Via Econolog, I read this fascinating interview with James Heckman on many aspects of his research in economics-- another one of my dead-branches. Anyway, I link to the interview here because Heckman also mentions his work with the dear friend of Crescat Dimitriy Masterov (during the time the two of them visited Adam Smith's tomb).

I have been seeing mostly movies with unscrupulous but sympathetic characters lately.

The Last Seduction: My girlfriend found the minor violence in this move too jarring because it was too casual, too plausible; I didn't, but to be honest I can't remember a movie since Payback whose violence I found truly unpleasant to watch. The whole plot is a little bit contrived for the payoff, but the whole thing is compelling in that late-night movie way.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre: I am sure loyal readers are wondering how a self-confessed Humphrey Bogart fan could go so long without ever having seen the despicable Fred C. Dobbs in action. Now, I have, and I am wondering the same thing. The movie still wasn't as good as Casablanca or In a Lonely Place, partly because of the problems necessarily introduced by the censors, partly because parts of the movie are just so darn weird. Still, weird means interesting, in this case, and the scene between the bandits and Dobbs shocks in just the right way. [I mentioned the censors-- who apparently demanded that the death and near-death scenes be reduced and edited. Who were these censors anyway? Where they federal, state, private? If federal, what enumerated power where they supposedly constituted under? You can take the blogger out of law school, but . . . UPDATE: Said censors were part of the Hays Code, a form of self-regulation adopted pre-MPAA in 1968.]

The Third Man: I meant to see this movie months ago and say The Thin Man instead; I don't regret the error (and still want to have a cocktail party like Nick's and Nora's) but Graham Greene beats Dashell Hammett any day of the week. Of course, as Chris Orr points out, the ending (which almost makes the movie) is not Greene's; Greene wrote it the other way around. Orr thinks this is out of character for Greene but it's really just Greene's failing to convert a book to the screen-- on the untextured screen, the ending is unhappy only if it is lonely. In a novel, Greene could have conveyed that "edge of agony and despair" even if Anna took his arm and they walked together into the night.

Here's what a columnist in the Financial Times says about people who refuse gifts. I'm quoting it for reasons that follow the excerpt, but for now, here's Susie Boyt:

"There's nothing that makes my heart sink on an invitation more than that grim little prase that conjures up images of gruel and black mourning armbands: 'No Presents'. I'd rather see 'Dress:Beards". I'd sooner 'HUGE presents', or even 'Yachts'. 'No presents' feels like a reprimand. It makes me feel controlled. It's an insult to my taste . . . I know people who make such non-requests do it partly from modesty and a desire not to put anyone to any trouble. But I don't like it. It feels both presumptuous and rejecting. . ."

Well, I'm definitely one of those grim spoilsports. I don't understand most presents. I don't understand them for high school graduations - the message there seems almost perverse ("Astonishing - you graduated from the lowest possible level of education someone of your middle class background could conceivably achieve"). I don't quite get gifts for weddings and births in a world where hitherto homebound children aren't being set up in their very own huts. And I'm not even sure about birthdays or christmas really, so I refuse gifts for both these days. In fact, I've spent about the last month trying to tamp down any idea that I might be due any gifts for graduating from law school, which seemed to be pretty much a done deal once I got accepted - no graduation announcements, no party, and I persuaded the one family friend who stopped by with champagne to stay while I made a tart we could drink the (delicious) wine with. I just don't feel like I've done much of anything to deserve presents. Maybe, I suppose, if I did something very charitable for someone, a present would be a nice gesture. Or if I was seriously ill, and someone thought a small gift would cheer me up. But otherwise, I don't want them. And I don't think it's rude to refuse, so long as the idea isn't to forestall having to give gifts yourself. Which I don't mind at all.

If I ever do have a party, though, I'm going to specify the dress as hirsute. The host gets to choose, right?

I think I may have been the only person in my Land Use class who thought that Williamson County Planning Commission v. Hamilton Bank was by far the most interesting case we read all quarter. [The word on the street is that the opinion was written by one of the authors of our Land Use textbook, during the year she clerked for Justice Blackmun, so I may also have been the only person in the class who cared about the case and was troubled by it.]

Williamson County is one of those dry-ish procedural cases, the basic thrust of which is that you can't bring certain federal takings claims in federal court until you've 1, gotten a final decision from the relevant local land use authorities and 2, litigated for whatever kind of state compensation you are entitled to. There is some basically compelling logic to this: "public-use" clause aside, there is no 5th Amendment/14th Amendment right not to have one's property taken, only the right to get paid for it. If that's so, the federal courts sensibly don't want to hear the case until the state has decided whether and how much to pay you.

Anyway, the lesson of my Land Use class seems to be that federal courts hate land use cases, don't want to hear land use cases, don't want anything to do with land use cases, and would rather pass the decisions on to state court judges, who are more likely to know the law of the land (and-- perhaps some federal judges think-- have nothing better to do anyway). See, e.g., River Park v. City of Highland Park, 23 F.3d 164, 165 (Easterbrook, J.):

Federal courts are not boards of zoning appeals. This message, oft-repeated, has not penetrated the consciousness of property owners who believe that federal judges are more hospitable to their claims than are state judges. Why they should believe this we haven't a clue; none has ever prevailed in this circuit, but state courts often afford relief on facts that do not support a federal claim. Is it that they have omitted the steps necessary to obtain review in state court and hope for the best in a second-chance forum? Well, we are not cooperating. Litigants who neglect or disdain their state remedies are out of court, period. ... . Federal litigation is not a repechage round for losers of earlier contests, or for those who overslept and missed the starters' gun.

SCOTUSBlog says only "'second-tier'" cases came down today, which my co-workers confirm as "nothing sexy". Harumph. Who says issue-preclusion in federal/state takings claims required by Williamson County isn't sexy?

More thoughts on San Remo Hotel v. San Francisco after I've read it-- thus far the most striking thing seems to be that there were four votes (Rehnquist, Thomas, O'Connor, Kennedy) to overturn part of Williamson County. I wonder whether Justice Scalia refused to join their concurrence because he thinks Williamson Co. should be retained in toto or because that question was simply not presented or briefed.

[I cannot conclude this post without mentioning Professor Robert Ellickson's thoughts on the case: "You could write a book about the San Remo Hotel litigation. It would not be a very interesting book, but you could write one."]

Given her vast and loyal horde of commenters, taking issue with a post by "Bitch Ph.D" is always risky, but this post and related comment deserve mention. Inter alia, she writes:

I do not want a marriage where one partner compromises his or her essential self for the other person. And I need a marriage where both partners know that that isn't a danger; where we can trust that if the other person says, "ok, I'll move halfway across the country for your job" it isn't going to turn into "I moved halfway across the country for you, you owe me" six months down the line. Because we've worked out--argued over--the what ifs before making the move. Yes needs to mean yes, not "okay, begrudgingly," and no needs to mean no, not "I'm using this as a negotiating tool."