This is something that I know my fellow film studies students, researchers and faculty get a lot from people they run into. "Oh! You do film studies? What are your favourite movies? What should I watch?"
This is an incredibly difficult task. You may not realize it, but it is.
"Oh, boy. What do I recommend them? Do I go for the Film Studies 101 canon? Do I name my personal favourites? Heck, what are my personal favourites? How many should I list? Will recommending a French film make me sound pretentious? Will a Japanese film make me sound like some fanboy? I should probably say something they've at least heard of... but then again, there are some pretty famous movies out there that I know some people haven't heard of. Remember that time I tried to rent Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? from the Blockbuster, and I got a blank stare in return from the counter guy? Or The Apartment? That's a bloody Oscar winner and he hadn't even heard of it. But this person here asking me this question... what do I say? I can't choose too many things that they've already seen. Or are they asking me this question just to gauge their taste in film? Do they want to hear movies they've already seen? Oh god oh god oh god."
Granted, I'm a anxiety-prone person, but it's nonetheless a loaded query. And so, in preparation for the next time someone asks me, I'm making a few different lists of recommendations. These lists are by no means thorough, but I think by making multiple lists people can decide which ones are targeted at them. And first up, I present...
Recommendations from a Film Snob for the Average Audience
Primarily English-language, mainstream, mostly contemporary, well-known but under-seen.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
"Les Misérables" Review
After writing this review, I've come across an article in the New Yorker that pretty much summarizes what I thought of Les Misérables. Oh, and do I have some scathing opinions. As one of my friends noted on Facebook as I posted my one-word response last night, there will be blood. (My response: "Ugh.")
Where do I begin? I'm really not sure. But how about with one of the most obvious elements of the mise-en-scène: the makeup and costuming. Oh boy.
Overdone makeup that piles on the sores, bruises, decaying teeth, dirt and mud -- to comical levels. Stephanie Zacherek suggests calling it "hobo chic", and I'm inclined to agree. The film has been art directed to death, with the only apparent direction being "More! More grime! More dirt!" The hyperbolic level of grime that covers every surface in an attempt at bludgeoning the audience with Misery is a dangerous romanticizing of what suffering is. The melodramatic form, of course, asks the audience to share in its characters' suffering as a cathartic roller-coaster of emotions -- one that I am often very glad to take a spin on. But here, the romanticization of misery strikes me as a particularly dangerous** style of kitsch, as it turns past, real-life suffering into spectacle. This becomes acceptable for some because this suffering is so far away from us: the film is a period piece in France with British accents and talk of Kings and lots of old-fashioned poverty. But the situation depicted is also oh-so-close, with the contemporary repetition of an increasingly wealthy and powerful elite towering over massive income gaps, while reinforcing their statuses through more and more drastic legal measures.
But such social commentary is beyond Les Misérables. Instead, such analysis is reduced to a simple "Be nice to those less fortunate, and Trust in God." The musical asks us to surge with some sort of pride or hope when we see good-doers do good-things, and empathy for those who are covered with lots of really really gross sores and dirty dirt.
"Strive for your dreams!", it seems to be saying in a kind of vague self-affirmation mantra. I, of course, find such proverbial affirmations to be misguided, ineffective and flatly irritating. Good intentions and a belief in a god are not enough to change the world, as Victor Hugo seemed to be slyly, faintly aware of as he sets his epic's climax the failed revolution of June 1832. Much like Baudelaire or Flaubert, I appreciate Hugo's attempts to highlight social problems, but find his crude sentimentality and aestheticizing to be misguided.
And thus enter Schönberg and company. The novel has proven a popular source for adaptations, but I have not seen or heard any of these other versions, and my familiarity with Hugo's material has been second-hand exposure to Les Miz through friends and a high school production of the score's "highlights" (a term I use loosely). I remember four songs: "Castle on a Cloud", "Master of the House", "Do You Hear the People Sing" and, of course, the power-ballad "I Dreamed a Dream".
I don't want to spend too much time analyzing the score, as there really isn't much to say about it. Let's all admit something: it's mostly forgettable. Kretzmer's English lyrics are an endless surge of rhyming couplets and recitative, bludgeoning the audience with easily digestible narrative cues and nary a clever phrase. How many of the songs end with a ringing final note, Jackman or Crowe or whomever belting out the piece's final lyric as if it's the most significant existential cry or a perfect encapsulation of the song's Theme? These criticisms have surrounded the musical for years, with most critics regarding the show as middle-brow popera.
