I apologize for the lack of posts lately, but since I sent in my absentee ballot, the election's lost a little luster for me. Turns out that voting ruins elections.
That said, look forward to much more on Game of Thrones from me in the near future. I've already written the posts, I just can't publish them yet because my students are on to the fact that I post my lesson plans before I teach them, which has resulted in a truly frightening situation in which they actually know everything I'm going to say before I say it. So I have to hold those back until after class on Tuesday. (Grumble stupid students being responsible grumble.)
But my students are still blogging, and they're producing all sorts of interesting material. I assign them 1,000 words a week, 500 of which I script for them via a prompt, the other 500 they're free to write whatever they want so long as it includes the course's critical vocabulary. Last week I covered the neuroscientific argument about frontality, the short version of which I discussed here, and now I have students who can't stop seeing faces everywhere. Including one particularly bright apple whose free post this week concerned Prometheus in a very interesting way. He began by noting that the film opens with an intelligent designer ceding its DNA to fertilize the Earth—the pun was intended in the original—and that the first scene in the film that includes humans opens thus:
See how sad that rock is? See? It's this sad:
Just tilt Mr. Intelligent Designer man about 35 degrees to the left and you'd have Mr. Sad Rock:
I'm not sure I buy this argument—and strongly suspect that I may have overplayed the frontality hand—but I can't help but admire the pluck of this close-reading, especially given the fact that stretched as it is, it does conform with the overall (and problematic) logic of the film, which is all about, as the audience is informed immediately after Mr. Sad Rock makes his appearance, the existence of "the same configuration" appearing across Earth and the universe. I informed my student that this was an impressively terrible argument—far too overdetermined to be correct—and he responded by saying I should put it out there for others to decide. I warned him about what happens on the wilds of the Internet, but given that he's taken legitimate points about frontality and merged them with a solid accounting of the film, he feels comfortable putting his theories out there.
So what do you think?