And Joy To All

I hesitate to write this blog. From the beginning of my blogging career I have probably come close to writing this post at the holidays. Most of the times I decide not to for fear of being called that class warrior, humbug. Well, sticks and stones...

I read this article this morning: nytimes

Nothing new here. We should always remember those less fortunate at the holidays, but this sentiment runs abound, and what has it accomplished. People always pay homage to "those less fortunate" at their dinner table prayer around their bouquet of turkey and trimmings.

Not that I can speak for the "less fortunate" demographic, but I am sure they appreciate the thought, and bookending that appreciation is the excalamation: what in the hell are we going to do about it?

Not so simple. Will the masses rise together? Will we re-distribute? Probably not.

Capitalism, by its very nature, institues an underclass. So, accepting this premise could we not elect officials who act as a healthy check and/or balance. I mean the American system already spots the system one point maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to elect someone from the underdogs.

Here comes my Edwards plug (John, you can send my check to Petoskey). John Edwards made a statement at one of his stump speeches in Iowa that his two opponents are both preaching bipartisan cooperation with big business and special interests (primarily in the arena of healthcare reform). He rhetorical quips, "Do you think the pharmaceutical companies are going to give away their money, their profits?" Edwards straps on his Spartan armor and proclaims that the power will not be handed over but that the working class must unite and fight the special interests. That they must band together and violently (not literal, I don't think) and quickly take control....

Generic Authoritative Voice: Mr. Edwards, have you yourself ever been or have you been associated with anyone who is a memener of the communist party?

Okay, so I am suprised John hasn't cought more flack for this, but you know what I applaud him. I mean I am no idiot, I realize that he is a filthy rich trial lawyer, he pays whatever it was for a haircut, but at least he is using his privileged voice to give support and inspiration to those who need it most.

Hopefully, John Edwards has scored the first point of more to come in the ultimate comeback against Team Institution.

Old Joy

It has been some time since I have seen a film so unassumingly poignant.

Old Joy is an exceedingly simple tale of old friends Will and Kurt who reunite to go on a hiking trip into the woods. Will is a soon to be father; Kurt is a...well as far as I can tell Kurt is a free spirit. And, honestly, this two sentence synopsis is the extent of both the narrative and character development of Old Joy. Interested yet?

The power of this film is not in the story that it tells. The power of this film is not in the characters it portrays. The power of this film is actually, come to think of it, not even within the film itself. It is in the familiarity of every moment that occurs between and around Will and Kurt; and, this familiarity originates within the viewer.

With a melancholy pace and a detailed perception of environment the feel of the movie is akin to the feeling of coming home. If you now live somewhere away from your hometown you may know this feeling. As soon as you hit that strecth of interstate where the median and the side roads begin to look recognizable you know you are getting close. The town where you were young is, just like you, older and it, too, has changed. Store fronts have evolved, your friend doesn't live out behind the elementary school anymore, the old man leaning on his cane doesn't stand out in front of the BP. You notice things that were very possibly present when you were a kid that you never noticed then. It almost hurts. This place holds a fond place in your memories; it is a joyful memory. But, its not exactly right anymore, not exactly the same, it's changed. It's an old joy.

Will and Kurt are confronting this phenomenon of a rapidly diappaearing past. Kurt and Will don't seem to connect the way they once did. Kurt even remarks in a hash-induced rant that things have changed between them. Will assures him they are fine. And, they are both right. Yes, things have changed, time does that to people. Friends and family change in your absence, ideals and dreams come and go and morph. The things about your best friend growing up that made him your best friend may wax or wane. But, the thing is, you and your friends and your family are still fine. This is what Kurt and Will find out. They don't have has much to talk about, they both have changed, they both have lives of their own, but they both will always have that old joy to revisit.

Highway Robbery

Yesterday, I was in Symon's General Store, here in Petoskey, MI. I was buying a cup of coffee. There was a man in front of me, he was buying a bag of candy. Assorted candies, to be specific. From behind the cash register the clerk yelled to the back asking how much to charge for the candy. (He worked in the wine cellar, the general store was not his usual gig). From the office a voice returned, "Ten dollars a pound." The man, toting the candies, thusly responded, "Highway robbery!" Then, he dutifully handed over the green.

Admittedly, ten dollars a pound is a bit steep. But, why waste your breath and pollute my soundscape with this incessant noise.

Even in Ferguson, NC, the heart of hillbilly North Carolina, I heard the infamous highway robbery decree. My mother used to own a little country store, a gas and grocery out in Ferguson. Some called it, affectionately, Kim's Shit 'N Git. The store has man yregular patrons. One of these patrons was the bent and graying Bob Eller. Every single day Bob Eller would come in around 2:00 in the afternoon and get a tin of Vienna Sausages for lunch, with a complimentary pack of saltines.. And, every single day Bob Eller would claim that we were comitting highway robbery when we told him that they were $3.95. He would then proceed to tell us how he could buy the very same can of Vienna Sausages in town at Food Lion for $1.95.

Then, one day Terry, a man hired by my mom to run the store from time to time, who was very well acquainted with the land up there, as well as subtle intricacies of conversing with its inhabitants, responded to Mr. Eller. I guess the daily protests from Bob had suddenly become too much for Terry to handle. As soon as the last syllable of "robbery" left Bob Eller's lips Terry responded, "Bob, why in the hell don't you go to Food Lion and get your god damned wieners!" Bob never questioned our pricing from that day on.

In order to save the employees of Symon's the same daily onslaught I came very close to telling the candy shopper the same thing. Alas, it would not have gone over quite as well. There are no Food Lions in Michigan.

All I Want For Christmas

Not often have I been this excited for a movie. But, this Christmas I am hoping that Santa will get me a ticket to see Todd Haynes' new film I'm Not There. (P.S. Santa, I also would appreciate a stocking stuffer ticket to see The Golden Compass, thanks).

