Today MontanaWriter is featuring a movie review from film aficionado Keith Cambre. 

John Wayne played in 152 films, and I am keeping a life list of as many of his works as I can see.  At present, I have screened about three dozen of his films with over 100 to go!  Recently, I viewed one of The Duke’s later works, The Cowboys, for the first time.  This film debuted in 1972, and I am wondering how I let 40 years pass before seeing such a gem.

John Wayne plays Wil Andersen, a successful Montana rancher who must drive his sizeable herd to market, 400 miles away in Belle Fourche.  When Andersen’s hired hands desert him en masse to pan for gold, he is forced to employ 11 boys to accompany him on the drive.  During this Old West Road Trip, the boys are transformed under the mature tutelage of The Duke’s character, who is a font of paternal energy, strength, and wisdom.

There is a second source of father energy on the drive:  Roscoe Lee Browne plays the erudite African-American mess cook, Jebediah Nightlinger, who works in tandem with Andersen to balance the trials of the boys and to shelter their innocence when necessary.  Like Jim in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, the inclusion of Mr. Nightlinger in the story speaks of an America where disparate parts come together for the good of all.  E pluribus unum.  The drive also includes Cimarron, an illegitimate Hispanic youth, and Charlie Schwartz, who on meeting Andersen, cheerfully introduces himself as Jewish.  Indeed, all races and backgrounds are welcome on the drive.  All that matters is a focus on working together, looking out for each other, and getting the job done.

Of course, there are bad guys on this cattle drive, set to steal the herd.  Bruce Dern plays a deliciously nasty character, whose sin of bullying the boys trumps his sin of rustling the cattle.  The rustlers’ evil eventually spills over to killing Andersen.  The Cowboys is rare in the annals of John Wayne films in that The Duke’s character dies about 30 minutes before the ending, and it is further rare in that he is shot from behind.  Falling in a cruciform manner, similar to Clint Eastwood’s character at the conclusion of Gran Torino, Andersen admonishes Mr. Nightlinger to get the boys home safely, and just before dying, he tells the boys that he is proud of them.  Coming from The Duke, there can be no greater benediction.

The film concludes with the boys “finishing the job” by retaking the herd from the rustlers and ultimately dispatching the bad guys, one by one.  While some may criticize the film’s depiction of the boys as killers, Bruce Dern’s character and his cohort certainly had it coming.  At the end, the cowboys ride the herd into Belle Fourche, completing the task set upon them.  They return to Montana, not as boys, but as men.

In addition to a great story and fine acting, the cinematography of The Cowboys is sweeping and rich.  Musical elements complement the visual perfectly as John Williams’ score evokes the spaciousness and grandeur of Aaron Copland.  John Wayne supposedly commented that his performance in The Cowboys was his favorite of the 152 films in which he worked.  While he is better remembered for his roles in The Searchers and True Grit, The Cowboys is nevertheless a must-see for any fan of The Duke.  I recommend!

A Few Memorable Quotes

Wil (John Wayne):  “We’re burning daylight!”

* * * * * * * *

Mr. Nightlinger (Browne): to feminine entrepreneurs encountered on the cattle drive:  “Well, I have the maturity, and the inclination and the wherewithal, but unfortunately, I don’t have the time.”

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(copyright © m.a.h. hinton)

Today MontanaWriter is featuring a guest post from Jared Linsly, who has posted here before. An avid baseball fan and transplant to the North Country, Jerry lives in Ramsey County, Minnesota.

Although I spent time living in New England many years ago, I’m still taken aback by the  yin/yang seemingly ‘perfect storm’ of hubris and self loathing that permeates the region (at least regarding sports). Perhaps it’s a product of the combination of Calvinism and Irish (predominantly there) Catholicism – you are apparently not allowed to be happy and should feel guilty if you are. Regional history has often been self-fulfilling, despite the recent remarkable successes of the Sox, the Pats, the Celts, and the Bruins. The glasses, mugs, steins, etc. all seem to be half-empty, despite constant refills . I’m sure the weather is also a factor.  It all combines to create what is known snarkily and joyously anti-PC as “Irish Alzheimer’s” – you forget everything but the offenses, slights, insults, etc.

