Who You Callin' Sophisticated?

April 15, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston


“We are all ashamed,” he said, about the president’s lack of interest in culture . . . . “Look, we need a president who is cultivated.”

Obviously, the speaker is not American. He’s French, a writer, and he wistfully “recalled the sophistication of earlier presidents.” (The story is here in today’s New York Times.)

Sophistication doesn’t play well in American politics and culture. Consider Obama’s recent gaffe in saying that some Pennsylvanians were “bitter.” The attacks by critics who most wanted to score points claimed not that Obama was incorrect (which he may have been) but that he was “elitist.”

Here, being sophisticated, cultured, or intellectual translates to negative qualities – snobbishness and phoniness. “Puttin’ on airs,” as a distant generation might have said. In America we have to think that all tastes are equal, that none is superior to another. Since everything is equal, the person who pretends otherwise, the person who prefers Chateau Margaux to Bud Light, is being a phony and doing so only for purposes of making himself seem superior. And that’s just un-American.

Here in the land where more is better, it’s O.K. to have more money, a lot more money. It’s O.K. to have bigger and more expensive stuff (cars, houses), a lot bigger, a lot more expensive. It’s even O.K. to have a lot more power. But it’s not O.K. to suggest that what you have might be inherently better, at least not if that implies sophistication. If you argue that Timbaland is better than Celine Dion, that’s cool. But if you prefer Brahms to Celine Dion, you’re a pretentious snob, an elitist.

I was reminded of this anti-elitism last week in class when I asked students to bring in artifacts of American culture for show and tell. One girl brought the DVD of “The Nanny Diaries.” She clicked on the scene where we see Annie (the nanny) in the kitchen struggling to prepare the complicated French recipe that her haughty employer has demanded. It’s the Cinderella scenario basically, but in the US version what makes the wicked stepmother figure really wicked is that she affects sophisticated tastes.

Annie also has to take care of the woman’s son, an insufferable brat (what else could he be with a mother who has such pretentious tastes?). Yet, in the span of this three-minute scene, Annie manages to transform the brat into a good , plucky American kid. How? She has him eat peanut butter. None of this fancy French food, and no plate or bread either – just peanut butter directly out of the jar. The moral is clear (though it’s spelled out again later in the film in case you didn’t get it): simple American kid-food, good; sophisticated French adult-food, bad.

Of course, things change – cultures are not monolithic, nor are they static – and there may some gradual movement towards convergence on both sides of the Atlantic. In France, they elected Sarko l’Americain, President Bling-Bling, who, shortly after taking office, married Carla Bruni, a pop singer with a relaxed-fit relationship to pitch. More recently, he visited the Vatican in company with “an exceptionally crude French stand-up comic.” For our part in the US, we now have Starbuck’s just about everywhere selling expensive coffees with names that we once might have rejected as too foreign sounding. “Latte” is becoming as American as pizza.

Smart – and Successful – People

April 13, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston
“Smart People” is not a great movie, but if you’re an academic, I guess you have to see it if only for Dennis Quaid as a paunchy, pompous, florid, self-absorbed, dyspeptic, ill-groomed, and thoroughly unlikeable English professor at Carnegie Mellon. (If they can do this to Dennis Quaid, is anybody safe?) It’s not like looking in the mirror (I hope), but it might be like looking around the Faculty Senate meeting.

The movie is full of improbabilities. How could such a man ever have attracted a woman pretty as the wife, now deceased, whose pictures we see and whose memory he clings to, Adrian Monk style? And what could Sarah Jessica Parker, an emergency room doctor, now see in him?

The substance of the movie is in the characters – how they are revealed to us, how they interact, how they come to some self-awareness, and how they even change. But then why inject the element of career success into everything? American movies have a concern with success that borders on obsession or compulsion. About a year ago, I noted that “Music and Lyrics” a romantic comedy, pretended to be about love but was really about success.

