"IN THE HEAT OF THE (VOTING) RIGHTS" STARRING THE SUPREME COURT.

It’s been a while since men in long robes came to the aid of a struggling South. Who would have thought that - in 2013 - the Supreme Court would take on that role? That is, the Supreme Court as a group.

On Tuesday, June 25, The Supreme Court gutted the Voting Right Act of 1965, allowing nine states, mostly Southern, to change their election laws without federal approval. The vote was 5-4, splitting along idealogical lines with the conservative wing of the Court prevailing. Writing for the majority, Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. claims, “Our country has changed. While any racial discrimination in voting is too much, Congress must ensure that the legislation it passes to remedy that problem speaks to current conditions.”

         The true and only purpose for invalidating the Voting Rights of 1965 is to allow discrimination against minority voters. Any doubt was removed two hours after the decision was made public when the State of Texas announced it would immediately commence both redistricting – that is, gerrymandering - and a strict voter I.D. program. Now, thanks to the Supreme Court, Texas will have a wall around the ballot box as well as along the border with Mexico.

Not only is the Court’s attempt at justifying discrimination a lie, it’s not even a good lie. Witness the quote above. What Chief Justice Roberts says is that a law that’s outlived its usefulness is worse than voter discrimination. Compare it with an exactly parallel construction used by schoolgirls around the world: “She’s sweet, but she’s slept with the whole football team.” Even if it was a good lie, it would have been contradicted the very next day when Chief Justice Roberts voted against striking down the Defense of Marriage Act – a law clearly out of touch with the current conditions in a changing country.

         What are those current conditions, anyway? Where is the evidence that voter discrimination no longer exists in the South? Opponents of the voting rights law are quick to point out the abundance of black officials at every level of government - including President Obama. All of whom must have been elected by black people. What else could explain it? A white person wouldn’t vote for a black candidate, would they?

         By working hand-in-hand with the kind of dressed-up Snopeses that clutter Southern legislatures, the Supreme Court is helping renew the conditions that made the Voting Rights Act necessary in the first place. They might as well erect a statue to Robert Shelton on The Mall, right next to the one of Martin Luther King Jr. Who is Robert Shelton? He was Imperial Wizard back in the days before Harry Potter, when the title inspired more shock than awe.

SUPREME COURT TAKES TWO STEPS DOWN THE AISLE.

          The Supreme Court ruled today (6/26) that married same-sex couples were entitled to federal benefits and, by refusing to hear a case from California, effectively sanctioned same-sex marriages there. The decision was 5-4 with Justice Anthony M. Kennedy writing the majority opinion. The Defense of Marriage Act, he wrote, was invalid because it injured and disparaged same-sex couples, thereby denying them equal protection under marriage law and violating the Fifth Amendment. The court’s four liberal-leaning justices joined him in this courageous and far-reaching decision.

         DOMA is the legacy of President Bill Clinton and was signed into law by him in 1996. What he was thinking at the time is anyone’s guess, but a good guess would be political compromise. As a centrist mistaken for a liberal and acting like a conservative, he came as close as any President to pleasing everyone or, as Abraham Lincoln put it, fooling all the people all the time. So, throwing gays and lesbians under the bus for some imagined future gain would be just his cup of bacon fat. Also, it must be said that - as an individual - Bill Clinton never acted as if defense of marriage was a high priority.

         The Supreme Court’s second decision - actually, non-decision - about gay rights concerned an attempt to overturn an Appellate Court reversal of California’s ban on same-sex marriage. By refusing to hear the case, the appellate decision remains in effect, removing any legal obstacles to same-sex marriage in California. It’s tempting, of course, to read into the court's refusal. Does it mean tacit approval of the appellate ruling, was the case rejected on a technicality or is it their way of saying, “Hey, it’s Summer! We want to get on the links at Augusta.”

         Perhaps the most surprising aspect of both rulings is how rarely we expect wisdom from the Supreme Court and how shocked we are when justice is served by people called Justices.