As a film theorist, my problems with the movie are with its technique and its ideology. Much has been made in the popular press about Les Misérables' supposedly groundbreaking technique of live-set recording. It's a neat trick, I guess... that's been done before. (Notably, Bogdanovich's At Long Last Love from 1975 with Cybill Shepherd and Burt Reynolds, of all people.) And what are we supposed to take away from this stunt? A more raw emotional performance, as if the practice of dubbing isn't done in virtually every other film made since the 30s? Sorry, I don't buy it. I didn't get anything more out of Hathaway's performance if she had recorded her vocals afterwards. And maybe if they hadn't made such a fuss around this technique, they wouldn't have thought twice about re-recording Russell Crowe's vocals, which are often off-key, restrained and sound as if he's daydreaming. Big mistake.
Oh, but it's more "realistic" that Seyfried's sky-high notes are a bit strained, that Hathaway catches a few notes in her throat as she cries, or that Jackman occasionally falters? I see.
So what? Why are we so obsessed with pseudo-realism?
If the filmmakers were so keen on realism, why the shunning of deep focus? The rapid-style editing, which is as far away from DeSica as possible? The bombastic camera swoops through obviously-CGI Paris streets and ships? Hooper's auteurist stamps of canted and expressionist ultra-high angles? Realism and the musical form are often uncomfortable bedfellows, with the successful examples I can think of being those whose goals are near-Brechtian irony, or at the very least, some sort of edge. Pennies From Heaven or New York, New York blend gritty noir and some realist touches to create biting, jarring films that leave the audience deeply uncomfortable, and A Star is Born or West Side Story aim for touches of pathos amongst their beautiful, jazzy numbers. Les Misérables is utterly without edge, and any possible prickly bits are sanded down with bombast. Everything is ramped up to the highest level of superficial emotion, with only the Thénardiers (Helen Bonham-Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen) appearing as the requisite "comic relief". But the Thénardiers seem to have dropped in from a different movie (a French Sweeney Todd through kabuki) and just don't blend in with the attempts at realism and, in fact, are a jarring trumpet blast announcing realist failure. They also serve to remind us just how lacking in any humour the rest of the film is, which takes itself much too seriously.
And I'm not sure where to fit this, but one scene really struck me as gratuitous and... ugh. I speak of the romanticizing of shit. You know what I'm talking about it. The scene could have been filmed without this wonderful element, but instead we witness our characters swimming in it, emerging from the water with their faces caked in it, probably having swallowed some of it. I couldn't help but be reminded of Salo at this point. The petty bourgeoisies savour their meal of shit, just as we are supposed to watch this scene and gush "Oh, how horrid!"
I understand melodrama. I often crave the purging elements the form offers. But Les Misérables offers too much, and seems to be primarily designed --nay, constructed-- to be a big sob-fest. Instead of being sucked into its emotional sway, I found myself chortling. Rolling my eyes. Staring at audience members who were duped into becoming blubbering messes. And I'm the kind of person that will gleefully gasp, coo and "aww" at the most cliché-ridden Bollywood epic. Perhaps it's that Les Misérables tries too hard in its attempts to be "about something", its underlining of Hugo's Christian elements, and its hammer-blow emotional subtlety. Marius and his fellow young, idealistic men seem to me as sharing the same goals of the film: full of hopeful ideas, and relying on rousing people's superficial emotions to get them to join in the choir.
But who are these people, and why should I care? The eponymous "miserables" are archetypes drowning in period gear and slathered with mud. They don't strike me as real people. And as for the rest of the revolving-door cast, we have Éponine, played by Samantha Barks, as the insufferable child who somehow grows into a self-sacrificial lamb, for no apparent reason other than her capital-L love for freckled Eddie Redmayne's Marius. Some annoying blonde, blue-eyed boy whose name I don't think was even mentioned, foolishly playing with the big boys. Hathaway's Fantine, a hyperbolic martyr figure, is only in the first act. Valjean is just pathetic, Javert is too one-note in his conviction (WHY is he so obsessed with capturing Valjean, other than to be a representation of The Law?), and I've just stopped caring to continue or bother editing this more.
Oh, and Russell Crowe.
Where do I begin? I'm really not sure. But how about with one of the most obvious elements of the mise-en-scène: the makeup and costuming. Oh boy.
