My Friend Stephen (1950 – 2009)

It has been difficult to get down what I wanted to say in this post, and its still not everything I want it to be. Its taken some time since Stephen’s passing for me to put it all together.

Last Wednesday I received a text from my friend that said Stephen Brown had died. I got a knot in my stomach that didn’t release until some hours later, my eyes swelled with tears, and I felt my face flush. I was in total shock.

As an undergrad I attended the Hartford Art School, where Stephen, a successful and eminently talented realist painter, was a professor, and head of the Painting and Graduate Painting departments. My first memory of Stephen was before I knew him properly. I attended the faculty exhibition my sophomore year and saw his work for the first time. His pieces were heartbreaking and understatedly powerful drawings of Stephen’s father in a hospital bed, some weeks before he would die. His eyes were closed while tubes and wires of all sorts seemed to accost his soft, worn face. The final image was of his father, slack-jawed, at rest, free from oppressive life support and monitoring, some few moments after passing.

I was greatly moved, as was everyone, by both the unvarnished pain and emotion of the pieces, and of the bravery and vulnerability of Stephen’s, for making them, and showing them. I would learn that these pieces were truly indicative of Stephen’s traits, and come to see that he cherished opportunities to share personal struggles and triumphs with others, and that he drew great joy from sharing the lives of others.

The first time I met Stephen was on the first day of a course called Traditional Drawing 2. He opened the class with a discussion about what the word Traditional meant to us. After a couple days of some life-drawing from nature, he brought every student into his office individually and began a dialogue with each of us about what we care about, and what we want to make art about, which, for me, was a conversation which continued with him for the latter half of college.

He became a true mentor for me, and although he didn’t always quite understand what I was trying to say, and I didn’t always quite know how to say what I thought, that dialogue has been one of the most important experiences of my life as an artist, and ultimately as a person. We began talking about drawing; he took an interest in my talent, and ever tried to challenge me with new assignments which stretched my abilities, as he offered advice and guidance.

Through his personal style of teaching, he opened up about his father, and his family through discussions about his art, and artists we talked about. Our conversations unfurled over the two year period, to talk about our childhoods, the foods we loved, and the sports we cherished. We talked poetry often, we were both great admirers of William Carlos Williams, especially of Spring and All – he loved it for the terse, elegant, imagist poems like The Red Wheelbarrow, which he would recite from time-to-time.

We talked much about what art was, the ambitions of a young artist, and the confidence of a middle-aged one.

He turned me on to Ben Shahn’s The Shape of Content, Leo Tolstoy’s What is Art?, and the work of Arthur Danto.

He said “put your drawings up, and challenge the other students to do better.”

He said “You’re one of the easiest students I’ve ever had to teach – I tell you to do something, and you do it exactly how I meant it.”

He said “You’ve got an impressive talent”

He said “This isn’t good enough. I’m disappointed.”

He yelled “You’re late! Nobody else was late!”

He chuckled “Oh, I wasn’t mad, I just said that to scare the new guys.”

He said “I know you can do it. Now go work your ass off.”

He did ridiculous things, like hammer a hole in a wall in his office to see if there was a window behind it, to amuse another teacher. He hung a painting over the hole, and told me “Shit, Zach, seriously, Tom can never find out about this – I’m on tenure track!”

He went out for Mexican food, and to local bars with students, and talked about life, and art with us.

He groused about the beauty of the days and the absurdity of being inside painting, and ordered us to come play ultimate Frisbee with him from time to time.

On class breaks we would walk over to the commons and buy tacos from Taco Bell, and enjoy them while he talked about grad school and what he was painting in his studio.

We didn’t always see eye-to-eye. My interests grew out from traditional drawing and painting to more conceptual work, which was not where his own artistic interests were. But he knew I was following my passions, and no matter what the idea, he always encouraged me, and offered guidance.

He told me he was proud of my work and that I should be too. I cant tell you how much that meant to me.

He gave me a copy of a catalogue of a show of recent work at his gallery. He wrote me a note in it, which began with the address: “My Friend Zach.”

His sickness followed him through his life. I don’t wish to dwell on it. When he returned from a semester away, due to a stroke, he cried as he imparted his travails to our class. His bravery, and honesty, and vulnerability were his strength. And he shared his strength with anyone who would talk to him.

All of these fragments and memories, images, and sounds rushed over me when I heard that he had died.

When I heard about Stephen’s death, I was teaching a night class at the museum I work at. After I wiped away some tears in the bathroom, I thought about telling my students I needed to leave. But then I thought that maybe this was the perfect place to be, right then. Doing what Stephen taught me, through the way he worked with me. Trying to pass on my passion and interest in art to other people. The class was a painting class that emphasized developing series, personal projects, and style. It’s a class I developed over the last year, and is the third consecutive semester of its running. The class has grown from six to twelve, most of the original six still here.
Over the four years I’ve been teaching I’ve worked to emulate the personal style that Stephen had. I talk to my students individually and always encourage them to try new things, and follow their passions. We end up talking about their lives, their families, their loves, and their sorrows, as we talk about their art, and what they want to do with it. I hope that I can begin to encourage even one of my students as much as Stephen inspired all of his.

After class my girlfriend Kara met me at the museum. I told her about Stephen, who she didn’t get a chance to meet, to my great regret. I cried as I tried to tell her. I decided there was only one proper way to end the evening. We drove over to the late night Taco Bell in town, and had a taco for Stephen.

I regretted for some time that I never got the name of a quote he talked to me about often. It was from a book of poems I cant remember the name of, by a poet I cant remember the name of. The line was “we must dare to delight.” If I had read it myself, I would not have paid it any mind. It was how he talked about it, that will insure that it will always remain with me. He talked about it as words which told us we must enjoy this life – that there will always be hardship; always be poverty; always be heartbreak; always be cancer; always be death. But that we cannot let those things envelope us. He said it was a courageous act, to delight in this world, and that it is more important than anything else. We must delight in each other; in love; in art; in beauty; in nature; in humor.

