Here is another film I watched on the advice of my friend and colleague, James, and I am oh so glad I did.
There is something lost in the translation of this film's title, which in French is apparently an idiom for "to raise hell". So it's not a boxing picture. Okay, that helps. I admit I was afraid because it was from way before I was born and in black and white. (These are not bad qualities, mind you, but for some reason, I'm just reluctant to open myself up to older works, even classics such as this. I have been delighted by ancient films like Night of the Hunter, and you would think I'd get over my phobia, but maybe I will after a few more like this.)
The 400 Blows is part of the French New Wave cinema of the late 50's and 60's, and it comes from one of its primary auteurs, Francios Truffaut. I had seen one of his before--also because of a cinephile friend--called Jules and Jim, and while that had its moments, it didn't exactly leave me clamoring for more. But this coming-of-age film, which would be the first of several films exploring the same protagonist with the same actor (Jean-Pierre Leaud), made the kind of emotional impression on me that I suppose it's made on thousands of viewers for decades.
Plot-wise, there's not much to tell. A boy in his early teens is ignored, misunderstood, and mistreated by the adults in his life, leading him to the exact kind of trouble that his elders expect of him. (Sometimes we live up to others' expectations, if only to spite them, or because we take them in and believe these lies about ourselves and they become self-fulfilling prophecies.) By the end, we have a sad, haunting portrait of a lonely boy who never seemed to have much of a chance at happiness.
I was not the same kind of child or adolescent that the film's main character, Antoine Doinel, is. With very few exceptions, I was a model of good behavior, almost completely unrebellious. I didn't lie, I didn't cheat, I didn't steal, I didn't misbehave, I didn't get into trouble. You might think it's because my parents were super-strict, but that's not really the case. I was raised with a particular set of values and a huge amount of love, and I just didn't want to ever disappoint my parents, or any of my elders, for that matter. I suppose my general shortage of friends and peer pressure may have contributed to this good behavior, as it does seem like Antoine's trouble often stems from being egged on by classmates. But my point is, I didn't feel connected to this character on the basis that I could relate to him. I really couldn't very much. And yet, I cared about him. Maybe it's the father in me that has never had children but knows if I did, I'd treat them a lot better than Anoine's parents treat him. Maybe it's something to do with Leaud's acting ability; as his character plays aloof to the adults in his life, somehow his inner emotions are easily telegraphed to us watching. How is it we're paying so much closer attention than the people in this boy's life?
If I make this movie sound like a tragedy, it really isn't, at least not in the traditional sense. Although this film ends with uncertainty, we know that the life and adventures of Antoine continue in several other installments. I don't know how eager I am to see them though. The final moments in this film are so artfully captured, and the last frame leaves a lot to imagine, contemplate, and dream of what might be. I don't know if I want to replace my own notions with the actual continuing story that Truffaut ultimately decided to tell. Maybe I will eventually, but for now, I'm stuck--and yet quite content--with this freeze frame.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Friday, September 4, 2015
The wistful teen world of John Green
Note: there may be spoilers ahead.
My interest in John Green as an author began when I was looking at IMDb and saw the poster for The Fault in Our Stars, which I then clicked a link onto and subsequently decided to see when it came out. As the film got closer to opening, I was surprised to learn what an intense and devoted following the book and its author had. So I knew I'd be seeing it at a theater surrounded by obsessed teenage fans, waiting desperately to find out if the film matched their image of the cherished novel. Of course, I had no preconceptions. I saw the film with a clean slate, and I loved it more than anything I'd seen in a long time.
So much, in fact, that I decided I wanted to read the book and get all the little details that the movie inevitably would have to leave out (because you can never put it all in the movie, as everyone knows). I found a box set of 4 of John Green's books, horrendously priced at a local bookstore, but wonderfully bargain-priced online, so I ordered it, and set about to read all four books, starting with the one I already (sort of) knew.
