The magical world of runaway inflation

Hogwarts ain't cheap

Centives at one point calculated the cost of the first year of Hogwarts. Bottom line, it would cost about $42,752. Most of the real gems are in the comments section.
As it turns out, calculating this is far more difficult than one might think. And then there’s the whole issue of why anyone in the wizarding world would lack cash. Why did the Weasleys struggle financially? Couldn’t they just create more cash? Of course, that raises the specter of runaway inflation and the tragedy of the commons. You’d think they would’ve abandoned hard currency for some sort of magical points system.
I guess we have to assume that there’s some kind of magical non-magic to money in the wizarding world. That is, it cannot be manufactured or otherwise tampered with through magical means.
However, for all their magic, wizards and witches in this universe still seem as thoroughly enmeshed with their economic system as any of us. Their world, like ours, is a realm of rich and poor, celebrity and greed, avarice and repression. Shockingly, slavery still exists in the land of magic. Yet if money is somehow not a part of magic itself, by what mechanism does it infect this world? Money seems to diminish magic as nothing more than a technic. Magic is something practiced, yet wizards remain economic creatures.

“The Room” – Awful or awfully good?

If you haven’t checked out this movie, please do. I believe that this movie completely destroys Roger Ebert’s argument that a film must be judged entirely based on what it shows. This movie subverts Ebert’s axiom because, depending on the filmmaker’s intention, “The Room” is either one of the greatest movies ever made or one of the worst. It is either fascinating, or entirely unwatchable.

Watching “The Room” is like watching every romantic drama combined into a singular, amorphous, plastic blob. This was either done intentionally, or it is the result of a profound lack of filmmaking skill. From the playful pillow fight, to the cardboard-cutout drama of the central love triangle, “The Room” seems assembled and distilled from every romantic drama that has come before. It is as though someone set out to create a movie without breathing life into it: A profoundly characterless spool of celluloid.

If this was intentional, “The Room” tears at the foundations of cinema, exposing the machinery of movies as lifeless and stillborn and championing the auteur. It is a movie that unfolds according to the cold rhythms of raw syntax without meaning, visuals without vision. Godard emerges as god-like.

It this was unintentional, “The Room” is bad, perhaps the worst. But judgment here is suspended because the key criterion, that of the filmmaker’s intention, remains hidden. Ebert is unable to judge this film because he refuses to step outside of the screen.

Check it out!

Bad movies vs. So-bad-they’re-good movies

There’s this post over at the AV Club that offers an introduction to the wonderful world of MST3K.

A good overview of the show, though I disagree with its dismissal of “Monster A-Go-Go.”

The piece mentions “Manos: The Hands of Fate,” which has been labeled the worst movie of all time. There are many chestnuts that get placed on this list. Here’s a typical example.  This list is a great example of the type of thing that really gets my blood boiling when people start talking about bad movies. “Manos,” “Monster A-Go-Go” and the Ed Wood classic “Plan 9” are all included on this list. But one of these things is not like the other.

I would argue that whereas cases could be made for “Manos” and “Monster” as all-time putrid worsts, “Plan 9” does not deserve a spot here. “Plan 9” is the ultimate example of a movie that is so bad it is good. In fact, it may be so unintentionally bad that it is a work of genius.

A so-bad-its-good movie has, at a minimum, two things that bad movies lack:

  1. It is enjoyable.
  2. It could not be reproduced and be as enjoyable. That is, it is a singular, magnificent achievement in awfulness.
No one could ever create a movie as perfectly jumbled in every way as Ed Wood did with “Plan 9.” It took the uniquely awful genius of Wood to bear forth this movie. Who could ever intentionally write lines as perfectly putrid as these:
Now, don’t you worry. The saucers are up there. The graveyard is out there. But I’ll be locked up safely in there.
Visits? That would indicate visitors.
This is the most fantastic story I’ve ever heard.
And every word of it’s true, too.
That’s the fantastic part of it.
Let us punish the guilty. Let us reward the innocent. My friend, can your heart stand the shocking facts of grave robbers from outer space?
All of us on this earth know that there is a time to live, and that there is a time to die. Yet death is always a shock to those left behind. It is even more of a shock when Death, the Proud Brother, comes suddenly without warning. Just at sundown, a small group gathered in silent prayer, around the newly-opened grave of the beloved wife of an elderly man. Sundown of the day; yet also the sundown of the old man’s heart, for the shadows of grief clouded his very reason… The funeral over, the saddened group left the graveside. It was when the gravediggers started their task that strange things began to take place.

Nothing in “Manos” or “Monster” comes close to this magnificent butchery. “Death, the Proud Brother” is horrible in a Shakespearean or Tennyson way.

This is why calling “Plan 9” bad is like calling Beethoven’s Ninth “loud.” Ed Wood truly laps bad, creating something of pure joy. The world would be poorer without “Plan 9.” It would be none the poorer without “Manos.”