When I heard that Stephen had died, that quote eluded me. I was so overwhelmed with sadness, that I would never see my friend again, that I didn’t remember what I was supposed to be brave about. But the day of his service, some hours before I drove out to say goodbye, I was with Kara, getting ready. And one time, right before I wanted to kiss her, I paused and thought about my sadness. But then I thought about that quote for the first time in a long time, and his words. And I dared to delight. And I kissed her.

In the end, I’m glad I cant remember the poem, or the poet. I might not have liked it. I might not have liked the poet. Now I attribute the line to Stephen. And it will never whither, or lessen in reminiscence. Stephen lived his life, daring to delight in others, and nature, and himself. And I only hope that I can follow in his footsteps and do the same.

On the day of my graduation I gave Stephen a letter. In the letter I told him how much our relationship has meant to me, and among other things, that I wanted to thank him for being a great teacher, mentor, and friend. And that I wouldnt be the person that I am today without him. I saw him only one more time after that day. I visited the school the next year. I put my hand out to shake (unsure what would be appropriate), and was pleased that he opened his arms for a hug. We talked for a last time in person that day, about art, about poetry, and about tacos.

We spoke through email from time-to-time, but I regret very much that I wasnt able to see him again. But it gives me much comfort that I gave him that letter, and told him how much he meant to me.

Stephen was my friend.
I loved him.
And I will miss him greatly.

Indulgent Basterd

I would call myself a fan of Quentin Tarantino, but his work, which many thought would be endlessly innovative and creative after seeing Pulp Fiction, has turned out to be far more limited, and often quite hollow.

The Quentin Equation:
past film genre + homages and references to films from that genre + long stylized dialogue scenes + exaggerated quirky characters + violence = Quentin Tarantino films.

This is true for literally every single film he’s written and directed: Reservoir Dogs (Mafia), Pulp Fiction (Criminal), Jackie Brown (Blaxploitation), Kill Bill (Kung-Fu), Death Proof (Muscle Car B-Movies), and now Inglourious Basterds (WWII).

There is a part of me that appreciates what he does, and admires the fact that like, say Wes Anderson or Kevin Smith, he has carved out a discernible style of his own in cinema. In a modern world where films have no status, and through video/dvd/internet we now have more access to more films from more places, and our aesthetics can know no boundaries of time, place or genre, and influence once more homogeneous styles, his work sort of reflects back this new cultural and cinematic complexity. If I believed he had sincere interest in exploring the genres he homages I would go on to think about how the emotional hollowness of his films might be an opinion of modern culture. But I honestly just think he loves movies and wants to tell fun stories in the aesthetics of his favorite genres.

Pulp Fiction defied the narrowness of his general pursuits though, because rather than simply existing as an indulgent flourish packed with all his favorite movies, its subject was the overripe stories of our culture; it was self-reflexive cinema about the nature of cinema, rather than cinema about a cinematic style (which is what his other films have been). As time has gone on though, these concocted stories he comes up with in order to create a film about a style, this process, has worn thinner and thinner. Sometimes enjoyable, but repetitive as it is.

In this sense, Basterds is no different from any of the other more recent, flimsier films like the two parts of Kill Bill, and Death Proof. Enjoyable as they were, they were simply meant to be entertaining. However, in another sense, Basterds is more successful, because Tarantino is back on familiar territory: film about film. This time, rather than being about the exaggerated fictions of cinema meant to entertain, Basterds is about the fiction of the medium of cinema, its subservience to its makers in depicting “truth,” and its corrupted relationship to objectivity.

...or at least, it could be. It could also just be about film for the fact that most of his films are about film. I'm not so convinved of the brilliance of Basterds, or the thoughtfulness of it.

The film follows three stories: a group of Jewish American soldiers (called Basterds) sent into Nazi occupied France to kill Nazis; a crazy German soldier who hunts down Jews; and a Jewish young woman who runs a cinema, whose family was murdered by this “Jew Hunter.” After some not-so-coherent switching back-and-forth between these narrative strands, and some totally irrelevant tangents, all three parties convene into a German cinema where the Basterds snuck in to kill Hitler, the woman plans to burn down the cinema to kill Hitler and the Nazis, and the Jew Hunter uncovers the Basterd plan, but decides to switch sides and help them.

This plot is about as pulp as fiction gets. And does, unfortunately, play out as unnecessarily complicated as it sounds. And although his mis-en-scene has become far richer, luxuriating more in textures and sensuality than his previous films, they belay little more than random, passing, visual intrigues of Tarantino’s. Entire scenes seem to take place simply to take in small delights like cake, or shadows. There is something beautiful about this, and also something as hollow as his previous films.

A story about the process of cinema itself can be divined from Basterds: the creation of a celebrated fictional ending to WWII where Hitler and the high ranking Nazis are killed by Jewish American soldiers and a Jewish French girl, victimized by the Nazi regime, all serve as propaganda for a fictional, pro-American, pro-Jewish ending to the war, and the real audience, in a theater, is its viewer, savoring the revenge-porn version of history, as they watch the fictional audience in a theater, watching a Nazi propaganda film. Both Basterds and the fictional film-with-the-film are propaganda which purport to retell the events of history, but really lies in order to galvanize the audience in its celebration of the death of one group, while appealing to their values and sense of culture. Really the only group anyone could ever enjoy watching the death of, in modern America, would be the Nazis, so it makes perfect sense. And obviously, the use of cinematic propaganda by the Nazis is an appropriate subject to talk about implicit issues of “truth” through film.