I found that the movie was actually very faithful to the book, something I would also notice when I saw the film adaptation of Paper Towns a year or so later. The novel did fill in more details, as I expected it would, but for the most part, I don't remember what's in the novel and not in the movie, with the exception of a scene involving trying to sell an old swing set on Craigslist. (That was a deleted scene on the DVD however.) I think the novel might be a tad less sentimental than the film, as films about romance and dying tend to be deliberate tearjerkers. John Green was trying to tell a good story, and the filmmakers were trying to make you reach for the Kleenex. Both efforts were successful.
By the way, if you're new to this story (book or film), it's about two teenagers who meet at a cancer support group and fall in love. Period.
This first book I read by John Green showed me that John Green has an amazing talent for writing teenage characters were are very smart--much smarter than you normally see depicted in movies--and relatable at the same time. You care very deeply what happens to them, and it's this affection for characters that makes his books page-turners, more than any kind of plot device.
There were a few imperfect moments in the book, which also made their way into the movie. Of course, one of the key story elements is the main character Hazel Grace's obsession with a particular book called An Imperial Affliction by one Peter Van Houten. There is a lot of emotional buildup to an eventual meeting with her idol in Amsterdam. When the meeting finally takes place, Hazel and her boyfriend Gus are disappointed for very obvious reasons. But I was disappointed too, for different reasons entirely. I thought the scene was too overwrought and more than a little far fetched. Yes, sometimes people don't live up to our expectations, but this character was so over the top asshole that he came across as to be almost cartoonish, even when he was played by a super-high caliber actor in the movie, like Willum Dafoe. It just played like a lot of nonsense to me.
My other complaint is on a more personal level. John Green is self-professed Episcopalian Christian, and it surprised me to see cheap jokes about the "heart of Jesus" and write a story about death and dying in which not a single person seems to have any hope or inclination that there may be an afterlife. To be clear, I would not want Green to evangelize in his novel, but the truth is, a lot of people in such situations do take comfort in the notion of a God, and to not even acknowledge that seemed a little short-sighted to me.
The next book I tackled was Paper Towns, and it tickled me when I learned that was next film that was to be made from Green's books. On its surface, it seemed like it would be a lighter affair, but it still packed an emotional wallop by the end, in spite of a good dose of humor throughout.
The centerpiece of the story is something that many of us can relate to, a childhood and/or teen crush that is long lasting, but unrequited. In Quentin's case, it started out when he was a boy, and a pretty girl moved in next door, and there was actually a friendship that developed but eventually faded. His feelings didn't fade though, all up until high school graduation approached. He had to watch her, so close (as they were still neighbors) and yet so far, as she became Miss Popularity and also a thing of mystery, rumor, and innuendo among the student body at their high school.
Not wanting to really rehash the plot here, suffice to say, he gets a surprising night of exhilaration and joy with Margo Roth Spiegelman (the crush), followed by a disappearing act, and the rest of the novel involves trying to find out where she went and why she left. Both the night with Margo and the road trip with a bunch of friends to track her down in upstate New York are the highlights of this book, filled with humor and mirth. They also explore the uniquely emotional and temporary bonds we form with our school friends, from whom we have that nagging awareness that we'll part ways, and things will "never be the same". (I actually think the movie hit that last note better than the novel did.)
Finding Margo in the end was very much like the heroes of The Fault in Our Stars finding Van Houten. It is a let-down for our protagonist, Q, and it's a let down for us...only in a slightly different way. The book treats this better than the movie, which is a little too pat in its goodbye scene. There's a little more angst in the written version, as there should be. But the problem for me, as the audience, was not that Q didn't end up getting what he thought he wanted, but that this beautiful, mysterious character was clearly emotionally unstable and unhealthy, and was going to continue to be that way. That is all right in the sense that not every story must have a happy ending, but I thought that the tone of this revelation was a little blasé, and that neither the author nor the protagonist seemed to care that much about the fact that the book's captivating Margo character was probably going to wind up homeless on the streets of New York City, meeting an ultimate fate that can't be very good. It seemed like a heartless ending to an otherwise very thoughtful story.