I'm not a Dylan fanatic. I am a visionary fanatic. Dylan was a visionary, disregarding formulae and covention and using his art to inspire, provoke, and define an era. Simultaneously, the clips I have seen of Haynes' film also suggest an artistic vision well-developed and pulsing with juiciness. In the film a series of vignettes (I am not sure it is vignette style, but it is separate stories from non-synchronized moments in Dylans life) take us through moments in the life of Dylan, many of the moments are exaggerations, embellishments, fantasy, and some are indeed fact. Four different actors play Dylan throughout the movie, one being Cate Blanchette. Needless to say it promises to be some variation to the cinematic landscape.

Please watch the trailer.

Man Push Cart (2006)

In Greek mythology Sysyphus was a king who was punished by the gods; his punishment was to roll a boulder up a hill only to watch it roll down again, then repeat, for eternity. This legend was the inspiration for Ramin Bahrani who wrote/produced/directed the film Man Push Cart. This film, shot over the span of three weeks, is a neo-realist romp through the days of a working class New Yorker who spends most of his working day before most city-dwellers greet the day with
their doubleFrappucino.

The story is of a Pakistani man who once knew fame as a musician in Pakistan. After choosing the woman he loved over his career he moved to New York City and made a living with a push cart, selling tea, coffee, and bagels. We join Ahmed (the
aforementioned protagonist) a few years after his immigration. His wife has died and her embittered family does not allow him to see his son. It should be noted that these bits ofback story are conveyed in almost a minute of screen time. Drama and narrative are relinquished to small cameos in this film.

Most scenes are of Ahmed lugging his cart through the city streets and doing
what he has to do to make a living. A possible love interest rears its ugly head but tragically it can not be because for this working man getting by and trying to make a living so he can one day have his son is a full time job.

It is ironic that an ancient myth was the inspiration for this type of film which I would claim is a signpost toward new cinema. Innovation in movies will not come fromCGI and it will not come from new ways to blow shit up. It will come from movies
that do not rely on narrative to pull their audience through a film. Man Push Cart uses its minimalist aesthetic to simply hint at an emotion. Eventually,from frame to frame, the hints register in the mind of the viewer. They begin to create their own narratives and perspectives. Watching this movie makes you remember the people you
once bought coffee from, the person who sweeps the sidewalks you walk,the man who picks up the trash you throw out.

Of course this is only my opinion, but the true art of film resides in the hazy arena
where meaning is revolving and evolving. This is not the perfect example of what I am referring to as new cinema (the best of which are coming out of Iran and Taiwan). But, regardless of any pretentious claims I may make as to a hierarchy of movies, Man Push Cart is a solid film and something different that has meandered unnoticed through the city streets of commercial film.

For You To Read. By Way of My Father (who was not Einstein, but rather just sent this essay to me via email)

"How strange is the lot of us mortals! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people -- first of all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness is wholly dependent, and then for the many, unknown to us, to whose destinies we are bound by the ties of sympathy. A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving...."

"I have never looked upon ease and happiness as ends in themselves -- this critical basis I call the ideal of a pigsty. The ideals that have lighted my way, and time after time have given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Kindness, Beauty, and Truth. Without the sense of kinship with men of like mind, without the occupation with the objective world, the eternally unattainable in the field of art and scientific endeavors, life would have seemed empty to me. The trite objects of human efforts -- possessions, outward success, luxury -- have always seemed to me contemptible."

"My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always contrasted oddly with my pronounced lack of need for direct contact with other human beings and human communities. I am truly a 'lone traveler' and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties, I have never lost a sense of distance and a need for solitude..."

"My political ideal is democracy. Let every man be respected as an individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the recipient of excessive admiration and reverence from my fellow-beings, through no fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire, unattainable for many, to understand the few ideas to which I have with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware that for any organization to reach its goals, one man must do the thinking and directing and generally bear the responsibility. But the led must not be coerced, they must be able to choose their leader. In my opinion, an autocratic system of coercion soon degenerates; force attracts men of low morality... The really valuable thing in the pageant of human life seems to me not the political state, but the creative, sentient individual, the personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such remains dull in thought and dull in feeling."

"This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of herd life, the military system, which I abhor... This plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed. Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism -- how passionately I hate them!"

"The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery -- even if mixed with fear -- that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man... I am satisfied with the mystery of life's eternity and with a knowledge, a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence -- as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the Reason that manifests itself in nature."

Albert Einstein

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Sometimes I Get Uncomfortable When....

I, while conversing with someone either familiar or not particularly so, commit myself to a viewpoint, judgement, perspective on an issue, person, and/or clothing style, and then realize that this person could A) feel the opposite way and I thus, unknowingly, insulted them or B) maybe I have insulted someone in their family.

Many scenarios fit into this criteria, even though it sounds specifically random. Once, in eighth grade I was sitting on the bench just before tip off, and the other team was still finishing warming up. To my teammate beside me I made a remark that one of the players on the opposing team had on the new LJs and how they were real popular but I felt they were also real ugly. Then, expectedly, and to my horror, I looked down to find my teammate was indeed wearing the new LJs. Damn it........

This also happens when I make a statement concerning how much I hate certain things, like say capri pants, then I realize, oh bother, what if this person just bought a new pair of capri pants that they can't wait ti put on. Of course, I think, they probably could care less what I think, and I would say that is good for them, but for me, if someone said that about my capri pants, no matter how forgettable the person's opinion was it would constantly plague me that somewhere someone felt a strong disdain for these pants that I was wearing. So, now not only were my pants irritatingly exposing my mid-calf, but they were also channeling hate.

Declaration of Self

In a response to a reporter asking him if he was a Bolshevik, Charlie Chaplin answered, "I am an artist. I am intereseted in life. Bolshevism is a new phase in life. I must be interested in it." To a similar inquiry he answered, " I am an artist, not a politician." His second statement seemed to be the utterance of an artist all to aware of the political game; for, he subtly stepped back from any allegiance to radicalism. But, I digress....

