Bryan Joiner

My attention is scattered about 7 different ways these days, so I have very little for you. I have decompressed by watching episodes of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends when I get home from work, as I was given the DVD. Very good stuff.

I am disappointed that I broke my computer while en route to Hong Kong; you’ll just have to wait for me to carve out some time at work for me to jot down some trip details. Some post-trip details include seeing Transformers,  which is the worst item of any form of media that I have ever consumed, and possibly the low point in the history of Western or human civilization (it’s that or the Bush presidency). I say this without any trace of irony – I will need three months worth of quality entertainment to wash that film from my body and mind. I started with Rashomon, last night, and continue reading White Noise, which is superlatively excellent. I love many lines, including many of the more cutting ones about the clutter of our society, but then I find something like:

The refrigerator throbbed massively.

… and I love it. Four words, and so well done.

Sometimes I would very much like to post in my blog but I cannot think of anything to write, but I write so much in any given day that something must be relevant to someone. The following will only be interesting to fans of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade or people who study people who really like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

For context, this discussion centers around a scene late in the film where Indy is attempting to navigate 2,000-year-old booby traps in order to find the final resting place of the Holy Grail. Having passed the first trap (kneel before God!) he finds himself standing in front of an alphabet with the task of spelling the “Name of God.” He whispers “Jehovah,” but as he begins his walk with an audible “J!” his father, in another location, reminds us that “in the Latin alphabet, Jehovah starts with an ‘I’.” His foot goes through the J, and he nearly falls to his death before pulling himself back up and saying, with a tone that speaks of a smack to the forehead, “I. Jehovah starts with an I,” and moving on.

From: Bryan Joiner

To: ptb

1:23 p.m.

So I was thinking about Last Crusade yesterday… because why wouldn’t I be?… when I came upon the following problem.

In the “Jehovah was spelled with an I” part, he steps on J and almost eats it. But… if the letter J was around, isn’t that what “Jehovah” would have started with? And therefore, wouldn’t there NOT have been a J on the panel? Maybe Indy just misread it.

Also, if he falls through the J (which I can’t remember, or whether it’s just his foot), he’s falling forward, and would be grabbing onto other fake letters – unless it’s the I. But if I remember correctly, he hops to the I rather daintily. This has always bothered me, actually.

Yes.

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From: Bryan Joiner

To: ptb

1:24 p.m.

I need help.

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From: ptb

To: Bryan Joiner

3:32 p.m.

i always figured it was supposed be be a double trap (of SUCH LETHAL
CUNNING), like the french brothers maybe updated that particular trap,
knowing that dumbasses would totally forget that “j” is not a letter
in the latin alphabet. i still think that “jehovah” would probably
start with a “y” in latin.

i had never considered why he doesn’t just plummet through the other
fake panels. that is presently, like at this moment, ruining my day.
i have lingering plausibility concerns about the quality and unusual
nature of the masonry work inside the grail temple. also, the physics
of the time-release earthquake that happens if you take the grail
outside are kind of silly. if the earth was swallowing the whole
temple, how come the mountain it’s in is still there when they run
out? and i find it disturbing that the knight is just going to sit in
the hallway and slowly die. how did he get back across the
j-e-h-o-v-a-h thing to wave goodbye if he’s too feeble to use a sword.

the first time i saw last crusade as a kid i was confused why the
answer to the second trap wasn’t just g-o-d.

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From: ptb

To: Bryan Joiner

3:46 p.m.

i think i might get this e-mail exchange printed on a t-shirt

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From: Bryan Joiner

To: ptb

3:47 p.m.

Funny that you mentioned that because I was 100% about to blog that shit.

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From: ptb

To: Bryan Joiner

3:49 p.m.

if moacir’s server wasn’t broken i would have already posted the
screen cap i made of my gmail. i am zero percent kidding. like,
photoshop is open.

Point the first:

The oft-quoted line from Bobby Bacala: “You probably don’t even hear it when it happens, right?” and his follow-up about how everything just goes black. Well, everything went black Sunday.

Point the second:

I’ve read other interviews in the previous days where David Chase seems to be angry that fans either mishear lines of dialogue or misread parts of episodes. Everything is meticulous, and everything is there.

Point the third:

Chase’s said that the ending was meant to be “entertaining,” not audacious.

Point the merely anecdotal evidence:

The actors seemed pretty content with what went down. Chase probably explained it to them. Michael Imperioli was particularly supportive. That probably wouldn’t be the case with a completely ambiguous finish.

Add them up, and I think Tony is dead and that it is clear. I hope I worded that right this time and the substance of the argument comes through.

It was the perfect ending. Chase has been excoriated for insisting on doing things “his way,” and breaking conventional TV storytelling rules by letting Tony live, but he is anknowledged student of the well-defined gangster genre in which the boss dies. In an interview with NJ.com, he writes:

I’m the Number One fan of gangster movies. Martin Scorsese has no greater devotee than me. Like everyone else, I get off partly on the betrayals, the retributions, the swift justice.

Chase did things “his way” not by flipping the script, but by tweaking it; he bypassed the Scarface/Sonny Corleone “hail of bullets” scene for something worthy of his show. The (anti-) hero died in silence, just like everyone else. You don’t end the best TV show all time without a bang. But who says you need to show the bang?

What finally convinced me — and it took awhile — spurred from my initial reading of Bill Simmons’ thoughts on the show: he had no problem with an ambiguous ending, he wrote, but he thought that there was a better way to execute the ending than to make everyone think their cable went out. Which we did.

I agreed with Simmons right up until I didn’t. It would have been less confusing for me in the short term if the screen went blank for merely two seconds, but there was a reason it didn’t: the black screen was the final shot of the series, not the absence of a series. The blank screen was the absence of Tony; millions are screaming that they “don’t get it” straight into that void, but Tony can’t hear you. He’s dead. The construction of the entire scene was perfect, and will be studied in film schools starting yesterday: we’ve seen bloody murders before and we didn’t need to see them again. If you needed a resolution, the void was it. If you needed to see it, you’ll never be satisfied. But either way, he’s gone. You can sleep again.

“I believe in America” — first line of The Godfather

“Don’t Stop Believing” — series-ending song for The Sopranos; episode title was “Made In America,” fellow diner had “Made in USA” hat, A.J. wants to join the Army, etc. I just watched the last scene and I forgot that the music kicks in right when Carmela comes through the door, then they exchange some small talk. She says Meadow is switching birth control just as the music gets tense. There’s plenty more after that. I love it.

I must say, I am fascinated by the “readings” of popular TV shows. I am so fascinated that I can usually follow them without watching the show. I did see last night’s episode of The Sopranos, and it was great for what it was: a paean to the America that created and nurtured Tony Soprano. I think last week’s episode was better overall: it was one of those hours that was so good, I felt privileged just to watch. The larger point is I love super-critical discussions of anything, and literature lends itself to debate more than most television programs or films. The Sopranos is a wonderful exception. The reason I have the friends that I do is that we have the types of discussions everyone America is having about The Sopranos about everything, every day. “If an ending works better the more you think about it, that’s another way of saying that it worked on ‘an intellectual level,'” writes James Poniewozik in a positive Time.com blog entry, “which is not the level people generally want to watch TV on.”

Here are some others:

• The Times’ take. They read the ending differently and call it “perfectly imperfect.” Sounds like something I would say.

• A popular theory that Tony is dead.

• Roush Dispatch. A noncritical recap.

• Deadspin. Very well-thought out response from a disappointed fan.

• Rod Barajas. I expand on the America stuff.