Well, I have at least one friend who considers Katherines to be her favorite John Green book. So that's something. But to me, it was the weakest link, the bad egg, the bastard child, the runt of the litter. It deals with a young genius named Colin who has dated only girls named Katherine (about 19 of them) and has been dumped by every one of them. He tries to solve the mystery of his cursed love life by inventing a theorem and by going on a crazy road trip with his only friend, Hassan.
There are things to like about this book. Colin, in spite of being a prodigy, is someone we can all relate to. He knows a lot of things, but none of the really important ones about life, love, and happiness. There are many clever devices John Green uses in the book, such as footnotes to explain math problems and obscure factoids, which appeals to the nerd in all of us.
My greatest problem with the book is the annoying Hassan character. He is self-centered, rude, insulting, and altogether unlikable. He keeps referring to Colin as "Kaffir", which means infidel. With every page, I wondered why Colin tolerated this. The only benefit he seems to get from Hassan's friendship is an occasional dose of tough love/truth, which we all sometimes need, but I feel like John Green could have created a better character for that purpose.
The road trip leads to some unexpected places, but ultimately never really goes anywhere. It really felt like it lacked direction, and not in the good way of a story about teens trying to find themselves, but in the sense of an author who seems to have lost his own way as well.
The last book in the box set I read is, I believe, Green's first novel. It's also the next that will be made into a movie. (Big surprise that it's not Katherines!) I'm not completely sure about this, but I think Looking for Alaska might be my favorite of the bunch. And when the film comes out, it will be me stressing over how well it lived up to my expectations.
This is a boarding school story, which appeals to me in the sense that it deals with a different kind of growing up than the one I experienced. I'm not saying I wish I had gone to one, but it's fun to imagine and think about. The kinds of friendships formed in such places can be very strong, out of necessity because you don't have the family and hometown connections to rely on. So right away, I was drawn in to the story of Miles, the protagonist, so thin in stature that he gains the teasing nickname of Pudge. It doesn't take him long to make friends with his roommate Chip, other students Takumi and Lara, but most importantly the resident girl of mystery and instant attraction, Alaska.
All these characters have a lot of adventures and conversations and new "grown-up" experiences, and you really feel like you're with them as it all happens. It's a book that is very good at creating a sense of place and atmosphere. The tone is perfect throughout, and a lot better than you would expect from a first novel. It is funny, fun, and heartfelt. It's a novel that you never want to be over, even when the mood changes drastically right in the middle.
This is not a book of plot twists and surprises. In fact, John Green uses a literary technique which basically lets you know exactly what's going to happen and when, without ever having to say it in advance. I'm not sure why he did this, but I think it was to demark that moment in time when a person's life changes forever, when nothing will ever be the same. In Paper Towns, we had such a moment looming in the distance and it was a source of dread, but we never got to it. In Looking for Alaska, we do get to it about halfway through the novel, and it's somewhat devastating, no matter how much we knew about it going in. It is even arguably a more bitter pill than the obvious outcome of The Fault in Our Stars because it seems so random and senseless. But trying to make sense out of the senseless is a very real part of the human condition, and one which Green deals with very well.
So those are the John Green books I've read so far. There are a couple more, mostly collaborations. There's a Christmas one which I intend to read this year. Green is a fascinating author and person (his video blogs are alternately insightful and sometimes silly). What makes him a good YA author is that he never talks down to his audience; he respects them and understands them, as if he had only graduated himself yesterday. He is very current in terms of modern trends in technology, social media, and culture. He seems open-minded to almost every perspective and personality type. He seems like the kind to be a friend to nearly everyone. This is what makes him relevant and such an important part of our literary (and film) landscape today.
My interest in John Green as an author began when I was looking at IMDb and saw the poster for The Fault in Our Stars, which I then clicked a link onto and subsequently decided to see when it came out. As the film got closer to opening, I was surprised to learn what an intense and devoted following the book and its author had. So I knew I'd be seeing it at a theater surrounded by obsessed teenage fans, waiting desperately to find out if the film matched their image of the cherished novel. Of course, I had no preconceptions. I saw the film with a clean slate, and I loved it more than anything I'd seen in a long time.
