Three Years of Hell to Become the Devil: Outgeeking Bainbridge

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Outgeeking Bainbridge

Now, I'd never take on Professor Bainbridge when it comes to wine: I haven't the taste buds. And on corporate law? More fool me to challenge the guy who authors textbooks. But outgeeking? There we're on more equal ground. And I'm afraid that his accusation that George Lucas has sold the soul of Star Wars to the Democrats just rings hollow.

Basically, the good Professor is upset because:

...Lucas betrayed the basic story arc of the Star Wars mythology in order to score these cheap political points. In the original trilogy, Luke struggled against the absolutism of Obi-Wan and Yoda. It was Luke who insisted that there was still good in Vader, which Yoda and Obi-Wan rejected.

The betrayal in question is in having Obi-Wan say to Anakin, after the latter has muttered some you're-for-me-or-against-me line, "Only a Sith thinks in absolutes."

Now, I've not seen the movie yet, and to the best of my knowledge, neither has Prof. Bainbridge, but to my mind his internal critique doesn't hold up. Bainbridge spends a great deal of time talking about how an older (presumably wiser) Obi-Wan was still doctrinaire and absolutist in his consideration of the Force. But if we consider this Obi-Wan to be less mature than Alec Guinness (and who wouldn't), then the plot still hangs together. Obi-wan may just be full of it. And there's no "betrayal" for "cheap political points" so long as the elder Jedi isn't doing anything more than the lightsaber equivalent of Godwin's Law: you know the conversation's over (and someone's limbs are about to go) when somebody mentions the Sith.

So why are so many assuming that Old Kenobi needs to be taken seriously? It seems that the New York Times found political meaning in the film:

"This is how liberty dies - to thunderous applause," Padm observes as senators, their fears and dreams of glory deftly manipulated by Palpatine, vote to give him sweeping new powers. "Revenge of the Sith" is about how a republic dismantles its own democratic principles, about how politics becomes militarized, about how a Manichaean ideology undermines the rational exercise of power. Mr. Lucas is clearly jabbing his light saber in the direction of some real-world political leaders. At one point, Darth Vader, already deep in the thrall of the dark side and echoing the words of George W. Bush, hisses at Obi-Wan, "If you're not with me, you're my enemy." Obi-Wan's response is likely to surface as a bumper sticker during the next election campaign: "Only a Sith thinks in absolutes." You may applaud this editorializing, or you may find it overwrought, but give Mr. Lucas his due. For decades he has been blamed (unjustly) for helping to lead American movies away from their early-70's engagement with political matters, and he deserves credit for trying to bring them back.

Dear goodness, we can only hope. I mean, if Democrats can't do better than Lucas's tin-ear for dialogue for their political bumper stickers, then I suspect the Republicans will get the geek vote. But now the New York Times has done the impossible: it's made me curious about the final Star Wars film.

Let's face it: Lucas is about as subtle as a chainsaw running through a screen door, at least when it comes to dialogue. I'd expect that even if Chewbacca were mouthing Bush-lite rhetoric, you wouldn't need to be Han Solo to figure out the reference. On the other hand, the New York Times could probably scan Beowulf and find hidden anti-Bush meanings.

So who is it? Is George L. taking on George B.? Or is this all a figment of the Times' fevered fantasies? Sadly, I'll have to see the film to find out, because when it comes to a conflict between the Lucas lack of subtext and the Greying Lady's determination to find same, we reach a level of difficulty almost equal to that of the Great Sci Fi Paradox: What happens when a bunch of clueless red-shirts, guaranteed to survive less than three minutes after a beamdown, meets a platoon of Imperial Stormtroopers, who can't hit a barn from inside it?


This article on a Cannes press conference might save you the trouble of going to the movie.
A wise man once pointed out that "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar", and I think someone needs to remind Prof. Bainbridge that sometimes a trashy sci-fi B flick is just a trashy sci-fi B flick.....
The "wise man" was Freud, on the sometimes-noninterpretation-of-dreams. Less well known is his debt to Kipling. The original line went something like "Wine is only wine, but a cigar is a smoke."
I've noticed that people who are absolutist often think that they are nuanced. (Often because they know other people on their own side who are even more extreme, or have unexpressed feelings which are much nastier.)
TTP: I know it was Freud; I was under the impression that the quote was familiar enough that nobody (at least nobody well educated enough to be follwoing a first person narrative of American legal education) needed to be told who said it. :-)
Oh, perhaps I've underestimated folks. I was under the impression that a lot of people didn't know the source. Eh. Also I was trolling for the exact phrasing of the Kipling quote.
"Now, I've not seen the movie yet, and to the best of my knowledge, neither has Prof. Bainbridge..." And thus continues the conservative tradition of critiquing movies without having seen them. :)
If you notice, Dave, the above isn't a critique of a movie, but a series of questions about it. And having now seen the movie, if you want to carry water for Lucas's dialogue, I hope your back's pretty strong.

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Farewell, India

Train 3 e1271098674948 Farewell, India

Passengers boarding the train

India has affected me deeply, and I longed to give her a proper goodbye before parting ways.

To conclude our Indian adventure, we plotted out a week-long stay in the serene, green northeast territory of the country. We had a first class train ticket in hand and a charming hotel awaited our arrival. Although tranquility was what we were after, we soon learned India had something else up her sleeve. She preferred to give us a more authentic adieu.

Setting off from the holy city of Varanasi to the hill station of Darjeeling, our journey began. Loading up our bulky packs, we marched through a maze of tight, crowded alleyways and fought through the hissing and heckling of an aggressive mob of rickshaw drivers. Coughing our way through the muggy air, we made the hour-long journey to the train station to arrive in time for our 9 p.m. train.