Overdone makeup that piles on the sores, bruises, decaying teeth, dirt and mud -- to comical levels. Stephanie Zacherek suggests calling it "hobo chic", and I'm inclined to agree. The film has been art directed to death, with the only apparent direction being "More! More grime! More dirt!" The hyperbolic level of grime that covers every surface in an attempt at bludgeoning the audience with Misery is a dangerous romanticizing of what suffering is. The melodramatic form, of course, asks the audience to share in its characters' suffering as a cathartic roller-coaster of emotions -- one that I am often very glad to take a spin on. But here, the romanticization of misery strikes me as a particularly dangerous** style of kitsch, as it turns past, real-life suffering into spectacle. This becomes acceptable for some because this suffering is so far away from us: the film is a period piece in France with British accents and talk of Kings and lots of old-fashioned poverty. But the situation depicted is also oh-so-close, with the contemporary repetition of an increasingly wealthy and powerful elite towering over massive income gaps, while reinforcing their statuses through more and more drastic legal measures.
But such social commentary is beyond Les Misérables. Instead, such analysis is reduced to a simple "Be nice to those less fortunate, and Trust in God." The musical asks us to surge with some sort of pride or hope when we see good-doers do good-things, and empathy for those who are covered with lots of really really gross sores and dirty dirt.
"Strive for your dreams!", it seems to be saying in a kind of vague self-affirmation mantra. I, of course, find such proverbial affirmations to be misguided, ineffective and flatly irritating. Good intentions and a belief in a god are not enough to change the world, as Victor Hugo seemed to be slyly, faintly aware of as he sets his epic's climax the failed revolution of June 1832. Much like Baudelaire or Flaubert, I appreciate Hugo's attempts to highlight social problems, but find his crude sentimentality and aestheticizing to be misguided.
And thus enter Schönberg and company. The novel has proven a popular source for adaptations, but I have not seen or heard any of these other versions, and my familiarity with Hugo's material has been second-hand exposure to Les Miz through friends and a high school production of the score's "highlights" (a term I use loosely). I remember four songs: "Castle on a Cloud", "Master of the House", "Do You Hear the People Sing" and, of course, the power-ballad "I Dreamed a Dream".
I don't want to spend too much time analyzing the score, as there really isn't much to say about it. Let's all admit something: it's mostly forgettable. Kretzmer's English lyrics are an endless surge of rhyming couplets and recitative, bludgeoning the audience with easily digestible narrative cues and nary a clever phrase. How many of the songs end with a ringing final note, Jackman or Crowe or whomever belting out the piece's final lyric as if it's the most significant existential cry or a perfect encapsulation of the song's Theme? These criticisms have surrounded the musical for years, with most critics regarding the show as middle-brow popera.
As a film theorist, my problems with the movie are with its technique and its ideology. Much has been made in the popular press about Les Misérables' supposedly groundbreaking technique of live-set recording. It's a neat trick, I guess... that's been done before. (Notably, Bogdanovich's At Long Last Love from 1975 with Cybill Shepherd and Burt Reynolds, of all people.) And what are we supposed to take away from this stunt? A more raw emotional performance, as if the practice of dubbing isn't done in virtually every other film made since the 30s? Sorry, I don't buy it. I didn't get anything more out of Hathaway's performance if she had recorded her vocals afterwards. And maybe if they hadn't made such a fuss around this technique, they wouldn't have thought twice about re-recording Russell Crowe's vocals, which are often off-key, restrained and sound as if he's daydreaming. Big mistake.
Oh, but it's more "realistic" that Seyfried's sky-high notes are a bit strained, that Hathaway catches a few notes in her throat as she cries, or that Jackman occasionally falters? I see.
So what? Why are we so obsessed with pseudo-realism?
If the filmmakers were so keen on realism, why the shunning of deep focus? The rapid-style editing, which is as far away from DeSica as possible? The bombastic camera swoops through obviously-CGI Paris streets and ships? Hooper's auteurist stamps of canted and expressionist ultra-high angles? Realism and the musical form are often uncomfortable bedfellows, with the successful examples I can think of being those whose goals are near-Brechtian irony, or at the very least, some sort of edge. Pennies From Heaven or New York, New York blend gritty noir and some realist touches to create biting, jarring films that leave the audience deeply uncomfortable, and A Star is Born or West Side Story aim for touches of pathos amongst their beautiful, jazzy numbers. Les Misérables is utterly without edge, and any possible prickly bits are sanded down with bombast. Everything is ramped up to the highest level of superficial emotion, with only the Thénardiers (Helen Bonham-Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen) appearing as the requisite "comic relief". But the Thénardiers seem to have dropped in from a different movie (a French Sweeney Todd through kabuki) and just don't blend in with the attempts at realism and, in fact, are a jarring trumpet blast announcing realist failure. They also serve to remind us just how lacking in any humour the rest of the film is, which takes itself much too seriously.
