All posts by Eric Robert Nolan

Eric Robert Nolan graduated from Mary Washington College in 1994 with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology. He spent several years a news reporter and editorial writer for the Culpeper Star Exponent in Culpeper, Virginia. His work has also appeared on the front pages of numerous newspapers in Virginia, including The Free Lance – Star and The Daily Progress. Eric entered the field of philanthropy in 1996, as a grant writer for nonprofit healthcare organizations. Eric’s poetry has been featured by Dead Beats Literary Blog, Dagda Publishing, The International War Veterans’ Poetry Archive, and elsewhere. His poetry will also be published by Illumen Magazine in its Spring 2014 issue.

I need therapy after watching the Season 2 finale of “Hannibal.” Which is kind of ironic, if you think about it. (Season 2 review.)

It was brutal and amazing.  Where Season 1 was extremely good, the closing episodes of Season 2 have made the NBC thriller nearly perfect.  I actually think the show has reached the point where it actually improves on the Thomas Harris novels, as the better films (“Silence  of the Lambs” and Ridley Scott’s “Hannibal”) did.

I’m not even sure where to begin.  The dialogue is downright beautiful.  And this is a big improvement over the first season — in their zeal to portray highly intelligent characters, the screenwriters seemed to try to make every line sound brilliant — and it sometimes backfired awkwardly.   Repeated phrases and forced wordplay made the story’s accomplished academics sound like garrulous undergraduates trying to impress freshman girls at an off-campus party.  (Trust me, I know how they talk because I was one.)

In the latter episodes of season 2, the writers seemed to have gotten their game on.  You actually do get the sense that these are incredibly bright people discussing their worldviews and motivations.  I am not the most cerebral guy out there, and I’m the first to admit it — but I really feel that there were some goddam compelling examinations of themes like sociopathy, the sanctity of life (or a sociopath’s inability to perceive it), mortality, grief and bereavement, God and morality, and forgiveness.

I can’t believe I am saying this, but I think the screenwriters actually exceeded Harris’ prose in rendering Hannibal Lecter as a three-dimensional character — and this is coming from someone who LOVED Harris’ baroque “Hannibal,” which examined Lecter at far greater length than “Silence.”  For the first time, we get a coherent sense of an ideology for the character, linked closely to his inability to feel empathy and his apparent inability to feel love for other people.  And because the character is a genius and the dialogue here has improved, it’s very well articulated.

Lecter kills people (and fears his own death very little) because he perceives them as objects, in only physical or aesthetic terms:  “We are orchestrations of carbon, you and me — all our destinies flying and swirling in blood and emptiness.”

The characters themselves are better this season.  I’m sure that many others will disagree, but I think Season 1 failed to give us a truly likable main protagonist.  Will Graham, as scripted and as portrayed by Hugh Dancy, was too weak, self-absorbed and charmless to be a leading man in a police thriller.  It made me miss Clarice Starling, who was strong despite her vulnerabilities, both in the books and the films.  I wanted her to appear, all juiced up with girl power and dead-Daddy-Freudian-sublimation, and bitch-slap a little FBI training into Graham — maybe make him run that Quantico obstacle course a few times to toughen him up a little.   Starling is Naomi Wolf with firearm training, and she’s awesome.  The leading man on NBC’s show, for me, seemed to be Jack Crawford, expertly played by Laurence Fishburne.

That has changed.  Now that Graham has completed a certain character arc (I’m trying to keep this spoiler free), the new, darker, badass Graham (who often seems psychotic himself) is a terrific character to root for.  And he’s now frightening himself — his “Oh, yes.” line at the start of the finale gets under your skin just fine.  Nice work, Mr. Dancy.

I’ve criticized both Dancy and Mads Mikkelson in the past for their interpretations of characters Graham and Lecter.  Now I wish I could take it back.  Their work in the last three episodes was amazing.  They play off each other perfectly, and both actors handle heavy-handed lines perfectly.  Caroline Dhavernas is also wonderful as Alana Bloom — this actress has a great range, and is especially skilled at portraying shock and surprise.  I can’t imagine that’s easy for any actor, especially considering multiple takes.  She’s great as an audience surrogate for any horror film or dramatic thriller.

As has always been the case, the directing, the use of imagery, the recurring motifs and color, and the musical score was just wonderful.

There isn’t much more that I can say without spoilers — beyond the fact that the finale was quite sad, even by the standards of serial killer thrillers.  The ending of Graham and Lecter’s “friendship” was surprisingly moving.  Lecter’s final assault on Graham’s happiness was … sadistic.  And it’s heartbreaking when one character’s kindness to another is not repaid.

All in all, this is fantastic television.  I’d rate “Hannibal” Season 2 a perfect 10.

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“They are right.”

“There are those will say that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind are nothing but a dream. They are right. It is the American Dream.”

Archibald MacLeish

Memorial Day 2014

This Memorial Day, I do believe my friend Mark Knezevich, who is himself a United States Marine, said it best with the following words and photo.

“If you ever need help remembering what the Memorial Day weekend is about, this photo from 2007 will always do the trick. Christian Golczynski is the boy pictured here. He was eight years old when his father, Marine Staff Sgt. Marc Golczynski was shot and killed by enemy fire in the al-Aanbar province of Iraq. Marc was on his second tour in Iraq — one he volunteered for — and was scheduled to return home just a couple weeks from the day he was killed. When the photo was taken, Christian stepped up to receive his father’s flag. He’s fifteen years old now and you can bet he will never forget. Enjoy the weekend but please pause every now and then to also remember the countless heroes like Christian’s dad, Marc, who paid the ultimate price for our Country.”

