What Do Happy People Know?

I was skimming Dan Baker’s What Happy People Know tonight and ran across this passage: “In childhood, our spirits were unbridled and unbroken…As we get older, though, and have to solve all our own problems, we become increasingly obsessed with what it takes to survive in this world. Our basic balance begins to shift–from spirit to survival–and we lose our love for life.”

Baker’s solution? Cultivating what he calls the “12 Qualities of Happiness,” which are:

  • Love
  • Optimism
  • Courage
  • A sense of freedom
  • Proactivity
  • Security
  • Health
  • Spirituality
  • Altruism
  • Perspective
  • Humor
  • Purpose

Baker describes these attributes in more detail, but it struck me as I was reading that the late Roger Ebert possessed many, if not all, of these qualities. Despite illnesses and physical limitations, he retained his sense of humor, wonder, and purpose in life. As this lovely Slate article by Dana Stevens mentioned, “Ebert [responded] to Siskel’s criticism that he tends to go too easy on “cheap exploitative schlock” like The Players Club with this telling reply: “I also have the greatest respect for you, Gene, but if you have a flaw, it is that you are parsimonious with your enjoyment, parceling it out as if you are afraid you will prematurely expend your lifetime share.” Joy—in movies, in conversation, in language, in life—was not something that Roger Ebert meted out parsimoniously. He had more than enough to last a lifetime, and now that he’s gone, he’s left so much behind.”

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The American President

Last night I read Michael Lewis’ Vanity Fair essay on Barack Obama. If you’d like a take how the VF article portrays Obama and what it means for his campaign, please visit Anne Helen Petersen’s blog, “Celebrity Gossip, Academic Style.” She’s an incredible media scholar: her blog and classic Hollywood scandals column at the Hairpin rate very high on my must-read list. But when I read Lewis, I wasn’t thinking of Obama’s campaign in particular. Here’s the part that stood out to me:

“Eighteen months into the office [Obama] reupholstered the two chairs in his sitting area.“The chairs were kind of greasy. I was starting to think, Folks are going to start talking about us,” [he said]…And he took one look at the bookshelves, filled with china, and thought, This won’t do. “They had a bunch of plates in there,” he says, a little incredulously. “I’m not a dish guy.” The dishes he replaced with the original applications for several famous patents and patent models—Samuel Morse’s 1849 model for the first telegraph, for instance, which he pointed to and said, “This is the start of the Internet right here.”

Remind anyone else of a certain movie?

1995. Remember The American President, starring Michael Douglas as a widowed commander-in-chief and Annette Bening as the spunky environmental lobbyist who begins dating him, to a general media firestorm and vicious opposition criticism? Written by Aaron Sorkin, this movie was apparently the genesis for his television show The West Wing and seems almost psychic in its portrayal of the complexity of presidents’ private lives. We, the audience, know that the Douglas and Bening characters are both wholesomely smitten with each other and are  not whiling away the hours secretly or illegally discussing environmental policy, but….how to do we know?

It’s because Bening–outwardly feisty, but also patriotically intimidated and impressed by the presidency–acts as a kind of ‘normal person’ lens into the White House. In that way, The American President is an old-fashioned movie. You could imagine Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy as these characters. Bening, in a fictional context, gets to see the real president as a down-to-earth guy and single father. What makes him a regular guy (in an ironic parallel with the current resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue) is his relationship to objects. There’s a scene where Bening is visiting the White House and Douglas describes the White House China Room as the “Dish Room,” signaling that he’s not pretentious enough to care about china or expensive things, solely because they’re expensive.

When I read the Obama quote, I joked on Facebook that the VF article was a sign that men “don’t get china.” Even my friend J., defending his fellow man, called it an “endearing” trait in the context of the scene. And I agree. I think that’s why Hollywood and the media use recognizable details like this, to humanize the presidency, whether onscreen or in the pages of Vanity Fair. That’s our fantasy president as the protagonist and romantic lead: the guy who calls it “the Dish Room.”

“Be yourself. And compliment her on her shoes.”

Hollywood: Anita Loos’ hats & Marilyn Monroe’s diamonds

I haven’t talked about my MFA thesis on classic Hollywood hair in a while, but I’m in the process of revising parts of it & thought it might be interesting to blog about it a little. I’m expanding my Marilyn Monroe chapter to spend more time on one of Monroe’s most famous roles, Lorelei Lee in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953). Lorelei is the character–a glitzy blonde showgirl–that Monroe is playing in this musical number:

This musical number is a classic–yes, Madonna borrowed it for her “Material Girl” video–but she’s not alone in looking to Monroe’s Lorelei for inspiration. That pink dress is the drag costume James Franco wore awkwardly on a recent Academy Awards telecast and “Diamonds Are Girl’s Best Friend” is the song Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge! used to introduce Nicole Kidman’s tragic protagonist {although her glittery corset is drawn from another classic: Marlene Dietrich’s The Blue Angel, not Gentlemen Prefer Blondes}. By virtue of Monroe’s performance, I think, the onscreen Lorelei is a sympathetic, funny character, not a one-note gold digger.

What many people don’t know is that Lorelei Lee was the creation of author Anita Loos, a screenwriter and playwright with a long Hollywood and Broadway career. Beginning in the silent film era, Loos wrote silent “scenarios” for DW Griffith, talkie parts for Jean Harlow, and her own plays and novellas. Of all her work, the satirical 1925 novella Gentlemen Prefer Blondes–about two gold diggers traveling abroad–made her famous. But Loos herself wasn’t a blonde or a flashy showgirl. She had an interesting, flapper-ish image that she created and stuck with all her life–shiny bobbed hair and wild hats–and was a petite 4’11. There’s a fantastic website, The Anita Loos Museum, with photographs of her hat collection that you should go look at if you’re interested in clothes. Even if you don’t love crazy period hats, Loos is a noteworthy figure: she had a fabulous career, but one of the strangest marriages in the world, to a director named John Emerson. Emerson was eventually institutionalized & diagnosed with schizophrenia after attempting to kill his wife, according to Gary Carey’s biography of the author. Loos’ hobnobbed with Hearst and Marion Davis, knew Joan Crawford, and yet, couldn’t escape the shadow of her marriage, something I find fascinating.

Fun fact: Edith Wharton called Gentlemen Prefer Blondes “the Great American Novel.”