Follow the leader

I’m still on the librarian-image-has-a-deeper-meaning kick (see last week’s post on theories behind — hee hee — the anal-retentiveness of reel librarian portrayals). Now let’s explore more about the librarian as a cinematic representation of an ethical and intellectual leader.

“Today’s Librarian Wordle” by The Unquiet Librarian via Flickr

Ann O’Brien & Martin Raish wrote in their article, “The Image of the Librarian in Commercial Motion Pictures,” that “[o]ften a figure of wisdom and benign authority, the librarian was the custodian of positive social and educative forces” (63). Libraries are places where one can access information and all kinds of knowledge; transferring those qualities of wisdom and collected intelligence to the librarian(s) makes sense. Librarians in real life also tend to be master generalists — we know a little about a lot of things. Noah Wyle as Flynn Carson in The Librarian TV movies is a great example of this, with his umpteenth degrees and vast array of esoteric knowledge that helps him get out of all sorts of tricky situations.

The librarian’s role in film has also periodically included being the moral center of the community. This “morality” does not necessarily take on conservative or overbearing overtones; rather, the librarian stands for what is right and good in a society, a highly positive image. Whew, a positive image for reel librarians! Well, we were due. ;)  In the article I referenced in last week’s post, “Power, Knowledge, and Fear:  Feminism, Foucault, and the Stereotype of the Female Librarian,” Marie and Gary Radford comment that “the library has long been taken [...] as a metaphor for rationality” (254) and “[l]ibraries are segregated places of intellectual activity” (255).

Click for larger image

Storm Center (1956) adheres to the notion that librarians represent rationality and ethical judgment, as Bette Davis plays a librarian in a small town who stands up against censorship. And passes out lollipops to kids (not kidding, see left, as well as my post on advertising the reel librarian). But I digress… the censorship issue also emerges in Rome Adventure (1962), and in a more heated environment in Pump Up the Volume (1990), as well. Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983) features a more benign librarian hero, played by Jason Robards, but he still stands up for what he perceives as right; he literally represents the “good” pitted against Mr. Dark’s “evil” (deliciously played by Jonathan Pryce).

In a more diluted form, the librarian can stand for good ol’ common sense, as exemplified by Katharine Hepburn in Desk Set (1957) or Greer Garson in Adventure (1945). And who doesn’t love a bit of common sense?

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It all started with a big list

So if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know that it all started with my undergraduate thesis, ”A Glimpse Through the Glasses: Portrayals of Librarians in Film.” Click here for more info on that, finding movies, as well as more about the inspiration behind my personal interest in reel librarians.

I’ve mentioned before about starting out with 47 titles for that undergrad thesis, so maybe I should share those titles with you sometime.

How about now? ;)

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And looking back, that initial list contains a decent cross-section of librarian films, ranging from librarians as major characters (Classes I and II) to bit parts (Classes III and IV) to even a case of mistaken occupation (Class V). Click each title below to find out more info about each movie, its major plot and cast of reel librarian(s).

Enjoy!

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Between perfect order and perfect chaos

Merriam Webster’s definition of “anal-retentive”

Does “anal-retentive” have a hyphen?

(Yes, usually, but it depends — probably on whether you’re British or American, as the Oxford English Dictionary does not include a hyphen, whilst Merriam Webster does, see right). But that’s not the point… or is it? ;)

Having watched this week the most recent David Cronenberg film, A Dangerous Method (2011) — all about Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud, Sabina Spielrein, and the early years of establishing psychology as a science — it felt like a good time to explore more into why reel librarians are so often portrayed with anal-retentive qualities.

I’ve touched on this subject before, including this post about Myers-Briggs types of real librarians, the librarian as nightmare image, as well as in my explorations of the Spinster Librarian and Anti-Social Librarian character types. And please note that I’m talking here about broader archetypes and stereotypical characteristics; I’m not making a critical judgment on the profession in general or commenting on any specific person.