I’ll admit I’m conflicted about this interpretation, though. When I feel generous, I could even see the rich texture depictions in scenes (like the cake scene), as lush examples of the way film can fetishize even the mundane. But when I feel less generous, I just have trouble believing this much thought went into these scenes. I just don’t have much faith that Tarantino is thinking so analytically about his own films, or intending for them to be so thoughtful. I mean much was made at the time, of the shot of the band-aid on Ving Rhames’ head in Pulp Fiction. Many conjectured about it, and when I saw an interview with him, he said it was just from when Rhames cut his head while shaving that day, and Tarantino thought it would just be a more interesting shot than the one he had planned.

Similarly, when I’ve heard Tarantino talk about Basterds he hasn’t talked at all about the fictionality of the film medium, or that he intended for his film to be a modern propaganda. He simply said the idea that Jews get to kill Hitler would be such a better ending and would be so cool. Far more in-line with his first revenge-porn saga, Kill Bill, than some meta exploration of the subjectivity of film.

And to further my skepticism, there are lots of unresolved plot strands, left dangling, holes in the story, where the audience has to try to figure out what they seem to have missed, wondering where characters disappeared to. Also there’s an incredibly tangential subplot about a British film critic who goes undercover to make a connection with a German actress who is secretly working against the Nazis, and the Basterds. There’s an entire scene in England with Mike Meyers in a whole make-up thing, and some Churchill guy at a piano, and then a long Tarantinoian drunken bar conversation with building tension, which leads ultimately to everyone pretty much dying. And all of this in service of an inside joke where a film critic has to act (to pretend to be German), and makes a miniscule mistake, and is so is shot, for his bad performance. The critic is shot the one time he tries to act. Clever. Almost actually funny. And this long, long drawn out scene in the end yields literally nothing. Just another clever little Tarantino inside-cinema joke on movie critics.

So I cant say I have much faith that Basterds is conceptually as great as it can be analyzed to be. This coupled with the overloaded, incoherent, tangential narrative strands, and the lack of any real center to the film, and it all starts to look much more like every other Tarantino film: WWII and Westerns + homages and references to films from those genres + long stylized dialogue scenes + exaggerated quirky characters + violence = Quentin Tarantino is one Indulgent Basterd.

So in the end, yes, I enjoyed Inglorious Basterds. It was enjoyable, and a fun premise to see Jews kill Hitler, but ultimately, its still sort of hollow. All is in service of making a bold entertaining story for the sake of a bold entertaining story. Its definitely flawed, and I cant quite ignore the flaws enough to say it’s a truly great film, cause I don’t think it is. Its self-reflexive the way people look into mirrors: rather than reflecting on the meaning of itself, it simply reflects the surface back to you. And this is not to say Tarantino’s systematic exploration of the surfaces of film genres and histories isn’t something to be appreciated, but certainly limited in its ambitions, and so in its results.

The District Ultimatum

I enjoyed District 9. I think it’s received in some corners a bit too much praise, and in others a bit harsh criticism though, because I think there’s been some misunderstandings about it. It seems to me that there are those who overestimate how brilliant it is. They describe it as some transcendent, moving allegory about Apartheid in South Africa/prejudice/xenophobia. There are others who dislike the fake-documentary style being interrupted for more conventional action narrative and were put off by feeling like they couldn’t figure out the tone of the movie. Obviously there aren’t just two polar opinions, but these have been the dominant responses I’ve heard aside from people who just love the action and don’t care. In my opinion both of these sides misses a bit of the point.

As for the first response, by people who seem to be quite enthusiastic to tell you how its not some dumb sci-fi movie, but really a brilliant metaphor about humanity. I do not think its necessary to call a film about literal aliens being segregated into ghettos and oppressed in South Africa an “allegory.” An allegory is a set of symbols, so yes, technically its not telling the story of Apartheid, but its so blatant and obvious that its not even worth calling it allegorical. And a sci-fi alien story is just so insufficient to deal maturely with such a horrible social epoch as Apartheid or Jewish ghettos, that its honestly silly.

Which brings me to my main point: District 9 is satirical. However, its not satirical the way really brilliant, insightful films like the work of Paddy Chayefsky or David Mamet are. In this case, its satire and fake-documentary style used cleverly in service of a conventional alien action flick. I think its important not to reverse the order of that: a conventional alien action flick used cleverly in service of social satire. The point of the film? To tell a great, fun story, in a technically thrilling way via a clever narrative trope which follows out an alien film to absurd, logical ends.Which brings me to the second criticism, by people who gather that something clever is happening, say its been bogged down by all that action, and the film could have been brilliant, but it was screwed up with all those explosions, and guns. Again, if you believe the film was ever meant to be an insightful social allegory, there’s logic to this, but I just don’t believe it was. Its not failing to be sophisticated by throwing in too much action, its too much action covered in a satirically poker-faced wrapping. Another important distinction in the order of emphasis.

I’ve heard both sides compare the film to Blade Runner (whichever of the like five versions they saw). One side says its just like it, with all the social allegory, and moral insight, and the other says it could have been like it, but it was too conventional in the end. I think this is a false choice, cause honestly I just don’t think the intentions were ever to be as sophisticated as Blade Runner. I think the more appropriate comparison is that District 9 is like an alien version of the Jason Bourne films under the direction of Paul Greengrass –especially Bourne Ultimatum.

Both films have a protagonist running from and fighting against some evil government/corporation, personified by some specific villainous person hired to catch them, while they try to get some information/object that can fix them (turn back to human in D9, and get memory back in BU). Both end ambiguously with the protagonist taking down to some extent their nemesis, and escaping after a trail of bodies, and some big emotional and action scenes, ending with room for a sequel. They also use clever cinematic techniques (shaky cam “realism”, fake documentary) and thrilling action scenes (one high tech, the other low tech). And they both flirt with the subject matter of serious things: covert government assassination/torture, and apartheid/racism/xenophobia/oppression. However both do not actually add to the dialogue of these subjects or contribute any insights. They both just use these serious subjects as the backdrop for an action film that is meant to entertain.