And I'm not sure where to fit this, but one scene really struck me as gratuitous and... ugh. I speak of the romanticizing of shit. You know what I'm talking about it. The scene could have been filmed without this wonderful element, but instead we witness our characters swimming in it, emerging from the water with their faces caked in it, probably having swallowed some of it. I couldn't help but be reminded of Salo at this point. The petty bourgeoisies savour their meal of shit, just as we are supposed to watch this scene and gush "Oh, how horrid!"
"The misery! How delightful!"
I understand melodrama. I often crave the purging elements the form offers. But Les Misérables offers too much, and seems to be primarily designed --nay, constructed-- to be a big sob-fest. Instead of being sucked into its emotional sway, I found myself chortling. Rolling my eyes. Staring at audience members who were duped into becoming blubbering messes. And I'm the kind of person that will gleefully gasp, coo and "aww" at the most cliché-ridden Bollywood epic. Perhaps it's that Les Misérables tries too hard in its attempts to be "about something", its underlining of Hugo's Christian elements, and its hammer-blow emotional subtlety. Marius and his fellow young, idealistic men seem to me as sharing the same goals of the film: full of hopeful ideas, and relying on rousing people's superficial emotions to get them to join in the choir.
But who are these people, and why should I care? The eponymous "miserables" are archetypes drowning in period gear and slathered with mud. They don't strike me as real people. And as for the rest of the revolving-door cast, we have Éponine, played by Samantha Barks, as the insufferable child who somehow grows into a self-sacrificial lamb, for no apparent reason other than her capital-L love for freckled Eddie Redmayne's Marius. Some annoying blonde, blue-eyed boy whose name I don't think was even mentioned, foolishly playing with the big boys. Hathaway's Fantine, a hyperbolic martyr figure, is only in the first act. Valjean is just pathetic, Javert is too one-note in his conviction (WHY is he so obsessed with capturing Valjean, other than to be a representation of The Law?), and I've just stopped caring to continue or bother editing this more.
Oh, and Russell Crowe.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Point Form Review: "Rust and Bone"
Rust and Bone (Jacques Audiard, 2012)
Most attention has been given to Marion Cotillard's magnificent performance, and for good reason: it's quite the feat of acting. But much has also been written about its meandering narrative, and usually in the negative -- which I must disagree with. Here are my quickly typed out notes immediately after the film, with some expansion.
-Chilly realism, beautifully shot: highlights include the movements of humans, water and whales in the bravura MarineLand sequence; sunlight dappling off of the reflective surface of water and through trees above; the multitude of shots of the body in action.
-Audiard is not so much interested in telling tightly scripted narratives as he is in a pseudo-realist mode of the quiet moments of everyday life interspersed with crunching violence; while it may seem stretched out for some audiences, those that are game will find beauty and depth. The film is unsentimentally understanding of its broken characters, and manages to find romance even as it avoids, and even shuns, romanticism.
-Audiard's cinema is a physical one, something we also experienced with the brutality of Un prophète. Here, we find a film preoccupied with physical exertion: blood, skin, sensation, sights and sounds, muscle and bones crunching, bloodied surfaces of snow, ice and glass, bubbling bloody spit, bloody water, broken skin from punches and thrown champagne glasses, a tooth falling to the ground. It is a film that attempts to capture the desire to feel, touch, dance and move: swimming, boxing, fucking. We simultaneously see the commodification of the body in contemporary France, as security cameras capture forbidden movements and actions of employees, whose menial jobs in chain stores are utterly without meaningful physical sensation or even exertion, or as with Stephanie's career as a marine animal trainer, the choreography of bodies (both animal and human) becomes a tacky spectacle set to Katy Perry. Ali, when he first meets Stephanie at the dance club the Annex, says that she dresses like a whore and doesn't quite understand her desire to simply go to the bar and dance. But Ali is generally indifferent to the gravity of his physicality: sex is the fleeting pleasure of one night stands, fighting a cheap way to spend excess energy and get quick money.
-I disliked the choices of music, but am unsure whether or not the selection of bland pop and boring, misty-eyed indie twee was a conscious decision or not.