What has been on my mind recently is the statement, "I am an artist not a politician," which has been paraphrased to some degree by many, both famous and not. A painter and photographer friend I had in Winston-Salem used to tell me that he often feels passionatley about current events, but that he does not want to talk about politics, politics were a construct, he (as an artist) was interested in those things more visceral. It seemed to me a nice thought. Perhaps, it slowly oozes pretentiousness, but it also rings true, in my mind. When, I (a self-proclaimed political junky) watch political debates I become so frustrated at the shadow play and the formulae that I find it very hard to glean any sort or awareness or provocation of thought. That's not what politics were meant to be, I am sure.

Tonight, I was watching C-Span Book TV and Anita Thompson was talking about Hunter S. Thompson who she was married to before he died, and began their relationship as his assistant. She talked about Thompson's ranting, and his pessimism, and the anger that pervaded his later work. She said that it was wrong to view the tone as pessimism, the anger was more of an excitement. She explained that he would get so charged up at the potential of the masses, their potential to affect change, and their potential to expand thought. Essentialy, he was using his art as a political vehicle. His motifs of crudity and obscenity and downright hostility were his art; and, that art was his political voice. But, I am still not sure that he was political, maybe his art had political implications, but the current arena of politics there is no room for breaking rules. There is no room for tarnishing public image; there is no room for corroding tradition. The result is a purgatory for public thought.

Maybe the conclusion I am coming to is that it is not necessarily a universal truth that the artist can not be a politician, or vice versa, but now, in the current state of affairs, it can not be. Politic no longer exists as it did in the mind of Aristotle when he said that man is, by nature, a political animal.

The Power of Stories

As much as I herald the atypical and the aformulaic in the world of cinema there are certain films that must be appreciated for their classical form, executed to perfection. Ken Burns represents a filmmaker who makes films of this nature. Every series that Burns has produced I have seen some (if not the majority) of and enjoyed. When I heard his next topic was World War II I can't say that I was overwhelmed with excitement. I mean since the War itself the popular media stage has been inundated with films and TV and books and news and articles about "The Great War." (not a sarcastic use of quotation)

But, my devotion to Burns overcame. And, I must say, he has not disappointed.

The primary reason it is a success, I feel, is his focus on the personal stories that are told by the people who lived through the war. All his films do this to a degree: Instead of the authoritative, omniscient narrartor giving the history of the war and the history of the politics and the history of the culture, he lets the simple, but powerful, first-hand stories paint a mural of life during WWII. He has siblings read the letters of their borhter who died in Italy during Patton's surge. He has readings from diaries and other written correspondence between people. And, in these moments of his films it hits me. The relation of peoples stories does so much to heal, it does so much to illeviate the struggle, if only people hear their story a person can find the motivation to keep fighting.

My mind wandered to a relationship I recently created with a couple whose son is on death row. Their life, since 1996 when their son was sentenced to death, has been about making people aware of the story of their son's conviction and the folly that it was. I haven't talked to them in nearly four months and the thought crossed my mind that maybe Eric, their son, had been given a date for execution and nobody knows about it, and how alone you must feel to experience such sorrow and have no one to share it with. I expected that they would never want to talk to a stranger about the situation, the going has been tough and why would they have someone they do not know into their home and into their life? Yet, they did. Perhaps, because they need people to hear their story. For, they believe (as do I) if only more people could hear their son's story more people would come to the conclusion that they did and that I did that he was wrongly convicted. And, maybe something could be done to stop his impending death. Moreover, and more fundamentally, them telling his story helps to take the weight of their grief and spread it over the shoulders of all the willing listeners.

Anticipating some backlash (from all 3 of my readers) I want to say that my aim is not to disrespect war heroes in comparing them to a convicted felon. My comparison is not between Eric and veterans of World War II, my comparison is between the people affected by the war and the parents affected by having their son wrongly sentenced to death, and how both these parties find solace, however minor, in the mere telling of their story.

Things I Love That Maybe You Shouldn't

~~Cheap Coffee

~~Big Trouble In Little China

~~The Smell of Shoe Polish

~~The Crumbs of Ice in the Ice Tray (perfect for chewing on)

~~Cheap Coffee Reheated in the Microwave

~~Throwing Rotten Tomatoes Off the Back Deck

~~The Smell of Cigarette Smoke In Your Hair and Clothes

~~...that's all for now

Sky Blue Sky

It has been confirmed that Wilco, with the release of their latest album, Sky Blue Sky, is the one of the most accomplished, talented, and visionary bands, and probably the most that are currently producing music.

This latest album, at times, recalls some of Tweedy's alt country roots with Uncle Tupelo, the only thing missing, of course, is Jay Farrar's angst-ridden baritone. But, the album successfully executes an about-face from their last, A Ghost is Born.

I proclaimed Ghost was the best album of this generation, and I still believe firmly in that proclamation, it was nothing like anything we have ever heard, it was electronic noise and aformulaic rock and roll set to contemplative and deeply personal lyrics. Yes, Yankee Hotel Foxtrort (their preceding album)was also very experimental but it lacked any hint of pop sensibility, its lyrics were very declarative rather than emotive, and for that reason its easy to remain detached. Ghost picked up where Foxtrot left off and added something so personal and memorable that the album felt like a shadow of the soul.

But, this blog is not about A Ghost is Born, its about Sky Blue Sky. My only complaint is that the entire album is extremely easy to listen to. Does not sound like a complaint I understand, but let me explain, there were moments in Ghost and Foxtrot that were extremely off putting, they hurt your ears, they made you uncomfortable, because they did not fit the mold of "music." But, I loved it. Does it not make sense that art should be (or maybe I should it is alright for it to be) disconcerting, because such is life and such is the spirit of man. Sky Blue Sky at times breaks formula and achives this but for the most part it all feels good and it all makes you tap your feet.