HBO On-Demand: 2008 Movie Catch-Up

Revolutionary Road
Crap. Take American Beauty and Far From Heaven, mix them together, put it in the oven, and burn the shit out of it. That’s Revolutionary Road. Sure, Kate Winslet is good, but the film doesn’t rest on her enough for that to matter much. DiCaprio is okay. His man-boy demeanor, over-gesticulations and desperation don’t get in the way as they often do, since he’s playing a young idealist having trouble conforming to suburban-man life. But I can think of a bunch of actors who’d have been better.

I don’t know why Sam Mendes wanted to make this film after making American Beauty, which so thoroughly imagined modern suburban-American despondence. Both films are about a man and woman with a/some kid/s stuck in suburbia in a life they hate, growing to resent each other for it, wondering where their youthful dreams went, and leading up to the death of one spouse. Wow, now the story happened in the past. Vastly different films.

Also, way too much has been made about Michael Shannon’s supporting performance, in my opinion. Sure he does well playing wide-eyed, creepy, confrontational. But I’m just so sick of that insightful-retard character cliché – is he crazy?? Or is THE WORLD crazy????? Faaaascinating.

Its directed blandly, and the script is gah-bage – full of expository dialogue where cliché characters say cliché things about their cliché suburban problems. Think about the most obvious aspects of American Beauty, like the check-list of modern suburban fetish (drugs, secretly gay, cheating, teen sex, etc.), which in context seemed intentionally overripe as to deal with cliché by using cliché in a sly black comedic/dramatic tone. After seeing Rev. Road, it just makes me feel like those same tropes (appropriate for the time period) – woman at home, man is one among robotic co-workers, cheating, bohemian social taboo, etc – were just a check-list of affectations from other films collected into this very poker-faced, portentous drama. Many other films have dealt with these issues in far more nuanced, and insightful ways.

I’m not a huge fan of Sam Mendes films. They always look great on paper, and never have much punch behind them. They are often full of (or are completely) cliché, and often seem to enjoy just languishing in the tropes and aesthetics of other films of the same genre. American Beauty kept its head above water because of a great central performance, and, again, because the film played slyly off of clichés. However, Road To Perdition was bogged down by a lot of blandness and derivative content. Jarhead was about half-and-half. Once in a while something interesting happened, followed by long stretches of scenes I’ve seen in other movies before. Never mind the fact that, once again, it was just outclassed by another recent film on the same subject, Three Kings, which was spectacular, hold-no-punches. I haven’t seen Away We Go, and I have heard good things about it. But I’ll be honest, from the premise, scenes I saw, and ads, it looks like one more in a growing string of wanna-be Wes Anderson quirky comedies.


Watchmen
More crap. So here’s my spiel about Watchmen: I read the book as a kid and re-read it every few years, its the greatest super hero comic books ever written, and is one of the most influential books in the medium. Many said it couldn’t be translated into a film because of its narrative complexity. This is true and untrue.

If its copied word-for-word, scene-for-scene it is true. That’s what writer/director Zak Snyder did. What he overlooked (or doesn’t understand more likely) is that the dialogue and drawings are intentionally stylized to be self-reflexive and analytical of the medium of comic books and its history and tropes. Because it is a comic medium talking about the comic medium it works. To attempt to translate this into film and change nothing is to misunderstand why the story/script/art is what it is, and is to present it in the wrong context and thus obscures the content. So when Snyder – god love his efforts – painstakingly recreated the style of the comics in his mise-en-scene there’s an obvious disconnect, and the content inherent in the page is not possible to carry over to the screen.

Also he totally misread the tone- again, because it’s a subtle one. Watchmen is not just overly dramatic and apocalyptic. It’s satirical and plays off the camp of the style, and history of the medium. So to present the film as a pokerfaced drama was just to totally flatten something quite three-dimensional. There just isn’t the cultural knowledge of the medium to present something like the true Watchmen story and have it resonate. Even Snyder knew this to a certain extent and made massive changes to the end of the story. His changes aren’t un-clever, just ultimately flat and pointless. All he did was take the original and make it more palatable for a mainstream audience. Which is funny cause he didn’t do that with many other parts, leaving some of the loquacious, campy dialogue of the original in, and so leaving modern audiences to laugh at the ridiculousness of it because its been presented as a superhero drama.

The only way to have done this would be to re-write, and have the film version talk about film concepts similar to the way the comic version talked about comic concepts. And the shame of it is that there are many overlaps. The evolution of the greatest-generation heroic tropes into the dark modernist upheaval of the boomer films. There’s a lot of interesting stuff that could have been explored here. Yes, it would mean massive re-writes in order to properly translate the material. But I believe it still could be done and within the superhero genre. Ultimately the failure was of Snyder’s imagination (or lack-thereof). He competently transferred many of the comic panels into film, but his artistic talents were just not capable of imagining the film as anything but a dark typical Hollywood super hero film. Why not just see Dark Knight?

To cut him some slack I’ll say that he was damned either way: translating the film panel-for-panel as he practically did appeased the (easily appeasable) comic fans, but failed to make a good film; but had he tried to make a good film, the comic fans who funded most of whatever success the film had at the box office would have shit themselves. Also, way too much of his patented slow-motion action – and come to think of it, way too much trying to stretch every little action scene in the original (which barely has any) into a big fight scene for the film to appease mainstream audiences. And way too big of a soundtrack, there’s another intrusive song every scene it seemed.


The Wrestler
I loved it, it’s a really beautifully written, directed, and acted film. Mickey Rourke gives an incredibly charismatic, honest, moving performance. I don’t really have anything else to say about it.


Milk
I could really say the same thing as I just said for Wrestler: I loved it, and Sean Penn gives an incredibly charismatic, honest, moving performance. So do Brolin, Franco, and Luna. It has some of the same problems most bios do, which is that as it tries to cover a literal lifetime, there are places where a whole film could occur about smaller, more intimate times. But ultimately, once Penn draws you in to Milk’s life and ambitions you’re okay to gloss over things and people; and for the passion, importance, and prescience of the subject matter, love the big, bold, underlined, italicized moral of the story, cause it just matters so much right now.


