Coltrane: The Definitive Visual Celebration of the Legend

 Coltrane: The Definitive Visual Celebration of the Legend by Ravi Coltrane with contributions from Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Wayne Coyne, Dev Hynes, Phil Lesh, Julie Mehretu, Carlos Santana, and Patti Smith

Coltrane book cover

Many thanks to Clarkson Potter/Ten Speed Press and NetGalley for allowing me to preview an advanced copy of the beautiful and thoughtful photographic collection Coltrane: The Definitive Visual Celebration of the Legend. 2026 marks the 100^th birthday of John Coltrane, one of the most significant jazz artists of the 20^th century, and in my opinion, one of the most important American musicians and composers. It’s been exciting to see all of the celebrations of Trane’s life, music, and artistry, and this collection of photographs is a beautiful addition to the celebration. This collection includes nearly 200 pages of intimate, thoughtful, and live photographs spanning Coltrane’s career from the 1950s through the late 1960s, before his untimely death in 1967 at age 40. In addition to the photos, the book also contains several brief essays from different artists and musicians that detail their first encounters with Coltrane, as well as his influence on their own music, art, and lives. Coltrane’s son, Ravi, pens a heartfelt essay to begin the book that details his encounter with his father and his performance at Temple University in a dream. Coltrane did perform at Temple about a year before his death, but Ravi Coltrane was only about a year old at the time. For anyone who has lost a parent, these kinds of dreams of encountering a lost loved one can bring many different emotions, and Ravi explains how important John’s image and music has been in understanding who his father was and shaping his legacy and impact on music and jazz. I really enjoyed this essay, and Ravi’s reflections made me appreciate the photos in the book even more, even those that I’ve seen as album covers and artwork. There are other essays from an eclectic crew including Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Wayne Coyne, Dev Hynes, Phil Lesh, Julie Mehretu, Carlos Santana, and Patti Smith. Even though it seems like this may be a disparate group, they all seem to share the same kind of profound experience of first encountering Trane’s music, and how his music eventually shaped their own music, art, or careers. I especially appreciated the different musicians’ takes on Coltrane’s music and seeing how his evolution of sound encouraged them to take their own creative risks and recognize the spirituality and emotion that can be conveyed through music.

However, the book’s photos are central to conveying another side of John Coltrane, where we are able to visually witness his evolution from sideman to taking some giant steps to an ascension to become one of the key progenitors of avant garde and free jazz. There are some great photos of Coltrane’s time with Dizzy Gillespie’s band as well as his time with Miles Davis. Also included in the 1950s collection are photos from the Blue Train session, Coltrane’s first session as a leader. It’s fascinating to see him both in action, playing the saxophone, as well as the thoughtful, introspective shots probably from in between takes.

My favorite images in the book come from the 1960s, which is also the era of Coltrane’s music that I most enjoy. There’s a great shot of Coltrane at the Guggenheim, which I’ve never seen before. It’s a fascinating shot and communicated his interest in art and modernism- the new thing- that he shepherded through his music. The photos from the 1960s, especially the latter 1960s, feature many Coltrane performances, which often depict him playing as if possessed by some holy spirit, proclaiming a message of peace and consciousness- a love supreme. I also learned that Coltrane played with Wes Montgomery in the early 60s. Although it was never recorded, I would have loved to hear them play together. I love the motion captured in these still images, and how despite the freeze-frame nature of photographs, there’s a continual sense of fluidity and energy that these images portray. There are some powerful images from the A Love Supreme sessions, along with the cover image shot by Bob Thiele, with a note from Alice Coltrane indicating the cover shot. One of the groups of photos that resonated most with me was showing John and Alice collaborating at the piano. I’ve never seen these photos before, but they depict the synthesis of their artistic and spiritual visions for music. These are lovely images of a true artistic marriage. As Andy Beta explores in Cosmic Music: The Life, Art and Transcendence of Alice Coltrane, Alice’s impact on John’s later music was significant, and these pictures help to document this continued evolution to higher spiritual realms. These images also depict that different side of Coltrane, where he’s collaborating and sharing his vision.

This is an amazing collection, and although I previewed the digital version, I can only imagine how lovely the physical copy is. The images are high quality and well-organized in a chronological manner to depict Coltrane’s growth and evolution from sideman to group leader to the spiritual leader who shepherded the avant garde and new sound that revolutionized American jazz and experimental music. Highly recommended! 

 

A Sudden Flicker of Light: Exploring Film's Impact

 A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies by David Thomson 

A Sudden Flicker of Light book cover

Author and film critic David Thomson

Big thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for allowing me to preview David Thomson’s provocative and expansive A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect with this book. While I wasn’t familiar with Thomson’s writing, I’ve learned that he is one of the foremost film critics, authoring over 40 books in a career spanning nearly 60 years. He knows his stuff, and this book is touted as the culmination of all of his knowledge and thoughts about film, both celebrating and critiquing not just the artistry and magic of filmmaking, but also the commerce and industry of Hollywood and the silver screen. However, what I found most interesting was not just examining the trends and history of film, but rather examining how film has influenced individuals and society, and how the kind of imaginary pretense of stories on the screen has ended up influencing people’s expectations and understandings of the world around us. A Sudden Flicker of Light ends up being a fascinating study of the role of popular media on our own ideas and expectations about the world, which challenged my own thinking about my relationship to films, media, and others. I ended up enjoying this book, not only for Thomson’s unique, digressive style that seems to transition from one idea or film to another like a jump cut, establishing an implicit relationship, but also because Thomson’s ideas and critiques about the influence of film and popular media had me questioning and thinking more and more about why we watch films and what impact this has on us. It’s a fascinating look at the history of film, which as the book’s subtitled proclaims, challenges popular notions of films by frequently looking at influential factors, context, trends, and historical events that have influenced not just movie scripts and productions but also viewership and ticket sales.