But musically and lyrically this is Tweedy and his bunch at their best. Songs about love loss and broken dreams set to expertly executed pop melodies. But, Tweedy's style of writing and his groaning voice constantly remind you that although these things are eating away at him he is to aesthetically driven to let these emotions consume him, instead he turns them into 12 songs of contemplation and celebration of the ups and downs of life.

Go out and buy the album......or download it.

The Arab is the Nigger of the World

It seems to me that the driving force of American policy toward the Middle East, primarily the Arab states, has been the force of racism. Ironic, because this very argument is enough to garner an accusation of me being and anti-semite, but here goes.

The trouble began when Palestine was divided and Israel was created. For some reason Palestinians took not so kindly to Westerners divding their country for their own political gain. Throughout the second half of the second century the Middle East was plagued with wars that germinated here and there, largely because of the World Powers (U.S., England, USSR, a handful of European countries) who wanted to maintain a presence in the resource-rich Middle East.

1: Suez Crisis, Israel invades Sinai Peninsula in response to Egypt nationalizing the canal and not allowing Israeli ships to pass. French and England collaborate, the U.S. acts as the dumbass with his hands tied. (Egypt did possess Soviet arms, is it possible that U.S. tried not-so-hard because of their fear of the rise of Soviet prominence in the region).

2:1967 6 Day War: Nasser closes the Straits of Tiran to Israeli transportation. Egypt once again gets demolished by the new-kid bully on the playground, Israel. This time Israel conquers the occupies the Golan Heights from Syria, the West Bank from Jordan, and the Sinai and Gaza. A U.N. Resolution (Resolution 242) was passed that called for the withdraw of Israel from occupied terrirtories, they did not comply.

Okay okay I am going to stop with the history lesson, because it is admittedly biased. But, one little fact that is straight up, no spin, in your face fact is that Israel did not comply with the Resolution to withdraw from the occupied territory, a resolution that all the powers (inlcuding the good old US of A) of the world agreed to. Israel still today occupies some of these territories. Carter's Camp David Accords did not budge Israel, Clinton's Camp David Redux also failed, and the Road Map to Peace has been a Road Map to Israel non-compliance.

The Arab camp deserves their fair share of criticism, but in history their has been evidence of their attempts to compromise, only to face the stubborn retort of Israel. The reason I write this blog, is that for some reason Israeli non-compliance for half a century has only been answered by the United States' continuing support, but non-compliance on the part of Iraq for less than a decade, results in their country being destoryed and the order and peace being so buried under the rubble that their seems to be no restoration in sight.

Why is this? The only thing I can gather is that The U.S. (perhaps sub-consciously) thinks the Arabs are dangerous, and that they are also incapable of ruling themselves. Israeli aggression is never condoned, but it is never reprimanded either, instead we just tolerate it as a logical response to those thugs in the Arab world. All these things are, in one easily recognizeable word, racism. American will constantly keep their hands in the affairs of the Arab states because they do indeed present alot of wealth , but if we gave them the respect to act diplomatically, and politically in world affairs on their own accord we could develop ties that would allow us to benefit from a symbiotic relationship, but instead we think them unable to act respectable in public. Undoubtedly, they will turn to jihad, so lord knows we better not give them any unsupervised power, and we must always lock the doors when we drive through their side of town.

Top 5 Music Moments

Top 5 musical moments in film.

1) As Time Goes By (Casablanca).

2) Singin' in the Rain (Singin' in the Rain)

3) In Dreams (Blue Velvet)

4) I Will Always Love You (The Bodyguard)

5) Singin' in the Rain (A Clockwork Orange)

How Man Does Envy The Birds

Flight has been the fascination of mankind. The fascination has been democratically distributed among all ages, classes, and all men past and present. Homer put his gods to the skies, Da Vinci drew his helicopters, and Orville and Wilbur took the first steps. But, its not just about the technology of flight, its about the adventure, the spirit, the need for something thrilling that seems to be a common bond for all people.

Recently, I have toyed around with the idea of a documentary on the human fascination with flight. We take to the skies to keep world commerece spinning, but we also take to the skies as dreamers.

For this blog I wanted to hear about your flying dreams. If you feel personally attached to your dream as a vote of confidence I will first divulge mine:

The entire dreams are usually varying, but the way in which I fly is always the same. I stand on the ground and have to concentrate very hard and I begin to really believe, wholeheartedly know that it will work, and I start to move my arms similar to treading water and slowly I begin to lift. I keep concentrating, it is almost as if I am mentally causing my body to become less dense than air, and I start to swim through the air. After I begin to cruise I don't have to think as hard anymore, but the interesting thing is that initially I have to think so deliberately about what I am getting ready to do, it almost lends itself to making the dream more real, because dreams usually don't involve much contemplation while in the dream state.

And, I'll give you one specific example, the most recent dream.

The first thing I remember is that I am outside of a school building, people my age are all just sitting around and drinking and smoking and everything is moving slowly, a guy that was on my high school soccer team is there, and he is talking to Milla Jovovich from Dazed and Confused. Everybody seems real peaceful and then a security guard bursts from the doors of the school and he has a puppy. He is jerking it about by the scruff of its neck and the puppy is screaming uncomfortably loud, suddenly the screaming turns into a loud alarm, almost like an air raid siren, people start funneling out of the school. The security guard goes back into the school and he comes dragging a student out by the scruff of his neck; the student is screaming in pain, much like the puppy, as the security guard yells at him, "Why did you not come out during the alarm!" Milla Jovovich pleads with the security guard to let him go, she tells him that the kid is deaf, but he just continues to shake the kid by the scruff of his neck. Then...people start running.

