I've been holding off writing about this, hoping that things would improve. Back after Siskel died, a revolving chair of guests occupied the seat across from Ebert. This had two purposes: first, to be able to continue the show until a permanent replacement was named, and second, to use these shows as auditions for would-be replacements. Some were bad (Harry Knowles should never be seen on tv), and some were alright. Nearly all were writers or critics. I actually do not remember Roeper's first appearance. A woman named Joyce Kulhawik was the person I expected to land the job. In multiple appearances she clashed with Ebert, as rarely did their recommendations match up. David Poland has claimed that Roeper was not Ebert's first choice for the job. I expect that Kulhawik was, but I would bet her cancer history scared away Buena Vista, who probably did not want to deal with any more prolonged absences. Anyway, Roeper turned out to be a good selection. It took a couple years, but he eventually began to banter with Ebert almost at the same level as Siskel, though admittedly Siskel was much more sophisticated with his arguments. The mix worked.
Now with Ebert out for an unknown amount of time, we have to contend with a different unqualified stiff sitting across from Roeper each week. So far this guest has been someone with little critical experience. In fact, the first 3 guests were industry people whose biases would surely intrude. Leno was horrible. He is and never will be anything but a kiss-ass. I'm surprised he gave one movie thumbs down. Kevin Smith did not carry himself very well, and it was excrutiating hearing "flik" over and over. Next was a screenwriter whose name I do not remember, and whose appearance was just as memorable. He was followed by some entertainment personality who was annoyingly upbeat. Review the damn movie, and save the fun schtick for the after show party.
Thankfully an actual gainfully employed movie critic showed up on this last weekend's show. He made cogent, succinct points about the movies he was reviewing, with a fluidness that would make you think that he was SUPPOSED to be there. In fact, the show would be in good hands if he remained in Ebert's seat until Roger makes it back. It's not going to happen, and odds are they will go back to the unqualified dope list for their next selection.
As if things haven't been bad enough for him, Ebert is missing both the Telluride and the Toronto film festivals this September. I have not seen any hints when Ebert will be back, though hopefully September will be the last full month without him. But it isn't a good sign that only one new piece, a health update, has been written by Ebert in the last few weeks.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Regarding Michael
It was going to haunt me till the day I died. Not remembering that teacher's name-possibly my favorite teacher in four years of undergrad-might not cause me to lose sleep, but it would cause me to reexamine my past. His work has even been plagiarized, as explained on this page. Most impressive. As I was going through the mess on the floor, I decided to get organized. I would throw the notebooks in stacks according to the year I took that class. I rapidly formed four stacks. Soon all notebooks were separated. While I did finally find stuff from my senior year, the one class that was missing was that damn English 103 class. Not a trace of it. Well, what now? My thoughts were even turning to contacting the university to see if they could provide me with the name of the teacher. But, wait. I saw one last bundle on the other side of the room, but I was sure I had already gone through it. In fact, I had started in that area days before. I didn't see a notebook. There was a binder there. I opened up the binder, and there it was! It really does scare me how much I have forgotten. I don't remember using a binder for any class at UI, much less that one, my last semester there. Maybe it was required by the teacher. I haven't gone through the materials yet to know. (after further research, yeah, it was required).
My next obstacle was the teacher's name. Yeah, maybe you already guessed-all the paperwork from the class only had his last name. The only thing I remembered was that it was a common first name. David? John? Argh. Well, off to the handy UI alumni database again. A search quickly revealed a Thurston who got his PHD in 1995 in English. MICHAEL! That was it.
So I had the name. Time for some detective work. Luckily, detective work had become much easier between the time of the fictional Sherlock Holmes and the 21st century. A google search usually suffices. So, I googled the name. Well, this page (scroll down to Michael Thurston's entry) gives a quick bio. Jumping right into teaching at Yale-now that is impressive. I would think that his move to Smith College was actually an upgrade, though I question the merits of a liberal arts school that restricts its student population to one gender. Regardless, Smith is very prestigious, and, I expect, very expensive.
What all this means is that I was correct in thinking that Mr. Thurston would have attained an impressive status in life in the years between my time as his student and today. My curiosity being satisfied in this area, I can now move on to the other mysteries introduced by my old school books, such as why I have Hawthorne's Blithedale Romance when I do not remember reading it or even being assigned it in any class. The excitement never ends!
My next obstacle was the teacher's name. Yeah, maybe you already guessed-all the paperwork from the class only had his last name. The only thing I remembered was that it was a common first name. David? John? Argh. Well, off to the handy UI alumni database again. A search quickly revealed a Thurston who got his PHD in 1995 in English. MICHAEL! That was it.
So I had the name. Time for some detective work. Luckily, detective work had become much easier between the time of the fictional Sherlock Holmes and the 21st century. A google search usually suffices. So, I googled the name. Well, this page (scroll down to Michael Thurston's entry) gives a quick bio. Jumping right into teaching at Yale-now that is impressive. I would think that his move to Smith College was actually an upgrade, though I question the merits of a liberal arts school that restricts its student population to one gender. Regardless, Smith is very prestigious, and, I expect, very expensive.