There are many kinds of onscreen tension lurking behind the cinematic portrayals of librarians (power struggles, battle for knowledge vs. battle between the sexes, etc.). One such tension is anal-retentiveness, a trait that shows up quite often in film portrayals of librarians, usually in smaller roles. Examples of anal-retentive behavior include loudly shushing any noisemakers in a library (City Slickers II: The Legend of Curly’s Gold, 1994, see below); expressing anxiety when a book is late or damaged (as parodied in UHF, 1989); and showing reluctance to check any books out, thereby hoarding knowledge (for a most extreme example, see The Name of the Rose, 1986).

Shushing Lady in ‘City Slickers II’

Poor social skills also show up in conjunction with these characteristics, which seem to be rooted in the conflict or tension between order and chaos. In their 1997 article “Power, Knowledge, and Fear:  Feminism, Foucault, and the Stereotype of the Female Librarian,” the Radfords have noted that libraries, and thus librarians, are “structured by the values of order, control, and suppression” (255). Studying cataloging and organizational systems is standard practice for librarians, and shelving, carding, and stamping materials become essential in any well-organized library (see my post on library qualifications and job duties). It is this want — this need — of an organized system of resources that makes it easy, or at least manageable, for any user to find a resource he/she wants in a library’s system.

Mary (Parker Posey) in Party Girl (1995) throws a funny light on the serious business of shelving when she yells at a patron for randomly shelving a book (see below).  “Let’s put the book any damn place we want!”

The librarian is also charged with compiling the most complete collection he/she possibly can — whether that means digital or print resources — that reflects the community that library serves. But that collection can NEVER be complete, because users continuously check out those materials — thereby “disrupting” that so-called perfect harmony of the complete and ordered collection. Thus, cinematically, the librarian often displays characteristics of an uptight, sheltered, and, at times, almost manic personality in order to eliminate, sometimes at all costs, the potential disruption of stability. In The Name of the Rose (1986), abbey librarian Malachia strives to hoard the books in the abbey’s library. However, “it is this knowledge, rather than the texts themselves, that is so fanatically protected by the monks” (Radford, 257), leading to murder, arson, and chaos — or freedom, depending on whether you root for Malachia or not.

This tension between order and chaos felt by librarians (who want to protect the materials and their organizational order) and the users (who strive for knowledge by borrowing or accessing those materials) finds itself depicted in many screen portrayals of librarians. This tension is not gender-driven, however; both male and female librarians are depicted onscreen as people who are “obsessed with the order that rationality demands of them” (Radford, 261). Among others, Miss Anderson in Citizen Kane (1941), the librarian played by John Rothman in Sophie’s Choice (1982), and Elvia Allman in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) all exhibit the hypertension caused (or created?) by the inherent conflict between perfect order and perfect chaos.

What do you think? If you’re a fellow librarian, have you been able to find a personal balance between order and chaos? Or, like the question about the hypen in “anal-rententive” that started us off, does it even matter in the end? (Hee hee.) ;)

And now for something not-so-completely-different… the patented shushing super power from the librarian action figure.

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The royal treatment

This past weekend, my husband and I watched My Week with Marilyn (2011), an adaptation of Colin Clark’s chronicled week with Marilyn Monroe as she filmed The Prince and the Showgirl with Sir Laurence Olivier in 1956. This was by all accounts a tense set.

We were so surprised — and pleased — when a reel librarian showed up. And a royal librarian at that! I can confirm hand-clapping and shouts of glee in the Snoek-Brown household.

So almost an hour into the film, Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams, so well-deserving of the Oscar nomination for her channeling of Marilyn) plays hooky with Colin (Eddie Redmayne) for a fun-filled afternoon, romping through parks and the lawns of Eton College. After Marilyn asks what’s next, he suggests Windsor Castle, a formal residence of the Queen. And you KNOW how anything royalty-related is like catnip to us Americans.

Let’s listen in as they attempt to get into Windsor Castle (see above). The British bodyguard starts us off:

Smith:  Detective Chief Superintendent Smith. I’m escorting this lady and gentleman for the day. They’d like to look around the castle.

Security guard [not having any of it]:  I need a contact name for the book.

Smith [to Marilyn]:  You don’t know Her Majesty, by any chance?

Marilyn:  Yes, we met at a movie premiere. She said my dress was pretty.

