Thesis Thursday

Jacques Feyder's 1935 comedy, about the women of a Flemish town disarming an occupying Spanish army with wit and charm, embodies the lost ideals of an earlier time.

In 1935, Hitler had been in power in Germany for two years. The rest of Europe desperately hoped that the disaster that was the Great War of 1914 to ‘18 would not be repeated. It was too horrible to contemplate, even though German rearmament made the prospect impossible to ignore. It was against this historical background that the distinguished French director Jacques Feyder made a film dramatizing the tensions between two countries back in the early 17th century. Adapted from a story by the Belgian writer Charles Spaak, it’s Carnival in Flanders.

Flanders was a Dutch-speaking country that is now the northern part of Belgium. Along with The Netherlands, it was controlled by the Spanish empire for about 150 years, until popular revolt forced the Spanish out in 1714. These facts would be fairly common knowledge for European audiences in 1935; not so much now.

Anyway, Carnival in Flanders takes place in the year 1616. The government of a Flemish town named Boom learns that a Spanish duke is on his way with his army to occupy the town. The whole population is on the verge of panic. The Spanish are known as rapists and butchers, and the fear of chaos and carnage runs rampant. The burgomaster, or what we could call the mayor, played by André Alerme, decides to fake his own death, lying in state in the hope that the Spanish will respect the town’s official decree of mourning and leave quickly. The rest of the aldermen, and most of the men in the town, decide to lie low and basically go into hiding during the crisis. This act of mass cowardice places the responsibility for protection in the hands of the town’s women, headed by the burgomaster’s clever and resourceful wife Cornelia, played by the magnificent Françoise Rosay. Thus begins one of the most delightful film comedies ever conceived.

Part of the greatness of Carnival in Flanders is its impeccable production design. Feyder’s team created a beautiful and convincing replica of a Renaissance-era Flemish town, both in its buildings and costumes. They studied the art of the time (in fact one of the characters is a young portrait painter) and they succeeded in making the entire film look like a work by Bosschaert or Jan Breughel.

The women defend the town with the weapons of wit and charm. And this isn’t just the idea of using their feminine attractions, so to speak, although that is an element here. They also employ fine manners, generosity, intelligent conversation, and subtle flattery. The Spanish duke, played by Jean Murat, is won over by Madame Cornelia, and the mayor must continue to play dead while his wife flirts with the enemy. The picture is filled with amusing incidents and plot details, in which the men appear increasingly ridiculous and the women confident and in control.

I adore this movie, in which the brave, witty women of a town triumph over the men. It's a memento of a wonderful dream that is now lost forever: that love and friendliness has the power to tame human savagery. It was banned in Belgium for insulting national manhood. Here in the U.S. it was condemned by the Legion of Decency for its free morals. We never see anything that could be referred to as indecent—this was 1935 after all—but just the hint of it was enough to outrage conservatives. And Nazi Germany banned it as well, for its pacifism. But despite all this, the film was a huge international hit.

Then, after World War II was over, critics attacked it for supposedly advocating collaboration. I can almost understand this too: from the jaded perspective we must now adopt after the horrors of the 20th century, the fil

Desert anemone (Anemone tuberosa) is in the Buttercup Family. Buttercups are the genus Ranuculus and the family name is Ranunculaceae. It’s probably just me, but that is a marvelous family name to write and pronounce. Kearney and Peebles’ Arizona Flora lists three species of Anemone (also a nice name to say no matter how you pronounce it), but I suspect one species got renamed or lumped with another and there are now only two species for Arizona. That’s the kind of stuff that keeps you on your toes, that is, if botany is of any interest. Anyway, desert anemone is one of the first wildflowers to bloom and to see it you’ll need to head to a rocky slope above the desert floor sometime in February and that’s where you’ll find it hiding among the rocks. On our hike in the hills above Fort Bowie National Monument we also saw pointleaf manzanita blooming as it also is an early bloomer. Whoa, now you have two good reason to head for the hills!

The photos are mine and show desert anemone in the limestone on the hill above Ft. Bowie. Those are not petals on the flowers, but the sepals. The flower has petaloid sepals. Something you can say to your hiking companion to impress them. I did, but I’m not sure it impressed. Oh, and by the way, those hills above Fort Bowie are an excellent place to see the shrubby form of sandpaper oak (Quercus pungens) growing out of the rocks. Now you know.

Sarah Lester is a senior at the University of Arizona with a major in Molecular and Cellular Biology and a…

Jose Manuel Cisneros Vazquez was born in San Luis Potosi, Mexico on February 28, 1973. Jose is Professor at Campus…

Sarah Lester is a senior at the University of Arizona with a major in Molecular and Cellular Biology and a minor in Biochemistry. She is originally from Illinois where she earned an Associates of Arts in Journalism before transferring to the University of Arizona. After being exposed to biology in community college, she quickly developed an interest in genetics. This drove her decision to apply to UBRP and join a lab that studies a type of genetic epilepsy, where she specifically studies how the brain reacts to seizures through mRNA. Sarah intends to apply to PhD programs to continue studying genetic disease once she completes her undergraduate studies. Outside of school, Sarah spends her time doing archery, reading, and enjoying the outdoors.

The Classic Pick of the Week for the week of February 3, 2020 - Big Audio Dynamite's 1985 debut album, This is Big Audio Dynamite, presented by KXCI DJ Gene Armstrong.