So much, in fact, that I decided I wanted to read the book and get all the little details that the movie inevitably would have to leave out (because you can never put it all in the movie, as everyone knows). I found a box set of 4 of John Green's books, horrendously priced at a local bookstore, but wonderfully bargain-priced online, so I ordered it, and set about to read all four books, starting with the one I already (sort of) knew.
The Fault in Our Stars ***
I found that the movie was actually very faithful to the book, something I would also notice when I saw the film adaptation of Paper Towns a year or so later. The novel did fill in more details, as I expected it would, but for the most part, I don't remember what's in the novel and not in the movie, with the exception of a scene involving trying to sell an old swing set on Craigslist. (That was a deleted scene on the DVD however.) I think the novel might be a tad less sentimental than the film, as films about romance and dying tend to be deliberate tearjerkers. John Green was trying to tell a good story, and the filmmakers were trying to make you reach for the Kleenex. Both efforts were successful.
By the way, if you're new to this story (book or film), it's about two teenagers who meet at a cancer support group and fall in love. Period.
This first book I read by John Green showed me that John Green has an amazing talent for writing teenage characters were are very smart--much smarter than you normally see depicted in movies--and relatable at the same time. You care very deeply what happens to them, and it's this affection for characters that makes his books page-turners, more than any kind of plot device.
There were a few imperfect moments in the book, which also made their way into the movie. Of course, one of the key story elements is the main character Hazel Grace's obsession with a particular book called An Imperial Affliction by one Peter Van Houten. There is a lot of emotional buildup to an eventual meeting with her idol in Amsterdam. When the meeting finally takes place, Hazel and her boyfriend Gus are disappointed for very obvious reasons. But I was disappointed too, for different reasons entirely. I thought the scene was too overwrought and more than a little far fetched. Yes, sometimes people don't live up to our expectations, but this character was so over the top asshole that he came across as to be almost cartoonish, even when he was played by a super-high caliber actor in the movie, like Willum Dafoe. It just played like a lot of nonsense to me.
My other complaint is on a more personal level. John Green is self-professed Episcopalian Christian, and it surprised me to see cheap jokes about the "heart of Jesus" and write a story about death and dying in which not a single person seems to have any hope or inclination that there may be an afterlife. To be clear, I would not want Green to evangelize in his novel, but the truth is, a lot of people in such situations do take comfort in the notion of a God, and to not even acknowledge that seemed a little short-sighted to me.
Paper Towns ***
The next book I tackled was Paper Towns, and it tickled me when I learned that was next film that was to be made from Green's books. On its surface, it seemed like it would be a lighter affair, but it still packed an emotional wallop by the end, in spite of a good dose of humor throughout.
The centerpiece of the story is something that many of us can relate to, a childhood and/or teen crush that is long lasting, but unrequited. In Quentin's case, it started out when he was a boy, and a pretty girl moved in next door, and there was actually a friendship that developed but eventually faded. His feelings didn't fade though, all up until high school graduation approached. He had to watch her, so close (as they were still neighbors) and yet so far, as she became Miss Popularity and also a thing of mystery, rumor, and innuendo among the student body at their high school.
Not wanting to really rehash the plot here, suffice to say, he gets a surprising night of exhilaration and joy with Margo Roth Spiegelman (the crush), followed by a disappearing act, and the rest of the novel involves trying to find out where she went and why she left. Both the night with Margo and the road trip with a bunch of friends to track her down in upstate New York are the highlights of this book, filled with humor and mirth. They also explore the uniquely emotional and temporary bonds we form with our school friends, from whom we have that nagging awareness that we'll part ways, and things will "never be the same". (I actually think the movie hit that last note better than the novel did.)
Finding Margo in the end was very much like the heroes of The Fault in Our Stars finding Van Houten. It is a let-down for our protagonist, Q, and it's a let down for us...only in a slightly different way. The book treats this better than the movie, which is a little too pat in its goodbye scene. There's a little more angst in the written version, as there should be. But the problem for me, as the audience, was not that Q didn't end up getting what he thought he wanted, but that this beautiful, mysterious character was clearly emotionally unstable and unhealthy, and was going to continue to be that way. That is all right in the sense that not every story must have a happy ending, but I thought that the tone of this revelation was a little blasé, and that neither the author nor the protagonist seemed to care that much about the fact that the book's captivating Margo character was probably going to wind up homeless on the streets of New York City, meeting an ultimate fate that can't be very good. It seemed like a heartless ending to an otherwise very thoughtful story.
