Grendel Grendel Grendel (1981)

I was feeling very free after my 5 finals (2 left, wish me luck) and 4 papers, so I took the liberty of watching this cartoon of Grendel that I found on youtube. Yup, a cartoon version of Grendel. Maybe we mentioned this in class and I missed it, but apparently there was short Australian animated film made in 1981, based on Gardner’s Grendel. It doesn't match the complexity of the book, but it was an interesting watch, especially since we recently covered the book.

It was very 80s. VERY, very 80s. Psychedelic geometric shapes, strange colors, abstract backgrounds, retro animation, the whole deal. Nonetheless, It was a very interesting depiction of Gardner’s book. There were many direct quotes from the book, even though the timeline wasn’t entirely accurate, and the plot stayed true to the original for the most part.

The first main deviation was the depiction of Unferth. Unlike in the book, where in Unferth is a relatively minor character among the many warriors of Hrothgars hall, the video chooses to give him a more major role, as Hrothgar’s second in command, to whom Hrothgar promises his kingdom. He is the main hero or all the warriors, not just a hero like in the book. This sets him up for the fall of his reputation’s in the apple scene, which becomes a running gag as the other characters use it to mock Unferth with again and again. Wealtheow's role is downsized. She is just a ditzy pretty face that Hrothgar takes from a trespassing king as tribute. She says “my lord” a lot. That’s it. There is no mention of the calming effect her beauty has on others, or the emphasis on her innocence like the book. On the other hand, Grendel is for the most part unchanged. Grendel is the well-spoken monster we all know from the book, just with much less anger. He’s depicted surprisingly quiet and thoughtful, with a tendency to talk to himself.

The main confusing element was it’s intended audience. With it’s bright colors and cartoon animation, it’s easy to mistake it as a children’s movie; but Grendel still eats some heads off, Wealtheow is naked for a few seconds, and Beowulf tears off Grendel’s arm rather graphically for a children’s cartoon. However the characters are very much simplified from the book, and their dialogue is more of a comedic routine, slapstick-y with some buffoonery. It’s the kind of cartoon that if I was watching it with a 5 year old, I would periodically ask them “Well, wasn’t that silly?” to check that they’re watching. Except I wouldn’t watch this with a 5 year old, because despite some silliness, and a few dance and song numbers (Grendel has one with the Dragon), it’s still Gardner’s Grendel at heart. Grendel is still lonely and confused monster trying to find his place in the world.

While it is, visually, a strange adaptation (every character has a long snout thing for a nose, so Grendel's face is different only because it's green) it gains a lot of points for two large aspects that the novel cannot have: voices and music. Whoever voices Grendel makes him sound like a sophisticated aristocrat, who should be sipping a cup of English tea. His voice is wonderfully at odds with his actions, which range from violent, to endearingly bewildered. When he’s not narrating for the viewer, his words are changed to unintelligible howls, showing what he sounds like to the Danes. 

The dragon’s voice was unexpected— he sounds like a wheezy grandfather, complete with tiny pince-nez on the bridge of his nose, so his proclamation that “I know everything!” sounds less like he’s trying to impress Grendel, and more like he’s just grumbling. To hear the two of them talking— the eloquent gentlemen and the peeved grandfather— makes the the scene very surreal,  so that when they reach the same conclusion as in the book, it still feels true to the style of book, even if it didn’t have an element of fear or eliphany in it.

Lastly there’s the music. The music was very fitting. It was interesting to actually hear an interpretation of Shaper’s songs. They were strange, sometimes lilting, sometimes dramatic, but they were strange enough to be believable. While music is a major theme in Grendel, we can only read the words not hear the melody, and while the book isn't diminished by it, the animation gains from it. 

To sum it up, it was bizarre yet interesting to watch as a followup to a book I enjoyed it, and though it doesn’t do the book justice, it’s able to emphasize certain aspects that the book can’t, and add a level of interpretation.

Milk and Magic

There is a Monster at the end of this Blog
Hi guys,
Sorry for the double posting (and a bit too late, too), but while I was studying for finals, I discovered an almost hypnotic diversion: finding the real hidden themes in our Myth and Magic course. You may have thought the stories in Myth and Magic were collected in our course due to the stimulating contrast between different ways that myth and magic were incorporated into American literature over the ages. You were sadly misled.
Behold, a collection of photographs revealing the Monster behind Myth and Magic.