Gran Torino
Surprisingly really good. I guess not surprising since so many people said it was. But surprising if you were to just read a plot outline of it. It’s a really nice book end to the career of Eastwood. I’ve never thought especially high of Eastwood as an actor or director. He’s been prone to a few good performances over the years, but certainly outweighed by decades of nonsense. He’s directed a few good movies over the years too, but those are outweighed by silly cop movies that play off his iconic image. The films he directs are quite beholden to his script: if its good, the film is probably pretty good; if its bad, the film is probably pretty bad. He doesn’t bring much creativity to the process, just a steady hand, and a keen sense for sparse narrative (although Letters from Iwo Jima/Flags of Our Fathers is pretty impressive on a technical level).

If you take the individual tropes/characters from Gran Torino, you find them all throughout Eastwood’s films from over the years: grizzled old man, naïve priest, innocent foreigners, urban gangs, revenge, war vets, dead spouse, loneliness, single friend, etc. What works about Gran Torino though, is that its about that legacy of films, for good, and for bad. It seems like Eastwood wanted to put to rest his iconic screen persona: the cowboy, the loner, the cop, the criminal, the warier, the fighter. All combine into a sort of facsimile protagonist. He’s everything about the grizzled old world, finding himself in the strange new one. Basically, its Eastwood’s version of No Country for Old Men — but not as brilliant). He has done great things, and done horrible things, and the last thing he can do is come to terms with what he’s done, and help a young person set on their path into their generation’s troubles. A truly impressive, thoughtful, insightful, funny, clever, and moving film which brings to a conclusion an iconic screen persona in fitting style.


Burn After Reading
A very Cohen Brothers film. A deftly evasive film that plays sort of like a classified inside joke, that you don’t see the set-up or punch-line to. It’s a redacted statement, that you get the feeling there never was anything that those black bars are covering up. A film so secretive, it’s own characters have no fucking clue what’s going on. An absurdist political comedy, that’s hardly political, and sometimes funny. A satirical depiction of bumbling, inept governmental and private people, lost in the dark. And pretty enjoyable.


Choke
Ugh. They had all the pieces to make a great film. A solid story from Chuck Palahniuk, a great cast, and some witty, absurd goings-on. The trouble is, the book/story is so windy and the tone so unwieldy, that to pull it off they just needed a more talented director/screenwriter. It took all the talents of David Fincher, plus some pretty huge re-writes to re-imagine Fight Club for the big screen. That imagination is lacking in Choke, most unfortunately, as it runs into all sorts of pacing, tone, and coherence problems. Missed opportunity.


Doubt
Really great. Everyone involved did a fantastic job. Also, it was far less graphic (like not at all), that I had anticipated based on the way people talked about the film.


Frost / Nixon
Not as good as what everyone said. Yes, Frank Langella does a great Nixon impersonation, and Sheen and Rockwell etc. are all really good too. But the film itself is really poorly paced, and rushes through so much material, time, conflict, intrigue, to get to the interviews, which frankly were glorified way too much, without a proportionate pay-off. And its one of the films that, in place of truly fleshing out characters, relies on little tricks like expository dialogue masked as characters talking about other characters when they aren’t there. But by the end you realize you’ve been told more than you’ve seen. Including how important the Frost/Nixon interviews were. Ron Howard clearly admires them, but he lacks the talent/imagination to be able to render this event cinematically without just telling you how great it was, and slobbering all it with hyperbole.


Pride and Glory
What a waste of Ed Norton’s time and talents. He’s one of my favorite actors, and one who is known for really investing himself in films and only doing them if he believes in them. I do not think he believed in this one. The word on the internet is that he’s been trying to get funding for this film he’s writer/directing/starring in called Motherless Brooklyn, and so that’s how he ended up in this one. I can understand him wanting to work with a legend like Jon Voight, and I respect Collin Farrell when he’s in the right role, but this movie just flat out blows. Everything about it screams of wanting to be taken seriously as a cop/crime New York classic. It is far from it. The dialogue is horrible, the characters and tropes cliché, the plot is just stupid – never mind an incoherent mess –, and themes have been done to death in so many better films its not even worth naming them all. Just a shitty movie overall and not worth watching to find this out. Wait for Leaves of Grass to come out – Norton’s next film, where he plays twin brothers, one a professor, and the other a pot dealer, now that sounds good.

Yes Man
I don’t really know why I watched this one. Just couldn’t sleep really. Jim Carrey basically has only two different types of comedic movies he does: 1. Character based, where he plays a crazy person in a sane world, and antics ensue (think Ace Ventura Lemony Snicket, Man on the Moon, The Grinch, Cable Guy, Dumb and Dumber, The Mask). Or 2. He plays an everyman somehow with some sort of twist imposed on him which forces him to act in a singularly exaggerated way (think Truman Show (trapped on tv), Liar Liar (cant lie), Bruce Almighty (has god’s powers), Fun with Dick and Jane (turned to crime for money)).

And now there’s Yes Man, an example from the latter type of comedy he does, where he’s a normal guy who says yes to everything to absurd ends. Me Myself & Irene was probably the most balanced between number 1 and 2, with the way he played a normal guy who loses control of his body, and also plays an absurd character when he switches personalities. Me Myself & Irene was also back in the day he did funny movies for adults. These days he’s waging a losing battle with adult comedies. He was great in Lemony Snicket, and I’m sure he’ll be fun in this new Christmas Carol remake. But movies like Fun with Dick and Jane and Yes Man are just lame. He needs to let go of these formulaic comedies. He’s a talented guy, and there’s a lot out there he could try his hand at. Eternal Sunshine was great, and he was really good in it, and even though Number 23 sucked, at least he tried something new. But its just disappointing when he goes back to the well with lazy movies like this. And by now they’re even lazily made, in comparison with how much he seemed to throw himself into movies like Liar Liar or Bruce Almighty. Yes Man is so lame and obvious its not even worth pointing out what’s wrong with it, cause frankly, the fact that it exists is wrong. Jim, I love you, but try something new, buddy.


