Interests:film, music, French/Italian/Belgian/Japanese/Korean cuisine, European culture, Asian cinema, European (artsy) cinema, theology, politics, philosophy, history, Sun Tzu's military strategies, military, Special Operations (i.e. commandos, SWAT), art, Edward Hopper paintings, firearms (especially with automatic military small arms), stuffed animals, teddy bears, (high-end) action figures (based on actual special-ops units) Expertise:creative writing: poetry, short story/manuscript writing, etc... Occupation:Temporary worker, production a Industry:Staffing services, especially
It rests about 18 acres of earth, over the very center of hell!
*CUE scary electric guitar twang
Here’s the first political blog, to offer to the daring, a look to what should be the final maddening space between the life and death of The American Dream!
The Last White House of The Left!
To avoid despondency, keep repeating:
It’s only 4 years…
Only 4 years…
Only 4 years…
Only 4 years…
Sights and sounds far beyond anything you’ve ever been spiritually tested!
To avoid despondency, keep repeating…
…it’s only 4 years,
…only 4 years,
…only 4 years,
Keep taking in as much as you can—(‘Cause you’ll need it--just as much as I had waaaaaaay back in the day, before disco sucked, Reaganism brought back morning in America—AND both John Holmes and AIDS didn’t come in the same sentence)!
OK, OK, OK… Enough of the obscure pop culture references; let’s get to the gouged heart of the matter. I am of the scholarly opinion that much of the 70’s grindhouse horror, porn, exploitation flicks of the era not only coincide with the political/economic instability of disco and long gas lines, BUT also having a deliberate, symbiotic relationship with each other—especially during the Carter Years—AND I have some links/op-eds to back it up!
Having been born in 1976 as the Bicentennial, latter wing of Gen-X, I’ve always talked openly about my turbulent childhood of the day, of child abuse under my parents’ tutelage, and especially the pornography my old man would for some bizarre reason or another, was able to take me to watch with him. I suppose it’s not unlike the kind of father-son experience Joseph Kennedy Sr. and future president JFK shared, when the Camelot patriarch instructed to son John Fitzgerald the ways of women—via porno magazines, BUT I think that seminal moment only underlies the bigger geo-political picture here, and it’s not just limited to the sort of picture found in (adult) motion pictures!
In a past editorial by perhaps, one of my ‘favorite,’ socialists—next to George Orwell, is one British expat editorialist by the name of Alexander Cockburn, when he noted that the radical left of nowadays under The Obama administration is largely an impotent shadow of its former, 1970’s glory—and whenever I hear how conservative critics compared Obama with Carter, I can’t help but formulate the bigger picture I’m talking about.
Like Carter (or for that matter, the entire 70’s ), during (and slightly before) Obama’s presidency, there’s seems to be a rise—if not at least, a remake resurgence of 70’s grindhouse horror flicks, like the redux (actually resucked) versions of Friday The 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, My Bloody Valentine, Piranha, etc… Or in some cases, the total remake of the era’s genres like Eli Roth’s Hostel films, and the Tarantino/Rodriguez joint effort, aptly titled Grindhouse. In recalling the horror genre documentary, The American Nightmare, many of the auteurs of that generation shared a common, left-wing bent, like say John Carpenter’s disdain for 1950’s suburbia (never mind the fact that many conservatives then as now see then-Pres. Ike is more of a RINO by Reaganite standards), or perhaps John Landis’ nose thumbing of family values (given his take on a seminal, zombie-girl-offing-mommy scene in the original Night of The Living Dead), or even the future Nightmare-On-Elm-Street helmer, Wes Craven, giving his traditional, liberally narrative take on Vietnam with Last House On The Left (though don’t tell that to the late Col. Nguyen Ngoc Loan or even the late, Pulitzer Prize-winner, Eddie Adams!). …and did I mention David Cronenberg yet?
And with the aforementioned Eli Roth, I recalled in an Empire Magazine article, concerning Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9-11, Roth (coming after the heels of Cabin Fever and the first Hostel film) shows his blue state cred by backing then-presidential nominee, Sen. John Kerry—whom according to some folks, is reputedly more left-wing than even (the late-) Sen. Ted Kennedy!