Although Thomson’s book follows a somewhat historical progression of films, he starts the book focusing on cinematographer and director Haskell Wexler, who is often cited as one of the best cinematographers, but who was also fired from two award winning films in the 70s (The Conversation and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). I wasn’t exactly sure what this brief biography had to do with the rest of the book, but after finishing I can see a few themes emerge from Wexler’s career, especially as he was working with some of the directors who helped shift the Hollywood machine from entertainment to art, revising the ways that we consumed films and movies. As Thomson explains, Wexler was asking a lot of questions, sometimes pulling the actors from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest aside to question the tone of the film, asking whether Milos Foreman was trying to elicit more comedy from a film that could possibly serve as a serious critique of society. This kind of conflict or dichotomy between artistry and themes in films and the need for commerce and audience approval is one of the oppositions that Thomson pursues and analyzes throughout the book. It’s fascinating to think about how Cuckoo’s Nest, an Oscar winner and beloved classic, may have turned out differently if it had sought to lessen the humor and been more serious or morose. Thomson raises some other examples, most notably the ending of Chinatown, which was rewritten to be dourer, which ended up subverting the audiences’ expectations for a happy ending. He also acknowledges the kind of ambiguous ending of Adolescence as another way that audiences are left with questions about the motivation, yet still can remain riveted to the screen based on the artistry of the acting, direction, and relevance of the plot. The discussion of Adolescence and Netflix’s influence on our viewing is also compelling to think about how the approach to home viewing and engaging longer form television has shaped our own consumption of films and movies.

I loved learning more about the history of cinema, and Thomson’s own reflections about how cinema has evolved over time. There’s a lot to learn about, and in particular, the chapter “Like Lightning” that deals with The Birth of a Nation, the first film to be screened at the White House, is fascinating, especially in its demonstration of how film has the power to alter the popular understanding of history and shape or reinforce personal beliefs, biases, and stereotypes. I found this chapter particularly relevant based on the ways that images, video, and other forms of media are often presented to win hearts and minds and challenge perceptions about the nature of the world. Rather than documenting a kind of truth or reflecting historical accuracy, Thomson explores the ways in which film manipulates and alters our emotions and ideas, much the same way that say videos shared of boat attacks or bombings are now shared on social media to drum up support for violent, illegal policies and unpopular attacks on other nations. In fact, Thomson’s last chapter, titled “Quiet, Piggy” raises some important observations and questions about the ways in which President Trump, a big fan of Sunset Boulevard and Gone With the Wind, two other films Thomson analyzes and critiques, has more or less become an actor in his own film, playing a kind of trope and using other motifs like violence, sex, and villainy to sell his film. It’s a fascinating deconstruction that questions how our viewership and voyeurism has shifted from watching what plays out on the screen as a kind of escapism and fantasy to actually enacting the fantasy in real life.

Thomson’s viewership and scholarship is nearly unlimited, but he seems to know a lot about film noir, as one of the chapters significantly focuses on noir. Other chapters focus on other film trends, but sometimes the chapters aren’t completely historical or thematic, and his style moves around a bit. At first, I found these transitions a little hard to follow, but as the book progressed, I appreciated his thinking and linking more and more. At times, Thomson has a kind of conversational style where it’s almost as if he’s sitting in a room sharing all of his ideas and observations that have built up over years of viewership with the reader. At other times, he makes humorous asides and suggestions about films, actors, directors, and themes. I appreciated how critical he was of the need to sustain a commercial audience, and how popular tastes and the Hays Code influenced the earlier film industry. Other chapters on Orson Welles’ brilliance are also fascinating to read to really understand how Citizen Kane both established and in some ways limited Welles’ career. Thomson goes on to examine certain trends in films that emerged in the 1930s throughout the 1970s, noting how world events like the Great Depression, World War II, and the Cold War influenced film themes and tropes, including villains, heroes, the roles of women, and the need for sex and violence in films, even if these ideas are implied more than explicitly stated or displayed. Again, through his insight, Thomson explores how films are more of a window facing inwards, in our own psyches and human nature, rather than a mirror reflecting reality, and often giving us what we may desire or want rather than showing us an objective truth.

A Sudden Flicker of Light is a fascinating read; one that will challenge readers’ understandings and thoughts about film and popular media and how it shapes our own understanding to the world. It’s a book I will need to revisit since there are so many different ideas, but it’s also an important book to consider due to how Thomson raises important questions about our own viewership (or voyeurism) and how the trends and themes films explore have not only altered us on an individual level, but also how they have shifted ideas, attitudes, and beliefs in society. I loved this book and highly recommend it! 

Kaiju Battle in Godzilla: Here There Be Aliens

 Godzilla: Here There Be Aliens by Frank Tieri; artwork by Angel Hernandez

Godzilla: Here There Be Aliens cover

Author Frank Tieri

Artist Angel Hernandez

Great big kaiju thanks to IDW Publishing and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of their latest Godzilla collection Godzilla: Here There Be Aliens by Frank Tieri with artwork by Angel Hernandez. I really enjoyed this story as it represents much of what makes the Godzilla stories so fun and entertaining. Not only does Godzilla work to protect the earth from an alien invasion, but he also teams up with some of his other kaiju friends like Mothra, Jet Jaguar, and Rodan to battle the invading Xiliens, a deceptive group of aliens who have the ability to shape-shift and take on human forms, and have been attempting to take over the world for centuries. However, they’ve upped their intensity to attempt to overtake the world by infiltrating various high-level government and military positions in post WWII America. I loved the historical element of the story in that it features President Eisenhour and other references to real historical individuals and events.