I Love You Man
Eh. Not as funny as people made it out to be. Definitely nowhere close to as funny as the last film by each of the stars: Role Models, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall. This is that unfortunate second tier of the Judd Apatow-esque films. Some funny parts here and there, but you’re really lured in based on how funny the other films the stars made were, and the premise that this one will offer you more of the same. It does not in this case. It tries, but this one is really bland and obvious, and cliché. And unfortunately its cliché in all the ways that the Apatow movies are too smart to be, which is to say it just follows basic old buddy comedy tropes, and begins and ends in the expected ways. Aside from some of Paul Rudd’s bad slang, its honestly not that funny.

Thoughts on the Next Batman Films

Just caught Dark Knight again on HBO, and in my slow attempts to get the blog rolling again I thought I would comment on my thoughts for the possible future of the franchise.

Obviously a third film is necessary. And when a film makes 1 Billion dollars gross - trust me - there will be a sequel, regardless of Heath Ledger. There's so much shit around the web about who should be the villain, but pretty much all of it misses the point. This is not a surprise, since comic fans just like things to be cool, and want to see characters from the comics on the big screen. But the important lesson to learn about comic films is not to make them feel serialized and arbitrary. The sequel cant be like Rambo 4; some random installment; just another episode with some more wacky villains and a story which you know will end with the hero's success.

This was the problem with Spiderman 3. Never mind its horrible script and half-assed acting, the more important problem was that the film had no consequence. It began as a happy-go-lucky average Spiderman tale, wacky villains showed up, poorly paced battle ensued, and it ended with perfect sun-rise resolution. They had the villain right in Venom, and a cool secondary villain in Sandman (nothing wrong with putting a little bit of coolness in). But Venom was underused, and his story was poorly coordinated with the rest of the overloaded plot. At the end of the day, you have to keep upping the ante. Spiderman 3 did not learn this lesson.

After a film with the Joker, Batman's arch nemesis, there are no other villains who can up the ante- no matter how many of them people suggest throwing into this sequel. After a story about Batman coming to terms with excessive action in response to chaos, there is only one story that could up the ante and provide the perfect forum for furthering the themes of chaos/order, justice/revenge, and excess/moderation that Dark Knight set up. Have you guess it?

The villains should absolutely be Bane and Azrael. There is no way, thematically, to top the ultimate arch nemesis battle between Joker and Batman in Dark Knight. If they are savvy they will split this story up into two films, and truly build it up to a huge 4th film climax. The first should be the story which picks up where the last left off, and be called Knightfall. It should begin with Gotham continuing to spiral, and Batman being the ire of the city. Half the film should be the story of Batman struggling with trying not to fold under the pressure. Joker should not be in the film or recast. He should be treated as ethereal and mythic, and credited with inciting a whole generation of new insanity in Gotham criminals.

Cue a few crowd pleasing appearances of criminals like Riddler, Poison Ivey, Catwoman, or Harley Quinn- I suggest staying within the bounds of somewhat plausible insane people, so no Crock or Mr. Freeze. Any of the aforementioned will do, I'd suggest Riddler and Harley Quinn. I love the idea of a calm, sadistic Johnny Depp as Riddler (as many have suggested), and I think a Joker wanna-be Quinn would be a nice addition- I haven't put much thought into who could play her, I'm sure there are a few suitable actresses. Definitely not some overly star-studded person like Angelina Jolie. But most importantly, Bane.

Bane should be the opposite of Joker. He should be silent, coordinated, strong, and definitive. He's not interested in creating disorder, instilling doubt, or presenting moral dilemmas. He should be about total destruction and thoughtlessness. He is the ultimate new breed of criminal that the Joker called for the in Dark Knight. He should remain silent, and the actor should be physical, and intense- but the freakish caricature nature of the Bane from the comics is not necessary. I could see a number of actors in this role- again, he need not be a huge star, as to avoid detracting from the story. Bane should somehow appear a bit above the freak show of new eccentric villains.

This story should run parallel with the introduction of a new character, Jean-Paul Valley (John Valley, if they feel the need to unnecessarily anglicize it), who would be perfectly played by Adrian Brody. He should in some way come into the inner circle of helping Bruce Wayne, Alfred, and Lucius in their Batman escapades. He should find out accidentally, but then become embraced as an important new figure who helps Bruce in some technical or advisory capacity. He should be likable, admire Bruce, but slightly darker, and shows signs of resentment towards the way Batman is treated by the city who now hunts him, and the criminals who never relent. Valley should see the toll on Bruce and wish that he could help him more.

The theme of Knightfall should be the overwhelming burden on Batman, and his breaking point. This should culminate in Bane drawing out Batman when he breaks open Arkham Asylum, undoing all the work Batman did in earlier parts of the film, letting out other crazies, and add even more overload to Batman's troubles. This should be followed by an epic physical fight between Batman and a ruthless Bane, who has no interest in banter, or reason. It is against this type of unconscionable destruction that Batman's code of moderation should prove insufficient. In the previous film he killed Harvey Dent unintentionally, in this film, he has vowed never to do it again. Bane should then break Wayne's back, and Valley should be there to see it, and collect up Batman after. After some descending action, and somber scenes, with Alfred, Lucius, and Gordon, the film should then end with a distraught, and furious Valley, stepping into the Batman costume.