An Abundance of Katherines **
Well, I have at least one friend who considers Katherines to be her favorite John Green book. So that's something. But to me, it was the weakest link, the bad egg, the bastard child, the runt of the litter. It deals with a young genius named Colin who has dated only girls named Katherine (about 19 of them) and has been dumped by every one of them. He tries to solve the mystery of his cursed love life by inventing a theorem and by going on a crazy road trip with his only friend, Hassan.
There are things to like about this book. Colin, in spite of being a prodigy, is someone we can all relate to. He knows a lot of things, but none of the really important ones about life, love, and happiness. There are many clever devices John Green uses in the book, such as footnotes to explain math problems and obscure factoids, which appeals to the nerd in all of us.
My greatest problem with the book is the annoying Hassan character. He is self-centered, rude, insulting, and altogether unlikable. He keeps referring to Colin as "Kaffir", which means infidel. With every page, I wondered why Colin tolerated this. The only benefit he seems to get from Hassan's friendship is an occasional dose of tough love/truth, which we all sometimes need, but I feel like John Green could have created a better character for that purpose.
The road trip leads to some unexpected places, but ultimately never really goes anywhere. It really felt like it lacked direction, and not in the good way of a story about teens trying to find themselves, but in the sense of an author who seems to have lost his own way as well.
Looking for Alaska ****
The last book in the box set I read is, I believe, Green's first novel. It's also the next that will be made into a movie. (Big surprise that it's not Katherines!) I'm not completely sure about this, but I think Looking for Alaska might be my favorite of the bunch. And when the film comes out, it will be me stressing over how well it lived up to my expectations.
This is a boarding school story, which appeals to me in the sense that it deals with a different kind of growing up than the one I experienced. I'm not saying I wish I had gone to one, but it's fun to imagine and think about. The kinds of friendships formed in such places can be very strong, out of necessity because you don't have the family and hometown connections to rely on. So right away, I was drawn in to the story of Miles, the protagonist, so thin in stature that he gains the teasing nickname of Pudge. It doesn't take him long to make friends with his roommate Chip, other students Takumi and Lara, but most importantly the resident girl of mystery and instant attraction, Alaska.
All these characters have a lot of adventures and conversations and new "grown-up" experiences, and you really feel like you're with them as it all happens. It's a book that is very good at creating a sense of place and atmosphere. The tone is perfect throughout, and a lot better than you would expect from a first novel. It is funny, fun, and heartfelt. It's a novel that you never want to be over, even when the mood changes drastically right in the middle.
This is not a book of plot twists and surprises. In fact, John Green uses a literary technique which basically lets you know exactly what's going to happen and when, without ever having to say it in advance. I'm not sure why he did this, but I think it was to demark that moment in time when a person's life changes forever, when nothing will ever be the same. In Paper Towns, we had such a moment looming in the distance and it was a source of dread, but we never got to it. In Looking for Alaska, we do get to it about halfway through the novel, and it's somewhat devastating, no matter how much we knew about it going in. It is even arguably a more bitter pill than the obvious outcome of The Fault in Our Stars because it seems so random and senseless. But trying to make sense out of the senseless is a very real part of the human condition, and one which Green deals with very well.
So those are the John Green books I've read so far. There are a couple more, mostly collaborations. There's a Christmas one which I intend to read this year. Green is a fascinating author and person (his video blogs are alternately insightful and sometimes silly). What makes him a good YA author is that he never talks down to his audience; he respects them and understands them, as if he had only graduated himself yesterday. He is very current in terms of modern trends in technology, social media, and culture. He seems open-minded to almost every perspective and personality type. He seems like the kind to be a friend to nearly everyone. This is what makes him relevant and such an important part of our literary (and film) landscape today.
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