Security guard:  I don’t think that quite does it, sir.

Colin:  My godfather works here. He’s the royal librarian. Sir Owen Morshead.

And they’re in! Name-dropping a librarian gets them into the Queen’s castle. Let me repeat that, for full effect. Name-dropping. A. LIBRARIAN. Gets. Them. Into. The. QUEEN’S. Castle. I’ve never been prouder.

As the pair humbly walk into the royal library, we get a lovely overhead shot. It’s all red leather and dark wood. (Click here for more info and pics about the Royal Collection.)

Then we meet the Royal Librarian himself, Sir Owen Morshead, as played by Sir Derek Jacobi. Here’s a side-by-side comparison.

Sir Owen Morshead

Sir Derek Jacobi as Sir Owen Morshead

Except for the difference in facial hair, the resemblance is quite decent. Jacobi seems to capture the twinkle in Morshead’s demeanor, and both look quite distinguished and dapper in their suits and ties. The real Morshead (1893-1977) served as Royal Librarian from 1926 through 1958.

Sir Owen is quite pleased to see his godson, greeting him with, “Colin, my boy! Come in! Forgive the dust.” And with only the time it takes for another breath, Sir Owen immediately starts charming Marilyn (see right).

Sir Owen:  Oh, you are very pretty, my dear.

Marilyn:  Oh [obviously pleased]. Gee, I’d sure like to read all these books.

Sir Owen:  Well, luckily, one doesn’t really have to. A lot of them just have pictures in.

Then he shows them some priceless sketches and drawings of famous artists, including Holbein (a sketch of a daughter of one of the king’s courtiers) and Da Vinci (mentioning Mona Lisa, the “lady with the funny smile”). Love the detail of the white gloves for handling archives!

After impressing her with art, Sir Owen smoothly seizes the opportunity to name-drop the Queen. Clever librarian.

Sir Owen:  The Queen’s sorry to have missed you.

Marilyn: Really? [eyes wide]

Sir Owen: Oh yes, why she was only saying to me the other day, ‘What must it be like to be the most famous woman on earth?’

Sir Owen then provides the icing on top of the cake, by showing them into a room with a lovely, intricate dollhouse. Marilyn swoons over it and makes believe the family inside is her family. She seeks Sir Owen’s permission to touch (see below), and he affirms her wishes with a smile, “Yes, of course.” The last shot we get of the Royal Librarian is one of him smiling, obviously pleased at a woman’s girlish delight.

Note:  The dollhouse is known as Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House, built by British architect Sir Edwin Lutyens between 1921 and 1924. You can explore the dollhouse online here.

Although only a couple of minutes long, this is a lovely scene, due mostly to Jacobi’s reel depiction of a notable real librarian. An Information Provider, certainly, but one with real kindness and heart. Sir Owen says all the right things to make the “most famous woman on earth” feel special and at home in a queen’s palace. He flirts a little, shows her a picture of the daughter of a king’s courtier (this resonates, because we later find out she has never known who her father is), and a doll’s house (so she can imagine a family). He fulfills her need to be admired and loved and listened to, without even knowing it. And looks mighty dapper doing it!

And BONUS:  Perhaps you were wondering what Marilyn Monroe was wearing when she met Queen Elizabeth II? You KNOW that’s the first thing I looked up. :) Enjoy.

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Glasses on, glasses off

Summer of the Monkeys is one of those youth classics that I never got around to reading, mainly because Wilson Rawls’s other classic, Where the Red Fern Grows, devastated me. It was good, don’t get me wrong, but I remember lots and lots of crying over that book at a young age. Also, both books kind of remind me of the classic book and movie Old Yeller, which I can only think about through a haze of tears. Um, spoiler alert.

Anyways…. this Class III movie is set in the late 1800s/early 1900s and about a teenage boy, Jay (Corey Sevier), trying to earn money to buy a pony. And then his world gets turned upside down by a batch of circus monkeys who escaped during a train crash. The early part of this film focuses on the boy’s home life on the farm, and about 20 minutes in, Jay makes fun of his sister reading a book: “Talk to ME about tall tales. You and your stupid books. Everything I know, I learned by goin’ out and doin’ it.”