The people who made “Smart People” felt compelled to make it about success, not just for the professor, but even for two supporting characters. (Sarah Jessica Parker is already a success.) I don’t want to give the plot away, so I’ll just say that in the case of the professor and his son, the success is both improbable and not at all necessary for the story. (The same improbable, unnecessary success haunts Steve Martin’s “Shopgirl,” which starts off being about very ordinary people, as the title implies, but eventually even the secondary characters become stars.) Only Thomas Haden Church, as Quaid’s ne’er-do-well adoptive brother, remains resolutely unsuccessful. (And what’s with Ellen Page in yet another film about an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy carried to term? I guess she’s not going to be NARAL’s woman of the year.)

Give the professor a less successful, less pretty love interest, give him a more modest bit of success, take away the improbable accidental pregnancy and let the relationship develop on character rather than circumstance, and you’d have a better movie. Of course, such changes might be downright unAmerican.

Faber (not the pencil)

April 12, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston


Scott McLemee at Inside Higher Ed reviews Betrayal by Houston Baker. Baker’s book is a less than persuasive rant (in McLemee’s view) against other black intellectuals. Here’s the gotcha that McLemee uses to drive the stake through the heart of Betrayal.
Baker points out that in the 1940s, Irving Kristol, the founding father of that neoconservatism, abandoned the constricted world of left-wing politics “in search of a more expansive field of intellectual and associational commerce (one in which he would be ‘permitted’ to read Max Faber)....”

That parenthetical reference stopped me cold. I have a certain familiarity with the history of Kristol and his cohort, but somehow the role of Max Faber in their bildung had escaped my notice. Indeed, the name itself was totally unfamiliar. And having been informed that this book was “the product of “a rigorous, scholarly reading practice” — one “seasoned with wit,” mind you, and published by Columbia University Press — I felt quite embarrassed by this gap in my knowledge.

Off to the library, then, to unearth the works of Max Faber! And then the little light bulb went off.

Anybody who’s ever taken Intro Soc will know what the little light bulb was illuminating. If you haven’t already caught on, I’ll add some spoiler space before printing the next sentence of the review

S
P
0
I
L
E
R

Baker (who assures us that he is a capable judge of social-scientific discussions of African-American life) was actually referring to Max Weber.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

April 11, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston

The orgheads may correct me, but I think that in principle and practice, it’s usually a bad idea for the top people in an organization to insulate themselves from contradictory or unpleasant facts and opinions.

Ed Koch, when he was mayor, used stop New Yorkers in the street and ask, “How’m I doing?” He may even have listened to the responses. It was sort of like the king in the fairy tale who disguises himself as a commoner to walk among the people to find out what they really think of him.

That’s not George W. Bush. His “public” appearances have been before audiences selected for their favorable views. So for a moment, when a substantial number of the crowd at National’s Park booed him as he walked to the mound to throw out the first ball of the season, he seemed truly puzzled and upset, almost petulant and sulking. I’m no Paul Ekman, but I think you can see what I mean about 57 seconds into this video.



There’s a lesson in sampling here too. Whether you heard more boos or cheers depended on where you were sitting. The above clip is from the broadcast feed, and the boos are clearly audible. But a few people who had camcorders and recorded the moment have posted their videos to YouTube. If your seats were in the less expensive outfield sections, you heard a higher ratio of boos to applause. But one of the YouTube clips was posted under the title “Bush CHEERED at Nationals opener, throws first pitch.” Sure enough, the sound in this clip is almost all cheers. And what kind of tickets did this citizen-videographer have? The third base boxes.

Of course, it’s significant that the jeerers were so numerous that there was even any question, especially since the announcer did not speak the name Bush but referred only to the majesty of office: “the President of the United States.” Even to me, it seemed not quite right to have the president booed on a ceremonial occasion, rituals being moments of solidarity, not conflict. And for better or worse, our political head of state is also our ceremonial figurehead. In fact, in one of the videos, taken from deep center field, you can hear the guy with the camera comment, “I’ve never heard anything like this.”