Thanks, Mark.  And thanks also to you and your colleagues for your bravery and service.

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“Turning 41,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Turning Forty One

Forty one found me
In midday reminiscence –
Not at the bars in Fredericksburg
Where 21 arrived like a proud, aggressive fleet,
Setting sail against
Easily conquered oceans.
Accurate charts assured my hands,
My future lay
In neatly mapped seas,
Measured leagues in quadrants,
Latitudes, longitudes.
Distant shores seemed
Vulnerable to my every effort.
The water that night
Was a kind of golden bronze,
The cheap, sweet beer
Of the college junior.

Forty one arrives
Where compasses didn’t predict.
Octants are confounded and
Sextants equivocate.
All the almanacs agree
Only that we are at sea.

© Eric Robert Nolan 2013 

 
  —  originally printed in Dead Snakes, September 2, 2013 

“Invocation To Ariel” again, because I said so.

Yes, I know I ran this poem here on the blog not too long ago.  I’m running it again — call it an encore.

If you don’t like it, go read Cracked.com.  Actually … you SHOULD be reading Cracked.com, because that site is hilarious.  If you’re a flick nerd, as I am, check out the “Television & Movies” tab.

Anyway, here is the above mentioned section of “W. H. Auden’s “The Sea and the Mirror.”

Invocation To Ariel

Sing, Ariel, sing,
Sweetly, dangerously,
Out of the sour
And shiftless water,
Lucidly out
Of the dozing tree,
Entrancing, rebuking
The raging heart
With a smoother song
Than this rough world,
Unfeeling God.
 
O brilliantly, lightly,
Of separation, 
Of bodies and death,
Unanxious one, sing
To man, meaning me,
As now, meaning always,
In love or out,
Whatever that mean,
Trembling he takes
The silent passage
Into discomfort.

“The stars are still dancing somewhere overhead tonight.”

  —  my best friend, about me being unable to see the meteor shower tonight

 

“Life was such a circle that no man could stand upon it for very long.” (Except maybe Tim Gatto.)

I might just post a picture of Randall Flagg every time a friend tells me that they are either reading or rereading Stephen King’s “The Stand.”  (This one’s for you, Tim Gatto.)

He really is the greatest villain of all time, beating out even Heath Ledger’s Joker, Hannibal Lecter, Two Face, Nina Meyers, Felix Cortez, and the Hunter Rose incarnation of Grendel.  (I’m talking about Flagg, here — not Tim.)

We know that Tim is REreading the tome (he got the extended version, good on him), because he actually read the book before I did.  As far back as 1989 or so, Tim and I scribbled quotes from the novel on our textbooks at Longwood High School.

Tim even quizzed me once in the cafeteria to test my reading retention.  I passed with flying colors:

“What’s the dog’s name?”

“Kojak.  Formerly Big Steve.”

(Do you remember that conversation in the lunchroom, Buddy?)  😀  Whatever.  It was more fun than the SAT equivalent.

Anyway, I myself have been stricken with the urge over the past year or so to revisit King’s “IT.”  I don’t know why.  I’m not afraid of clowns — at all.  Clowns are probably  the only popular horror archetype whose asses I think I could actually kick (clowns and sparkly vampires, that is).  Clowns aren’t scary … they’re really more … punchable.  Or … y’know — NOT bulletproof.  Also mimes.  All human beings, save the full sociopaths, have an active moral center in their brains, and I know that we all privately harbor the truth there that mimes DESERVE to die.  (You call yourselves ENTERTAINERS?!  F***ing SAY something!!  Hello!! Goodbye!!  Shakespeare’s sonnets!! The Gettysburg Address!!  For God’s sake, just STOP!!)

But I can’t get to “IT” just yet, because my pile of loaned or gift books is high.  There are Toby Barlow’s “Sharp Teeth” and King’s “Cycle of the Werewolf,” lent to me by Super Smart Art Girl.  Then there are a few books that Crunchy Girl gave me, about … spellcasting?  Or something?  (Is she technically a Wiccan?  We don’t know, because she equivocates on a lot of things.)

Anyway, Tim, safe journey.  And because we know the kind of guy you are, we know you’re headed to Nebraska and not Las Vegas (or CIBOLA).

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I can get arrested in Arizona now …

,.. because my old buddy Nate will help me beat the rap.

Congratulations to Mary Washington College alumnus Nate Wade for successfully winning his first case as Pima County Public Defender.  You make the Class of 1994 proud.

In my mind, he will now forever be Matt Murdock — even though he probably doesn’t know who that is, because he has a healthy adult mindset instead of a closet full of comic books.

In my happiness for Nate’s success, I will forgive him for attacking me with shaving cream in the basement floor of Bushnell Hall in 1990.  He thought it was *I* who locked him in the suite bathroom.  (It was actually Will Shelbourne.)

I’ll also forgive him and his hifalutin lawyer friends for failing to fully appreciate the brilliance of my various “Perry Nateson” puns on Facebook.

Keep sticking up for the little guy, Nate!!

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A high school friend told me last night that she googles my poetry when she misses me.

That might be the sweetest compliment I’ve received in a long time.

“Words, those simple clumsy clay blocks …”

Perhaps being free of language is a blessing for dogs.

“Why do you say that, why do you always have to hurt me?”

Since dogs are continually surprised when

those soft and easily broken tools called words

fail them time and again. 

“I love you.”

Words, those simple clumsy clay blocks

that one hopes will support such enormous walls.

“I do, I love you.”

Words, those small weak things

that come tumbling out of men.

          —  from Toby Barlow’s “Sharp Teeth”

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