-Matthias Schoenaerts' performance has been unfairly ignored, shadowed by the behemoth of Cotillard's international celebrity. His Ali is a complex mixture of goofy man-child sympathy and near-antagonistic imperfections, a bubbling concoction of masculine violence and attempts at fatherly responsibility. Audiard doesn't try to make his lead character likeable in any conventional sense, as Ali stumbles in his journey. Like most men, he makes mistakes, finds his temper flare and lets his immediate desires occasionally take over: but Cotillard's Stephanie isn't the magical saviour of grace and angelic perfection that most narratives would have her be, either. She struggles with depression and has her own flares of anger -- but nevertheless is a strong woman. Their chemistry is undeniable even as it's imperfect, and the scenes of Ali carrying Stephanie to and from the sea are some of the most beautiful and rousing images captured on camera in 2012.
Most attention has been given to Marion Cotillard's magnificent performance, and for good reason: it's quite the feat of acting. But much has also been written about its meandering narrative, and usually in the negative -- which I must disagree with. Here are my quickly typed out notes immediately after the film, with some expansion.
-Chilly realism, beautifully shot: highlights include the movements of humans, water and whales in the bravura MarineLand sequence; sunlight dappling off of the reflective surface of water and through trees above; the multitude of shots of the body in action.
-Audiard is not so much interested in telling tightly scripted narratives as he is in a pseudo-realist mode of the quiet moments of everyday life interspersed with crunching violence; while it may seem stretched out for some audiences, those that are game will find beauty and depth. The film is unsentimentally understanding of its broken characters, and manages to find romance even as it avoids, and even shuns, romanticism.
-Audiard's cinema is a physical one, something we also experienced with the brutality of Un prophète. Here, we find a film preoccupied with physical exertion: blood, skin, sensation, sights and sounds, muscle and bones crunching, bloodied surfaces of snow, ice and glass, bubbling bloody spit, bloody water, broken skin from punches and thrown champagne glasses, a tooth falling to the ground. It is a film that attempts to capture the desire to feel, touch, dance and move: swimming, boxing, fucking. We simultaneously see the commodification of the body in contemporary France, as security cameras capture forbidden movements and actions of employees, whose menial jobs in chain stores are utterly without meaningful physical sensation or even exertion, or as with Stephanie's career as a marine animal trainer, the choreography of bodies (both animal and human) becomes a tacky spectacle set to Katy Perry. Ali, when he first meets Stephanie at the dance club the Annex, says that she dresses like a whore and doesn't quite understand her desire to simply go to the bar and dance. But Ali is generally indifferent to the gravity of his physicality: sex is the fleeting pleasure of one night stands, fighting a cheap way to spend excess energy and get quick money.
-I disliked the choices of music, but am unsure whether or not the selection of bland pop and boring, misty-eyed indie twee was a conscious decision or not.
-Matthias Schoenaerts' performance has been unfairly ignored, shadowed by the behemoth of Cotillard's international celebrity. His Ali is a complex mixture of goofy man-child sympathy and near-antagonistic imperfections, a bubbling concoction of masculine violence and attempts at fatherly responsibility. Audiard doesn't try to make his lead character likeable in any conventional sense, as Ali stumbles in his journey. Like most men, he makes mistakes, finds his temper flare and lets his immediate desires occasionally take over: but Cotillard's Stephanie isn't the magical saviour of grace and angelic perfection that most narratives would have her be, either. She struggles with depression and has her own flares of anger -- but nevertheless is a strong woman. Their chemistry is undeniable even as it's imperfect, and the scenes of Ali carrying Stephanie to and from the sea are some of the most beautiful and rousing images captured on camera in 2012.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Omega 3 Fatty Acids& Other Supplements
OMEGA THREES!
Yes, we've all heard the vague hype about them. They're good for you. But good for what? Most people, I'd be willing to wager, have no idea. But for me, I'm interested in them for one very good reason: mental health. My doctors, counsellors and group members all praise them and are handing out materials. So I'll give them a shot.
How Much?
Between one and six grams a day of omega-3 fatty acid. But what kind?
There are three kinds of omega-3:
EPA (eicosapentaenoic acid): found in fish, seaweed, and interestingly, purslane (pigweed, hogweed); may be particularly helpful for depression and schizophrenia
DHA (docosahexaenoic acid): synthesized by the body from EPA; seaweed and fish oil also a source
ALA (alpha-Linolenic acid): found in a variety of seed oils (canola, soy, walnut, flax, chia, hemp), purslane and lingonberries; not synthesized by the body, must be consumed; this is the one that is probably the most important for those using omega-3s for depression and bipolar.