The main story follows Bob, a man who is trying to get pentagon buy in to use Godzilla as a defense weapon for Project Colossus. This project is based on the secret society called The Sons of Giants, whose members included Queen Elizabeth I, Ben Franklin, and Napoleon. These individuals protected the kaiju but also used them for defense and protection as well. Bob is interested in learning more about how this group might work to protect American interests and partner with the Pentagon for American defense; however, his supervisor, Director Stone, doesn’t take him too seriously, until Godzilla is sighted attacking Japan, when Eisenhour has renewed interest in seeking out the kaiju for America’s use. On his way to meet with the President, Bob is kidnapped by another mysterious group led by Dr. Kyoto. Bob finds out that this group is the one actually responsible for Project Colossus, and he also learns about the threat that the Xiliens pose to the inhabitants of Earth. As Bob learns more about Project Colossus and Dr. Kyoto’s role, the Xiliens attack various cities around the world, bringing out the kaiju to help defend major cities like Paris, Mexico City, New York, and Barcelona. Dr. Kyoto sends out Jet Jaguar, the robot kaiju, to battle the Xiliens and Mechagodzilla. Other kaiju like Rodan and Mothra battle evil kaiju helping the Xiliens. It’s a great story featuring kaiju battles in different major cities, all while the Xiliens are trying to take over Earth. It’s a fun and exciting story with some good action and great artwork from Angel Hernandez. I loved that the story also takes place during the original Godzilla time period, but the action happens all over the world. I’m also finding that I really enjoy these longer-form Godzilla stories that unfold over several issues. They allow for more plot to unravel, some characters to develop, and some surprises and tension to build. I’m hoping that IDW continues to create more stories like this that unfold over several issues and also feature a range of characters and kaiju. Highly recommended!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Development of a Unique Artistic American Voice: August Wilson's American Century by Laurence A. Glasco

 August Wilson's American Century: Life as Art by Laurence A. Glasco

August Wilson's American Century book cover

Author and scholar Laurence A. Glasco

Big thanks to The University of Pittsburgh Press and NetGalley for sending me an advanced copy of Laurence A. Glasco’s comprehensive artistic biography of playwright August Wilson titled August Wilson’s American Century: Life as Art. This was an incredible book, especially if you’ve read or watched any of Wilson’s plays. I’ve taught Fences and The Piano Lesson in schools, and students always enjoy the characters, dialogues and conflicts in these plays. I started teaching these plays right around the time of Wilson’s untimely death at age 60. However, there was not a lot of biographical information about Wilson beyond what he shared in interviews. Glasco’s book provides a detailed and well-researched biography of not just Wilson’s life, but also the various influences on his development as a poet and one of America’s most significant playwrights. I absolutely loved this book, and I wished that there was this kind of level of scholarship or detailed background into Wilson’s influences when I was teaching his plays. Nevertheless, it was fascinating to read about his life growing up in Pittsburgh and to recognize some of the references in plays like Fences, Joe Turner’s Come and Gone, and The Piano Lesson to events, individuals, and places in his life and hometown.

In some ways, this book could also be titled Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, as we see how various factors influenced Wilson’s life as a poet and playwright. A majority of the book is spent on his early life, adolescence, and young adulthood, prior to his struggles and emerging fame as a playwright. Glasco identifies how Wilson’s experience growing up as the son of a single African American mother, whose father was white, distant, and married to another woman, emerged in some of his plays. Although Glasco doesn’t explicitly make these connections in his book, I couldn’t help but see how Troy’s relationship with both Cory and Lyons was mirrored in Wilson’s relationship with father and mother. Similarly, Wilson’s stepfather shared similar characteristics with Troy as an ex-felon who tried to create a positive life after his time in prison. Additionally, readers can also see how Wilson’s bi-racial identity impacted his writing and how being a Black playwright in the 1980s and 1990s in particular challenged Wilson’s writing. I found it particularly interesting to read about how the Black Arts Movement eventually made its way from New York and Newark through Amiri Baraka’s appearance in Pittsburgh and influenced Wilson and some of his colleagues. While at times Wilson appeared to be influenced by the Black Nationalism of the Black Arts Movement, it wasn’t a consistent influence on his writing as he also seemed to be influenced by Beat writers as well, which I also found fascinating since I never realized this influence from his plays. I also loved the fact that Glasco included some of Wilson’s poems and provided some biographical analysis of them to better understand their context in relation to Wilson’s life. I have never read any of Wilson’s poems, so this was definitely exciting to read. Furthermore, readers are able to see the growth and development of his writing, from the kind of obscure and abstract modernity to the realism, and how Wilson’s early experiments with poetry, in particular his performances of Dylan Thomas’ poetry in Welsh accent, mirrored his own kind of search for an identity. Readers also learn how this search for a voice and style in his writing and the focus of the Black Arts Movement in drama as a medium to reach a broader audience led him into drama. It’s this kind of questing and Wilson’s observational skills and keen ear that led him to move from the kind of agitprop, political theater that was influenced by writers like Baraka to the everyday language and conversations that are a part of award winning plays like Fences.

August Wilson’s America is more than a biography, and yet it’s also more than a critical study. It’s a careful analysis of the development of a unique, artistic voice in American literature. I loved learning more about Wilson’s life and especially learning more about the references he makes to his life in his plays. This was an incredible book, and it is recommended reading if you are a fan of Wilson’s work. Highly recommended, especially for literature and theater lovers.

 

Exploring the Works of a Master Director: Long Take by Akira Kurosawa

 Long Take by Akira Kurosawa 

(translated by Anne McKnight)

Long Take book cover

Author and director Akira Kurosawa

Many thanks to University of Minnesota Press and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of Long Take, an amazing collection of interviews and reflections by Akira Kurosawa and his daughter, with a clear and fluid translation by Anne McKnight. I actually appreciated McKnight’s description and rationale for her approach to translating words and phrases, while keeping other Japanese terms intact in these interviews. As a fan of Kurosawa’s films, I found this book to be wonderful. I loved hearing from him about his work on films, his approach to stories and direction, and especially learning more about the production and challenges he faced during some of his most iconic works. As McKnight explains in the introduction, the only real words we have from Kurosawa in English are his  autobiography, which was translated and published in America in the early 1980s. This book provides a more detailed focus on not just formative experiences and events that helped shape the career of one of the most famous and celebrated directors of all time, but also gives us further insight into his approach to work and how he sees stories that eventually become cinema. There are conversations and interviews in the beginning of the book that range from 1970 up until 1993, which covers a wide range of Kurosawa’s later work, but where he also discusses his earlier work. Some of the conversations include similar memories and events, so there are some moments of repetition in the book (especially if you read the introduction as well). However, it’s still fascinating to read Kurosawa’s words about his work with actors and extras, and how he viewed film crews as like families. I also loved learning more about how meticulous he was about color, light, and shots, frequently mentioning how challenging it was to capture certain shots at different times of day. In addition to his own work, Kurosawa frequently talks about other directors throughout the book, discussing in particular the influence of John Ford and how he was able to meet John Ford later in the American director’s life. There are some interesting stories that Kurosawa shares.