Bush and Marshall: Twilight Double-Header

Two figures from the recent past command our attention again: George W. Bush and Anthony Marshall. On April 25, 2013, the 43rd President stepped from the shadows to dedicate his official Presidential library in Dallas. Anthony Marshall, eighty-nine-year-old son of famed heiress and philanthropist, Brooke Astor, having exhausted all appeals of his 2009 conviction for mulcting his mother out of millions while she was addled from Alzheimer’s, reports to jail this Friday to begin serving a one-to-three year sentence. The following are a repeat of our 2009 visit with George W. and Laura Bush and an update on Anthony Marshall.

          BUSH ON A HOT TIN ROOF.

A brisk, October morning in 2009. George and Laura Bush sit on the covered terrace of their house in the exclusive Preston Hollow neighborhood of North Dallas. Laura wears a dressing gown over tailored silk pajamas and drinks tea out of a silver service. George wears a knee-length Texas Rangers jersey. For breakfast, he’s having an RC and a moon pie.

GEORGE

Damn. That guy gets everything.

LAURA

Who, George?

GEORGE

Obama. He just got the Nobel Peace Prize.

LAURA

Are you sure?

GEORGE

They just announced it.

LAURA

But he hasn’t done anything.

GEORGE

Exactly. I’m President for eight years and what do I get?

LAURA

Did you want the Nobel Prize?

GEORGE

No, but a little recognition would be nice.

LAURA

We came here so we wouldn’t be recognized - by the wrong people.

GEORGE

You make it sound like we’re hiding.

LAURA

Relaxing.

GEORGE

It’s hard to relax when you’re humiliated on a worldwide scale.

LAURA

Don’t take it so personally.

GEORGE

It has to be personal. First, Gore gets it. Then, the very next one goes to Obama. They don’t even wait eight years. They want to make it very clear that George W.  isn’t getting one. 

LAURA

If you wanted a Nobel Prize, you should have started a long time ago.

GEORGE

I’m not making claims, but a little thanks – is that so bad?  A thank you for being President.

LAURA

I keep telling you, George, don’t expect to be thanked. Just be wonderfully surprised when it happens.

GEORGE

I’ll be surprised all right.

LAURA

Try to relax, dear – and don’t do anything foolish.

GEORGE

You mean go off the wagon?

LAURA

Yes.

GEORGE

It’s tempting.

     LAURA

Don’t give in. 

GEORGE

Sometimes I really miss drinking.

LAURA

Giving up drinking is the best thing you’ve ever done.

    GEORGE

Huh?

LAURA

In a personal way. That and giving up drugs.

GEORGE

I always miss them. Just as well, though. Being President would have killed me if I was snorting. Three days would have done it.

LAURA

And I would regret that.

GEORGE

Really?

LAURA

Deeply and forever.

GEORGE

Sometimes I don’t think so.

LAURA

What on earth could you mean?

GEORGE

You’ve been very critical since I left office. Not always directly, but in subtle ways.

LAURA

I’ve been honest with you, George. You should appreciate that. I can finally say what I think without worrying about protecting your image. 

GEORGE

A little protection is okay.  I could stand you protecting me. 

LAURA

I protect my memory of you – and that isn’t easy.

GEORGE

I know I’m going to regret this (He steadies himself by grabbing the table)

Why not?

LAURA

I remember when you were young, hot and a little dangerous.

GEORGE

(Breathes deeply and squares his shoulders) And now?

LAURA

I shouldn’t say.

GEORGE

You can’t stop now. The horse has left the station.

LAURA

Now, you’re old, cold and only dangerous when you use power tools.

GEORGE

Thanks a goddamned bunch, Laura. That really makes my morning. Thanks a whole lot. That really puts a cherry on it.

                    (George gets up to leave)

LAURA

Where are you going?

GEORGE

To clear some brush.

LAURA

We’re in Dallas, we don’t have brush.

GEORGE

Then I’m going to Crawford.

LAURA

George!

GEORGE

Don’t go? You take it all back and want me to stay?

LAURA

No, don’t use power tools.

(George shakes his head and mutters as he leaves.)

GEORGE

Of all the goddamned mornings.

______________________________________________________

              

              THE MARSHALL FALCON.

