germans plotted to assassinate hitler? really?!

I'm bored tonight. So I keep reloading the main page of IMDb. And then it occurs to me, as I glance over the screen to see if there is anything worth checking out, that I have never seen a trailer for Valkyrie (2008). You can guess what happens next.

I really had no preconceived notions going in. I mean, I remember the big hoopla they made about attempting to score access to some bases there for filming purposes. Mr. Cruise's "faith" kept the doors locked for quite a while. A ridiculous reason, if you ask me, but they are right. He is nuts. But so are many other people. And that is neither here nor there.

I must admit I was a bit surprised that everyone in the film speaks with his own accent (there is what, one woman?). This means Cruise stars as the German Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (who knew he could play the ethnic card?!) with his own American accent. And all the Englishmen who round out his posse--you know, the other Germans who are plotting to kill Hitler during WWII--sound, well, English. This reminds me of the made-for-HBO film Conspiracy (2001) with Kenneth Branagh (who's also in Valkyrie) and Stanley Tucci. They were Germans with English and American accents, respectively. I should note, however, that some Germans do feature in the cast: Thomas Kretschmann and some lesser known stars (I don't even know who they are).

I know this makes me sound like some sort of modernist. But it's not as if the film is intentionally postmodern. Then maybe I would be more forgiving. It's also offensive because it is raping history. It's not as if I think this is a story only Germans should tell. Rather, I think that an attempt to be realistic would not only help the audience suspend their disbelief that Cruise, Branagh, my Bill Nighy, Terrence Stamp, and Eddie Izzard are the German masterminds behind this failed coup, it would also ground the history in its place. In other words, how is the audience supposed to appreciate what a select group of Nazis did to challenge their leader, the man who forever will be remembered as evil in the human form, if the coterie doesn't come off as German? Right now, with this film, they just come off as Cruise and his English group of friends playing at being heroic. Why is that story worth telling?

And another thing: I think having the actors maintain their own accents implicitly reinforces the Allied Powers' dominance in determining what Stephanie jokingly called "the mythology of Hitler." There are a lot of mediated representations of Hitler (and by extension, the Holocaust and in some cases, WWII), and they can all be collected in an archive. I would say that the story about him is always the same, with the exceptions of Max (2002), which depicted Hitler as a young artist, and Downfall (2004). Downfall is the most significant because not only does it try to humanize Hitler during his last days, it is also a German film--by a German director, in German, with German-speaking actors. (Bruno Ganz is Swiss-German.)

By eliding over German history in order to appeal to American audiences who want the film to be more action movie than historical thinkpiece, Valkyrie reclaims "Hitler" as belonging to an Allied history. For so long the Allies have had a grip on representations of WWII, the Holocaust (excepting Life is Beautiful [1998], I guess), and Hitler. For most of these films, Hitler--and by extension, his Axis "friends"--exist only to get beaten by the Allies, who have a monopoly, I think, on how he is remembered. Don't get me wrong. I am not suggesting that we reevaluate Hitler in order to make him sympathetic in order to induce empathy for him. I just wanted to point out how the Grand Narrative of WWII and Hitler is maintained by the Allies, who use him only to make themselves look good. Even when it's not their story, as is the case with Valkyrie.

the worst toilet in ikea?

I had the strangest dream last night.

It was winter. We were all in our heavy coats and sweaters. I was with my father, brother, and sister meeting family friends for lunch. This part of the dream was not the most important part. At least, the lunch started in medias res. So I don't know who exactly we were meeting. I didn't get a good look at their faces.

As we were getting in the car, I realized that I should probably use the restroom. It was a long ride home and we were likely to get caught in traffic. Instead of going to use the facilities at the diner, I decided to go to the furniture and housewares store next door. Knowing how much they hate it whenever I say I need to pee, I vowed to try to make their wait for me as quick and as painless as possible.

There is no name for this store because it doesn't actually exist. The best way I can describe it now is that it was unbelievably huge. It looked like an upscale IKEA, perhaps like Habitat only much, much bigger. And as I went through it trying to locate the bathroom, it unfolded and unfolded in a bizarre fantasy and adventure video game sort of way.

As soon as I entered, I looked about and found a place in the back of the main room where all the women were standing outside a door. "Women" was labeled on the door. I waited, chattering my teeth. When I finally got in, when a cubicle was available for me, I realized it was a shower. I looked around and saw that the bathroom was even bigger than I originally thought, with more stalls and even rows of women in black bathing suits getting pedicures. I ditched the room without really wondering why this sort of thing existed in a furniture and housewares store. I went about looking for the toilet again.

I climbed through themed room after themed room. I even asked employees where I could find it. I followed each one's directions to a tee, but each time I found nothing. It was like a maze. I felt like every room opened up into another, putting the toilet further and further out of reach for me. It was like being stuck in Harrod's. People everywhere. But no room was as garishly decorated and there weren't multiple levels. My search for the toilet took place on mainly one level, but sometimes it was split.

Eventually, after what seemed like thirty minutes to me (was this a lucid dream?), I asked the last salesperson, and she could sense the desperation in my voice. That and I think I was probably sweating. She took me directly to this really high white shelving unit. About two feet above my head was a toaster labeled "Women." That's seriously all I saw. I pushed the button down, the same way you would push the bread slices into the toaster and wait for them to pop up. Then a tall cabinet the size of an airplane toilet appeared inside the shelving unit. I didn't want to go inside. I mean, I couldn't even get up in it, for it was raised at least two feet off the ground.

And that's where my dream ends. Sort of. No, I didn't piss my pants. And I never got in the box. I must have blinked here. I don't remember what I did to relieve myself. All I can remember is walking back to the car as soon as I could find my way out of the store. My family was pissed I took so long. I didn't tell them I didn't even go.

What does this mean? Am I afraid of peeing? Of not being able to pee? Or, rather, not peeing able to find a toilet? This is not news to me. I have always felt this way, which is why I have always "gone before leaving home" without even the insistence of my mother.

Does the peeing stand in for something else?

my eyes are ready to pop out

I have cried so much today. All because of words.

I don't mean that my tears have challenged the whole "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" thing. I'm not talking about insults. Instead, as I chose my words very carefully and listened much more closely than I usually do (which is close), I couldn't help but notice the power of words. I called someone out on what he had said (and had not said) earlier in the day, when he did not come to my defense as I was being attacked by someone much more close-minded than I am.

I explained to this friend who "disappointed" me that just the utterances of words, though they are just a combination of sounds with meaning, carry extra weight, especially in situations where you want to hear someone as clearly as possible so as to better understand what is happening.

What has happened to me today--hell, even for the past couple of weeks--has made me cry, but it's the way everything is delivered with cutting words, a sharp tongue. Diction and the expanse of one's lexicon has never been so significant. They're so influential they have made me cry. Over and over. Because people continue to hurt each other with what they say whether or not what they say is what they mean.

the little envelope that could

I have no idea what marks I earned at Lancaster. I've been checking my unofficial transcript online everyday to see if they've been transferred and made available for my viewing. Nope.

So imagine my surprise today when I received an envelope in the mail from Lancaster University. Still no grades, but it was a check for £58.10. I have no idea why. I hope I can deposit it.

What cracks me up even more is the handwritten mailing address on the envelope. I just don't know how it got here when it only has my name, street address, town, and country labeled on it. No state. No zip-code. I imagine it took a long time to get here.

not exactly a one-liner

I know what you're thinking: if this post is just another one-liner, then what is the point? It's not as if you posted yesterday. Well, I want to apologize for that.

I'm sorry.