The next film, Knights End, should be the story of Valley as the new ruthless Batman, killing Bane, taking control of Gotham and helping repair his name, but then ruining his name in a different way- by becoming hyper-violent and vengeful. He should develop a new, more violent suit, complete with the new Batman sigil. This should run parallel with Bruce Wayne's story of stepping back and re-assessing his life, and the mantle of Batman, and trying to heal physically, and mentally. Throughout the film he should begin to heal physically, and not be paralyzed as bad as he was in the comic, as to avoid needing supernatural healing. He should be getting better, but in light of the successes of Valley, he should wonder if Valley was right, and excess is needed, and if he was not strong enough.

Then Valley should kill an innocent without thinking, and Bruce should realize that excess, and murder, and eye-for-an-eye is not the answer, and know in his heart that Valley is not the right man, and that he is the only one who can be Batman and take the burden without committing actions which would tarnish what Batman stood for. Bruce should then begin training to be Batman again, and a new tension should develop between Bruce and Valley.

This should all lead to the moment Bruce steps back into the original Batman costume. Valley should be desperate and maniacal at this point. He too is breaking under the pressure of being Batman, and the term Azrael, angel of Death and vengeance should come up- maybe in the press. People should call this new costumed Batman, Azrael. The film should obviously come to the great climactic battle between Batman and Azrael. It should end the exact way it does in the comic, back in the tunnel where Batman was first forged in Bruce's youth, the caves under his family's house.

This should bring together one of the central themes of these films, and Batman's mythos- excess and moderation. This battle will bring Batman face-to-face with the excess he could become. As in the comics, Batman beats Azrael, as Azrael must shed his new bulkier costume, chasing the smaller Batman through the tunnels, as they talk, and as Valley's desperation finally breaks him down, and he gives-up and asks Bruce to spare him, which he does. The film should then end with Batman back in place, restoring his old name of fierce, intimidating, but level, discerning justice without murder.

If you're familiar with the comic version of the Knightfall story arch, you know it happens differently, and a lot more complicatedly in the original version. The original was poorly written in many ways, but the basic story of the inner battle for Batman's meaning and limitations is one of the great Batman story concepts, and very pertinent to the themes already developed in the first two Batman films. I suppose someone could just come up with an arbitrary story about the Riddler making riddles or Catwoman causing havoc, or even the Penguin being all creepy. But I think, especially with the tone set by Dark Knight, the next film(s) should strive for something more than just a fun story. Its also possible to do this as one film, but I think, even with the accomplishment of the jam-packed Dark Knight, that this might be a bit much to fit into one film since more of the story hinges on events that have to take place over a period of time.

So that's what I think the next Batman movies should be. They probably wont be, and even if they are great, I think they will be a missed opportunity for not taking on the Knightfall storyline. We shall see I guess. And then, guess what? They should stop making Batman movies. These franchises cant go on forevor no matter how lucrative they are. In comics, they can keep reinventing the characters and stories with new writers and artists every couple years, but with film, they run the risk of saturating the audience with the story, themes and characters. This is why most films do not get sequels. We dont need another film with the same exact themes, characters, and similar circumstances of say Heath Ledger's character in Brokeback Mountain after seeing Brokeback Mountain. Why would we want to watch the same movie again? The old formula for action/hero films in the 80's/90's was to serialize them like a tv show. It doesnt work like that anymore, there wont be, and there shouldnt be, like 8 of any comic film series. We're already seeing this with the X-Men franchise, as they are splintering off into separate films about specific characters and leaving behind the X-Men as a whole, after the third film.

The franchise that treats its material with the most amount of reverence for trying to tell a great story rather than rake in money will do the best these days. I trust Chris Nolan's instincts about writing/directing the next step of Batman, but I already read somewhere that he doesnt want to do Knightfall for some reason. And I heard some producers talking about how there are 'plenty of other villains Batman can fight instead of Joker'- people like that dont get it. Nolan should take a hard look at the Knightfall story, and re-conssider it. Dont want to end up like Bryan Singer, who scoffed at the idea of doing the Doomsday story, and royaly fucked up Superman Returns in pretty much every way possible. Now, Singer's been replaced, and they are re-booting the franchise. Nolan's a good writer, but he (and fans) should remember that he cant make stuff out of thin air: Dark Knight was great cause it took the already established stories of Joker and Two-Face. Now he has to choose wisely what story from Batman he wants to use, and remember that more than anything else: he has to up the ante.

Hanne Darboven 1941-2009

I was very sad to find out today that Hanne Darboven died of cancer two months ago, on March 9th. She was one of my favorite artists, and whats stranger is that she has been on my mind over the last few months as I've been reading a book about her, and listening to some of her music compositions that came with the book.

Her work was sober documentations of structures of time, via collection, mark-making, mathematics and music. Her work was so organized and elegant; all of life was compartmentalized and noted with sincerity, wit, economy, and detatchment. She has been a real influence on me and my work, and the work of countless other artists around the world.

she will be missed

ps. Come to think of it, Biggie died on March 9th too. Bad day for art.

Annoying Diabetic Asian Glittering Pizza Kitties are Here to Stay: Response to Gary Sullivan

On November 5th Gary Sullivan posted an article on his blog, Elsewhere, titled “HISTORIC ELECTION MAY SIGNAL DEATH OF FLARF: Cynicism, sarcasm, irony and political outrage all up in air.” And last week, he further explored this idea in an article for The Brooklyn Rail, “Flarf: From Glory Days to Glory Holes.” I like Gary Sullivan a lot, as both a reader, and a flarf inspired conceptual poet and painter. He has collaborated on a really important poetic movement, that is only begining to flourish. But stuff like this is part of the problem with the poet-blogosphere: smart people, who love to write, who cant resist turning every thought in their heads into oversimplified posts full of sweeping declarative nonsense – which often times I don’t think they honestly even believe. I considered writing this right after Sullivan’s November 5th post, but I really sort of assumed it was facetious. But now, after this new article, and the various other comments similar to this sentiment voiced around the web by poets, I was compelled to respond.