A sultry, June morning in 2013. Anthony Marshall, 89, and his wife, Charlene, 68, stand facing each other in the parlor of their seventeen-room Park Avenue duplex. The atmosphere is so thick with depression that even the electric fan is shaking its head “no.” Mr. Marshall has spent the last seven years fighting his arrest and appealing his conviction on eighteen counts of Grand Larceny and Conspiracy to Defraud. He plundered the estate of his mother, 105-year-old heiress and philanthropist, Brooke Astor, while she was helpless from Alzheimer’s disease. In three days, he must report to prison to begin serving his one-to-three year sentence. With his drooping eyes and sagging jowls, Marshal looks like a bloodhound in a bespoke suit. Charlene, the blond limpet he married in 1992, looks like Liz Smith from hell.

CHARLENE

If you get a good break, you’ll be out of Tehachapi in a couple of years.

ANTHONY

Where?

CHARLENE

Tehachapi.

ANTHONY

Is that near Kykuit?

CHARLENE

I hope they don’t hang you, precious, by that sweet neck.

ANTHONY

This wasn’t a capital crime. The only hanging I’ll be doing is around.

CHARLENE

The chances are you’ll serve the full sentence. If you’re a good boy, you’ll get out in less. I can’t wait that long.

ANTHONY

Don’t, Charlene. Don’t say that even in fun. I was frightened for a minute. I really thought . . . You do such wild and unpredictable things.

CHARLENE

You’re taking the fall - and I’m taking a vacation. Liposuction here, botox there and Charlene’s got her groove back.

ANTHONY

You’ve been playing with me . . . You didn’t care at all. You don’t love me.

CHARLENE

I won’t play the sap for you.

ANTHONY

You know in your heart, In spite of everything I’ve done, I love you.

CHARLENE

I don’t care who loves who. I won’t play the sap. I won’t follow in Morrissey’s and I don’t know how many others’ footsteps.

ANTHONY

Morrissey was our lawyer. He followed in our footsteps.

CHARLENE

You robbed your mother and you’re going over for it.  

ANTHONY

It was your idea!

CHARLENE

This won’t do any good. You’ll never understand me, but I’ll try once and then give up. I was already old when I met you. Now, I’m over the hill. My chances of finding another husband are slim to none. I can’t waste any of them waiting for you.

ANTHONY

But I won’t last in prison. You know that. Not even a year.

CHARLENE

Your mother lived to be one hundred and five under worse conditions.

ANTHONY

The conditions were your idea.

CHARLENE

The only reason I should wait is maybe you love me and maybe I love you.

ANTHONY

You know whether you love me or not. 

CHARLENE

Maybe I do. I’ll have some rotten nights after they send you up the river, but that’ll pass.

ANTHONY

If my mother had died when she should have, thirty years ago, would you still feel this way?

CHARLENE

A lot more money would have been one more thing on your side of the scales.

(Anthony takes a fireplace poker and plants it in Charlene’s forehead. Then pours himself five fingers of 100-year old cognac, drinks and calls his new lawyer. Morrissey,unfortunately, will be joining him in jail.)

HE'S A POOR LUHRMANN WHO HAS LOST HIS WAY. BAZ,BAZ, BAZ.

     Our long national nightmare has opened: The Great Gatsby is finally in theaters. As my first two posts on the subject (3/18/12, 4/10/13) note, I have serious doubts about making a film from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel. No longer. Having seen director - and screenwriter – Baz Luhrmann’s recent attempt, I can report that better movies have been made from worse books than The Great Gatsby, but I can’t think of a worse movie that was made from a better one.

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby, isn’t famous for it’s characters or plot, it’s famous in spite of them. The book’s true distinction lies in its gorgeous written style, tragic sensibility and powerful American themes, which get more powerful with time. How do you get a great movie out of such an unlikely – and unpromising – group of qualities? A lot of people bet a lot of money that Baz Luhrmann knew the answer. A lot of people are wrong.

     Mr. Luhrmann’s biggest problem is that he’s faithful to the book. His version has authentically flat characters and an authentically weak plot. The men: Tom Buchanan (JOEL EDGERTON) Nick Carraway (TOBEY MAGUIRE) and Jay Gatsby (LEO DICAPRIO) are, respectively, a macho jerk, a simpering fool and a mysterious figure who’s less than he appears. The women, embodied by Daisy Buchanan (CAREY MULLIGAN) are rich men’s playthings with the depth, but not the abilities, of polo ponies. (Shooting them in 3-D, by the way, doesn’t make these characters less flat – unless your idea of literature was formed by pop-up books.) The plot is some claptrap about seeking the girl of your dreams in Great Neck with a side trip to Queens. Worst of all, Mr. Luhrmann is faithful to the novel’s written style – as written style. A visual solution being, apparently, out of the question, great gouts of Fitzgerald’s language are embalmed in a nearly constant voiceover and some actually appear as words on a page. If that’s not literal enough, words appear on the screen itself. Hmmm. That leaves tragic sensibility and powerful themes, not exactly pillars of American filmmaking. 

