Pages

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Trojan War Motifs in Roman Polanski’s The Ghost Writer

Spencer and I both saw The Ghost Writer this weekend. In discussing the movie, he pointed out something about a curious reoccurring scene: a gardener attempting to sweep up leaves from a beachside deck during a windstorm that keeps blowing more leaves into the area. A superficial viewing would lead one to believe that the scene is just comedic relief — and indeed a few people in the audience chuckled the last time we see the gardener, who eventually throws up hands in frustration with the impossible task. However, Ghost Writer is a Roman Polanksi film. And it doesn’t seem unlikely that a detail-oriented director like Polanski would stick a scene in just for giggles. Spencer didn’t think so, anyway. Via text: “So the man who was sweeping the patio is kind of a Sisyphus, yes?” I agreed.

Spencer then noted that in a later scene, Ewan McGregor’s character stands in front of a security system, the brand name of which is depicted in easy-to-read lettering as “Cyclops.” Since Polanski seemed to deliberately pointing out these elements — showing the Sisyphean gardener more than once, making the “Cyclops” brand name hard to miss — Spencer wondered if the film had additional allusions to Greek mythology. I thought about it a bit, and then it hit me: The argument could easily be made that Ghost Writer uses a series of allusions to Greek mythology to underscore the tragedy and pointlessness of the War on Terror by likening it to the Trojan War. It doesn’t fit perfectly, but it wouldn’t be as fun if it did.


So here’s a quick little analysis. Spoilers, of course. And please, go see the film if you haven’t. Hit the jump if you have — or if you enjoy being spoiled, you naughty rascal you.


Recall, if you will, the cause of the Trojan War: Helen of Troy. She’s famed as the most beautiful woman in the world, yet she’s just one person. Depending on your opinion of female beauty, she’s probably not worth a decade of war, countless lost lives and the annihilation of the city of Ilium, which I’ve heard had lovely parks. In short, the Trojan War was a war for nothing. Map the events of the Iliad onto contemporary politics and the parallels between them and the War or Terror are obvious. Like the Spartans sailing off in pursuit of a pretty woman, various international forces (but mostly Americans) invaded Iraq in search of weapons of mass destruction that, in the end, didn’t exist. (Kind of like how Helen probably wasn’t the epitome of beauty she’s now reputed to have been.) Neat, huh? I’m sure the comparison has been used before, but given how nicely it works, I’m surprised the analogy hasn’t been used more often.

kablammo! helen of troy: greek bombshell and weapon of mass destruction

Ghost Writer
is all about the War on Terror — or at least a very thinly veiled version of the one happening in real life. The film centers on Tony Blair stand-in Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan), disgraced former British prime minister, who is facing trail for war crimes for his role in delivering suspected terrorists to the CIA. In the midst of this, a writer (McGregor, whose character’s name is never revealed) is ghosting Lang’s memoirs into a book. In doing so, he stays with Lang, Lang’s wife, and various staffers in a Martha’s Vineyard mansion where Lang is temporarily hiding to escape the unmitigated hatred of the British people. By staying with the Langs, McGregor’s character gets to know them well, learns various secrets about their marriage and rise to political power and ultimately ends up investigating the mysterious death of his predecessor.

Though McGregor’s character initially suspects that the former prime minister was a plant by the United States government to guide Britain to act in the Americans’ favor, he eventually learns that the real CIA operative is Ruth (Olivia Williams) — Lang’s wife and the real political mind in the family. (Shades of The Manchurian Candidate and, of course, Macbeth.) So let’s consider this in the context of the Trojan War analogy: Just as the U.S. managed to rope Britain into participating in the War on Terror, so too did Menelaus (Helen’s legal husband) convince his brother Agamemnon to join in the Trojan War. Other than a brotherly bond, Agamemnon had no real motivation to join a war. I mean, why would anyone? In fact, the only reason that Menelaus got the support that he did is that Helen’s wise father, Tyndareus, made all of Helen’s suitors — among them, Menelaus, Agamemnon, Odysseus, Ajax and Patroclus — make a pact that they would honor and defend whoever should win Helen’s hand.