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

Turns out, Jay doesn’t know how to connect with those circus monkeys by just “going’ out and doin’ it.” Cue grandpa’s advice to check out the town library. Bless you, Wilford Brimley, you’re the best. ♥

So almost an hour in, we take a trip along with Quaker Oats grandpa and Jay to the Ridgewell town library (see right). This scenario reminded me a bit of the library scene in The Magic of Ordinary Days. The purpose of the scene is the same, as this small-town public library serves a vital function as a source of info for both its local and rural users.

And we get a lot of nice shots of the one-room library interior, which looks quite bright and cheery and welcoming. There’s a stove in the middle, a few chairs and tables, bookshelves along the back, oil paintings, all against a backdrop of off-white and green.

We also get nice close-ups of the reel librarian (Beverly Cooper). She’s blonde (again, kind of visually similar to the reel librarian in The Magic of Ordinary Days), middle-aged, and dressed in a period costume of puffed sleeves, high collar, long skirt, and cameo brooch. Her hair is pulled back in a bun, and of course, a pair of glasses complete her reel librarian uniform. I love the details of the quill pen and the large lamp on the Circulation desk. What I don’t love so much? The QUIET sign just inside the front door (see below).

Let’s listen in as Jay walks into the library for the first time.

Jay:  Howdy, ma’am.

Librarian:  Shh.

[Everybody looks up]

Jay (in a whisper):  I’d like to see all the books you have on monkeys.

Librarian:  Could you be more specific?

Jay:  Well, I’m trying to trap a bunch of ‘em. They’re from the train wreck a few weeks back. My grandpa thought that if I read up on ‘em, it’d help me out.

Librarian (taking off her glasses): Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll bring some material over to you.

Jay:  Thanks.

It’s interesting to note the librarian’s different facial expressions, which seem to change depending on whether or not she’s wearing glasses. Maybe she feels she has more authority when wearing spectacles? That she can’t smile unless the glasses are off?

Exhibit A, glasses on (click each image to view a larger version):

Exhibit B, glasses off:

So Jay sits down at a table beside a young girl (see below) and looks more than a little bit overwhelmed and out of his comfort zone. In the next shot, the librarian brings over a large stack of books, “This should get you started.” The boy looks up with big eyes and picks one up with a bewildered expression. There’s no explanation from the librarian about what’s in the books or how to use them. Sorry to say, this is an example of what NOT to do during a reference interview.

Glasses are off. That means I get to smile.

In the next shot, after some time has passed, we see a closeup of the materials all scattered on the desk, including a book entitled Young People’s Natural History (a real book! click here to view more info through WorldCat), plus a copy of a Ridgewell Chronicle news article about the train wreck. Obviously still overwhelmed, Jay turns to the young lady at his table — because she’s more approachable? — about how to pronounce some French words in the article. After they talk some more (the young lady is extremely helpful), the library bell dings, cutting to a disgruntled look from the librarian. The glasses are back on!

After the young lady leaves, the librarian steps back into frame, taking off her glasses.

Librarian: The library is closing, young man. You can leave the books where they are. (She starts clearing up, stacking books, putting lids on ink bottles, etc.)

Jay turns back and asks:  Ma’am? That young lady who was sitting across from me? She come here much?

Librarian:  I see her from time to time.

Jay:  Thank you very much.

Librarian:  Come back again.

Jay:  I believe I will.

The scene ends with a shot of the librarian hugging some books to her chest, smiling (see above, in Exhibit B). She looks pleased, and the scene ends on a positive note. Jay uses the info to locate the monkeys and return them to the circus. Sure, the librarian’s an Information Provider, but she really wasn’t all that helpful. It was the young lady who really helped the boy out. And it’s because of her, NOT the librarian, that Jay wants to return to the library.

After he climbs back in the buggy with his grandpa, Wilford Brimley, bless him, sums it all up for us.

Grandpa:  You say it was the young lady who helped you?

Jay:  Yeah.

Grandpa:  Oh.

Oh, indeed.

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