     Spoiler alert: Gatsby dies in the end, but it’s not tragic because, like every character in the film, he’s unsympathetic from beginning to end. No one in the film – or the audience – cares if Jay Gatsby dies except for Nick Carraway, who should know better, and the man who kills Gatsby, George Wilson (JASON CLARKE) who’s so dumb, he can’t know better. 

      Perhaps the easiest problem to fix would, at first glance, seem to be the hardest: dealing with themes. That takes a lot of thinking, right? It can – if you’re into literary interpretation – but it’s not necessary. Baz Luhrmann shows us how to do it without any thinking. The idea that Americans worship success in the form of money is splattered throughout this movie. What screams wealth more than a chrome yellow Duesenberg with a lot of chrome, an enormous mansion (with an unsettling resemblance to Hogwarts) and jazz-fueled parties with a thousand dancing, champagne -swilling guests? The only problem is that, like screaming, this visual assault cannot be sustained. It palls after  (I’ll be generous) five minutes. 

     The other theme, the uniquely American ability to re-invent yourself, should have been even easier to render, but Baz bungles it. Doubly ironic since Fitzgerald hands it to him on silver platter. The novel closes with the revelation that, as a child, James Gatz (the main character’s real name) wrote a poignant list of personal goals inside his copy of “Hopalong Cassidy.” It includes, “Rise from bed 6:00 AM, Study electricity, etc. 7:15 AM - 8:15 AM, Practice elocution, poise and how to attain it 5:00 PM - 6:00 PM” and “GENERAL RESOLVES: Read one self-improving book or magazine per week, Save $5.00 (crossed out) $3.00 per week, Be better to parents.”  Not only does it speak to re-invention and the worship of success, but it finds the child in the man, making him sympathetic. What’s more, it expresses the tragedy that should be at the heart of The Great Gatsby: That Gatz/Gatsby’s life ended when he stopped thinking about the future and started becoming obsessed with the past. Sad enough? Not quite. The book is delivered to Nick Carraway by Gatsby’s father, Henry Gatz, who travels from rural Minnesota to New York for his son’s funeral. None of which is in Luhrman’s film.

     Don’t get me wrong. It may be difficult to assemble a great film out of these elements, but it is far from impossible. If you want a movie about a dazzling, mysterious and somewhat louche glamourpuss, who gives great parties, is observed with fascination by her neighbor, a writer, and has her cover blown when a figure from her past - an aging, rural relative – arrives in New York, I give you Breakfast At Tiffany’s (1961) directed by Blake Edwards and based on Truman Capote’s novel. Should you prefer an original screenplay with a more noir-ish, almost ghoulish tone, I refer you to Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard (1950). It’s the story of a fabulously wealthy, glamorous and mysterious silent film star, who lives in a huge mansion, is completely obsessed with the past and pays an enormous price for trying to relive it. Not as big a price, however, as the struggling writer who observes her with fascination and winds up floating face down in her pool because she’s shot him in the back. If you haven’t seen this classic movie, don’t worry. The pool scene is exactly the same one Baz Luhrmann uses at the end of The Great Gatsby, right down to seeing DiCaprio’s face and the journalists ringing the pool as we look up from underwater. 

     Not that this movie is irredeemable. There are, in all fairness, some good things about it. I look great in my Gatsby-inspired, pink linen jacket from Brooks Brothers, my wife loves her Gatsby-esque diamond headpiece with detachable brooch from Tiffany and we both enjoyed our visit to the Gatsby Suite at New York’s Plaza Hotel.

GOOD NEWS FOR NEUROSURGEONS!

And all New York City hospitals with 
underused emergency rooms. New York City's new rent-a-bike program will not provide helmets! According to their web site and the information posted on each new rental kiosk, we are "encouraged" to buy a helmet before using one of their bicycles. They'll even direct us to the nearest store. 