So I am particularly interested in a supplement that has both EPA and ALA. But another important thing to think about is the ratio of Omega-3 and Omega-6, which is a common fatty acid. Apparently, omega-3 is the particularly 'good' fat, while omega-6 is 'not-so-good'. So, one needs to be somewhat conscious of the ratio between omega-3 and omega-6 one is consuming.
The simplest way of thinking of this is to increase your intake of omega-3, and decrease your intake of omega-6. Using this link on Wikipedia, we can arrange some common cooking oils according to their ratio of omega-6 to omega-3:
Canola 2:1
Soybean 7:1
Olive 3-13:1
Corn 46:1
Sunflower (no 3)
Peanut (no 3)
In comparsion, flaxseed oil has a ratio of 1:2. So I may be switching to canola oil as my 'bland cooking oil' of choice instead of sunflower or peanut, and I'll continue to use copious amounts of olive oil -- because, frankly, none of them are particularly high in omega-3, and I love me some olive oil. I'll just take a supplement for my omega-3 and not worry about using the right kind of vegetable oil. (As an aside, I've recently been using sunflower oil instead of peanut oil for my Chinese cooking, just to give it a try. It's not as good as the peanut!)
Sources of Omega-3
Fish oil
Mostly a source of EPA and DHA.
Flaxseed Oil
Also known as linseed oil. For those artists out there, yes, this is the same stuff used in oil painting! Artists will also know that this stuff also goes rancid fairly quickly, and only lasts a few weeks in the refrigerator. Flaxseed oil is source of ALA, which the body converts into EPA and DHA -- but according to the University of Maryland Medical Centre, the body is not very efficient converting ALA into EPA and DHA.
One tablespoon is the equivalent of around 7 grams of ALA; the recommended dose for adults is between one and two tablespoons.
Oily Fish (per 3oz, 85g serving)
Mostly a source of EPA and DHA.The best selections are herring, sardines, salmon, mackerel and halibut. Using this handy chart from Wikipedia, we find that in a 3 oz (85 g) serving of fish, the following amounts (in grams) are found:
Herring, sardines, 1.3-2
Salmon: 1.1-1.9
Mackerel: 1.1-1.7
Swordfish 0.97
Halibut 0.60–1.12
Flounder 0.48
Pollock 0.45
Blue eye cod 0.31[79]
Red snapper 0.29
Tuna, canned 0.23[79]
Grouper 0.23
Catfish 0.22–0.3
Snapper 0.22[79]
Tuna 0.21–1.1
Cod 0.15–0.24
Mahi mahi 0.13
Ground Flaxseed
Unlike the oil, contains lignans, a type of antioxidant phytoestrogen.
Chia Seeds
A source of ALA.
Hemp Seeds
3:1 ratio of omega-3 to omega-6.
Perilla Oil
High source of ALA, 5:1 ratio of omega-3 to omega-6.
Algae
Crypthecodinium cohnii, source of DHA
Brown algae (kelp), source of EPA
Other Mood Supplements
Vitamin D
The "sunshine vitamin", particularly important for bones and calcium regulation, is also thought to help with mood, particularly in areas of the world with winter. (The 'winter blues' is thought by some to be the result of a lack of sun exposure, and thus Vitamin D.) Fish and mushrooms are particularly high sources of Vitamin D in food. I'll be taking a supplement of between 1000 and 2000 IU and see what happens.
L-theanine
Found in green tea, this amino acid shows some promise for the treatment of anxiety, as well as some for increased focus and attention. Suggested doses vary, usually between 50-100 mg, but some as high as 200mg -- the higher end being for anxiety, the lower for focus. Interestingly, one of the apparent effects is an increased production of dopamine, the pleasure hormone.
Passionflower
Shows some experimental promise for the treatment of anxiety. Unproven for use with nervous stomach. (Also used in narcotic drug withdrawal, and adjustment disorder.) 90 mg/day is suggested, but there are also some potential ramifications with using passionflower along with anti-depressants or mood stabilizers. I'll be asking my doctor for her opinion.
So off I go to the pharmacy and a few health stores to pick up some omega-3 supplements, Vitamin D, L-theanine and some ground flax and chia seeds. Woo-hoo!
Yes, we've all heard the vague hype about them. They're good for you. But good for what? Most people, I'd be willing to wager, have no idea. But for me, I'm interested in them for one very good reason: mental health. My doctors, counsellors and group members all praise them and are handing out materials. So I'll give them a shot.