While I loved reading these discussions and interviews with Kurosawa to learn more about his artistic process and his thoughts about literature and film, some of the best moments are also from his daughter, Kazuko, who includes a farewell essay to her father exploring memories of being on film sets with him. However, the standout for me was her compilation of Kurosawa’s top one hundred films, chronologically arranged. As McKnight noted in the introduction, much of Kurosawa’s autobiography discusses early films that influenced him, particularly from the silent era. This collection includes many films that were made by Kurosawa’s contemporaries and some films from the 70s, 80s, and 90s when Kurosawa’s output had slowed. The list is great to have. He provides some details, often citing other works from these directors that he enjoys, and briefly identifying what factors from the film led to its inclusion on his list. It was really fun to read, and I’m sure that I will revisit this list to find some classics that I haven’t yet watched. Furthermore, reading about his films made me want to revisit some of my favorite Kurosawa films. This is a great book for film fans, and if you are a fan of Kurosawa, then this book is a must read. The interviews are easy and quick reads, yet offer a lot of interesting insights into Kurosawa’s art and work, and McKnight’s translation adds to a smooth and engaging read. Highly recommended!

Considering a Classic: Ready for My Close-Up: The Making of Sunset Boulevard and the Dark Side of the Hollywood Dream by David Lubin

 Ready for My Close-Up: The Making of Sunset Boulevard and the Dark Side of the Hollywood Dream by David Lubin

Ready for My Close-Up book cover

Author David M. Lubin

Major thanks to Grand Central Publishing and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of David Lubin’s excellent and engaging Ready for My Close-Up: The Making of Sunset Boulevard and the Dark Side of the Hollywood Dream. This was a great book that focuses primarily on the making and impact of Sunset Boulevard, a movie that just recently celebrated its 75^th anniversary, but continues to influence movies and popular culture in fascinating ways. I not only enjoyed reading about this book because of the cultural significance of this film, but I also only recently watched Sunset Boulevard for the first time and was amazed at how brisk and relevant the film is. I remember reading somewhere that David Lynch was influenced by Sunset Boulevard, and that attracted my attention. After watching, I can see how this film that challenges traditional narrative techniques and presents a view of the underside of what Lubin sometimes refers to as America’s Dream Factory influenced some of Lynch’s most iconic films. In particular, I was struck by the similarities between Sunset Boulevard and Mulholland Drive, Lynch’s 2001 film about the dark side of Hollywood (also named after a street in Los Angeles). David Lubin, who is a film scholar and professor, not only presents the germination of the film and contextualizes its creation within the history of Hollywood but also presents biographies and career histories for all of those involved Sunset Boulevard. His detailed research into the lives and backgrounds of the writers and stars of this film provided an important context for understanding how Sunset Boulevard performs not just as a noir film classic, but also as a kind of commentary on the Hollywood system and its fickle, ever-changing demands for stars that it sometimes views as disposable and interchangeable. I found the book to be particularly interesting in today’s media landscape with a continued focus on sequels and nostalgia-tinged remakes or updates. Also, there’s been more and more hagsploitation in films, presenting audiences with terror and fear of aging, specifically in older women, which Lubin explores as one of the themes and criticisms of Sunset Boulevard.

Lubin’s book is a page-turner, especially for someone interested in film history and criticism. He presents biographies of the actors involved in the film, and how the two screenwriters, Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, developed a working relationship in Hollywood, despite coming from very different backgrounds. The ideas of stories and messages in films is also integral to Wilder and Brackett’s working relationship as this was something that they questioned was important to films. Nevertheless, Lubin highlights the work that these two collaborated on prior to Sunset Boulevard, which would be there last collaborative effort. Lubin also examines how these two arrived in Hollywood, with Wilder’s journey from Europe and jumping in a pool for money at a Hollywood party shedding some light on potential biographical influences on Sunset Boulevard. Lubin also shares the biography and career of Gloria Swanson, the silent star who was coaxed into inhabiting the role of Norma Desmond, and Erich von Stroheim, whose life and career I also found incredibly interesting. Von Stroheim played Max von Mayerling in the film, who is Norma Desmond’s driver and butler, but was previously an acclaimed director from the silent era, just like von Stroheim’s real-life background. According to Lubin’s research and writing, von Stroheim seemed like a real arrogant but intriguing character, known initially as “the man you love to hate”. I found the character of Max von Mayerling to be equally intriguing, someone who is both dedicated to Desmond, but also feeding her delusions by writing her fictitious fan mail. His character, along with many of the others in the film, have this kind of dual nature where the ambiguity of their motivations and behaviors can lead to vastly different interpretations of the film and its greater meanings.