     That's like buying a seatbelt before hailing a cab or buying an airbag before renting a car.

     Good thinking City Council and corporate sponsor, Citibank. That's really using your head.

SANDRA "DENY" O'CONNOR.

     That the U.S. Supreme Court is less than perfect is not news. That its imperfection only goes back twelve years is the scoop that former Justice Sandra Day O'Connor shared with the Chicago Tribune Editorial Board on April 26, 2013. Apparently, it begins with their decision to hear Bush v. Gore.

     According to Andrew Rosenthal in The New York Times (4/29/13) Justice "O'Connor said, "It [The Supreme Court] took the case [Bush v. Gore] and decided it at a time when it was still a big election issue. Maybe the court should have said, 'We're not going to take it goodbye.'" 

     Considering that Albert Gore won the popular vote for President in the 2000 election and George W. Bush was only one vote ahead in the college, I'd say recounting the votes in Florida was a big election issue." Since, by agreeing to hear the case and deciding to stop the recount in Florida, they effectively chose the next President of the United States, maybe they should have said, goodbye.

     But they didn't. "Obviously, the court did reach a decision and thought they had to reach a decision. It turned out the election authorities in Florida hadn't done a real good job there and kind of messed it up. And probably the Supreme Court added to the problem at the end of the day." Overlooking the "aw, shucks" diction (you have to keep things simple for the editorial board of a major urban newspaper) the phrase that screams for attention is, "It turned out." As if, in the fullness of time, certain facts about the Presidential election gradually came to light. Hanging chads, butterfly ballots, yuppie riots and the involvement of Florida's Secretary of State, Katharine Harris, were all known at the time and presented to the Supreme Court with, I'm sure, a good deal of authority by the distinguished attorney, David Boies. That it didn't matter is also well known because five members of the court had already made up their mind. Like the FLorida election authorities and Ms. Harris, they wanted George W. Bush to be President. So, yes, the Supreme Court knew they had a decision to make and they made it (before they were asked!) Yes, the Florida government "hadn't done a real good job there and kind of messed it up. And probably the Supreme Court added to the problem." But, no, no one had to wait until "the end of the day" to find out.

     The result, Justice O'Connor told the board, "stirred up the public" and gave the court a less than perfect reputation." Let's start with the comment about perfection.
By 2001, Justice Clarence Thomas had served for ten years and Justice Antonin Scalia for fifteen. So, the sundae of the court's reputation had lost its cherry a while ago. The last time Justice Thomas spoke was to defame Anita Hill during the approval process for his nomination. Since then, he's been a silent indictment of men, lawyers, justices and any group that, even temporarily, includes him. Justice Scalia is what liberal parents use to scare their children into behaving. "If you aren't good, Justice Scalia will take away your right to have toys." His blunt, aggressive style proves that being street-wise owes more to the street than to wisdom.

     What do you suppose "stirred up the public," Justice O'Connor?  Could it be that five people (the vote was 5-4) subverted the election process and put the candidate of their choice into power. A choice with devastating consequences because, it turned out, George W. Bush was President during 9/11, the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, Hurricane Katrina and the financial crisis. Even more significantly, the Supreme Court put Dick Cheney into power.

     What stirs me up is that because the vote was 5-4, Sandra Day O'Connor cast the deciding vote. Yet, she does not admit her role in the decision, much less recant, regret or apologize. So, why bring up the subject at all?
To sell her memoirs? Between her comments in Chicago and the silent, unsmiling reluctance of her appearance on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, she's not doing herself any favors. Is she trying to get into heaven? You have to confess before you're forgiven and as Andrew Rosenthal says in the Times, Justice O'Connor sets, "some kind of record for detachment and understatement."
If she's trying to blow the whistle without implicating anyone, that's impossible. You can't roll over and play dead. That leaves only one possibility: that Sandra Day O'Connor lives in some spectacular kind of denial as to her own involvement in Bush v. Gore. Can you blame her? 

  

DEAR MARTHA STEWART.

