Rerun Famous Quotes

In 1934, with the country nowhere near able to climb out of the Great Depression, Upton Sinclair, famous for his muckraking novel The Jungle and his socialistic solutions for the ailing economy, had swept the Democratic primary for governor of California. (He was hardly alone in turning to socialism at such a dire time.) Mayer, fearful Sinclair would tax the movie studios to pay for his socialist programs, warned that MGM and other studios would move back east if Sinclair won—not anything he was prepared to let happen. Calling in Irving Thalberg, head of production, Mayer told him to create a fake newsreel showing the disasters that would follow such an election outcome. Movie theaters were forced to show the film when they booked an MGM movie, and William Randolph Hearst would see to its distribution to all other theaters in the state. And indeed, as soon as the fake exposé hit the screens, Sinclair’s huge lead vanished, and Frank Merriam became governor. The dirty politics and stealth tactics of Richard Nixon? As you can see, just a rerun.

The show is a part of our lives, but it’s just a part. Our lives are more about our faith in God, our love for each other, and the family we are raising together. You know, if God wasn’t for us, we wouldn’t be where we are today. Because we love God more than we love each other, we’ve been able to overcome the hurts and the scars of our younger lives and build a new life, centered on Him, focused on faith and family rather than on ourselves. And even though we sometimes fly here and there and do things famous people do--to do our part to support the show--in the end, I love being at home. Most of the time I wish I could just sit in my house all day, with a quilt on my lap, enjoying Jep’s cooking, catching a rerun of Golden Girls or Murder, She Wrote, playing cards with the kids, and enjoying my family. Fame is fleeting, but family is forever.

For Kracauer, the quintessential figure in this regard was undoubtedly Chaplin, and Roth’s comparison of Ginster to the figure of the Tramp bumbling his way through a department store finds ample confirmation in the praise Kracauer heaps on Chaplin in his reviews. His 1926 appraisal of Chaplin’s Gold Rush, for example, had been a hymn to the character’s profound humanity—albeit a humanity that asserts itself by retreating, by opposing the literally self-less figure of the Tramp to the “great ego-bundles” that constantly threaten to overwhelm him. Kracauer revels in the way Chaplin reduces the character to a lacuna, “a hole into which everything falls” and which has the power to shatter people’s self-perceptions. To Kracauer, the figure of the Tramp is touching, even transformative. “His powerlessness is dynamite,” Kracauer contends, describing Chaplin’s comedy as revelatory in its ability to show the world as it could be. Measured against the fact that the world persists as it is, Chaplin’s films provoke a form of laughter tinged with tears, for they bear witness to the disproportion “between the violence of the world and the meekness with which it is encountered.” As he notes these and other reactions to seeing Chaplin’s films during the mid- to late 1920s, Kracauer seems to be working out the poetic conception of the literary figure he would introduce to his readers soon after his encounters as a reviewer with The Gold Rush, or 1928’s The Circus (he also appears to have been a regular at a series of reruns of old Chaplin films that played at the Frankfurt Drexel Cinema just as he would have been writing his novel in late 1927 and early 1928). But there is another incarnation of Chaplin that resonates even more directly with Ginster. Though we have no record of when Kracauer first encountered Ballet mécanique from 1924, we can only guess at the impact this famous French avant-garde film would have had on the author of Ginster.