Although Lubin’s research into the biographies and careers of those involved in the making of Sunset Boulevard are engaging and illuminating, I found his analysis of the film’s most important scenes to be the strength and heart of this book. After providing background about the film’s creation and the lead up to its production, Lubin then goes in to document and analyze the integral scenes, breaking them down by noting the significant details, staging, acting choices, and even the lines of dialogue from the film. This was exciting to see not only how nuanced the staging and direction of the film is, but also how timeless and relevant the film remains today. Furthermore, I loved how Lubin notes that the film’s ability to transcend genres, a fact that the studio considered as a hindrance to audiences, is actually one of the elements of the film that makes it timeless and so impactful. When I watched Sunset Boulevard, I considered it something like a film noire, which at the time was a relatively newer genre. However, Lubin notes that the film has elements of romance, tragedy, comedy, and even horror. While I found Norma Desmond’s life somewhat deranged and delusional, I didn’t necessarily consider it comedic. However, Lubin identifies some key scenes and how they contrast one another—for example, when Norma’s friends come over to play bridge, and how that party contrasts with Joe’s friend’s new years party. These contrasts not only highlight the youth and aging differences, but also emphasize the living and the dead, or the future and the past. I didn’t realize that the Norma’s friends included key actors from the silent screen, including Buster Keaton. Furthermore, I hadn’t considered the absurdity of Norma burying her chimpanzee to begin the film, and how Joe becomes something like a chimp- a replacement child-companion for a lonely, isolated woman. Some of the best analysis comes from Norma’s visit to the Paramount studios during Cecil B. DeMille’s filming. I was surprised to see that this was the real DeMille, but Lubin provides key details about Swanson and DeMille’s prior working relationship, and how DeMille’s lines and acting in the film present the audience with some ways to sympathize with Norma. This was my favorite part of the book since it provides readers/viewers with new ways to consider the meaning of the film and elements of individual scenes to consider. I also kept thinking about how these scenes influenced other films, as Lubin provides notes and interviews from Hitchcock and Goddard suggesting the lasting influence of Sunset Boulevard on later films. In particular, the tonal shifts and the ways that the story and shots affect the audience’s emotions were innovative for a film from the 1950s. We probably take this for granted today since we recognize that films can often transcend genres, but Sunset Boulevard challenged viewers at the time. Again, I kept thinking about David Lynch films, and how sometimes the ambiguity and tonal shifts allow for varied interpretations. While some people may seek an easy resolution where everything is explained, I love the ambiguity and openness to interpretation. Lubin’s book points out how innovative and challenging this was at the time, but also how this ambiguity in the film leads to the film’s staying power and frequent inclusion in the top 10 films of all time.

The later chapters detail the critical reactions to the film, as well as what happened to all of those involved in the film, mostly focusing on the actors, but also including Wilder and Brackett. Again, it was interesting to learn more about these individuals, especially Gloria Swanson and William Holden. After watching Sunset Boulevard, I read a little about Holden’s life and work. However, reading about Gloria Swanson was also fascinating, as it seemed like Sunset Boulevard provided her with new opportunities, but also seemed to kind of trap her in this ideal of Norma Desmond. Regardless, it seemed like she was careful in her later career decisions, sometimes appearing on talk shows and television, but not often in the movies. Lubin also discusses the directing careers of Wilder and DeMille, who were at opposite ends of their careers, and who also appeared at opposite ends of the political spectrum especially when the House un-American Committee was seeking out names for their political blacklists. Lubin also includes an Epilogue that explores some of the legacy of Sunset Boulevard, particularly focusing on the idea of fading glory and how no one can escape time, as well as how the film remains a great film about filmmaking. Again, this is one of the reasons why the film remains to powerful and relevant today. While reading, I couldn’t help but think about the current state of politics and the kind of delusions that people feed to others to get ahead. It was surprising, then, to learn the Sunset Boulevard is a favorite film of another politician that seems to live in a fantasy world fueled by their delusions. Although it’s a brief epilogue, it’s still amazing to consider the similarities between Norma, a woman who continues to pine for a past that no longer exists while others placate and feed her delusions, and current leadership who also wish for faded glory over living in the present. This was a great book about a great film. Not only does Lubin’s research provide important details about the creation of this film, but his analysis also provides important insights into understanding and interpreting Sunset Boulevard and other films that followed. Lubin’s book has made me want to re-watch Sunset Boulevard, and think about other films that follow in its legacy. Highly recommended! 

BFI Film Classics The Manchurian Candidate

 BFI Film Classics The Manchurian Candidate by Greil Marcus

BFI Film Classic The Manchurian Candidate cover

Author and Critic Greil Marcus

I recently read David M. Stewart’s excellent Demme biography There’s No Going Back, and Demme remade The Manchurian Candidate in the early 2000s, post-9/11 in a world that had not quite yet realized the full fever dream of online conspiracies. While there were conspiracies about 9/11, the so-called weapons of mass destruction, and even the 2000 election, they hadn’t yet spread wild over the internet, so it was interesting to see Demme re-imagine this classic film for a new generation grappling with its own wars, both physical and ideological. I was really excited to find this BFI Modern Classics on the 1962 version of the Manchurian Candidate written by one of my favorite critics, Greil Marcus. I always enjoy Marcus’s views and perspectives on music, history, culture, and art, and this book presents an interesting take on the history of the film in both its original context and a modern context. What I also found interesting was Marcus’s own personal perspective on this film.

Marcus presents a linear analysis of the film’s plot, but seemingly moves between time, presenting the meaning of the film in the 50s and its Cold War anti-communist ideologies, in the 1960s, released a year before Kennedy’s assassination, and in the 2000 in a post-9/11 world. I found this approach to be fascinating since the film is both preposterous, as Marcus notes, but contains elements of real individuals and events like Senator Iselin, who is modeled after Joseph McCarthy. Furthermore, Marcus notes how similar the imagery of the film is to The Twilight Zone, a show that had just become popular for its presentation of an uncanny simulacrum of our world. In particular, he uses the dream sequences that are shared among different members of Marco and Shaw’s platoon, where the envision a Ladies Garden Club meeting in New Jersey, but really it is a meeting of communist leaders discussing their plans for mind control and assassination. As Marcus notes, the scene slips between the imagined and the real without any kind of clear indication for viewers, something that is unique in its portrayal. It is a rather disorienting scene, but one that is also shocking and innovative.

Like any Marcus deep dive into a work of art, this book contains considerable reflection on the film’s relationship with real life events, in particular assassinations that followed in the years after the film’s release. I hadn’t realized how close in proximity this film was to Kennedy’s assassination, which explains why it was not available for 25 years, until 1988. In Chapter 4, Marcus explores how the term Manchurian Candidate has become a part of the political and conspiratorial vocabulary, especially with all of the political and celebrity assassinations in the years following the film’s release. Marcus is not indicating any kind of causation, but rather looking at the film’s ideas about conspiracy and machinations, and how people have used fiction to explain or make up the reality that is often unexplained or mysterious. In particular, the book and film play on fears from the 50s of the Red Scare, and I found this interesting in today’s climate, and how often people will exploit fear, resentment, and anger, primal emotions, to gain followers or votes. It’s interesting to reconsider this film now when the speed of information is often too quick to verify or find out what is true.