How Much?
Between one and six grams a day of omega-3 fatty acid. But what kind?
There are three kinds of omega-3:
EPA (eicosapentaenoic acid): found in fish, seaweed, and interestingly, purslane (pigweed, hogweed); may be particularly helpful for depression and schizophrenia
DHA (docosahexaenoic acid): synthesized by the body from EPA; seaweed and fish oil also a source
ALA (alpha-Linolenic acid): found in a variety of seed oils (canola, soy, walnut, flax, chia, hemp), purslane and lingonberries; not synthesized by the body, must be consumed; this is the one that is probably the most important for those using omega-3s for depression and bipolar.
So I am particularly interested in a supplement that has both EPA and ALA. But another important thing to think about is the ratio of Omega-3 and Omega-6, which is a common fatty acid. Apparently, omega-3 is the particularly 'good' fat, while omega-6 is 'not-so-good'. So, one needs to be somewhat conscious of the ratio between omega-3 and omega-6 one is consuming.
The simplest way of thinking of this is to increase your intake of omega-3, and decrease your intake of omega-6. Using this link on Wikipedia, we can arrange some common cooking oils according to their ratio of omega-6 to omega-3:
Canola 2:1
Soybean 7:1
Olive 3-13:1
Corn 46:1
Sunflower (no 3)
Peanut (no 3)
In comparsion, flaxseed oil has a ratio of 1:2. So I may be switching to canola oil as my 'bland cooking oil' of choice instead of sunflower or peanut, and I'll continue to use copious amounts of olive oil -- because, frankly, none of them are particularly high in omega-3, and I love me some olive oil. I'll just take a supplement for my omega-3 and not worry about using the right kind of vegetable oil. (As an aside, I've recently been using sunflower oil instead of peanut oil for my Chinese cooking, just to give it a try. It's not as good as the peanut!)
Sources of Omega-3
Fish oil
Mostly a source of EPA and DHA.
Flaxseed Oil
Also known as linseed oil. For those artists out there, yes, this is the same stuff used in oil painting! Artists will also know that this stuff also goes rancid fairly quickly, and only lasts a few weeks in the refrigerator. Flaxseed oil is source of ALA, which the body converts into EPA and DHA -- but according to the University of Maryland Medical Centre, the body is not very efficient converting ALA into EPA and DHA.
One tablespoon is the equivalent of around 7 grams of ALA; the recommended dose for adults is between one and two tablespoons.
Oily Fish (per 3oz, 85g serving)
Mostly a source of EPA and DHA.The best selections are herring, sardines, salmon, mackerel and halibut. Using this handy chart from Wikipedia, we find that in a 3 oz (85 g) serving of fish, the following amounts (in grams) are found:
Herring, sardines, 1.3-2
Salmon: 1.1-1.9
Mackerel: 1.1-1.7
Swordfish 0.97
Halibut 0.60–1.12
Flounder 0.48
Pollock 0.45
Blue eye cod 0.31[79]
Red snapper 0.29
Tuna, canned 0.23[79]
Grouper 0.23
Catfish 0.22–0.3
Snapper 0.22[79]
Tuna 0.21–1.1
Cod 0.15–0.24
Mahi mahi 0.13
Ground Flaxseed
Unlike the oil, contains lignans, a type of antioxidant phytoestrogen.
Chia Seeds
A source of ALA.
Hemp Seeds
3:1 ratio of omega-3 to omega-6.
Perilla Oil
High source of ALA, 5:1 ratio of omega-3 to omega-6.
Algae
Crypthecodinium cohnii, source of DHA
Brown algae (kelp), source of EPA
Other Mood Supplements
Vitamin D
The "sunshine vitamin", particularly important for bones and calcium regulation, is also thought to help with mood, particularly in areas of the world with winter. (The 'winter blues' is thought by some to be the result of a lack of sun exposure, and thus Vitamin D.) Fish and mushrooms are particularly high sources of Vitamin D in food. I'll be taking a supplement of between 1000 and 2000 IU and see what happens.
L-theanine
Found in green tea, this amino acid shows some promise for the treatment of anxiety, as well as some for increased focus and attention. Suggested doses vary, usually between 50-100 mg, but some as high as 200mg -- the higher end being for anxiety, the lower for focus. Interestingly, one of the apparent effects is an increased production of dopamine, the pleasure hormone.