I run around the corner of the school and all of a sudden I am running along a ridge that overlooks, and runs parallel to, a large area of pasture with cows grazing. As I look down upon the cows I begin to notice other creatures running amongst them, they stand upright but they are covered in fur like a primate, their faces are scarred, red, devolved human faces with big sharp teeth (in the face they look sort of like the bad wizard from Conan The Destroyer when he turns into a man ape, sorry no google image)

They move fast onto the cattle and devour them, I look ahead of me and see them killing people running in front of me, when I look back down to the pasture I see these creatures as they see me running along the ridge, one by one their heads jerk spastically in my direction, then they begin to move like a pack of wild dogs, rehearsed and in unison, they are stalking me.

I keep running and I begin to approach a tree line where there is only a narrow path way through, the creatures have gathered there and they wait for me. I begin to concentrate on being able to rise into the air, I begin to believe that my arms will push the air below me and that action will lift me into the sky. The creatures begin to clamber toward me, twitching and growling. They are only ten yards away now and I push my arms down and up I go, I barely rise over them, and one of them claws me on the shin, but that is the only damage they can achieve, I fly over the tree line and on to safety.

Back in Time

I felt like a teenager back in the seventies. Although it was before my time I hear stories of kids playing hookie and sneaking in to theaters to see the B-Movies that their mother and father probably knew nothing about. It was 1:00 in the afternoon and the heat was almost unbearable, so I went to a theater in Charlotte and bought a ticket for Grindhouse--don't tell my mom.

Bad editing, bad image quality and bad sound were the recurring aesthetic and what a wonderful aesthetic it was. However, I should say that much like the films that Rodriguez and Tarantino were paying tribute to this film too was heavily flawed (and I don't just mean the missing reels).

Tarantino's Death Proof was a different story, but Rodriguez's film ended up being just another bad film. In my mind an homage should sift through the rubbish and celebrate the remnants of artistic ingenuity, unfortunately for Tarantino, Rodriguez simply showed us the rubbish. In a combination of ultra-violent zombie flick and cheap sexploitation Planet Terror hit on many of the technical themes, but overall he simply made a new bad movie. The exploitation of women and the cheap thrill of exploding zombie goo was not considered or studied, instead it was just the vision, a vision that I don't really care to see anymore. Rodriguez should have consulted his buddy Quentin for some tips on the homage film.

Perhaps, it is unfair to compare the two films because it is is hard to find redeeming qualities in the films that Planet Terror was charged with emulating, whereas, the car chase films that Tarantino undertook have become art-house fair. But, still Tarantino's film (like all his films) possessed something different. It was first and foremost a Tarantino film, sure it was made in the affecionate memory of old, B-movies, but in the end he made a film that was his own, that nostalgiacly recalled a type of filmmaking that has passed. On point writing, superb acting from Kurt Russel (if you can believe it) and the ever-charming Rosario Dawson. Real stunts, real stuntmen, making movies used to be real work, for a lot of real people. Movies used to be a lot of blood, sweat, and metal. Now they are a lot of money, megabytes, and sequels.

There has been talk that Grindhouse will be relesed as two separate films--I hope so, I want to watch Death Proof again, but would like not to take another trip to PLanet Terror.

Movie for the Day--Billy Shakespeare's BDAY

So, I could maybe find any reason, in any round-about-way, to make My Own Private Idaho the movie for the day. It is one of my favorite movies and keeping this bias in mind I will go ahead and thrust it upon you today, April 20.

Okay, so many of you might be saying (or none of you) the first Romeo and Juliet, no no no the second one with Leo. Or, even fewer of you might be saying the Hamlet (2000) with Etan Hawke. Okay, maybe I was just thinking that. But, who am I kidding, what it boils down to is that I wanted to write a blog about My Own Private Idaho. Shakespeare is just another dead, white, heterosexual, formulaic, man.

So, Idaho, although it does not stricly follow the narrative of King Lear it is close enough for me. I mean, when street boy gigolo's break into Shakespeare it must be a conscious allusion, and with this film I think Bill would have been extremely proud. It is about taking the life issues of the people commonly disregarded as the filth of society and making their issues universal and worth considering, "I mean it is old english it must be intellectual," says the aforementioned disregarder.

Gus Van Sant has two preoccupations in his films. Sexuality and family. And, often times the families he chooses to focus on are not the biological families, but surrogate families. Families of street riff raff who fled from home and can only find comfort in the companionship of one another, and can only find a means to a living by sleeping with whoever happens to offer the best fix.

Van Sant never judges his characters only portrays them as what they are, there are no bad guys and there are no good guys, there are only people motivated to act by a desperate need to be recognized and loved by someone.

WARNING: This is Van Sant before Good Will Hunting. This is the real Van Sant, the experimental Van Sant, the best Van Sant.

“Today the clouds have lifted and people can see their future,”

Today, I read this article and it reminded me of an issue I think I may have blogged about in the past, but this occasion warrants a re-mentioning.

The title of this post was a statement made by Peter Hain, the British minister of Northern Ireland. The comment was made in reference to the compromise made by leaders of the Sinn Fein party and Protestant party in Ireland to accept terms that would allow Ireland to reclaim the precesses of many of the country's internal affairs from the custodial control of the British.

Local governance had been assumed by Britain because of historical conflict that made the two parties unable to work together. Sinn Fein's not-so-discrete connections with the IRA and its murderous terrorist actions and the retalitation of Protestant factions are a result of conflicts over religion and politics that started to manifest in bloodshed as early as the 1920s.

But, today compromise has been reached and we have come far from the violence that had long plagued Ireland. But, the issue of terrorism in Ireland has been an issue to which I have pointed as a possible model for the Middle East Peace process. The entrenched ideology that led to blood shed in Ireland is similar to the religious ideology that catalyzes terrorism in the Middle East.