Marcus is always a great critic whose keen insight and ability to creatively contextualize a work both for its time period and modern times enables readers to gain a unique perspective on films, music, and literature. I really enjoyed this book, especially after watching The Manchurian Candidate. It helped me understand the film better and find deeper meaning in the symbols and shots throughout the film. Highly recommended. 

Tracing the Changes in American Culture Through Popular Music

 Mystery Train: Images of America in Rock 'n' Roll Music by Greil Marcus

Mystery Train book cover

Griel Marcus is one of the most amazing American critics, and the fact that he writes primarily about rock music and its significance in American culture makes him unique. I have read a few other books by him, but this was one of his first major works. It’s much more than just music criticism, examining elements of America’s history, legacy, and culture through the lens of music and how musicians (and entertainers) use music as a way to express these ideas and further shape American culture. Marcus not only examines music, but also looks to literature to make his case. I really enjoyed the organization of this book, looking at “Ancestors” like Robert Johnson (whose music and legacy I know) and Harmonica Frank (who I did not know) and “Inheritors”, including Bob Dylan, the Band, Sly Stone, and Elvis. I was also surprised to see Randy Newman in this category, but the book was originally written in the mid 70s. These are dense chapters that explore the significance of each artist and their work, as well as how they borrowed from or “inherited” the work of previous generations, and what these artists mean to the future of American music and culture. The fact that Marcus can link such varied artists and examine common underlying themes in American music and culture is incredible work. Maybe not a work for everyone, but if you are interested in the history of American music and seeing its shifts and turns, then this is a great book to explore. Furthermore, I think that the chapters could also work as standalone pieces that explore varied elements in American culture and music. 

Exploring the Roots of an Inequitable Disciplinary Practice: Suspended Education: School Punishment and the Legacy of Racial Injustice by Aaron Kupchik

 Suspended Education: School Punishment and the Legacy of Racial Injustice by Aaron Kupchik

Suspended Education book cover

Professor, Researcher, and Author Aaron Kupchik

Big thanks to New York University Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Aaron Kupchik’s excellent new book Suspended Education: School Punishment and the Legacy of Racial Injustice. Kupchik, a professor of Sociology at the University of Delaware, focuses his research interests on juvenile justice and how youths in schools are punished and policed. I was interested in reading this book because as a teacher, I am also curious to see how instances of racial injustice in society are often implemented or reproduced  in other social systems like schools. Furthermore, I’ve read some other books that have addressed similar issues about school punishment of minorities, especially Black students. A few years ago, as part of a book group at work, we read Monique Morris’s Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools, which details how teachers, administrators and the school system frequently punishes rather than supports young Black girls. Bettina Love’s Punished for Dreaming: How School Reform Harms Black Children and How We Heal focuses more on reforms intended to improve schools, but ultimately end up harming children, especially children of color. Dr. Love examines the ways that programs and approaches to discipline ultimately leave children of color with fewer options and do not offer second chances after mistakes.  I also recently read Eve Ewing’s excellent Original Sins: The (Mis)education of Black and Native Children and the Construction of American Racism, in which she examines the history of exclusion and the kind of unequal opportunities that Black and Indigenous children had, and how these limited opportunities have furthered inequalities today. Ewing’s book also looks at disparities in punishment in schools, and the kind of impact they have. Needless to say, Kupchik’s focus on school punishment of Black students, especially the use of suspensions, is an important topic that has only been more recently examined. As Kupchik details, the use of suspensions was pervasive, if not widely reported, in many schools in the US, especially after school integration. I found this to be one of the more interesting elements of Dr. Kupchik’s argument—that after integration (or after the end of segregation), there was an increase in the use of suspension with disparate instances of Black students suspended from schools. We know from research and reports from the Obama administration’s Department of Education that Black students, especially Black male students, were more likely to be suspended for longer periods of time than other groups. Similarly, as Morris details in her book, Black girls are also more likely to be suspended and expelled than their white peers. However, Kupchik’s research and analysis explores the historical origins of the use of suspension and a disciplinary tool by examining two areas and districts as case studies.

In addition to being interesting in the topic of school punishment, I also grew more interested in Kupchik’s book because I worked in one of the school districts that he analyzed for his research. Early in my teaching career, I worked in the Colonial School District in New Castle, Delaware (My first day in the school was September 11, 2001). I had little experience teaching, and virtually no experience or training in working with students who were from different backgrounds, culturally, socially, economically. I attended Catholic school my entire K-12 education, and I probably suffered from the apprenticeship of observation, where teachers tended to teach the way they were taught. My experience teaching in Delaware definitely jolted me out of that misguided way of teaching. Not only because there was a diverse student body who let teachers know when teaching methods weren’t working, but there was also a great amount of professional development and support. I also participated in a professional development after school program that was grant funded, where we participated in a book club that furthered our understanding of how to create more engaging literacy activities for students. I know for a fact that this program, collaboration with colleagues, and the various PD opportunities throughout the school year really helped me grow as a teacher, but also helped me develop more engaging and responsive teaching methods that leveraged student experiences and prior knowledge to engage them. This approach also helped with discipline, where I didn’t have to rely on sending students out of the classroom or writing them up. I don’t remember many student suspensions. I do remember that truancy was a problem for some students, but the school operated an In School Suspension room (ISS), which I don’t think was much better than Out-Of-School Suspension. The ISS room had no windows, and teachers had to send packets of work to keep students busy. Although there were other students in the room, there was no noise allowed. I hated that learning was reduced to worksheets, but this was the approach to keep students in school. Reading Kupchik’s analysis and critique of discipline in Delaware’s schools after desegregation made me think of the ISS room as a possible response to the criticisms from the 1980s of this unequal measure of discipline that Black students endured. Additionally, I also thought about my lack of awareness about desegregation in Delaware. As Dr. Kupchik notes in the background and history of desegregation, not all states willingly desegregated. Although the Supreme Court declared the policy of separate but equal unconstitutional, it would be another 24 years or so before Delaware officially desegregated, becoming one of the last to do so. Prior to the official desegregation, segregation academies, schools set up with exclusionary policies in desegregated areas, appeared and continued the inequalities of education. Unfortunately, these schools continue to persist, and with vouchers becoming a possibility across the country, it would seem that this kind of inequality masked as parents’ choice or rights would thrive. Nevertheless, Dr. Kupchik’s description of the long, drawn-out process of desegregating Delaware schools made me think about the kind of tension I faced as a young white teacher with Black students. Working with students throughout the year, I think we gradually built a rapport, but there was definitely some tension and suspicion. My Black colleagues were incredibly helpful in discussing how to work with students and develop buy in and motivate them. However, I think that the recent history of segregation, probably only a generation removed from my students, most likely instilled some suspicion and doubt about school. I also remember talking to a colleague about beaches in Delaware as summer approached. They mentioned not really liking beaches since they had to avoid the white beaches. It was an eye opening experience for me, a young white teacher whose belief in racism and segregation was that the Brown Decision in 1954 largely ended both. I think my experience working in Delaware helped me as a teacher and it also made me realize the kinds of disparities and inequalities that still exist. After 2 years, I left to teach in Philly, where I worked in a school that largely had a zero-tolerance policy, and can recognize how damaging suspensions can be, not only for students, but also as Dr. Kupchik notes, for parents as well, who most likely have to miss work to either come to the school for a meeting or arrange care for students. We also witnessed students who willfully missed school because they just didn’t want to be there or that it wasn’t a good space for them. Dr. Kupchik’s description of this kind of punishment is accurate, and I’m really glad that this book is available for researchers and educators who can see the kinds of damage that have resulted in the use of suspensions as discipline.