Jose Manuel Cisneros Vazquez was born in San Luis Potosi, Mexico on February 28, 1973. Jose is

Professor at Campus North-Chapingo Autonomous University in the state of Durango.

Currently, is Pursuing a Ph.D. in Natural Resources at the University of Arizona. He is interested in

research to improve arid lands through geographical information systems, and watershed management.

His hobbies include listen music, running and watch Netflix series.

This is the first Episode of 2020 with Salina Barajas, owner and curator of the Mi Reina Mobile Boutique. Selina share's her journey and the experiences that helped her fulfill a dream that has brought a unique vibe to South Chukson (Tucson).  While raising her two daughters, Sofia Luna and Mia Sol, she has dedicated time to building, creating, and supporting her community. With the help of family and friends Selina's vision has come to life and is now as mobile as it can be. "Mi Reina" was an expression her nana Erlinda would refer to her and other grand-daughters. Through her definition of what the phrase means to her, Selina says, "Reina translates to much more than physical beauty, but strength, wisdom, empathy and compassion. I feel so blessed to be surrounded by women who carry these traits and honor them." Maybe you've seen the mobile boutique throughout the city of Tucson, and if you haven't then you’ll definitely want to listen closely to how the story goes. Thank you for tuning in!

[caption id="attachment_62347" align="aligncenter" width="401"] Photo by: Rescophotography[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_62349" align="aligncenter" width="389"] Graphic design by: Tina Andrew[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_62333" align="alignnone" width="620"] Lisa Bowden and the child who made her a mother[/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_62334" align="alignnone" width="465"] Notes from the Motherfield Live[/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_62335" align="alignnone" width="620"] Notes from the Motherfield Live[/caption]

 

In this episode, we hear from Lisa Bowden, Executive Director of Kore Press Institute, who speaks at length about the storytelling series, Notes from the Motherfield Live (the next performance being March 6). Lisa talks about curating each six-woman panel of radical, truth-telling mothers and what a powerful experience it for the story tellers, and also for the audience.  We talk about the intentional decision to take the stories from the page to the stage, the importance of the venue--the Jewish History Museum--as an intimate space of anti-oppression (seating only 100 people at a time), and the power of deep listening. Lisa also shares a few descriptions of the kinds of motherhood stories one might hope to hear, including a fierce tale of self-decolonization from Lane Santa Cruz, who currently serves as Ward 1's Councilperson, among other things. We refer briefly to Kore Press Institute’s mission and history, including the book Letters to the Future: Black WOMEN / Radical WRITING, and assert opinions about where feminisms in the United States are now and where they need to go.

Listen to the full-length podcast by hitting play above (link to the mini below)!

 

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Chris Dashiell talks about his favorites among the films he saw in 2019.

Thinking back on 2019, preparing to put together a list of my favorite films from last year, I was struck more than ever by how my movie experiences were determined by the realities of film distribution. Reading other critics’ end of year pieces, I noticed many films on their lists that never played in my city, many that have not yet been released on DVD or streaming platforms, or perhaps never will be. The amount of money behind a film helps determine whether or not you have a chance to see it, and even whether or not you’ll hear about it. So with a nod to all the films I didn’t or couldn’t see, and a fervent wish for a broader and more inclusive world of distribution in the art form that I love, here are my favorites among the films I did see in 2019.

A Hidden Life (Terrence Malick).

Malick is a filmmaker with a unique style that combines subjective voice-over with lyrical visual editing. In recent years he has seemed stuck within this style, without a compelling theme or story grounding it. But in his latest film he has found an important story, that of an Austrian farmer in the 1930s and 40s who refused to say the loyalty oath to Hitler, or to fight in Hitler’s war. Perhaps what moved me most was the idea of a single individual saying “No” to evil despite the opposition of society and government against him, and especially saying “No” even though, as people in the film point out to him, his action will have no effect on the war, which will go on anyway, and whatever punishment he suffers for it will go largely unnoticed. Malick puts a laser focus on the loneliness of conscience and affliction, and his gorgeous shots of the natural world create a tremendous contrast between the spirituality he identifies with nature and the horrors being perpetrated by human beings on one another. August Diehl is riveting as the main character, and Valerie Pachner is unforgettable as his wife, who struggles to understand what her husband is doing, yet doesn’t waver in her love. This is a shattering film, and one that I think is particularly relevant for today.

Parasite (Bong Joon-ho).

This is one of the most cleverly constructed film narratives in recent years, and one of the funniest and most exciting as well. The story concerns a family—father, mother, daughter and son—that live on the bottom rung of society, but seek to escape poverty by scamming a wealthy family that the son happens to meet. Bong takes us on a roller coaster ride from edgy comedy to horror to satire, each step of the way dramatizing how class, the wide gap between rich and poor, is a social condition that invites chaos and insanity. Even though they’re grifters, the poor family is not evil, and even though the rich family is privileged and clueless, they’re not evil either. It’s the social order itself that is the problem, the parasite, and every detail of the film has a double or triple meaning in this respect. Even a brilliant sequence in which the poor family has their basement slum apartment ruined by a flash flood can’t help but bring climate change to mind. But Parasiteis much more than a political allegory. What’s left when the dust settles are broken dreams and relationships, as beautifully presented in the film’s understated ending.