Does Grendel remind you of anyone? Specifically, an eye-searing blue someone with a voracious appetite for cookies? Speak no further- I told you the truth would be painful.

Braddock Washington almost succeeded in bribing the powers that be that fateful day. Had he known what he should have used as tribute, the resulting scene would approximate the horror you see above. Try to restrain your trembling; He will not attack you through the screen.

Ancient manuscripts of Song of Solomon have revealed a newly discovered ending scene. Who knew that the monster lurked here as well? 

At last, other depictions of Grendel, cleverly disguised as Magritte knockoffs. I ask you, who is the true monster here!?

--

Anyway, it was nice to experience this course with all of you. Pictures drawn and computerized by me, with props to Lizzie for her input and editing and staying up until 3 in the morning during reading week thinking of progressively wackier ideas. :-)

Have a good night!

On Storytelling in Tracks.

When I thought about Nanapush’s role as a storyteller in Tracks, it struck me how different the Native American vision of storytelling, as portrayed by Louise Erdrich seems to differ from conventional storytelling. Nanapush tells his stories to try to bring his granddaughter Lulu closer to the tribe, and to prevent her from marrying a Morissey. Nanapush’s role as a trickster means we don’t believe his story the same way we would in another novel; there is less verisimilitude.

It is unclear whether Nanapush himself believes his stories; he mentions several times about things “not being clear” until he sits and thinks it through later. This type of phrasing almost implies that the story itself can take on a form independent of Nanapush; something we see in his magic too, when he says, “I began to sing slowly, calling on my helpers, until the words came from my mouth but were not mine, until the rattle started, the song sang itself, and there, in the deep bright drifts, I saw the tracks of Eli's snowshoes clearly”. (101)

                If Nanapush’s stories weave themselves, they differ from fact but find truth. Perhaps it is the truth of the relationship between characters, or the slow disintegration of Chippewa beliefs. But the stories don’t exist in isolation. Lulu will walk away from her grandfather’s stories changed, and readers’ perceptions have probably shifted as well. The stories don’t only find truth; they create them. Or perhaps, they shape them.

                This parallels remarkably well with Grendel’s Shaper. Just as the Shaper carved a glorious past and a heroic future from a tale of mindless bloodlust, and Nanapush brings a story to weave the remnants of his tribe back together; Grendel once conceived of creating the world blink by blink; the stories he tells himself unrolling his future. The difference is that the Chippewas saw the story as independent of themselves; hearkening back to the Native American reservation against aversion to ownership. Interestingly, John Gardner expressed similar sentiments when he said that Grendel was to “catching [Grendel’s] shrieks in cups of gold.” John Gardner also seems to believe that the story was sort of waiting out there before he “captured” it.

                Pre-modern stories were apparently meant to bring the reader closer to G-d. Certainly, the historically Jewish ‘stories’ that I know of were parables, intended to teach and make the reader think. And even though the messages are not always intentional, I think stories can be used to connect to G-d much in the same way nature can; in giving insight into the nature of His world. Modernism acknowledged American society’s loss of divinity as a cultural force. But I think, looking at the nature of stories in stories by authors, one can find a different goal: to shape a truth out of falsehoods and change the readers’ perception of his existence. A secular goal, though with moral underpinnings that hearken back to the older types of stories. But a much more universal one, fit for the modern (postmodern?) age.  

Magic

A lot of the material covered in the course is open to interpretation. It is possible to read the stories as being magical or mythical, but another way to see it is explained by the rational and mundane. Some parts of the stories are out and out impossible like the existence of Grendel, but even the stories that can be read without the myth or magic, like Young Goodman Brown, things still stand out as strange. A big part of the interpretation is if the reader wants to believe in magic. It is a little Peter-Panian (made up a word) to say it is only magical if you believe it is magical, but that is what it comes down to.

Life for some people is simpler without magic. It is difficult for them to wrap their heads around anything different from what they know of the world today. They heard of all the hoaxes, learned all of the magician’s tricks, and there is nothing that can’t be attributed to a cause. As science advances, the mysteries are less and less, which may be a factor in why the belief in magic radically declining.