When you look at the history of Irish terrorism you see that as long as diplomatic resources were closed to groups such as the IRA violence was their primary bull-horn, this occurred for most of the twentieth century, then in the late 90s the Sinn Fein party, who had ties to the IRA, established a voice the in Irish government. While protestant hegemony remained violence decreased. Suddenly, the method of violence as public outcry was less necessary and diplomacy was used. Hostility, some physical and some symbolic, has remained but this is a giant step forward because of the willingness for these two once bitter enemies to accept responsibility for shaping the future and who have laid down their figurative swords in order to accept control of their own fate, together. My question: is the radiclaism of the Middle East more malignant than that of Ireland's past, and if not what might be the outcome of relinquishing some of the same diplomatic resources to all of the conflicting ideologies of the Middle East? At least in the venue of diplomacy radicalism can be moderated, and perhaps each interest can be satisfactorily heard on a national and international stage.

Whatever, just my opinion, and you know what they say about opinions.........

Lastly, I want to say real quick that among a number of movies that will never come to a theater near you that I want to see the 2006 Palme d'Or winner, Ken Loach's The Wind that Shakes the Barley, the film takes place in the 1920s at the outset of the conflict in Ireland, that is why I mention it here.

Peace on Earth

The short animated film was made in 1939. It is a stunning piece of artistry. It is almost 9 minutes long, but I stongly encourage you to take the time to take a peak. I bet it will be the first cartoon you have ever watched that was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Queen Elizabeth

Recently, John Edwards has risen to the top of my presidential nominee list. He has laid out his agenda in a very explicit and user-friendly structure that has put ending poverty at the top of the list, with a sub-category under that bullet of creating a universal healthcare sytem. He is, as he has again and again alluded to, the first candidate to lay out a plan that maps out the creation and implementation of such a system. The only negative thing I have to say is that his new tough guy attitude seems to wear a little thin as an obvious attempt to cater to the machismo that is so precious to the right to garner swing votes, he has thus far won my vote. But, this blog is not about him.

Just yesterday, over breakfast, one of my friends argued that John Edwards' actions were deplorable for not putting down the rally sign and staying home and taking care of his wife whose recurrance of cancer has just been diagnosed. Stun and shock overwhelmed me. Now, since the intial press conference where she announced her diagnosis and Edwards announced that the campaign will continue I have not read or seen much news on the issue; maybe I should not be shocked, maybe this argument has popped up alot, but an avenue for a negative character evaluation had never crossed my mind.

To me, we should applaud the courage of woman who realizes that her own ailments are miniscule when compared to the ailments of a nation for which her and her's purport to have the cure. Elizabeth needs not be taken care of, she took care of cancer by herself the first time. It shames me that today in America we (or at least who ever is making the aforemetnioned argument) still perceive a wife as property to be maintained. These same objections come from the side of the aisle which degrades Middle Eastern cultures for their sexism, but it seems to me that wearing an hijab is not far removed from having your own independence veiled by deep seeded ideology.

What Would You Say to an Evangelist?

After its release at Sundance last year this doc had created quite a buzz, and I made a mental note after reading about it in Rolling Stone Magazine's Sundance issue that I wanted to see the movie.

Of course I forgot about the film, until April 2007 and the Academy
nominates for best doc feature-length. Finally, last night, after a
year of anticipation (though unconscious) I watched Jesus Camp.

Directly afterward I read Stephen Holden's review for the New York Times, dont read it it is pointless. He takes certain instances out of context and strings them
together in a more perfect narrative, I don't really like Holden.

Anyway, the review did hit upon one thing about the film that did interest me.
What was the purpose of the film? It is not an expansive study of
evangelism, it is not a look at the growth of evangelism in the United
States. Exclusively, the film deals with the teaching of children. It
follows three children (and others in passing) as they go through the
Kids on Fire summer camp. Where they are self admittedly being trained
to fight in God's Army to reclaim America. Children collapse in prayer,
speak in tongues, and cry uncontrollably . They are taught the evils of
Harry Potter and they, for the most part. are home schooled where they can be
taught, above anything else, that Darwinism is satanic and abortion is
a sin against God.

I must be honest with anyone reading, when I rented the film I got it because I thought I might find it humorous, and occasionally I laughed out loud, when the children's preacher almost cried with disdain for Harry Potter, but for the most part I was perplexed.

The one voice of moderation is a radio talk show host on Air America who claims to be a Christian but is obviously liberally aligned. The Pastor Becky Fisher of the children's camp (probably the film's main character) calls in and has a debate with him, and he claims to be blown away by "how crazier and crazier they get."

It does seem to me that their love for their children and their diligence
in raising them is admirable, but here is the problem Evangelist. Your
doctrine teaches only exclusion and only judgement of others.

The radio show host makes a valid point at the difference between teaching your children and indoctrinating your children, Ms. Fisher responds by saying indoctrination will happen somewhere so she opts for indoctrination through her church.

The most glaring trend that surfaces in the film is the language of war in
the practicing of their religion. Most of the kids seem pretty normal
outside of the confines of the camp and the church, but there will be
one day when they have to leave home and learn things with their own
devices, what will happen then?

Postscript:
The film is made with a compassionate lens, it does not seem to look down its nose at these people as I may be doing and as other reviewers have been doing. These are people motivated for a cause, a group of children and their parents travel from Missouri to Washington DC to protest abortion as Judge Alito is about to be confirmed. The political interest and political action that these children are being taught is valuable and dialogue is never bad, we can only hope that somewhere along the way the kids learn that dialogue means tolerance of, or at least listening to, opposing points of view.

Movie for the Day

On this day in 1927 Fritz Lang's film Metropolis premiered. Metropolis pioneered the science-fiction, social commentary film. So, in honor of movies that mean something I will give a few movies that would be fitting for tonight, after work or school.

Go to your local $2 theater and maybe you will be lucky and find Children of Men playing. Amazing production and amazing script.

Or, V for Vendetta. Once again great production (come to think of it I am going to stop saying that because great production is the raison d'etre of sci-fi), but wonderful writing, wonderful acting, and damn entertaining.