Passionflower
Shows some experimental promise for the treatment of anxiety. Unproven for use with nervous stomach. (Also used in narcotic drug withdrawal, and adjustment disorder.) 90 mg/day is suggested, but there are also some potential ramifications with using passionflower along with anti-depressants or mood stabilizers. I'll be asking my doctor for her opinion.
So off I go to the pharmacy and a few health stores to pick up some omega-3 supplements, Vitamin D, L-theanine and some ground flax and chia seeds. Woo-hoo!
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Cathedra
Cathedra, Barnett Newman, 1951
This was his second act of vandalism against a Newman: in 1986, he slashed with a blade Newman’s first Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue? canvas, bizarrely ranting against Jews, the Japanese, flatness in art, both abstraction and realism, and apparent plans for “a new Holocaust”. The restored Cathedra was put on display in 2002 — this time, behind plexiglass.
You can read about this case over at Art Crimes.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
"Here is What Happens When You Cast Lindsay Lohan in Your Movie"
The dynamic between Scrader, Lohan, Pope, Ellis and Deen is fascinating.
We have Scrader, the talented screenwriter-turned mediocre director.
Lohan, the actress who lives in a world of no common sense.
Pope, trying to keep things together.
Ellis, a wretched, disgusting stain of a human being that is also immensely talented in his nihilistic vision.
Deen, the guy next door that has no business being in the Biz.
Lots of bad decisions, questionable aesthetic choices, the gritty details of a microbudget that wants to look expensive. The collision of what Hollywood thinks is gritty, the po-faced blandness of contemporary noir, the sun-bleached plasticity of Los Angeles, and lots of broken careers trying to make themselves 'relevant' again -- and how poor their ideas of relevance are.
The dynamic between Scrader, Lohan, Pope, Ellis and Deen is fascinating.
We have Scrader, the talented screenwriter-turned mediocre director.
Lohan, the actress who lives in a world of no common sense.
Pope, trying to keep things together.
Ellis, a wretched, disgusting stain of a human being that is also immensely talented in his nihilistic vision.
Deen, the guy next door that has no business being in the Biz.
Lots of bad decisions, questionable aesthetic choices, the gritty details of a microbudget that wants to look expensive. The collision of what Hollywood thinks is gritty, the po-faced blandness of contemporary noir, the sun-bleached plasticity of Los Angeles, and lots of broken careers trying to make themselves 'relevant' again -- and how poor their ideas of relevance are.
Friday, January 11, 2013
"Der Mussolini"
"Der Mussolini" by D.A.F. (Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft)
I quite like this song. It’s grim, straightforward dance-pop with a simple synth bassline that doubles as the main melody. “Dance the Mussolini” is just a phrase that rolls off the tongue - if you didn’t know it, you’d think it was just another silly dance name à la “The Macarena”. It’s sarcastic aloofness that’s very nearly gone too far, and purposely so. How many young Germans at the time still thought that Hitler was primarily responsible for the Autobahn? And now thirty years later, how many contemporary Westerners don’t quite know who that Mussolini guy was? Doesn't "den Kommunismus" sound like an awesome version of the Charleston? And how comfortable are you simply doing what the voice over the speakers is telling you to do?
Geht in die knie (Get up)
Und klatscht in die hände (Clap your hands)
Beweg deine hüften (Move your hips)
Und tanz den Mussolini (And dance the Mussolini)
Tanz den Mussolini (Dance the Mussolini)
Dreh dich nacho rechts (Turn to the right)
Und klatsch in die hände (And clap your hands)
Und mach den Adolf Hitler (And carry the Adolf Hitler)
Und jetzt den Mussolini (And now the Mussolini)
Beweg deinen hintern (Move your ass)
Klatscht in die hände (Clap your hands)
Tanz den Jesus Christus (Dance the Jesus Christ)
Geh in die knie (Get up)
Und dreh dich nach rechts (Spin to the right)
Und dreh dich nach links (Spin to the left)
Klatsch in die hände (Clap your hands)
Und tanzt den Adolf Hitler (And dance the Adolf Hitler)
Und tanzt den Mussolini (And dance the Mussolini)
Und jetzt den Jesus Christus (And now the Jesus Christ)
Klatscht in die hände (Clap your hands)
Und tanz den Kommunismus (And dance the Communism)
Und jetzt den Mussolini (And now the Mussolini)
Und jetzt nach rechts (And now to the right)
Und jetzt nach links (And now to the left)
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