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Karl Marx, Ayn Rand, and Barbara Eden

A few days ago, while catching up on the sections of the Boston Sunday Globe I hadn’t read yet, I was impressed with a book review written by Michael Washburn, who has high praise for Love and Capital: Karl and Jenny Marx and the Birth of a Revolution, by Mary Gabriel. Washburn starts by saying…

With history or politics, ignorance is often the precondition of certainty. The less someone comprehends the world’s complexity, the more certain they are of their anemic ideas. Our current economic shambles has created a depressing amount of such lightless bluster. Each action the increasingly impotent Obama administration takes, or fails to take, is met by Tea Party denunciations of “socialism” or “Marxism.”

… and he ends with this equally biting comment.

Small-minded folks who assume that balancing a checkbook gives them insight into global financial systems will surely read Marx’s weak character as evidence that all of his ideas are fraudulent, if they bother to read the book at all.

Washburn’s blog has this video that offers an excellent and entertaining explanation of the big, sweeping changes in the world economy over the past 30+ years.

Like Karl Marx, Ayn Rand’s personal life was a mess, and in some ways it contradicted her political philosophy. Netflix Watch Instantly has Ayn Rand: In Her Own Words. I assume the producers of the documentary are adherents of Rand’s Objectivist ideas, but for myself the film validates my opinion that Rand was a romantic who couldn’t resist the lure of Hollywood, where she combined her hatred of the Soviets and Communism with her unshakable schoolgirl fantasy of the perfect man. Barbara Eden, of all people, has a telling anecdote about Ayn Rand. They both had lived, albeit years apart, in a Hollywood dormitory for women called the Studio Club:

In my day, over a hundred girls lived at the Studio Club. Each of us paid fourteen dollars a week for a room, a telephone answering service, a cleaner twice a week, and two meals a day (generally breakfast and dinner, because no one had time for lunch), at which we all ate home-style food served on a buffet in a large dining room where we could all meet and gossip. Ayn Rand, author of The Fountainhead, was one of the Studio Club’s earliest residents. Like many of us, she was so poor that she couldn’t afford to pay her rent, so a charitable benefactor donated fifty dollars. But instead of using the donation to pay her rent, Ayn promptly went out and splurged on a set of black lingerie.

Leigh, Wendy; Eden, Barbara (2011-04-05). Jeannie Out of the Bottle (Kindle Locations 595-604). Crown Archetype. Kindle Edition.

Crimestopper Richard Tracy, at 80

Dick Tracy’s first appearance, October 4, 1931.

Dick Tracy today.

Joe Staton and Mike Curtis are doing great work, making Dick Tracy a lot of fun to look at and read. I heartily recommended clicking here to go to the new team’s first installment in the series, back on March 14, then keep clicking and reading. Then I suggest paying a measly $12/year — $11.88, actually — to join GoComics as a paying subscriber. If you like comic strips it’s a real deal, and the best 99¢ a month you can spend.

Phil Shepardson, R.I.P.

I owe Phil Shepardson a lot. When I was a senior in college he lined up an internship for me at the local radio station. I must have done all right, because it turned into a paying job before I graduated. By happy accident, that was how I met Bismo, who called the station when I asked a Star Wars trivia question. “What color is Darth Vader’s light saber?” Bismo said “blue” and I’ll never let him live that down. 😉

Tonight I learned that Phil Shepardson passed away a few months ago. Here’s an obituary. Five years ago, I wrote a bit about Dr. Phil, as we called him at Westfield State College, before there was Dr. Phil.

You know the tirelessly upbeat, fun, and engaging personalities of Cousin Brucie and Stan Lee? That’s what knowing Phil Shepardson was like. He was a true multi-media man and a kindred spirit. Phil loved cartooning, and he would challenge me on my definitions of art vs. illustration, and films vs. movies.

When The Empire Strikes Back came out, I happened to run into Shepardson at a supermarket, and he wanted to know what I thought of the movie. We had a lively discussion about the phenomenon of blockbuster movies merging with fandom, which he didn’t particularly welcome, and he wanted me to explain it to him. Was it a generational thing, or a commercial response to the excellent films of the early 70’s? That was the sort of discussion that Shepardson loved to have. Here’s to you, and farewell, Dr. Phil.

Hastings’ hasty retreat from DVD

Reed Hastings says he wants to take home video into the future, but he actually seems determined to take home video back to the 1980’s and 90’s, when there was LaserDisc for the enthusiasts like me, and VHS for everybody else. Except now it’s DVD/Blu-ray and online video.

I keep waiting for something that explains the method behind Reed Hastings’ recent madness, and the announcement that Netflix will carry Dreamworks movies that HBO doesn’t want anyway, and not for another eighteen months, isn’t it. How the heck does Reed Hastings think his tactics will serve his strategy of getting customers to stay loyal to him, but without DVD?