2001: A Space Odyssey great film, but it is almost an unwatchable masterpiece. One time is enough, at times it borders on impenetrable.

Metropolis!!!!!!!!!Restored DVD came out not too long ago, pick it up. The cinematography is beautiful and the subject matter makes most American films today seem soft, for this movie dealt with the modern, industrial class structure which we barely even see today in American films.

Don't Laugh or Else

While driving yesterday I had this memory:

My friend J.T. Holleman sits beside me in a desk during Mr. Settle's 5th grade science class. He sneezes and spit from the outburst lands right on the back of Sandy's shirt, on the back of her balck shirt. It lies there with pride, grinning right back at J.T. and me.

Something from inside me grows, it scares me, I can't stop it, it is coming. Quickly, I retreat to the surface of my desk and hide my face under my folded arms. The skin on my face is getting hot, I am biting down on my lip as hard as I can possibly stand it. If I let up on the pressure for one second there is no doubt that I will erupt in laughter that will not only cause all my classmates to look, but even worse, a non-laughing matter, Mr. Settle will make me set outside in the hallway.

As the feeling starts to subside I decide to peek out from under the refuge of my desk. J.T. directly beside me has his head buried in his arms and his entire body is convulsing and jolting. He laughs silently occasionally snorting and throwing Mr. Settle by immediately coughing....the breaking point.

Now, as I sit out in the hallway I feel it is important that no one underestimate the power of a 5th grader's laugh.

Top 5 For Alison

Top 5 Movies Starring Canines

Yes our furry, four-legged friends. The dog does not necessarily have to be the "star," just needs ot play an important role, as an example please see my number 5 pick.

5)The Sandlot
4)Babe
3)Turner and Hooch
2)Old Yeller
1)Lassie Come Home

Ansel Adams Inspired Top 5

Ansel Adams was born on this day in 1902. In honor of Adams' love for the landscape of the American West we shall contemplate The Top 5 Films Depicting the American West
Please keep in consideration the photography and the depiction of the landscape in the films you pick, let's keep this in the loving memory of Ansel. For example Tombstone is a great Western, but its images are not outstanding. At least that is my opinion.

Also remember that it does not necessarily mean the Old West.


5) Brokeback Mountain
4) High Noon
3) Dead Man
2) Badlands
1) The Searchers



Honorable Mention: Legends of the Fall (don't giggle)& Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Oscar Snub

Prairie Home Companion premiered at the Berlin Film Festival, which is expanding to the point of being compared to Cannes, but the film, afterwards, only received mediocre press from American journalist. Although I have not seen any figures I am willing to say that the many people did not see it, despite relatively wide spread distribution and a very recognizable cast.

The first reason I consider it an Oscar snub is the most superficial and insignificant reason so I mention it first. If a Robert Altman film won best picture, or if he won best director it would be some Grade A television. Altman died this year and there is nothing that wins you fan-fare like kicking the bucket. So, I could foresee quite a moving TV moment when Altman is named best director and the auditorium goes black, the presenters leave the stage, the spotlight falls on an empty podium, a moment of silence, then a standing ovation for the departed (no pun intended).

But, forget the quality of the broadcast. This film was Altman's farewell note. It may sound cliche, but this film really reflected the professional life that Altman led, and it did so in a well-crafted allegoric way, much like Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries He was notoriously controlling and aloof, but was absorbed in his work.

Prairie Home Companion is about the last show, the last story, the last song, the last embrace of an author and his audience. Altman was known to be terribly hard to work with, terribly controlling, but no one can argue that he was terribly brilliant when he was on. He made some very forgettable movies and some that were unforgettable because they were so bad, but he was so prolific we should allow a few duds in between masterpieces. (McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Mash, The Player, Nashville, Gosford Park, and now Prairie)

The film is wildly entertaining, hilarious, and touching. Even if you are not a fan of the corn ball radio show the film will win you over.

I write this post with the utmost respect for the passing of a true auteur.

Related article

His Dark Materials

As some of you might know I have been thoroughly disappointed with the recent trend in children's movies becoming so popular amongst adults.Young adults, and even old adults, will claim that Shrek is their favorite movie. "Finding Nemo is mine!!!" "No no no no I looovvvee The Incredibles." "Harry Potter for meee!!!!!"

It's not that I don't appreciate the craft put of he creators of these movies, I am not attempting to prove their inadequacy. It's just the trend itself that baffles me; why is this happening? At one point in the history of American college kids and hip, progressive types people went to art house theaters and watched movies that frightened, shocked, broke the rules, broke the man, broke your sensibilities. Yes, I know some critics out there say that movies like Shrek are hip and progressive. They provide alternative readings to several recurring, historical narratives. No, they are mere safety valves that allow an audience afraid of drastic disruption of the status quo to safely feel like they are watching something different and sophisticated.

BUT I have digressed. I am about the become the lousiest, sorriest, low-downdest, sack of no good piece of pig vomit that the human race can possibly bring forth----I am about to become a flip flopper.

shriek gasp faint

Not completely, but sort of. I am about to recommend that everyone go out
and buy the Phillip Pullman Trilogy His Dark Materials and, furthermore, watch the movie that is coming out Winter 2007.

The work is directed towards children but has been becoming even more popular with adults because of its subtextual complexity. It has caused quite a stir for its apparently anti-Christian sentiments and has been described as a rebuttal to C.S.
Lewis' work. In my mind it is more anti-organized religion than anti-Christian, but you can be your own judge. Even if you are not so amicable with its symbolic leanings it is wildly entertaining, a fantasy much like Harry Potter (but better of course).

The movie I have heard is supposed to come out either this summer of this winter. And I have read that it will be called either The Golden Compass or His Dark Materials: Northern Lights. The movie will star Nicole Kidman, Sam Elliot, Daniel Craig.