So the gist of this goes something like this: Flarf (a term which Sullivan coined) was inspired by the nonsense language of the internet, in whose subversive, offensive excess, poets found a strategy for talking about the corrosion of meaning, and cynical response to cultural, national and political hopelessness/catastrophe/division/war etc (in some ways related to Bush); and now with the election of Barrack Obama, cynicism, sarcasm, irony, and flagrant subversiveness are supposed to be moot – in the face of the warm broth of hope and honor soup that Obama boils in his skull. In Sullivan’s recent article, he concludes with this gem: “Time will tell if the end of the Bush Era will render irony and cynicism obsolete.”

Really? Irony and cynicism will be obsolete? I don’t even know where to begin. But I’ll give it a whirl:

1: Lets start with politics. Are poets – flarfists, of all types – really this naïve?? The death of cynicism and political outrage?? It hasn’t been a month yet, already there was the Richardson ethics violation scandal, the Daschle tax fraud scandal, the Killefer tax fraud scandal, the Geinter tax fraud scandal, and the political gridlock on the possibly too small, stimulus mess. The Minnesota race is still unresolved, with both sides crying voter fraud; the distributed previous stimulus money is already being wasted with inadequate oversight; both parties have already gone on extravagant retreats, wasting tens of thousands of tax dollars; Rob fucking Blagoyavich; Obama already reneged on his own ethics promise about the placement of lobbyists in his administration; the RNC head is embroiled in a new ethics scandal; military suicides have skyrocketed; Afghanistan is a cluster-fuck; Pakistan is more so; Iraq has made progress but has overall damaged the US and proven too fragile to leave immediately; Russia encouraged Kyrgyzstan to kick out its US military base; Iran launched a satellite to scare Israel; Israel will probably elect the hard-lined Likud party which will ramp up Palestinian conflicts; Palestine is divided on Hamas to the point that political reconciliation seems improbable; North Korea has reestablished its nuclear weapons program and is threatening war with South Korea – need I go on? Because I can. I havent even gotten to Africa yet.

There is so much in this world to be cynical, sarcastic, ironic, subversive, pessimistic, hopeless, and depressed about, its well … depressing. Speaking of that, recent studies indicate depression is up in US citizens due to economic hardship, and new studies are preparing to watch upticks in suicide rates. Speaking of death, did you hear the one about the CA husband and wife that killed their three children and themselves because they were in debt and lost their jobs? Or the one about the woman who had 15 kids to get more government money? Or the one about the Australian fire that killed over a hundred? There’s even a movement to run a popular porn star against Republican Senator up for re-election, David Vitter. Here’s one: for all their crimes, George Bush and Dick Cheney will never go to jail. Because, most of the time the rich and powerful are above the law. The end of cynicism? Are you out of your annoying diabetic minds?

Since when does the election of any one person mean the death of cynicism? If anything, the fact that people seem to actually think this, makes me feel more cynical. Because it means these people are so focused on this one small victory for one person in one political party in one country, that they really don’t have a grasp of the breadth of problems, and amount of people around the world, whose lives make up the full picture of what the world looks like. Do they really think this is the first time charismatic, optimistic politicians have been elected in the world? Can such an obnoxiously narrow statement as the “Bush Era will render irony and cynicism obsolete” be a sincere thought in someone’s head? The Bush Era?? Why do you think Bush came into power? Aside from, you know, voter fraud and political connection. Maybe it was Bill Clinton’s planet-sized solipsism, deceit, and general lack of moral compass. The end of cynicism and political outrage? Grow up.

2. Now lets talk just art. If Sullivan actualy beleives this, I have to say I am really disappointed. Is the president all flarf ever meant to him? If he likes the US president, the world is full of hope, and cynicism is paltry, and if he doesn’t like the US president the world has descended into meaningless despair? Is that really all that this was ever about? Will people now create Obarf, a poetics of sincerity and hope, where they cut and paste excerpts from Obama’s policy statements into heroic couplets? How about local government? Should there be a poetics for state Senators, Congress, and Governor based on their affiliation to the Democratic party?

I mean, isn’t this whole sentiment contrary to everything that people like the Futurists and Dadaists that inspired flarf stood for? I dont mean to sound like I'm trying to lecture someone like Gary Sullivan on the meaning of flarf. But, how can it be about just the president of the united states? One good thing happens and now art expunges itself from pessimism – pragmatism really - ?. Flarf is about subversion, and is a tool for exploring meaning through the corrosion of language and institution. Why not call it Bush, if it was always just about him? Flarf is about contemporary culture, mediums of communication, the state of language, and the influence of technology to speak to human truths. Emphasis on human truths.

Flarf will not always be course and ridiculous. Saying things to be silly and overtly offensive are the simplest forms of subversive language. This is not at all to under-appreciate or disrespect many well-known flarfists, or some of their work, Mesmer, for instance. But those strategies have limitations. Already with Degentesh, Fitterman, and others, flarf is expanding passed its kitsch origins. Flarf is a strategy for a contemporary subversive art, and if that art is to have any integrity it cannot be tied to one candidate, or one party, or one ideology, or one country. Sullivan’s position places entirely too much importance on Bush, as well as on Obama. Many are happy he won the election – myself included – but he will not fix the world's problems, and he will let us down in one way or another. Because he is human. And cynicism is human. And it was not invented 8 years ago.

Thoughtless, hurtful, greedy, destructive, stupid, inept, arrogant, bullying, self-absorbed, fearful people have and will always exist. And the ambitious of those will always find seats of power in whatever part of the world they find themselves in. And so politics, and countries, and states, and cities, and towns, and villages, and communities, and friendships, and families will always be corrupt. Because people are corrupt. And the eternal response to human corruption is cynicism. And it is appropriate.

Flarf is not going anywhere.

[For the record, I'm still not convinced Gary Sullivan actually believes this nonsense- but I know there are those that do. He just happened to start writing about it first.]

Ass Vagina.