Contrast the relatively newly populated and innocent Twin Cities, where today there is celebration in the well-earned retirement of John Gordon, the excitement of winning the baseball season’s last game to avoid 100 losses (!?!), the cautious hope for the Lynx, the new promise for the Wild, the possibility that the Wolves won’t torment us this season, and relief that so far the University of Minnesota’s traditional and general ineptitude has not killed the new football coach. Maybe we don’t have the weight of accumulated history to guide us (although the Vikings have been consistently demoralizing). Maybe it’s just a matter of time  before we become like the older sections of the country, and ratchet up the bile, envy, and misery. Maybe our standards are lower and/or more realistic. Or maybe we  acknowledge that life is short as it is, and winter is always lurking, so why try to be more miserable than necessary. I am aware of local bitter nay-sayers but they do not seem to be as pervasive here. I’m glad we are not as ‘cutting edge’ in this area.

Looking forward to the playoffs and the Series.

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Today we welcome a new guest blogger, Aaron  C. who writes about a “hair-raising” motorcycle trip toward Big Sky Country

To Montana (Almost) on Two Wheels:  A Hair-Raising Adventure

It didn’t take long to convince my wife that a road trip to Montana was a great idea. What took a bit longer was convincing her that taking the motorcycle instead of the Buick was an even better idea.  But after a few weekends taking hundred-mile blasts through the Midwest on the back of the bike, she was having so much fun that she agreed.

In retrospect, taking a 35-year-old motorcycle—one that had previously taken out a deer and given me a serious case of road rash – out of the immediate neighborhood was probably not my most brilliant moment.  But wisdom is often acquired with reluctance and foolhardy ventures are often the most fun.  So, I bought saddlebags and a windshield and put a passenger backrest with an attached luggage rack on the back. We promptly loaded about twice as much as anybody would ever need for such a trip and set off for Montana looking like the Joad family from John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath.

For those not familiar with the journeys of the Joad family, think instead of The Beverly Hillbillies but with an ancient overloaded yellow motorcycle with black saddlebags and a big red waterproof bag tarp-strapped to the rack on the back. Incidentally, our overloaded bike would inspire more than a few slow drive-bys from some incredulous state troopers.

We got a late start to visit our niece at the Chrysalis School in Montana because the bike wasn’t running right. (I know, I know, that would have been a fairly good sign to the average duck but I’ve always had a stubborn streak.)  So after some wrenching, a few smashed knuckles and supplication to the motorcycle gods we were on our way.

Due of our late start, it got dark after only a few hundred miles of travel and I really felt the need to make it at least as far as South Dakota before stopping.  Unfortunately, we ran into a wall of thunderstorms and only made it halfway through Minnesota.  (Imagine a drop of rain hitting you in the forehead right between where your half-helmet stops and your goggles begin. Now multiply that by a billion and add the tidal waves of water coming off the eighteen wheelers and you have a rough approximation of what it was like).

Through some less-than-subtle encouragement from my better half, I was finally convinced to stop for the night at a small and somewhat underwhelmingly appointed motel room. Still, it had a hot shower and a snug bed, and most important, it was dry.  After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast we packed up the bike, ready to continue our trip. The bike, however, was less enthusiastic about the prospect.  The electric starter refused to work and I had to use the kick-starter.  When it finally fired up, my leg was cramping from all the expended effort and the motorcycle was only running on three cylinders.

And so it was—against all my stubborn inclinations—that we decided to turn back. Limping along the two-lane highways on three (and sometimes two) cylinders, I focused on gaining all the speed I could while going downhill just to barely make it to the top of the next one.  As the miles stretched out in front of us, I thought to myself:  Next time we’re taking the Buick.

Bio: Aaron C. lives in Northern Indiana and spends most of his time reading, writing and motorcycling.  With a brother living near Ennis, MT and the old yellow Honda finally sold, he hopes to ride his new Triumph to Montana this summer.

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Today we welcome a new guest blogger, Alexis Bonari, who reviews “Canto LXXXI” by Ezra Pound.

