

Professor Too-Late's Delayed Reaction to
the Horror of Winkie's Diner

I have several favorite websites, blogs, etc., but I don't check any of them regularly. As a result, I tend to binge-read several entries in a row. On occasion a posting will lead to thoughts I want to share but, because the post I'm responding to is sometimes weeks, if not months, old, my thoughts are no longer relevant to that site's comments section. "Professor Too-Late" is all about expressing those thoughts without posting them on someone else's site when everyone but me has moved on with their lives.

Professor Too-Late's delayed reaction to A. A. Dowd's pick for the film scene that scares him the most.



The back of Winkie's Diner

Although I agree with Dowd's choice of the Winkie's Diner scene in Mulholland Dr. as one of the scariest scenes in cinematic history, I would argue that a similar scene in David Lynch's earlier film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me is even more terrifying. A lot of Lynch fans, and a lot of Twin Peaks fans, hate this movie, but one cannot argue with the effectiveness of certain scenes.

Once the film leaves behind its prologue elements, in which agents Desmond and Stanley investigate the murder of Teresa Banks, and agents Cooper, Cole, and Rosenfeld encounter the spectral Agent Jeffries, we find ourselves back (or, for the first time, really) in the small town of Twin Peaks. Laura Palmer is still alive and being tormented by the evil entity known as BOB. BOB has torn pages out of Laura's diary, so she gives her diary to her friend Harold. Later, Laura encounters Mrs. Chalfont and her grandson, who tells Laura that "the man behind the mask" (i.e., BOB) is in Laura's room, presumably looking for her diary.

As in the Winkie's Diner scene, the following takes place in broad daylight, in a seemingly normal, entirely nonthreatening environment. Laura enters her house and walks slowly up the stairs. The ceiling fan is on, which--as fans of Twin Peaks know--means BOB is present. Laura reaches her bedroom door and opens it slowly. As in the Winkie's Diner scene, we know exactly what's going to happen next, but it's still utterly terrifying to watch this scene as it unfolds at an agonizingly slow pace. I've watched this movie at least a dozen times, and yet every time the moment of revelation occurs it causes a visceral dread to run through my body.


Laura Palmer's room

So what makes this scene more effective than the Winkie's Diner scene? On a surface level, there are a few things. Laura is not only younger than the character of Patrick Fischler in Mulholland Dr., but she's also alone. Additionally, she's not in some public place but in her own home (not to mention in her own room in that home), a normally safe haven that isn't typically violated by others. And she's already been subjected to some bizarre occurrences beyond her control in the film so far. But more than these somewhat superficial reasons, the context of the scene is everything. We know BOB to be a physical manifestation of pure evil and, more importantly, we know that he is haunting Laura specifically. He has raped her on several occasions, and seems intent on destroying her completely. The scary man behind Winkie's Diner, on the other hand, has unknown motives. This is a bit terrifying in its own right, of course, but he is not otherwise a particularly active presence in the film.

When Laura sees BOB in her room, the implication is not just that she's seeing a frightening creature (as Patrick Fischler is in Mulholland Dr.), but a creature that is an active threat to her well-being. Furthermore, after Laura has fled the house, she is confronted with the horrible revelation that BOB is her father.

Taken together, these elements add up to an even more terrifying scene than the Winkie's Diner scene in Mulholland Dr. (despite the abject terror I feel when watching that scene, too). In conclusion, all the Fire Walk with Me haters are wrong. It's a great movie. So there.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Professor Too-Late's Delayed Reaction to Dirty Little Hobbitses

I have several favorite websites, blogs, etc., but I don't check any of them regularly. As a result, I tend to binge-read several entries in a row. On occasion a posting will lead to thoughts I want to share but, because the post I'm responding to is sometimes weeks, if not months, old, my thoughts are no longer relevant to that site's comments section. "Professor Too-Late" is all about expressing those thoughts without posting them on someone else's site when everyone but me has moved on with their lives.

Professor Too-Late's delayed reaction to John Michaud's lighthearted defense of his preference for Tolkien's The Hobbit over The Lord of the Rings.