All the magical stories have to come from somewhere though. There must be some experiences that people cannot satisfactorily explain through the mundane, so they turn to magic to explain. People bend the realm of possibility and speculate what if could happen, what if it did? There are traditions where myth and magic is commonplace. Some people may not think the story actually happened but it is still a part of their tradition.

Magic doesn’t have to be as grand as sparks flying from a wand, or shouting gibberish. There is subtlety in magic. There is magic in the mundane. There is magic in someone calling you when you were thinking about them; there is magic in finding the perfect shade of blue to match the outdated curtains; there is magic in getting along with people. Some may call it probability or good luck or chemistry. But what’s life without a little magic. A little unbalance can make things more exciting.

Perhaps for someone who is willing to accept that there exists miracles at work in the universe, magic isn’t such a stretch of the imagination. This primarily covers people who subscribe to a religion. These people have a tradition that tells them of historical events that defied natural laws. They have a tradition that tells them that miracles happened and to not believe would be heretical. Are miracles and magic not the same thing but with different names?

Maybe since a miracle is associated with the divine where magic is a man-made construction it is more believable. The divine is supposed to be all powerful whereas people are not supposed to be. It is understandable for people to reject a man with the ability to bend the natural laws if they do not believe man is all powerful. It is also understandable for someone to reject the notion of the divine bending the natural laws if they do not believe in the divine.  Since there is no proof one way or the other, it all boils down to what you want to believe, and perhaps there is magic in that.

 

 

Uncomfortably  Good Art

Stories are written in a multitude of flavors. For example, some are presented as works of art with magnificent sentences, vivid metaphors, ingenious allusions, or other qualities critics hold in high regard. Other stories are designed solely for entertainment purposes. For this we have genres and sub-genres to satisfy someone even with the most obscure interests. Still other stories are set up in a way that the reader will derive a lesson or message. Of course, not all stories are so simple and they can combine different flavors to get new and wonderful blend. I consider Toni Morrison’s The Song of Solomon to be one such story.

The story is entertaining. The plot is fast paced and there are shocking twists and turns to keep readers reading. The story also has messages woven into the text without it being preachy. A reader can choose to interpret the point of the story arbitrarily without a set meaning shoved down their throats. And part of the beauty of the story lies with its characters. They are so real, and I believe that is part of the problem.

In many stories the hero is someone with strength of character. The hero may not be perfect but he learns to overcome his weaknesses and becomes all the stronger for it. In some stories the hero’s weakness may be something that would be considered good in other situations. For example, the inability to kill people for the greater good or being too trusting, etc. In The Song of Solomon the hero isn’t conventional. He doesn’t do the good things. He doesn’t seem to have strength of character. He isn’t even likable. But he is real. The average human being has more negative qualities than a hero. People lie, cheat, steal, and murder. People are petty and miserable. But, the average human being is not a villain and also has positive qualities.

In The Song of Solomon, we learn about the characters as children. They are still innocent and do not yet have the negative qualities of their adult counterparts. This contrast is relatable as well. It is infrequent that we come across a child villain. The contrast also serves to highlight their shortcomings. They weren’t destined to be evil from childhood, but they are only human.

In other stories some of the main characters are motivated by power, or selfishness, too. The difference is that the motivation is singularly driven. The characters are not complex as they are in The Song of Solomon. In The Song of Solomon the characters are motivated by relatable desires such as greed, love, revenge, and power. But the motivation is not all-consuming, extreme, or singular as in other stories.

Perhaps the story leaves me with a sense of distaste because it forces me to confront that people are not perfect. The story shows the truth about people and it is not so easy to swallow. It is easier to believe that people will do the right thing, protect the weak, and save mankind. It is comforting to assume the best about people, but it is not real.

 

 

 

Inspired by The Wasteland

Just thought I'd share with the class.

I was rereading Eliot's The Wasteland when I was struck by the descriptions in Part II, "A Game of Chess," and their contrast to the mundanity of the dialogue.  While the former is extravagant and full of vivid imagery, the latter is simple, almost crass.
So I drew it.
I know Eliot is a modernist, which we identify with abstract art, but since I was planning to form it into a blog post, I felt that putting random splotches of color and calling it "Inspired by The Wasteland" would sidestepping the consideration and thought that usually goes into a post (actually up until this point I didn't have a title. Now I do). Nothing against early 20th century modern art, but I do feel that the effort the viewer puts in to interpreting it usually outweighs the labor of the artist that made it.
This is my interpretation of the poem's text. The composition was purposeful, and each object has some reference to the text. There isn't much in the illustration to interpret, since it is based directly on the words of the poem, but that's left to the viewer to decide. You're welcome to play "hidden pictures," and connect the objects to words their referenced from, as well as use the reference to bring your own interpretation of the line from Eliot's ambiguous and pivotal work.

Also, artistic critique is always appreciated, but not strictly speaking necessary.



http://emmy663.deviantart.com/art/Wasteland-Sketch-453898893

Questioning Reality

         Interestingly, I also do a very similar thing to what ST describes in her blog post “Unifying Our Stories.” When I read books of myth and magic I automatically think of ways in which I could explain those events rationally. For example, when I imagine Hagar in Guitar’s bedroom unable to murder Milkman, my immediate reaction is that love has handicapped her and she is therefore unable to kill Milkman. I do not conclude that there is a magical, protective force surrounding Milkman that prevents Hagar from stabbing him. So too, when Guitar tied the noose around Milkman’s neck in an attempt to strangle him, and Milkman seemingly comes back to life, I picture Milkman receiving an adrenaline rush, a phenomenon common to people in life and death situations. This event is similar to being numb to pain when running through thorn bushes to escape a threatening situation. It is the result of our autonomic nervous system, a system that unconsciously regulates the body and is responsible for “fight or flight” responses. A “fight or flight” response is an unconscious physiological response to danger that involves an increase in heart rate, blood pressure, blood glucose levels, and prepares the body to fight or flee. Furthermore, I’m not even phased by Pilate not possessing a navel, as there is a fellow staff member that I work with at camp that also doesn't have a navel. I believe the reason for my zealous tendency to rationalize is due to our brains constantly attempting to make sense of information that we process. 

  There is plenty of research in the psychological field of study that portrays this idea. There was someone named Joe who was suffering from severe seizures. He had his Corpus Callosum, the connection between the right and left hemispheres of the brain, severed as a surgical management option for his epilepsy. However, the left side of the brain processes things in the right visual field, and the right side of the brain processes things that appear in the left visual field. Without the connection between the two sides of the brain, information Joe viewed in his right visual field and processed in his left brain, could not reach the right side of his brain, and information Joe viewed in his left visual field could not reach the left side of his brain. Additionally, speech is processed in the left brain, while the right brain is more visual. Therefore, when the word BELL was flashed in Joe’s left visual field and the word MUSIC was flashed in his right visual field, and he was asked to point to the picture that corresponded with the word that he saw, he chose the picture of a bell rather than that of music. When he was asked why he chose that picture, he explained to the researcher that he saw the word music and subsequently and innocently concocts a story as to why the picture of the bell represents music. Joe believed he heard church bells outside a few minutes prior and therefore he associated bells with music. Curiously, no church bells had chimed. Joe knew he was in a lab and that they were manipulating his brain, and he still fabricates a reason for why he chose a picture of a bell for the word music. The brain feels a need to explain occurrences, and when the brain cannot come up with a plausible explanation it goes to such an extreme extent to rationalize the event that it invents answers that may not even exist. Unfortunately, this often unknowingly leads to wrong perceptions of reality.  

A similar idea is portrayed in Man’s Search for Meaning, a book by Viktor Frankl about his experiences in Auschwitz. Frankl explains that in order to survive the hells of the Holocaust, men had to maintain a vision of a future goal.

Woe to him who saw no more sense in his life, no aim, no purpose, and therefore no point in carrying on. He was soon lost. The typical reply with which such a man rejected all encouraging arguments was, “I have nothing to expect from life any more.” What sort of answer can one give to that?

What was really needed was a fundamental change in our attitude toward life. We had to learn ourselves and, furthermore, we had to teach the despairing men, that it did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life — daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual.

The only way for human beings to prevent despair in that situation was for their brain to dream up a future. Many men did so despite the fact that the chances for a positive outcome were slim to none. However, those that did survive the Holocaust were those that had familial visions, spiritual visions, and the like. 

        Perhaps myth and magic have more of a hold in reality than our brain allows us to believe.

       Woe is the power of the brain. Woe is the weakness of reality.