Poetry Review: “Canto LXXXI” by Ezra Pound

In the autumn of 2007, I traveled to the foothills of the Italian Alps to study under Mary and Siegfried de Rachewiltz, the daughter and grandson (respectively) of Ezra Pound.  Nearly every day for three months, we twelve college students gathered around a table for hours at a time, taking turns reading Pound’s The Cantos, his unfinished volume of poetry.  We enjoyed it most when Mary read it to us.  She was 82, so her voice had lost some of its song, but it still carried the pronounced lilt with which her father had recited his work.

I’ll admit: I enjoy reading about Ezra more than I do reading his poetry.  Pound was one of the fathers of modern poetry alongside W. B. Yeats and T. S. Eliot; he is said to have discovered James Joyce.  His views on economic matters were less than popular and led to whispers—well, full-fledged courtroom accusations, really—of anti-Semitism in America.  Pound left his native United States for Italy, where he retreated to Brunnenburg Castle with Mary and eventually Rapallo and Venice with his mistress, Olga Rudge (Mary’s mother).  Near death, Pound is said to have admonished himself for his “worst mistake…the stupid suburban anti-Semitic prejudice.”

Whatever his political leanings, Pound was a master of the written word—in more than nine languages, some of them dead.  As a poet, he’s self-indulgent and loquacious, daring any sometime-enthusiast to crack his next code.  Admittedly, none of us—even the creative writing majors—knew what he was going on about more than half the time.

All that means, however, is that there is much for us to learn.  Try this excerpt of Canto LXXXI (81), one of his more straightforward works.

Excerpt from Canto LXXXI

Ed ascoltando il leggier mormorio

there came new subtlety of eyes into my tent,whether of spirit or hypostasis,

but what the blindfold hides

or at carneval

nor any pair showed anger

Saw but the eyes and stance between the eyes,

colour, diastasis,

careless or unaware it had not the

whole tent’s room

nor was place for the full

interpass, penetrate

casting but shade beyond the other lights

sky’s clear

night’s sea

green of the mountain pool

shone from the unmasked eyes in half-mask’s space.

What thou lovest well remains,

the rest is dross

What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee

What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage

Whose world, or mine or theirs

or is it of none?

First came the seen, then thus the palpable

Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,

What thou lovest well is thy true heritage

What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee

The ant’s a centaur in his dragon world.

Pull down thy vanity, it is not man

Made courage, or made order, or made grace,

Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down.

Learn of the green world what can be thy place

In scaled invention or true artistry,

Pull down thy vanity,

Paquin pull down!

The green casque has outdone your elegance.

“Master thyself, then others shall thee beare”

Pull down thy vanity

Thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail,

A swollen magpie in a fitful sun,

Half black half white

Nor knowst’ou wing from tail

Pull down thy vanity

How mean thy hates

Fostered in falsity,

Pull down thy vanity,

Rathe to destroy, niggard in charity,

Pull down thy vanity,

I say pull down.

But to have done instead of not doing

This is not vanity

To have, with decency, knocked

That a Blunt should open

To have gathered from the air a live tradition

or from a fine old eye the unconquered flame

this is not vanity.

Here error is all in the not done,

all in the diffidence that faltered . . .

(Notes provided by University of North Carolina at Greensboro)

Bio: Alexis Bonari is a freelance writer and amateur musician. Lately she’s been researching scholarships for women and guest posting on higher education. To keep her sanity she enjoys practicing martial arts and playing PlayStation 3.

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Maria Rainier, guest blogger, reviews “The Maxx”

The Maxx Explores the Edges of Reality

My first introduction to The Maxx was through a cartoon series hosted by MTV called “Oddities.” This was back in the day when MTV actually played music videos and edgy shows that skirted the fringes of socially acceptable programming.

I was immediately drawn to the cartoon, which relied on a more gritty animation style, darker around the edges both in terms of visuals and content. This short six-episode series delved into territory that explored the complexities of the subconscious, rape and sexual abuse, childhood wounding, and survival. But the vehicle it used to do so was a hulking, bumbling homeless man dressed up in a purple spandex suit that somehow flitted between reality and an otherworldly place known as “the Outback.”