In Ghost Writer, Lang resigned from office, essentially sending the Agamemnon figure in the story back home to his wife. If you remember the story of Agamemnon, the homecoming was a bad one, as his wife, Clytemnestra, axed him to death as he climbed into a bath. Her reasoning? Probably about three-fourths that Agamemnon sacrificed the couple’s oldest daughter, Iphigenia, in an effort to get good winds on the way to battle and one-fourth that he returned from the Trojan War with a concubine, Cassandra (the one nobody believed), who had given birth to not only one baby but twins. (My take: One baby would have been bad enough, but twins is just too insulting to bear.) A major departure that Ghost Writer takes from the Trojan War is that Ruth doesn’t directly kill Lang. Instead, Lang is assassinated by a British man — a former solider fuming that his solider son was killed in the war Lang chose to join. So Ruth killed Lang indirectly, given that she was pulling his strings and the entry into the war ultimately caused Lang’s murder. However, the person who physically pulled the trigger on Lang is a man who is angry about the death of his son, who has been sacrificed to aid a pointless war. And doesn’t that sound a bit like Clytemnestra? It’s a bit odd to consider, but it really does seem that Ghost Writer script has essentially mapped Clytemnestra onto two different characters.

What, then should we make of Kim Catrall’s character, Amelia Bly, the sexpot aide to the prime minister? According to a Daily Mail article on the Robert Harris novel from which Ghost Writer was adapted, she’s a re-creation of real life Blair aide Anji Hunter. For the purposes of this analysis, she’s also a Cassandra figure, not because people don’t believe what she says but because she’s having an affair with the Agamemnon character. The connection between these two is probably the most tenuous, especially considering that many don’t see Agamemnon’s relationship with Cassandra as a significant motivation for Clytemnestra to kill him.

It would be great, then, if I could make one more connection between the Ghost Writer characters and those involved in the Trojan War. The obvious candidate would be McGregor’s character, since he’s so central to the story. And when you consider that he’s the one who outsmarts the politicos and gets to heart of the various conspiracies and shady dealings that went down in the Lang administration, it seems he could likely be Odysseus, renowned for his cunning. McGregor’s character is also British, but travels to Martha’s Vineyard to work on the Lang book. As soon as life in the Lang household proves to be tumultuous, he seems to want out and long for home in London, where he eventually goes at the conclusion of the film. I feel safe making a parallel between McGregor’s character being trapped in the U.S. and Odysseus’s inability to return home to Ithaca for the ten years of the Trojan War and the following ten years of the Odyssey. And the fact that McGregor’s character never gets a name would seem to be a wink at Odysseus alias in the Odyssey, “Nobody.” Remember that when Odysseus blinds Polyphemus the cyclops, he identifies himself as “nobody” or “no man,” depending on the translation. And doesn’t that seem like an appropriate reference point for a nameless character whose role is to slip invisibly into Lang’s life and invisibly write up his memoirs?

In the end, the Sisyphus gardener and the Cyclops-brand security system are just tip-offs that something larger is happening beneath the surface of the film. Ghost Writer benefited, of course, from Polanski’s expert direction. But I feel enjoy it more for having these references, as they deepened the meaning of the film for me and helped me see connections between age-old stories and things happening today. I like the stories of Greek mythology. I like it when we’re reminded of why these stories are relevant. And I like it especially when they help to tell yet another great story.

A special thanks should go out to Zachary Mason’s novel The Lost Books of the Odyssey, which I just finished and which helped put the characters of the Iliad and the Odyssey on my mind. If you made it this far in this post, I encourage you to pick it up. It’s a joy for anyone who has ever loved the stories of the Trojan War and thereabouts and would like to see them brought to life once more.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

What’s a Jabroni, Anyway?

Surprise, surprise — I’m one of those people who will watch the “enhanced” repeat of last week’s Lost before the new episode airs. It usually happens while I’m making dinner. Tonight, during the rerun of the episode “Dr. Linus,” I noticed that Miles refers to the dead-and-buried 815ers Nikki and Paolo as “jabronies.” Didn’t catch it last week. So what the hell does that word mean?