Last week, Hastings said that he had “slid into arrogance based upon past success.” He then promptly proceeded to display even more arrogance by announcing a split and re-branding of the DVD side of the business that is truly annoying to his customers, adding insult to injury by calling it the lame and ironic name “Qwikster.”

Obviously, Hastings is Hell-bent on dumping DVD. Maybe it’s the vision thing that’s blinding him, or perhaps he was driven mad by the cost of red envelopes, postage, warehouses, and labor, versus delivering a movie over the Internet for a nickel. But in the process of creating separate balance sheets for physical vs. virtual video, Netflix stock has lost half its value, so what has Hastings saved?

As I have said before, I became a Netflix subscriber way back in January, 2004…

… and for a long time I had the 4-disc plan for $22/month. I was as big a booster of Reed Hastings as any amateur blogger, but I feel that we are all now, as customers, seeing the other side of the man. The side that movie studios and the California Board of Education saw long ago.

I love the idea of streaming video. I couldn’t wait to give Netflix Instant Watching, as it was originally called, a try as soon as I could, in February, 2007. Two years later I bought the first of my two Roku players, so I’m all for a future of online video — but not exclusively, not yet.

Ignoring the lack of title selection compared to DVD’s, due to legal/business reasons, streaming as it exists today has technical and feature limitations compared to discs. There continue to be no extras online, so it’s like a return to the days of VHS, when you could only play, pause, scan, and stop, but without the inconvenience of rewinding the tape. I realize that commentary tracks and “making of” videos aren’t usually worthy of more than a single playing, but to eliminate them completely is a step backwards. Second, for the Japanese Toho studio movies and the anime that my son watches, the few titles that are offered on Netflix Watch Instantly are dubbed. Eric insists on the original Japanese dialogue with subtitles, and I doubt Red Box kiosks carry these titles. Finally, although the picture quality can be quite good with streaming video, streaming 1.5 Mbps SD can’t compare to DVD MPEG-2 at up to 10 Mbps, and 3.0 Mbps HD is no match for Blu-ray with MPEG-4 or VC-1 at 35 Mbps, especially when shown on a video projector screen.

What this adds up to is a large number of streaming video customers who are perfectly happy watching mainstream movies and TV shows on a 42-inch flat panel TV, assuming their Internet service is good and there isn’t a too-restrictive service cap. (I’m spoiled, because I’m on Verizon FiOS.) The home theater enthusiasts who want the best quality and the extra features that first appeared with LaserDiscs, are headed back to being like we were in the LD years, buying discs. Having spent way too much money on the LD format, I’m not interested in building another movie library.

The porch Roku is play a Tekzilla installment as I type this. Netflix is a Tekzilla sponsor, and host Patrick Norton, who’s usually up-front and fearless in his outrage, is soft-peddling the increase in price and loss of service. Everybody would like to fall in love with Netflix again, but right now I’m looking at Amazon Instant Video, wishing it had a queue feature. If Reed Hastings has been talking to Jeff Bezos about a possible sale to Amazon, or if he’s even been thinking of it, he’s certainly made Netflix a lot more affordable for acquisition.

Neil Sedaka’s Scopitone Calendar Girls

I love-ah, love-ah, love-ah everything about this fun, kitschy, and sexy music video! It’s from 1966, five years after Calendar Girl was on the charts. The 16mm film was made to be played on Scopitone machines. You’ll find some background on the short-lived Scopitone video jukeboxes at this link.

With 1966 belonging to the youth market, this film was obviously intended for an older audience — specifically, drunk men in bars! If I’d been one of them, I would have gone through a roll of quarters for this one selection. It’s both a throwback and very much of its time. The pinup girl calendar paintings by Gil Elvgren and other great artists were on the way out by then, and Playboy had taken over.

The virtues of the song are apparent, thanks to the way the film complements the recording. Sedaka is enjoying himself, and he’s suitably goofy compared to the charming girls. There are Sixties mod dresses, Vegas showgirl costumes, and bikinis. Every step and gesture is choreographed, the set is simple yet quite clever, and I like the way the girls are framed as they make each of their entrances. Note how everything changes to keep up visual interest, even the color of the piano. For such a limited production it’s a work of art. Most important of all, of course, are the four lovely ladies.

The Scopitone company went bankrupt only a few years later, so the chance there might be documents to be found somewhere is probably next to zilch. Debbie Reynolds lost money investing in Scopitone, and she reportedly doesn’t like to discuss the project. Neil Sedaka would probably be the best source for information, but if anybody has interviewed him about his Scopitone appearance I haven’t found it.

Follow-up: NPR did a feature on Scopitone five years ago.