     I read in the New York Post (4/30/12) that you are seeking male companionship. I would like to apply for the, uh, position. According to 

the article by Bob Fredericks, you prefer a man who is “young-ish” and “tall-ish. If you mean that in the way that I’m Jewish and you’re Polish, then I can’t help you. If you mean “in the area” of being young and tall then we’re in luck. “Outdoor-ish?” I’ve been going to Tanglewood for years and I always sit on the lawn - even in the rain. Energetic? Extremely, thank you. As for “really smart” all I can say is, “Vivamos atque amemos.”

You describe yourself as being, “Curious, intelligent, entrepreneurial, hardworking, fun and adventurous.” Congratulations, you’ve just met my first six requirements. Add tall, blonde, shiksa, who knows her way around a bain-marie and you’re a perfect ten. 

Success, you allude, may be an issue. The man of your dreams should be successful, but for his sake, not yours. I understand completely. A lot of men might be intimidated by your wealth and fame. Not me. You could be “Martha Stewart” and I wouldn’t care. The more successful, the better. My own degree of success is another matter. Ask if I’m successful and my answer is, “You mean currently?”

     Enough about us, what about our common interests? “Cooking, Dining out?”  Check. “Fishing/Hunting?” Yes to sharing a sleeping bag and making the earth move, yes to cooking Risotto Milanese over a campfire (I’ll bring the saffron) no to anything involving death. “Museums and art?” I have a full set of dogs playing poker - framed.

I couldn’t help noticing that your pets include, “Birds. Cats. Dogs. Horses. Other.” I like all of them. It     is, however, hard to keep horses in a Manhattan apartment. Not that I haven’t tried.

We seem to have a complete meeting of the minds, but what about the rest of our bodies? You told Matt Lauer (On the “Today” show, I don’t want to start any rumors) “I’d like to have breakfast with somebody. I’d like to go to bed with somebody. Sleep with somebody.” I hate to brag but, if this were a questionaire, I could fill that box completely. 

COOPER OVER A BARREL.

        The Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science and Art,     one of the nation’s finest art and engineering schools, is no longer unique. Starting in fall 2014, Cooper Union, as it’s known, will break a tradition of over one hundred years and start charging tuition. The good news is that the extra income will allow the school to “survive and thrive” according to its president, Dr. Jamshed Bharucha (a name with overtones of Sukkoth, but I doubt it.) The bad news is, well, there’s a lot of bad news.

Imagine the student body you can attract with a college education that is, essentially, free. Now, imagine the kind of faculty that attracts and the level of instruction it permits. Especially if you limit yourself to three subjects: art, architecture and engineering. That’s been the reality of Cooper Union for more than a century. Charging tuition will change all that.

First, the quality of the student body plummets because you are competing with every other college in the nation. A difficult task made harder by being a small, urban school that doesn’t even offer some of the things other schools brag about. Then, standards of faculty and instruction will follow it down like roped-together climbers falling off Mt. Everest.

What happened? How did charging tuition become necessary? You would think that owning the land under The Chrysler Building (among others) would insure a comfortable level of income. It helps. What doesn’t help is borrowing $175 million to invest in Wall Street. In light of the most recent financial crisis, that’s like getting your first package of heroin free or saying, “Grandma, what big ears you have.” 

It’s too late now. What’s done is done. Is there some way to limit the damage? Cooper Union wisely hired   a management consultant to consider the alternatives. Their advice was an across-the-board tuition hike, but only 25% of what constitutes a full scholarship. That way, the school is still an out-sized bargain. What are the chances that the trustees and Dr. Bharucha took that advice? Not a prayer - or barucha in hebrew. The new plan calls for students with means to pay $20,000 a year while needy students pay nothing. I’m sure their goal was to preserve part of Cooper Union’s tuition-free heritage. What they’ve achieved is an arrangement that’s ancien regime in its exploitation. All the students who willingly pay tuition are unwillingly subsidizing the others. That should make for cordial relations. It also gives new meaning to the word, “Upperclassman.”

KILLING PEOPLE WITH PAPER BULLETS.