The Graphic Novel

Shortly after watching the brief series, I learned that it was based on a graphic novel by the same name, written and inked by Sam Kieth, who had done some previous work on Mage and The Sandman (another favorite). I immediately went out and bought a collection of the first 12 issues – followed shortly thereafter by a purchase of the entire series of 35 issues.

The Maxx tells the story of Julie Winters, a freelance social worker who created the alternate subconscious reality known as The Outback to cope with being beaten and raped in college. In The Outback, Julie is the invincible Jungle Queen, and The Maxx is her protector. In reality, she is promiscuous and vulnerable and The Maxx is a homeless man who she once hit with her car.

While Julie comes to terms with her attack and learns more about the alternate world she has created, the story begins to follow other characters, including Sarah, a depressed teen sent to Julie for counseling, and Mr. Gone, a serial rapist who is revealed to be Sarah’s father and a close friend of Julie’s family.

Not Your Typical Superhero Story

What makes The Maxx so compelling is that it pushed beyond the limits of the typical superhero story to explore some underlying struggles that we all must face: forming our identity, overcoming our past, finding a path towards healing, grappling with our mortality. The story relies on sophisticated narrative techniques and symbolism (such as the tiny Iszs that represent our inner fears and self-destructive behavior) to advance the story.

The characters are unique and grounded in reality – these are people you could know. These are people that could be you. They are vulnerable, and their fears and insecurities are laid bare. Their pain is universal, and their struggle forces us to question how we confront our own pain, and to come to terms with how we also contort our own reality to make sense of our suffering and to ensure our survival.

Maria Rainier

Finally, the graphic novel is visually stunning. The panels are fully rendered, and convey a sense of the atmosphere – not just the action. You understand what it is to live in the dream-like state that is at times reality and at times the product of personal creation.

If you prefer to be introduced to the story in the same way I did, check out the originalcartoon on DVD. The animation uses a “living comic book style” that reads just likethe graphic novel, set to motion. The show also won a Special Award for a TV series at the 1995 Annecy International Film Festival.

Bio: Maria Rainier is a freelance writer and blog junkie. She is currently a resident blogger at First in Education where she writes about education, online degree programs, and what it takes to succeed as a remote student in online schools. In her spare time, she enjoys square-foot gardening, swimming, and avoiding her laptop.

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The long dark night is ending

For baseball fans, can there be any words sweeter than these: “pitchers and catcher report”?

Spring training means hope and the end of darkness. It means that long afternoons and warm nights will come again. It means that even this, the longest and coldest  winters in memory, will soon pass. Baseball is about to begin!

In honor of the unofficial end of winter and the beginning of spring– in Florida and Arizona at least–  MontanaWriter is pleased to feature a number of baseball haiku.

Baseball and haiku are a perfect match. Both are deceptively simple… yet for anyone who has tried their hand at baseball or writing haiku it is quickly clear that they are both difficult undertakings. Both are games of numbers. Both require patience, attention, and a mindfulness. And both are rooted in the pastoral. And most of all, both are enjoyable.

Today’s baseball haikus were written by baseball aficionado, Jared Linsly. Jerry is a regular reader and commenter to MontanaWriter and our  “go-to guy” for all things baseball.

Enjoy!

Selected Baseball Haiku, by Jared Linsly

Mid-February
Pitchers, catchers report now
Life reverts to youth

Rejuvenation!
Winter’s melancholy gone
Spring Training is here!

Ball strikes bat and glove
Grills and grass release their scents
Pastime lures faithful

Crowd noise from bleachers
Swells as hurler makes his stretch
Lingering suspense

Ball hurtling home
Batter coils expectantly
Explosion unleashed

Enough of Winter!
Beisbol numero uno!
Hot Stove burns brightly

Two-Thousand-Ten gone
Twins need to bolster mound corps
Spring Training impends

New season is nigh
White Sox have tossed the gauntlet
Twins need clutch offense

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Today we are pleased to welcome guest blogger Maria Rainier:

Maria Rainier – guest blog writer

Music & Poetry in the Creative Writing Classroom: Tips & Tricks for Teachers

There are many creative spirits who have found that music stimulates their ability to court the muse. I’m not just talking about medieval poets who crowded around the minstrel for inspiration – even today, music can help students access and articulate their creativity. While I was studying piano performance as an undergraduate student, I had a number of artist friends who liked to draw while I played. They brought their large sketch pads and charcoal pencils so they could draw while I played classical pieces, and they also enjoyed working during department-wide improvisation nights. If there were any writers attending student performances for creative inspiration, I didn’t know about it, but I can say that students of the visual arts found it helpful.