One can’t help but suspect that these Leftist gorehounds (or even neo-pornographers of the post-feminist era of post-Hefner/Guccione/Flynt variety) are there to profit from the national insecurities and social uncertainties in the job market (see stagflation, oil embargoes), which then ultimately translates to the crisis of the institution of the traditional family unit (see Newsweek’s past cover article of the Divorce Generation, circa late 1970-early 1980’s), given how finances are the oft-catalyst for fracturing parent/child/sibling relationships –and I should know (given how Carter’s stagflating policies may have indirectly, trickled down towards my Mom and Dad’s level—at the receiving end of the feather duster especially!). I can’t help but think that maybe these pornographers and gorehounds have been projecting themselves onto the disaffected, struggling public, so as to reinforce their obstinate views that somehow everything about America, vis-à-vis Judeo-Christian values, vis-à-vis, free market capitalism, national exceptionalism , etc… as bunk. In short, make the paying audience think like them (horror filmmakers), so as to perhaps feel (artificially) secure in their own truth of their world views—though if all that George A. Romero, John Carpenter, John Landis, and company believed is true, many of their same fans wouldn’t had later voted for Reagan—since like all other cynical youth of any generation, everybody HAS to grow up, sooner or later, BUT ultimately… ‘CAUSE cynicism (especially in the form of slasher and porno films) is just another variation of idealistic naivete and immaturity—albeit the perpetually adolescent wolf in sheep’s clothing of “sophistication” and “intellectual prowess.”
With what’s been socio-economically compared nowadays, between Carter and Obama, I am reminded of how the oil embargo/long gas lines of that decade was reflected on the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre; you know: the part where the hapless traveling teenagers ran out of gas—just before Leatherface decides to do some serious meat work on them. Given the rising costs of gas, via OPEC and perhaps even the stateside, politicking to jumpstart the oft-dubious practicality of ethanol, or any other market unproven alternative/renewable energies, why is it that I’m sensing that we’re repeating history again—especially with Michael Bay’s Texas Chainsaw remake?(!) ….Or what about the then-fracturing phenom that was The Divorce Generation? I first read that Newsweek article of this Van Nuys-based generation, whom for better or worse, had to pay for their parents’ mistakes by making their own relationship mistakes—2-3 decades later! Much of the tragic dysfunction occurred during the mid-70’s, early 80’s. When I think about the historical timing of this article, it almost reminds me of how around that time, a certain jerk face by the name of John Landis, made his cinematic mark by collaborating with some of the other horror auteurs of that era—if he’s not too busy making sophomoric comedies that is! Landis remarked in the documentary, The American Nightmare, how some of his peers, George Romero, made a ground-breaking moment in the original Night of The Living Dead, where the zombie girl grabs a trowel and stab her then-still-human mom in the heart, all the while, Landis facetiously joked about “family values” back then! And interestingly enough, Romero seems to reinforce this social analogy of horror cinema when in Bravo Network’s, 100 Scariest Movie Moments, how he believes many of the zombies in the original Night of The Living Dead are supposed to be the formerly living members of your neighborhood—and that’s what Romero finds the most scariest: the neighbors! I’ve heard a lot about how the past social experiments of suburban planning and community development have had an unintended consequence (of becoming yet another pop cultural fodder for Desperate Housewives, American Beauty), but judging from Romero’s body language/tone, he doesn’t seemed to be interested in offering any other productive solutions with remedying this social pathology—other than making some pompous, pretentious—but still predictable political statement oh how mankind sucks, suburbia sucks, America sucks… and that’s it—like some kind of nihilistic fairy tale—BUT a fairy tale nonetheless! I guess that explains why Romero of late, found himself in separated—if not full-on divorced, from his longtime wife of who knows how many years… almost subconsciously self-fulfilling his own prophetic, dark fairy tale! I suppose that explains why from one past production assistant/film project gig, someone told me that Romero have always been hell-bent on securing funding for his latest pet project, involving some rise and fall of a (no kidding!) zombie rock star—all the while done with a straight face! This is not unlike what one will see on say, Peter Jackson’s Dead Alive (which in itself, is a deliberate comedy)! It’s enough to make me surmise how George A. Romero have been in serious, misanthropic decline since Night of The Living Dead, constantly making the zombies more multi-dimensional and interesting than the very human characters he’s supposedly is centering on!*
*Allegedly speaking, Romero claims that many of his zombie flicks aren’t about zombies; they’re more about people’s character reactions/development amidst the zombie apocalypse—but Georgy boy; how do you explain this defense of human character development when you said, on a past, Independent Film Channel promo (for Land of The Dead), how you would prefer to join the zombie hordes over being one of the still living?! Methinks you’re (Romero) undergoing some serious psychological meltdown—in your proverbial, Berlin bunker you called your head, this side of Der Untertag (a.k.a, Downfall)!
I wouldn’t be surprised to see yesterday’s gorehounds have always been waiting for their Obamamessiah, coming to resurrect their has-been careers towards rapturous relevance!