The first hits I got for it on Google were at Urban Dictionary, so I guess it follows that jabroni is slang. According to Dictionary.com, it’s a wrestling term that refers to someone who “loses in order to make another wrestler look good.” It’s synonymous with jobber. And according to the Rice University Neologisms Database, it can also be used as an insult for one wrestler to hurl at another.

The more you know. (Cue star. Cue twinkling rainbow graphic.)

Expressive Teeth and Travel Shampoo

Accidental bathroom art, captured wit the iPhone.

colors_and_teeth

There’s symbolism in here, I’m sure of it.

Death and Verbs

So the masculine of widow is widower, right? So if a man can kick the bucket and widow his wife, then shouldn’t a woman be able to die and widower her husband? Apparently not. The verb for both occasions is widow, regardless of gender. It’s probably for the best, since widowering is way awkward to say. (“I’m sorry, I can’t talk on the phone right now. I’m in the process of widowering my husband.”) This is good to know — when my friends’ spouses all start dying, I want to not offend them by using the wrong verb.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

How Deep Was My Dingle

I’m reviving a Back of the Cereal Box tradition that fell by the wayside: the word of the week. It’s my effort to appeal to the segment of my readership who use words. There’s a lot of you, it turns out! And to begin this new round of strange and wonderful words, I’ve chosen the most ridiculous-sounding one I’ve come across lately.
dingle (DING-guhl) — noun: a small, narrow or enclosed, usually wooded valley.
Great one, huh? According to Wiktionary, dingle is the diminutive form of dell — as in, the place where the farmer lives, as opposed to where the cheese stands alone. (That poor cheese.) I’m not familiar enough with antiquated English diminutive suffixes to know how dell might have become dingle, and, in fact, it might not have. The Online Etymology Dictionary makes no mention of it being a diminutive for dell, only that it was first noted to come into dialectical use around 1240 and entered literary use in the sixteenth century. In fact, it doesn’t even define the word as being small but instead as a “deep dell or hollow, usually wooded.” Finally, the 2010 Unabridged Random House dictionary has an entry for dingle that defines it as “a deep, narrow cleft between hills; a shady dell.” This entry, which I found via Dictionary.com, claims dingle is related to the Old English dung, “dungeon” and the Old High German tunc, “cellar.”


And yes, the berries you find growing in the dingle would technically be dingleberries.

Previous words of the week:
Word nerd? Subscribe to Back of the Cereal Box’s word-related posts by clicking here.

This Post Should Not Exist!

We have sprung forward, as of this morning, and now things happen earlier than they should. I say that this post shouldn’t exist because the Sunday that we spring forward has only 23 hours. The clock goes from 1:59 a.m. to 3 a.m. Thus, as far as the U.S. government is concerned, nothing could have happened in California at 2:01 a.m. on March 14, 2010. Ha! I have found a loophole! I am a Billy Pilgrim, skipping as I please through the malleable medium of time!


It’s… not as much fun as I thought it would be, I’ll admit. Anyone else a little tired?

EDIT: Above is the original post, as I intended to put it up. However, in actually going about entering the necessary data to make these words appear online, I hit a snag: Blogger actually wouldn’t let me post anything between 2 a.m. and 2:59 a.m. on March 14, 2010, hence the 1:59 a.m. time stamp. This chunk of time really doesn’t exist, at least according to the computers that run Blogger. I am no Billy Pilgrim. I have failed.

And, yes, I realize that computers are programmed to manually adjust their clocks when Daylight Savings Time comes and goes, but is anyone else surprised that the system won’t let users manually adjust it back? I mean, what if I was in Arizona?

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Behind Every Sexy Woman Is a Camouflaged Armadillo

I have yet to fully research whether the theory put forth in this post’s title is true, however, I think the below image points to it being the case more often than not.

camouflaged_armadillo

If you happen to come across any images that disprove the theory — that is, ones depicting sexy women without armadillos in the background — please send them my way.

[Hawtness.com]

Strangeness, previously: