Urban Legend

Jane Jacobs, 1916 - 2006

“I love New York so much still,” she (Jacobs) said. “But the traffic is the worst I’ve ever known it to be.” (In a chapter in her new book, she explains briskly why one-way streets, designed to streamline traffic, only complicate it.) “New York still has so much pizzazz, because people make it new every day. Like all cities, it’s self-organizing. People looking for a date on Third Avenue make it into a place full of hope and expectation, and this has nothing to do with architecture. Those are the emotions that draw us to cities, and they depend on things being a bit messy. The most perfectly designed place can’t compete. Everything is provided, which is the worst thing we can provide. There’s a joke that the father of an old friend used to tell, about a preacher who warns children, ‘In Hell there will be wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ ‘What if you don’t have teeth?’ one of the children asks. ‘Then teeth will be provided,’ he says sternly. That’s it—the spirit of the designed city: Teeth Will Be Provided for You.”

From the New Yorker, "Cities and Songs," May 17, 2004

p.s. A new post coming up soon.

A Call to Stratford

Had the most brilliant idea the other day: we should all go to Stratford after exams (or during the summer), bring some good books, get some good food, some wine, and catch a show or two--the Glass Menagerie looks really good. What do you say, friends? (tickets are only $20, drop me a line if you are interested)

I never professed to be a big theatre person, and the only experience (musicals don't count) I've had with real theatre is limited to this understandably embarassing one time at Angels in America with my potentially homophobic mother. But I always liked Tennessee Williams--the gentle and tormented genius, last relic of the fading genteel south; all romantizations aside, I'm also addicted to a Streetcar Named Desire.

On that subject, while dining with (haha I love dining at New Ho) with Aliza after life drawing we bumped into two really burly obnoxious men from Louisiana who listened in to our conversation and joined in at their liberty, and burped liberally. God, what's more pathetic than being a hick and having your home washed away by Katrina?

Three Times, and Other Tidbits

Apologies to my dear readers for the lack of updates, but since seeing Three Times on Friday I've felt like I owe it to this blog to write a movie review, which, as I remember from my Innis Herald days, can become really excruciating.

It wouldn't be impudent to draw parallels between Hsiao-hsien Hou's Three Times and the noltalgic pieces of that other demigod of Chinese cinema, Wong Kar-Wai. Both are awash in lush colours and oriental melancholy, and evocative of the semi-mythical places of yesteryear (Hong Kong, Taiwan). Yet almost over-indulgently Three Times prized style over characters and story, and suffered for it.


Chen Chang and Shu Qi appeared as lovers in three separate stories that spanned almost a hundred years. A Time for Love was a convincingly awkward love story between a soldier (Chen) and a poolhall mistress (Shu Qi) in the pre-modernization Taiwan of 1966. It was the most accessible story out of the three, granted, but also the most charming. The landscape of dilapidated houses and noisy roadside snack joints, symbols of a more innocent and restrained existence, provided the perfect backdrop as the young lovers gingerly fell in love. Shu Qi and Chen were clearly comfortable in their respective roles, and made up for Hou's economy with characters with nuanced and believable acting.

The other two segments, set in 1911 and 2005, respectively, were much more forgettable. There is something to be said about Hou's ambitions--to chronicle of the changing nature of love and relationships throughout the century; but his tendency to linger over scenery and overlook characters proved to be a serious handicap. In a Time for youth, Shu Qi had the very thankless job of portraying an epileptic lesbian singer whose infactuation with a man threatened to destroy her established relationship with another girl. There was supposed to be inner turmoil and confusion, yet with Hou's quick and broad strokes, little of that came across; Shu Qi's character appeared genuinely callous, even loathsome.

Three Times should have been three seperate movies, instead of only one that managed to be both contrived and boring (3 hours!!!)

Having said that, it was gorgeous to look at. The lush interiors of the 1900s brothel dripped with saturated colours and a pervasive sense of claustrophobia; 21st century Taipei was instead shown in a harsh, bluish, searching light that perfectly communicated the quiet anguish of the young and the lost. Unfortunately that was all Three Times was--a beautifully shot dud.



In other news, the Squid and the Whale recently came out on DVD. I beseech you: do yourself a favour and watch it. It honestly is one of the best of 2005, and embodies the best qualities of American independent cinema. It's at once witty, contemplative, incisive, and emotionally honest; if for nothing else, watch it just to see Jeff Daniels (at his best here) as the failed intellectual: his snobbisms are quite something.