Upon our arrival we received news that our 16-hour overnight train was delayed. It wasn’t just any delay. It was a delay of eleven hours. We were doomed.

All simple, logical solutions were faulty. Trains are typically full for weeks in advance (especially if you are looking to ride away from the smut and grime of the economy cabin) so canceling our ticket and buying another was out of the question. Finding a hotel to stay in proved impossible. By this hour, hotels were closed, adhering to the strictly enforced curfew policy in Varanasi. Further, with the city’s nightly power outage the pitch black ride back to the city, at this time, would be treacherous.

Train 4 e1271098781471 Farewell, India

Crowded floors of the Mughal Serai train station at night

Desperate to find lodging for the night, we even checked the train station dormitory but with our luck it was completely full. Without a plausible option, spending the night inside the station was becoming a reality.

I will try to describe the grim situation of the Mughal Serai train station to the best of my ability, but I can assure you it will not do justice. The smell is overwhelming. It’s a toxic odor of burning trash stinging your eyes and singeing your nose. It’s the piercing stench of fecal matter squirting out of busted pipes and spewing from the bottoms of trains. It’s the sticky puddles of stale-smelling urine covering the station platforms. The dim low-hanging, lights reveal a thick layer of filth and mounds of litter, providing a feast to the swarms of flies and beetles that surround.

Truly disgusted with the conditions, we were directed to the ‘upper-class’ waiting room where we could wait it out. After settling our bags and wiping away the damp sweat covering our bodies, we noticed the room was crawling with rats. With seemingly nowhere else to go, we escaped to the adjacent train station restaurant in hopes to find a resting place for the night.

Train 6 e1271099473123 Farewell, India

Passengers catch some shut eye while waiting for train

Here we met some fellow travelers and bonded quickly over the inauspicious situation. Trying to laugh it off and occupy our tired heads, we shared stories of our travels while sipping down hot cups of brew. In the midst of the newly discovered camaraderie, we failed to realize this place, too, was teeming with an army of cat-sized rats.

India was certainly testing me again. This time I was pushed to my breaking point, teetering over the edge. But she’s tricky, that India. Just when you are about to lose it she takes you in and shows you just how bad it could be. She reveals a reality a million times worse.

Out of the train tracks came the children. At 2 a.m. a group of four, five and six year olds roamed barefoot along the tracks. With their ratted hair and dressed in filthy rags, they gathered broken bottles and empty cardboard thrown from windows of the trains and piled them high into giant, burlap bags slung over their shoulders. They laughed and giggled as they walked through mounds of litter while dodging rats scurrying across the tracks and swatting flies off each other’s faces.

Station e1271132988402 Farewell, India

Child sleeping on the floor of the train station

A second group followed and a third. By 4 a.m., there were several groups of children gathered on the train platform. Their day was finally done and they laid down, just feet from us, on the hard concrete to rest their eyes. This station was their home.

My heart was broken.

For the remainder of the night we too made a bed on the platform floor. Laying on our backpacks, mosquitoes and flies feasted on our bodies and we pretended we didn’t hear the rats squeaking and scurrying beside us. We even tried to ignore the peering strangers huddling around us, plotting out a moment to rummage through our bags.

By the time the sun rose, the children were already off to work the new arrivals to the station. They were joined by tens of scrawny invalids scrambling for change. And when our eleven hour delay turned into fifteen hours, it somehow didn’t seem all that bad.

Our train did finally arrive, and we slept in the air conditioned sleeping car for the duration of the journey. When the forty hour trip o Darjeeling finally came to an end, I realized this might have been just the goodbye we needed to conclude our Indian journey. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

pixel Farewell, India

Comments (7)

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  1. roundwego says:

    @Catia, @Andrea, @Elise, @Courtney, @Ashley – India sure gave us a big kick in the rear on our way out, but it certainly put things in pespective as that place always does. It’s an experience that is so hard to describe, but these travel days paint a pretty darn good picture. Thanks for following our tales!

    @Dad – Glad grandma is enjoying our adventures! Looking forward to sharing the latest from Nepal.

  2. Dad Keller says:

    I found out this morning that Grandma beat me to your posts, so I just spent about twenty minutes catching up on the last three. Even though I’d heard the stories through Skype in the meantime, they did indeed pack a punch. Grandma’s SO into your writing, and she shares each chapter with her dinner companions. The woman who runs the computer center at the retirement center is also following your itinerary with interest. Glad I got your next stops straight in my mind in our conversation this weekend, and look forward to our next chat. Love and miss you both so much! Always your, DAD

  3. Wow Laura! Great description of train stations in India. We never had a 15 hour delay but I do know the smells and sights. The children are the hardest to see. Keep up the great blogging and we will see you two soon!

  4. Elise says:

    i just read this post and all i can say is wow! sounds like quite an eye opening experience! hope u get to head somewhere where life can settle down a little bit! safe travels!

  5. Andrea says:

    Funny how life does that to us. Changes our perspective in the blink of an eye, I mean. One person’s filth is another person’s fortune. Heartbreaking, yet inspiring at the same time. My sister had a similar experience in India… and she wouldn’t change it for the world. Stay safe!

  6. Courtney says:

    Wow, Laura, great post. I have enjoyed reading about the entire journey through India as this is a place I will probably never go. Your descriptions were so vivid, it really gave a true depiction of the conditions there. Miss and love you!

  7. Catia says:

    That is a very beautiful, moving post and it really does sound like the perfect good-bye to India. Thanks for sharing your experience.
    .-= Catia´s last blog ..Teotihuacán, Mexico – ‘Where Men Become Gods’ =-.