Top 5 Movies Dealing with Race (In honor of Black History Month)

5)Malcolm X
4)In the Heat of the Night
3)Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
2)Glory
1)To Kill a Mockingbird

Roots is a mini-series don't suggest it. But, please give me your suggestions.

Honorable Mentions: The Tuskeegee Airmen and Hoop Dreams

My Ear is Not Ringing Anymore, but My Hammer Is

The H K on J demonstration that I blogged about a few days ago was
yesterday (didn't see any of you, my 3 readers, there by the way). To
be quite honest, I had low expectations. Two years ago I went to
Moratorium Day in Raleigh (that is Moratorium on the Death Penalty) and
there were maybe 40 people there.

But, fortunately, my cynicism was bull-dozed by the magnitude of the event upon which I stumbled.

There were indeed thousands as the flyer had called for. I parked at the general assembly, which was almost a mile from the auditorium where everyone was gathering to start the march. So, I set out up Fayetville St expecting to see a group huddled together in the cold.

On the way there I walked with a man who was wearing an X hat, I asked him, "Are you hear for H K on J." He said, "Yes sir, all the way fromAsheville, NC." At this point I started to appreciate how widely word was spread for this event.

As I neared the auditorium, before even seeing, the massive stone building I started hearing a melody, "Walk with me, Lord. Walk with me." Around the corner, and there it was, three enormous loud speakers playing the music that was going on inside the auditorium, people boiling out of the front doors. This was going to be much more than a huddled mass of people out in the cold. Cops on horses surrounded the building, while shouts of protest echoed from the loud speakers.

I walked in got my ticket and found a seat. The auditorium was packed, people were clapping, and dancing, and shouting,and testifying, it was like being in a backwoods,Pentecostal church. Only, this congregation cared not if you were Muslim, Jew, Hindu, or Atheist. All they cared about was that you were going to shout and
fight for a change.

There were many speakers and many singers, they spoke for nearly four hours before the march to the General Assembly started. But, nothing could beat the President of the North Carolina NAACP,Reverend Dr. William J. Barber.

Rev. Barber is a huge man, he walked with a cane and he commanded the attention of the entire crowd the minute he came on stage. People assisted him up to the podium. He took a moment to gather himself, and he started off very quiet and composed, and then after a few minutes he noticeably became consumed with anger and dissatisfaction, it looked as though he might crush the podium with his grip. His composure escalated to a steady roar until finally he was screaming to the top of his lungs, that "We must believe" we can make a difference.

Sorry for the long post, for me this was just an amazing experience.
Thousands of people, literally thousands of people filled the streets of downtown Raleigh. It was invigorating and inspiring, and to see a fighting spirit in so many taught me so much.

John Edwards and Going Deaf

My pick (so far) for the Democratic Presidential nominee is going to have to go to John Edwards. He sounded good yesterday on NPR. LISTEN He is right, by the way, about the first person to lay out a comprehensive and detailed plan for universal healthcare.

ALSO

My right ear has been ringing since 3:00 PM yesterday. I don't want to go deaf.

Movie for the day: Charlie Chaplin - Modern Times

On this day in 1914 Charlie Chaplin first revealed his character "The Tramp." The character would go on to become perhaps the most recognizable figure around the world.

He wore an odd mixing of oversized clothes, and wore shoes that were far too big, this is why the Tramp shuffled about everywhere he went, it was actually how Chaplin had to walk to keep from walking right out of his shoes.

To celebrate Chaplin's creation watch the best Tramp movie (The Great Dictator is the best Chaplin movie, but alas, no tramp) Modern Times.

Chaplin was a fierce competitor for human rights, especially the rights of the labor class. This is one of the first films ever made to be primarily a political statement.

But, dont worry, there is quite a love story as well.

Scene to watch: The most famous scene in this film is when Chaplin gets caught in the gears of the conveyor belt. Both physical comedy and commentary by way of metaphor. But, the scene to watch is the final sequence. Everyone has seen Chaplins nack for physical comedy, but he also had an evident sense of drama, this is the final sequence.

Nevermind the Commercial--It's the Damn Jingle

So, the commerical is not important for my purposes. It is the background whistling jingle. Does anyone know when the whistling started, I remember, once upon a time, the whistling made me want to tear my eyes from my head.

But, now it seems that the jingle has infiltrated my subconscious. As soon as I hear the whistle I immediately need a spicy chicken sandwich injected into my blood stream.

I feel like Pavlov's fat-so.

Super Bowl Ad

When pharmaceutical companies are public enemy number one it takes quite a bit of gall to air a high production value, high budget commercial in
one of the most high priced spots of the year.

I am not an economics major, so please tell me if this is wrong, but could the money for that commercial not have been redistributed into production
and perhaps bring down the cost to the consumer? Maybe I am wrong, but if there is this much money for advertising it is hard to make an argument for astronomical medicine prices.

Eventually,
no one is going to see these commercials anyway, everyone will be on
the road, going to Canada where they can get affordable drugs.

H K on J

H K on J (Historic Thousands on Jones St.)

Location: Memorial Auditorium, Jones Street in Downtown Raleigh

Saturday, February 10 at 11:00 AM

The North Carolina NAACP is sponsoring an event that hopes to bring progressive thinkers in North Carolina to demonstrate on behalf of a 14-point agenda. Three points, for example, being a moratorium on the death penalty, universal health care in North Carolina, and new environmental standards.

I will be there with camera in tow as well as a fighting desire for change. It should prove to be an exciting event for anyone who revels in the freedoms of a democratic system. Come one and come all, if not to demonstrate, then to point and gasp at the antics of thousands of demented liberals, and maybe even voice your own differing opinions.

In the modern age of media where we can tune in to any partisan news programming that suits us or shamelessly pontificate our own political views form the solitude of a lap-top (blush) this should be a breath of fresh air. An ode to days gone by, when people had to actually yell to be heard.