What all this means is that I was correct in thinking that Mr. Thurston would have attained an impressive status in life in the years between my time as his student and today. My curiosity being satisfied in this area, I can now move on to the other mysteries introduced by my old school books, such as why I have Hawthorne's Blithedale Romance when I do not remember reading it or even being assigned it in any class. The excitement never ends!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
I Remember You...
My parents visited two weeks ago. I found that they had an ulterior motive when I realized what, and how much, they brought with them. My bedroom at my parents' house had never been cleaned out, so quite a bit of junk had accumulated over the years. And really it was just a dumping ground while I was going to school. Now that I have my own house, my parents decided it was about time for me to assume possession of those bedroom items. At first I was despondent. I didn't want to deal with it all, not after having spent so much time working on my house---I had just finished making the storage room presentable, and I wasn't about to junk it up again.
This week I finally worked up the courage to go through it all. Much to my surprise I found that many remains from my UofI years were present. These consisted of many notebooks. Syllabi and papers that I had thought were long gone were also there. For a couple classes I think I had saved every shred of paper. For two classes I even had Notes and Quotes lecture notes that I had purchased in lieu of going to class. I probably should have gone to the history class, but the sociology class was a colossal waste of time, so that was money well spent.
These materials brought back a flood of memories. Probably due to the following 4 years years of higher education much of my time at UI was obscured, for lack of a better word. Some of the classes and teachers I barely remember. I did not remember the name of my professor for history 152---that was the class that I purchased the lecture notes for, so that isn't a huge surprise. My first Spanish class (actually second since I dropped the first) was taught by someone who I kinda remembered. She was not a native Spanish speaker, and she would actually use English from time to time. She didn't attack us with the Spanish language. I can't express how much better it is to to learn a language under relaxed conditions. Anyway, she is dead. I found her name on one of the class papers, and googled it. It returned an obituary. To be sure it was the same person, I looked her up on the UI alumni directory. Yep, deceased. She died in 2004, at the age of 37. Ugh. It's too bad because she seemed like a nice person, and there are far too few decent Spanish teachers around.
That revelation spurred me to look up other names. Several of my classes had lecture and discussion sections. I generally remember the professor, but sometimes my memory of the T.A. is very hazy. Two of my history T.A.s became professors. I could find no record of another T.A.--he was an ass, so it wouldn't surprise me if he never went on to do anything worthwhile.
I already mentioned one of my English teachers, Michael Berube, in a blog post from a long time ago. Another English class that I took my last semester at UI, (103-Intro to Fiction) was easily one of the best and most worthwhile classes. You would think that I would remember my teacher for that class. Well, I remember him, but I don't remember his name. Which brings me back to those notebooks. The more I rummaged through them, the more I realized that I had saved nearly every paper from every class I took at UI. I don't remember intentionally doing this--I think it was more a case of my being too lazy to go through everything at the end of the semester. Anyway, that teacher's name should be somewhere in this mess, right? Ummm, no. Argh!
This week I finally worked up the courage to go through it all. Much to my surprise I found that many remains from my UofI years were present. These consisted of many notebooks. Syllabi and papers that I had thought were long gone were also there. For a couple classes I think I had saved every shred of paper. For two classes I even had Notes and Quotes lecture notes that I had purchased in lieu of going to class. I probably should have gone to the history class, but the sociology class was a colossal waste of time, so that was money well spent.
These materials brought back a flood of memories. Probably due to the following 4 years years of higher education much of my time at UI was obscured, for lack of a better word. Some of the classes and teachers I barely remember. I did not remember the name of my professor for history 152---that was the class that I purchased the lecture notes for, so that isn't a huge surprise. My first Spanish class (actually second since I dropped the first) was taught by someone who I kinda remembered. She was not a native Spanish speaker, and she would actually use English from time to time. She didn't attack us with the Spanish language. I can't express how much better it is to to learn a language under relaxed conditions. Anyway, she is dead. I found her name on one of the class papers, and googled it. It returned an obituary. To be sure it was the same person, I looked her up on the UI alumni directory. Yep, deceased. She died in 2004, at the age of 37. Ugh. It's too bad because she seemed like a nice person, and there are far too few decent Spanish teachers around.
That revelation spurred me to look up other names. Several of my classes had lecture and discussion sections. I generally remember the professor, but sometimes my memory of the T.A. is very hazy. Two of my history T.A.s became professors. I could find no record of another T.A.--he was an ass, so it wouldn't surprise me if he never went on to do anything worthwhile.
I already mentioned one of my English teachers, Michael Berube, in a blog post from a long time ago. Another English class that I took my last semester at UI, (103-Intro to Fiction) was easily one of the best and most worthwhile classes. You would think that I would remember my teacher for that class. Well, I remember him, but I don't remember his name. Which brings me back to those notebooks. The more I rummaged through them, the more I realized that I had saved nearly every paper from every class I took at UI. I don't remember intentionally doing this--I think it was more a case of my being too lazy to go through everything at the end of the semester. Anyway, that teacher's name should be somewhere in this mess, right? Ummm, no. Argh!