As a writer, personal experience tells me that music is a valuable resource when inspiration or ideas are scarce. There are days when the word “creativity” isn’t even in my vocabulary, and on those days, it can be either a favorite piece of music or a completely unfamiliar one that jolts the muse back into focus. In addition to listening to music while writing, there are some ways to use it in the classroom that can help students access their creativity more easily. Here are a few that I’ve used with creative writing students to show them that inspiration doesn’t always have to be difficult to find.

Image Associations with Popular Classical Pieces
Collect recordings of a few different popular classical pieces, such as Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries or Karl Jenkins’ Palladio Suite, and play short excerpts during class. It should be easy to find what you need on YouTube. Your students should recognize these pieces from movies and commercials, at least, and some of them may know the true origins of the music’s popularity. After each excerpt, ask students to identify where they’ve heard the music before and what the context was. Once you’ve identified some images to associate with the piece, replay the excerpt and ask your students to listen more closely, writing descriptors as they “hear” images. For the next class period, ask each student to choose an excerpt and write a full single-spaced page describing one image they wrote about in their notes.

Music & Poem Pairs: Finding Common Threads
Pair poems with pieces of music. You can do this randomly or you can choose music that seems to echo the content of the poems you’re working with. Evocative music works best, such as overtures to operas or ballet music, because it’s already bridging the gap across two or more art forms. Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, any of Tchaikovsky’s ballet music, Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro overture, and many other pieces are meant to describe images and events. This makes them ideal for students who are learning about the concepts of interpretation and evocation in both music and creative writing. Assign a poem with a piece of music to each student and ask them to identify the commonalities. Which parts of the music describe specific images in the poem? This can be an assignment for class discussion or you can request a written response.

Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words: Lyrics 101
There’s a beautiful suite of piano music by Mendelssohn called Songs without Words – you can find Op. 19 No. 1 here on YouTube. Each short piece is meant to replicate the effects of a song, but without the words. You can assign a piece to each student and ask them to write lyrics for each “song”. This is a fun exercise in creativity, but it also helps students build the skills necessary to recognize a short story or poem in the music they hear every day. It helps if you specify that the lyrics don’t have to match the rhythm of the piece– a simple poem that describes the “song” is more likely to let the creativity flow without undue stress. This assignment should be easier to complete than writing a poem in silence, so students tend to enjoy it and are often inspired to be a little more unique with their creativity.

Bio: Maria Rainier is a freelance writer and blog junkie. She is currently a resident blogger at First in Education, where she’s been performing gender wage gap research as related to the highest paying degrees. In her spare time, she enjoys square-foot gardening, swimming, and avoiding her laptop.

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Edgar Renteria

I have a soft spot in my heart for poems about sports, especially baseball. I have an even softer spot in my heart for the writer of today’s inaugural guest post, my brother Paul, a San Francisco Giants fan.

Paul lives in Santa Cruz, California, not far from where our parents first lived when they were newly married and just starting a family. In 1966, they packed up their two sons and  moved back north to the small town where my mother grew up.

My mother, who was also a Giants fan, often said that one of the reasons they moved back north was because she did not want her sons growing up to be California beach bums. She obviously made the decision too late. By 1966, I was 6 and Paul was 4… the damage apparently had been done. Her sons (even the one born later up north) grew up to be bums of various stripes anyway – though Paul alone can fairly be called one of the beach variety.

I may be biased, but I enjoy this poem of his immensely. Just as I did the Giants team and the series.

Enjoy!

Glorybound
by Paul Hinton

lee stood tall on the mound
from his stretch he unwound
he fired a pitch without a sound
the inside corner of the plate it found
but renterias mighty bat came round
rangers fans then frowned
renteria was glorybound

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