What I also found interesting about this book is that Dr. Kupchik ties the use of suspensions into the desegregation movement. In his research, including interviews with community members, analysis of media coverage, and other artifacts from school board meetings, Dr. Kupchik discovered that there was little to no mention of suspensions prior to the desegregation periods in New Castle and Boston. However, after desegregation occurred, and students were bussed to new, integrated schools, the suspensions rose for both White and Black students, but with Black students suspended at a much higher rate. I also appreciated how Dr. Kupchik presents his data in charts and graphs, identifying the disparities and differences in these suspension rates. I hadn’t thought about how suspensions might have been a reaction to desegregation, but Dr. Kupchik’s thorough and detailed research and analysis presents a compelling argument. Furthermore, he makes a point that not all educators are racist, and this increase in inequitable punishment might not have been completely the result of explicit racism. As he notes, some educators still believe that suspension is a just punishment, and are not aware of their implicit biases. In his analysis, Dr. Kupchik explores the idea that one of the possible reasons for these suspensions could be that it was a systemic method of punishment; that is, as other schools struggled with the cultural, social, and pedagogical changes that resulted from desegregation, they may have seen schools using suspension as punishment, and it became an acceptable form of punishment. I appreciated this point of view, especially as Dr. Kupchik presents perspectives from educators and administrators I’ve witnessed and worked with. I think this also helps to confirm that while some of them may have been working towards good intentions, the pervasiveness of suspensions may have shifted their perspectives and understanding about its ultimate damages. Furthermore, Dr. Kupchik explains how suspensions not only damage the students’ learning but also lead to long-term generational damage to learning. I really appreciated the research and analysis of this issue, as well as examining suspensions from their earliest use, and hypothesizing that they were largely a reaction to desegregation. Dr. Kupchik shared some of the chaos that resulted from the earlier days after desegregation, and it made me wonder how much guidance and support schools and districts were given in implementing desegregation. While desegregation is important and necessary, it’s not something that could be done overnight. I know from my experience teaching how important professional development, observations, and other collaboration with colleagues were in helping me identify issues with my management and instruction, learning new strategies and methods to engage students, and also learning about my own implicit biases that may have affected discipline and instruction. I wondered how much support teachers had in understanding culturally responsive teaching or cultural incongruity in the classroom. Although there is a movement to keep students in schools more, I hope that educators read Dr. Kupchik’s book to better understand the issues related to suspensions and how they were initiated in American schools. More importantly, if educators read any part of this book, I really hope that they read the “Conclusion” chapter. Dr. Kupchik makes a great argument for the importance of studying issues using a framework that is critical of race. He identifies some of the bad faith arguments and the kinds of misconstrued “reverse racism” that is merely a means to avoid discussing important and relevant social issues. I really appreciated his defense of these theories by defending the criticisms as harmful distortions. I also find this to be true. I have never known any educator to teach students these theories, but it is such an important part of understanding our students’ differences and how to make them learn better. Furthermore, as a white teacher who worked with mostly Black students, I had a lot to learn from them, and my students’ experiences really confirmed many of these ideas about race and racism. It didn’t make me feel bad about being white. Rather, it made me want to do more to support them and help other people understand the kinds of injustices and inequalities that are existent in the world. The conclusion of this book was a powerful defense of the kind of framework that critically examines racism and injustice and sees it as embedded in many of the systems in our society. Furthermore, Dr. Kupchik presents some helpful alternatives to discipline that schools have been and should continue to employ to improve educational outcomes for all students, but especially those students who have been subjected to inequal discipline. As I was reading this book, the Department of Education basically eliminated the Office of Civil Rights, ostensibly making it more difficult to enforce fair and equitable treatment for students across America. While I have hope that schools will continue to educate students and improve on creating more fair and equitable discipline measures, I also recognize that the burden will fall on educators, administrators, and parents to monitor these practices and ensure that justice and equity are enforced. Nevertheless, these recent changes in federal departments make reading Suspended Education all the more important. 