        Yesterday in Washington, D.C., the only criminal class native to  America went on a rampage. The U.S. Senate voted against expanding background checks to include gun purchases made on-line and at gun shows. They also refused to ban high-capacity ammunition clips and to renew the ban on civilians owning assault rifles. Thus, keeping the flow  of weapons to criminals, terrorists and deranged people open and unimpeded. The vote didn’t follow party or gender lines. Four Democrats crossed the aisle as did four women senators. What’s more, they did it in the presence of their former colleague, Gabrielle Giffords, still suffering from being shot in the head two years ago and the parents of children murdered at Newtown Elementary School four months ago. Mark Twain wrote, “There’s no native American criminal class except Congress.” In their vote yesterday, the U.S. Senate proved both him correct and President Obama, who said, “It’s a pretty shameful day for Washington.” America should recoil in disgust.

Filming the Great Gatsby: A Classic Blunder UPDATE.

         In my blog post of 3/18/12, I mention four reasons why I think film versions of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald are doomed to fail: a stupid plot and weak characters that would embarrass most writers, great American themes that would humble them and a glorious written style that demands an equally glorious visual analog. In the current (May) issue of Town and Country magazine, Francis Ford Coppola adds a fifth reason why the 1974 version starring Robert Redford was so dull, pretentious and completely unmemorable: himself.

         Between filming The Godfather and releasing it, Mr. Coppola needed money and wasn’t sure his mafia movie would succeed. So, he agreed to rewrite (completely) the screenplay for The Great Gatsby. It took him two weeks. It should have taken longer.

The now famous director and screenwriter doesn’t criticize the film, nor does the magazine – although Town and Country does use the wonderfully ambiguous term “resonant” to describe it. In this very short piece, Coppola doesn’t go into detail about anything except what he considers to be his major contribution: adding a dialogue-heavy scene between Gatsby and the woman he idolizes, Daisy Buchanan. I give him credit for realizing something was missing, but dialogue? Okay. As legions of Godfather fans know, Coppola’s dialogue can be pretty good. He didn’t, however, replace it with his own. Instead, he stole it from Fitzgerald’s short stories. I don’t mind stealing, either, but doing it right takes as much time as outright creation and – by his own admission – Coppola was in a rush. So, in his zeal to take the money and run, he overlooks the two biggest reasons why you should never steal dialogue from Fitzgerald’s short stories. First, “Bernice Bobs Her Hair” ain’t knocking Gatsby or Tender is the Night off the shelf. Second, the poetic style that made F. Scott Fitzgerald famous is absent in his dialogue. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good dialogue, but only because it’s faithful to the empty and superficial people he wrote about.

         So many people are involved in making a movie – any movie – that no one bears complete responsibility for the results. Even the list of major contributors is long. Thus, when someone as obviously talented as Francis Ford Coppola claims sole credit for writing the screenplay - creating the very structure - for an inert mass like the 1974 The Great Gatsby, there’s only one thing we can do. Give it to him.

WAR FINDS ANDY HARDY.

NEW YORK, April 2 – As I write this, a state of war might exist between North Korea and the United States. Or it might not. A state of something definitely exists. Maybe. It’s up to a twenty-eight-year-old man who dresses like Mao and looks like he sings soprano in the Vatican choir. It’s up to Kim Jung-un.

            The average man in his late twenties is impulsive enough without having absolute power over twenty-five million people. Give him enough nuclear weapons to blow the Earth off its axis and you can expect some serious acting out. That seems to be the case with the Supreme Leader of North Korea, Kim Jung-un. We can’t be sure, though. Why?

            First, it’s always been difficult, if not impossible, to get news out of North Korea.The only reports that get out are the ones they want you to know. (Although “news” and “reports” may be setting the bar high for something that, on occasion, looks like a cheap video game.) Second, this may be an American thing, but Mr. Kim is not a glad-handing, baby-kissing politician. He doesn’t invite you in. So, it’s very unlikely he’ll reveal anything personal. Finally, I’ll go out on a limb and say that if you reach the age of twenty-eight and still look like a Pyongyang paperboy, you’ve probably been teased all your life. That doesn’t automatically make you a Korean Carrie (Karaoke?)but it’s not a recipe for being wholesome and integrated, either.

            So, how does the U.S. deal with a world leader whose politics go back to the Cold War, but whose appearance conjures up MGM musicals? Are we Betsy Booth (Judy Garland) to his Andy Hardy (Mickey Rooney) or does John Kerry look enough like Judge Hardy (Lewis Stone) to give him wise advice and fatherly guidance? Stay tuned.