EorE? Cinema: Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines, Or How I Flew from London to Paris in 25 Hours 11 Minutes (1965)

The most famous comically-rambling movie title of the mid-60s was probably Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, but if you've seen that one already, then here's a really great/dumb movie with a similarly unwieldy title that you probably haven't seen--and should.

"Stereotype" is a word steeped in negative connotations, and usually rightly so, but an odd thing about stereotypes is that we sometimes perpetuate them in celebration of what we most admire about another culture. Consider the plain-talkin' American cowboy, the ever-wooing Frenchman, the detail-oriented German. Rather than being negative, each of these clichéd characteristics can also be viewed in an appealing light. We like romantic Parisians, the precision of German automotive engineering, and the blindly optimistic never-give-up American spirit. Stereotypes unfairly paint the disparate members of any society as the same, but cultural differences are also a reality, and those observable differences make the world a more interesting place.

Perhaps "satire" could be defined as the wielding of stereotypes to illustrate a greater truth. It's a highly delicate operation that the filmmakers behind TMMITFM understood (as did Stanley Kubrick). While TMMITFM perpetuates nationalistic clichés (including those of the British filmmakers' own countrymen), it does so affectionately. Besides, that's the whole point, for once one steps back from the cartoon character details one finds that those broad brush-strokes form a wonderful satirical portrait of pre-World War Europe.

The film is set in 1910, a time when "Britannia may rule the waves, but it does not yet rule the air." So a British newspaper magnate sponsors an international air race across the English Channel. Of course, the Brits are not above a little cheating in order to tip things in Britannia's favor; after all, Britain wishes to impress the rest of the world with a win, and it is determined to secure victory at any cost.

Pilots arrive from various countries in order to compete (most of these countries are European ones; a modern remake would likely cast a wider international net). Each pilot is an embodiment of the stereotypes associated with his country of origin. Having a cast of British actors play each of these international representatives would likely have resulted in an unwatchable and nasty movie, but here is where the film delivers its master stroke: all the leads are actually from the countries of the characters they portray in the film.

The much-respected French actor Vincent Cassell's dad is in it; Jean-Pierre Cassell plays an affable and (of course) perpetually love-struck Frenchman. Italian actor Alberto Sordi plays a pilot who discovers the perfect time and place to captitalize on anti-Protestant leanings. German-born actor Gert Fröbe, coming off of playing the title character in Goldfinger, proves an excellent comic actor as he sends up German stereotypes (he wears a Pickelhaube throughout). And in the film's cutest twist, Japanese-born Yûjirô Ishihara plays a pilot who baffles his hosts because he speaks perfect King's English (when you remember how the Caucasian Mickey Rooney cringingly played a Japanese man in Breakfast at Tiffany's four years earlier you really appreciate the higher-order comedy on display, here).

Benny Hill is in it, but don't let that be a deterrant; while his eponymous show and this film may share a few "screwball" qualities (including one sped-up-film chase scene), the comedy in TMMITFM soars in loftier realms. In addition to Hill, an odd foreshadowing of the future of British comedy can be experienced when one notices a familiar melody played by the band on the day of the big race: ah yes, that's the Sousa march that would later be used as the theme music for "Monty Python's Flying Circus."

After an enjoyable first hour getting to know the likable--and likably unlikable--characters, things shift to the big race. The comic tone remains consistent during this section, but with the change of focus also comes a new sense of wonder and adventure. The cast is wonderful, but the faithfully-reconstructed vintage airplanes are stars on an equal par--so historically accurate that one of them hangs in a museum today.

After 1910, Europe went to pieces, a serious point to reflect on while enjoying this comedy. But the film is really a celebration dance for the much-relieved and happier post-World War Western Europe of the 50s and 60s. An infectious joie de vivre permeates this endearingly silly movie, and so it is guaranteed to make you very happy.

Europe and America

Began writing this five months ago somewhere between visiting Croatia and Slovenia. Tweaked it a few times since. It probably isn't going to get any better, so I am giving up, posting it, and walking away! :-D

Europe, a continent the size of the United States, boasts myriad languages, faiths, and cultures. Some countries there were fighting wars with one another as recently as the 1990s, and other forms of cultural wars continue to divide Europeans today. Thus, it would be silly to generalize about Europeans as a whole. But I'm silly, so let's do it!

Europeans seem to be more pragmatic and susceptible to logic than Americans, perhaps to a fault, as pragmatism sometimes leads to pessimism, and pessimism leads to inaction ("The odds are I will fail, so I will not attempt"). But I can relate better to this form of logic than to American optimism, and the longer this economy drags the more American realists I think there will be.

Europe contends with a Babel effect; even with English as a fallback business language there is a large, disenfranchised portion of the population that cannot so easily participate in the international market. America is fortunate in that its citizens by and large speak the same language.

The Muslim issue seems to be roiling Europe, whereas America's analogous Mexican immigrant issue is not so big a deal (the U.S. immigration debate does not represent an all-out "culture war" on a par with Europe's Muslim one; and regarding our own recent Muslim issue, the "Ground Zero" "Mosque" [both terms need to be scare-quoted], this appears to be a trifle compared to the all-out European cultural battle).

Europe has a deserved reputation for paying more attention to detail, and generally is known to produce a higher quality of product (from clothes to furniture to cars to women*) than Americans, though sometimes at unreasonable cost.

Even if we are to trust the gloomy international standardized test scores, the United States' 300 million-strong population guarantees that a large number of smart and clever people will continue to drive the markets and innovation. Lack of hyper-pragmatism means greater ingenuity and innovation--the best entrepreneurs expect to fail sometimes and are not easily dissuaded by failure. That means we sometimes fail epically, but we also enjoy epic success (McDonald's, Microsoft, etc.).

All that said, I often think I would rather live in Europe. I identify more with its culture and lifestyle. America can become great, but if my life isn't, then why stick around cheerleading the richest 1%? There are plenty of European democracies I could choose to live in. And did I mention the girls?

* ;-D

Prison Break: Beginning of a New Life/Total Freaking Disaster

Sometime around 2 AM on 14 November, as I stood in the parking lot of my apartment complex in my underwear hoisting and then dropping an armchair into the dumpster (much to the delight of my neighbors, one of whom opened his door to inspect my progress before slamming it shut again in rage), I realized that I had reached the point of no return.

The path to that point began with depression in middle school, which morphed into depression in high school, which turned into depression in college, which then became depression in Atlanta, which became a half-hearted suicide attempt in 1997, which became therapy in early 2009, which became a drunken me throwing out an armchair at 2 AM.

The dumpster incident sounds like the sort of thing my fictional alter-ego, a Eurotrash DJ named "Mr. Lava," would have described in his blog on my Euro-music website "Eurotrash or Eurotreasure?" But this incident was real, as am I, and this blog will describe only real things as I move towards the biggest change of my life.

The current plan: to leave Atlanta for Eastern Europe in January 2010, and to DJ my way through the part of the world that I have long found the most exciting and interesting. I also intend to write about my adventures and discoveries, both here in this blog and also for other publications.

I have little money to start with. I presume I will have no health insurance. Not sure how that works, actually; that will be next week's task to determine. I am devoting 4.5 hours a day to planning this adventure, those hours divided into categories such as: "Finding gigs in Europe," "Eurotrash music research," "Cleaning out of apartment," and the always useful "Miscellaneous."

Sounds like a stupid plan, especially when you consider how little cash I will leave with. But oddly enough this is partly why I am leaving my job in the first place. If your job pays you dirt, then you may as well find another job that pays you dirt, but that you love doing.