Examining the Influence and Philosophy of Permissive Parenting: Henry Jenkins's Where the Wild Things Were

 Where the Wild Things Were: Boyhood and Permissive Parenting in Postwar America 

by Henry Jenkins

Where the Wild Things Were book cover

Author and Scholar Henry Jenkins

Many thanks to NYU Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Henry Jenkins’s excellent new book Where the Wild Things Were: Boyhood and Permissive Parenting in Postwar America. It took me a little while to get through this book, but it was well worth it. Jenkins’s scholarship focuses on the shift towards permissive parenting, which he defines as a shift from more strict discipline for children, or kind of like a view of children as little adults, to one that focused on parents being more attuned to the needs of their children. While there has always been debate about parenting styles and approaches, Jenkins’s definition and examples of permissive parenting are not necessarily absentee or devoid of any kind of discipline. Rather, it looked more like the kind of authoritative parenting style that is often touted as being high on responsiveness for white, middle class families. Jenkins credits the noted pediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock and cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead as the two influential thinkers who helped to shift the parental paradigm towards this more responsive approach. However, Jenkins also provides some background in looking at developmental theorists like Freud, G. Stanley Hall, and later, Erik Erikson, who also helped shape this approach towards more responsiveness to children. I really loved learning about the Child Study Teams, and how Hall in particular recruited mothers to help serve as kind of observational scientists about their own children’s development. Jenkins notes that incorporating the mothers’ perspectives and observations allowed for more real data to verify some of the developmental trajectories that children experience. He contrasts these kinds of real-world applications with the more mechanical (and popular at the time) approaches of Watson and the early days of Behaviorism, which was the dominant mode of Psychological research at the time.

Beyond looking at theoretical and developmental differences, Jenkins real analysis examines the kinds of media and resources that parents and their children engaged in, and how the permissive or responsive approaches were incorporated into popular media, especially in books, films, and television. Although much of this was before my time, I still experienced many of the after-effects of this kind of approach to parenting, since my parents, especially my mom, were exposed to this style, and we can still see how influential children’s media like Sesame Street continues to influence children today. I also grew up watching Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood and reading Dr. Seuss books, two topics that feature prominently in Jenkins’s analyses of permissive parenting and child development. It was fascinating to read about the thinking that went into some of these texts, shows, and films, since I often enjoyed them as a child, not really thinking about the educational or philosophical approaches to child development behind them. Yet, Jenkins’s detailed scholarship and analysis helps to provide an interesting perspective about the ideas and philosophies that helped to shape many of these cherished parts of people’s childhoods. I also loved how he frequently connected the media and resources to Spock and Mead, showing their influence on these books and shows.

While Jenkins primarily focuses on white, middle class baby boomers, he also brings in perspectives of Black and Asian boys, while also discussing how rigid Mead and Spock’s views of gender roles were. It’s interesting to consider, as Jenkins does, what their views might be like today, since it seemed like their perspectives, especially Spock’s, were continuously evolving. Jenkins brought up some other texts, like Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day and a strange Golden Book called Tootle that I’ve read with my own kids. I got Tootle for my son, and it became one of his favorite stories, but I’ve always been troubled by it. Jenkins seems to suggest that the story is more about obedience and conformity, but I also wondered whether there was something about sexuality in the book as well, as Tootle, a fast train who fails to stay on the tracks, is reprimanded for following his desires to be around flowers and play in the field, rather than work. Regardless of his take, I was glad to see that there was someone else questioning this message, and it also made me think about the larger issues of how powerful messages can be in children’s media and literature. This also resonated with me in why Jenkins’s book is so important today, as there are continued battles about which books children can access in schools. As Jenkins states in his Coda, a Vice Principal was fired for reading a popular and humorous book with his students. The book, titled I Need a New Butt, was a funny story about a boy discovering his body, something that happens with all kids. Yet, parents complained, and the Vice Principal was fired for sharing his love of reading with students. As Jenkins shows throughout the book and his research, children’s literature and media can be powerful ways to not only help children learn important life and interpersonal skills, but they can also be used to impart important cultural lessons and values. Furthermore, this kind of literature and media can be powerful tools for handling difficult times and challenging emotions, as Jenkins’s chapters analyzing Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood highlight. These were some of my favorite chapters and gave me a new appreciation and insight into this important show. It’s also emblematic of this kind of responsive approach to children, showing them that people are willing to listen to them and consider their ideas and needs seriously. Other chapters examine shows ranging from Dennis the Menace to Johnny Quest, which interestingly brings in an Indian character for multiculturalism. As Jenkins shows in his research, this also aligns with an increase in adoptees from Asian countries, so it was trying to be more representative of the changing demographics in American society. One of the more interesting shows that Jenkins analyzes also starred Jay North, of Dennis the Menace fame. It was a later show in the 60s, titled Maya, about a boy who traveled to India to find his father, but also goes on journeys with another Indian boy, discovering his own identity. I’ll try to seek this show out because it sounds like a fascinating story that was also examining different aspects of identity, culture, and the expanding global society. Another chapter examined Lost in Space, and how the boys in this story both represented elements of boyhood during this permissive approach to parenting but also created a kind of aspirational character that tried to showcase the importance of science.

As Jenkins notes in both the book’s Introduction and Coda, ideas about parenting approaches and philosophies are nothing new. We can see today how much pushback and blame this kind of responsive parenting gets for problems in society. There was also blame and consternation in the 60s, where many, including Spiro Agnew, the disgraced Vice President of the Nixon administration, blamed Dr. Spock and permissive parenting for social change. That’s what makes Jenkins’s book even more important today. His careful analysis and consideration of the different media, shows, movies, and texts that children experience in during their formative years also show the kind of thought and consideration that went into their development. In particular, it was reassuring (for me) to know that there was a conscious decision to show children that the world can be considerate and caring, and that emphasizing their importance and uniqueness in the world is important in helping them understand their own roles in the world, while also developing a sense of autonomy and independence. I know that I was thinking about my own children as I read this book, and how different their childhoods are from my own. Regardless, I still try to share books and movies with them that I think they might appreciate and learn something from. I’ve also tried to read more recent books like The Wild Robot that my kids really enjoy and are also somewhat pedagogical in teaching lessons and imparting values. With continuing challenges and battles about what students can access and even what and how people should parent, I feel like Jenkins’s book is not only enjoyable to read, but also necessary in understanding in the shifts in parenting styles.