Contra just about every other irrationally offended reply to this post, I happen to agree with Mr. Michaud in preferring The Hobbit to LotR, and my opinion has nothing to do with LotR's "complexity," unless one is confusing complex with bloated. That's how I see it, what with the endless descriptions of feasts and chapter after chapter of hobbits hanging out with trees, etc. In any case, I'm surprised by many of the responders' faulty (not to mention hysterical--which is to say emotionally excessive) comparisons. First of all, Tolkien, though a gifted writer, was no Dostoyevsky, nor was he a Tolstoy. Likewise, LotR is nowhere near being in the same literary league as Crime and Punishment or War and Peace. What Mr. Michaud is doing here is expressing a preference for one work by an author to another work by that same author. Would any of these apparently high-minded responders really accuse someone who said she prefers Joyce's Dubliners to Ulysses--because Dubliners is a leaner, less satirical/parodic work--of "misunderstanding" Joyce? Perhaps so, but to do so would be to express one's own opinions and preferences regarding two of a single author's most famous works. As such, taking the level of umbrage that these responders have taken (granted, regarding the work of an author who was almost single-handedly the creator of an entire genre of fiction, and which is apparently the second most popular piece of fiction in the world,* but which is hardly near the top of the list of greatest works in Western literature) is an overreaction, in the grandest Internet tradition.

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*We all realize that popularity doesn't necessarily equal greatness, don't we?

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Professor Too-Late's Delayed Reaction to Cultural Vegetables

I have several favorite websites, blogs, etc., but I don't check any of them regularly. As a result, I tend to binge-read several entries in a row. On occasion a posting will lead to thoughts I want to share but, because the post I'm responding to is sometimes weeks, if not months, old, my thoughts are no longer relevant to that site's comments section. "Professor Too-Late" is all about expressing those thoughts without posting them on someone else's site when everyone but me has moved on with their lives.

Professor Too-Late's delayed reaction to Dan Kois's New York Times article about "cultural vegetables" (which I learned about from reading Glenn Kenny's second "I'm not going to react" reaction)


The idea that some films "need" to be seen ("need" in this case implying "to make oneself better, culturally") is pretty ridiculous. Citizen Kane is just a movie, man. If you're into movies, all movies (as I am), you might find it interesting because it provides a fascinating history lesson on the birth of modern filmmaking. But if it sounds boring to you, that's fine too. Don't watch it; you'll just be wasting your time.

Regarding Kois's specific example, I enjoyed Tarkovsky’s Solaris, and I enjoyed Stalker even more (it's a movie that reenters my consciousness, unbidden, frequently, which is the mark of a movie that has buried itself in my imagination and successfully transformed the way I think). But I'm under no illusion that I'm a better person for it. Because let's be honest: a movie is just a movie, regardless of how "difficult" or "important" it's supposed to be.

Whether you're watching Solaris or Captain America, either way you're just sitting on your ass, staring at a screen. Watching Solaris isn't a noble exercise, and it doesn't make the world a better place, or you a better person, just because you've seen it. Watching Solaris is just as much a waste of your time as watching Captain America is. The question is whether it's an interesting (or at the very least an entertaining) waste of your time. That's all that matters, because there's no point in wasting your time on something that isn't providing a return on the time you're spending with it. We only have so much time on this earth, and we can't watch everything we want to watch, because there's too much of it and there are too many other things to do. So choose to watch the things you think you'll get something out of--otherwise you are literally wasting your life.

The same goes for books, plays, television shows, music, concerts, and every other piece of entertainment you can possibly imagine. Reading The Recognitions doesn't automatically make you a better person, just as reading The Da Vinci Code doesn't make you a worse person. Likewise, the Pixies' Surfer Rosa is not better for you than Britney Spears's Baby One More Time. The very notion of a "sophisticated" culture versus a "popular" culture is one of those concepts that only gets traction in a society where the people who think about this stuff have nothing more constructive to do with their time.1

In short, watch what you want. And if you're watching Solaris to impress somebody else, I have some advice for you: get better friends.



Pointless Footnotes

1 Okay, that's not strictly true, especially in, say, a politically restrictive country where, if one substitutes a phrase like "socially conscious" for "sophisticated" and "state-controlled" for "popular," the former form of culture is undoubtedly more important (and dangerous) than the latter. But in the United States, such a distinction is largely meaningless insofar as a generally more sophisticated culture would not positively affect us, as citizens, more than our current, generally more popular (i.e., unsophisticated) culture does from a quality-of-life standpoint.