And interestingly yet, I don’t think this kind of grindhouse/porno radical leftist politics isn’t limited to The (United) States. In recalling the heyday of Italian exploitation horror of the ultra-violent/gory zombie and cannibal genres, a la Lucio Fulci, Umberto Lenzi, seems to coincide with what was going on socio-politically in Italy with the violent rise of ultra-radical Marxist terrorist group, The Red Brigade (a.k.a, La Brigade Rosso), with the especially shocking kidnapping and assassination of Christian Democrat prime minister, Aldo Moro. I can’t help but muse/mull that Dario Argento, Fulci, and their like, were betting on Moro’s quick demise, so as to further their perpetually adolescent/gory careers, sense of societal self-importance in the boot-shaped republic. ‘Kinda begs the Alex Jones-like questioning/conspiracy theory-mongering suggestions that somehow Fulci and his brood were also part of the backroom politicking of the Giulio Andreotti machine!
And speaking of Fulci, It’s been said (on Cinemafantastique magazine) that during his splatter horror career, Fulci earned a professional reputation for being a sadistic tyrant on the set, sort of like when one of Fulci’s former/surviving actresses, Catherine MacColl, a.k.a, Catriona MacColl, described how the infamous maggot scene was filmed (she was face-covered with those nasty, gnarly critters), MacColl noticed how sadistic Fulci was in trying to perpetuate the right shot, a.k.a, watching his female lead collapse in tears with the torment of pest larvae crawling all over you—so as to capture the right emotions of someone forfeiting their dignity for someone else’s juvenile-cruel, but curmudgeonly misanthropic jollies. I guess that also explains something about Fulci’s character, as a short-tempered workaholic, constantly finding any work opportunities to perhaps ignore the needful reality that he needs to learn how to relate people more often—and intimately more often. But given his ever-deterioating health (Fulci’s a diabetic), and perhaps how it made him all the more anti-social (hence all the more insistent with having ever-gorier film fare under his resume)… that’s what Fulci’s daughter, Antonella says. Call me crazy, but why do I sense that horror auteurs—especially the gorier kind, are some of the most anti-social-prone, developmentally-handicapped kind, out to exist inside their misanthropic bubble—never wanting to take the risk to see that there’s actually a hope in a social life—maybe even a change in attitude in filmmaking—even what sort of genre filmmaking! Talk about anger management issues—Italian style!
I guess that explains why in a past youtube search for “Night of The Creeps,” I stumbled upon what appears to be a press conference/Comic-con-styled fan convention, for horror film aficionados, where veteran character actor, Tom Atkins, recalls in his past collaboration with one John Carpenter (during the original 70’s production of The Fog), Atkins describes Carpenter’s directorial demeanor as being more interested in, “the plastic,” i.e, the special effects, as opposed to the people, i.e, directing human characters, since it appears to me guys like Carpenter are the type that prefers seeing what (violent) happens to people—as opposed to people themselves (i.e, character development, etc…). As an aspiring auteur myself, I’ve been reminded in the independent film scene (at least back in the day when independent film actually meant something), it’s something of a common theme, if not film ideology, that movies (especially indie films) should be about people, not special effects and loud surround sound systems, this side of a big Hollywood blockbuster! But what can you expect from someone (like Carpenter) who is best described as someone who’s more interested making the FX crew’s job easier (to communicate with) if you’re interested in reenacting the “Psycho effect,” best known as simulating gore effects as the primary focus! Sheesh, no wonder why the big screen adaptation of Jumanji was so heavily (critically) derided (upon its initial release)!
OR what about the oft-reiterated, blue humor references of German porno, that seems to coincide with the celebrity terrorists of the day, The Baader-Meinhoff gang, a.k.a, The Red Army Faction? Whenever I hear about the inappropriately nostalgic feelings of that moment in recent (then-West) German history of Deutsche Herbst (where the Red Army Faction blazed away in a hail of bullets and bombs against the nation’s establishment and their NATO allies—all the while looking as sexy as any Justin Bieber/Leif Garret of the day), one can’t help but think that there are people today who viewed them as sex symbols—sort of like if Osama bin Laden Hassan Nasrallah, Anwar Al-Awlaki or even Musab al Zarqawi are the Brad Pitt pin-ups! BARF!!!
…and don’t get me started with another similar, true crime, terrorist-themed movie like say, Olivier Assayas’ Carlos (concerning the celebrity rise and fall of Carlos The Jackal), or even Munich (i.e, the traditional narrative portrayal of Israel’s anti-terrorist policies as less sympathetic than that of The PLO, etc…).
And even in Asia, by way of Japan and then-British-ruled Hong Kong, much of their film industries of the time, makes me wonder if the so-called glory days of The Cultural Revolution and Japan’s militant Leftist youth—especially in the form of the Japanese Red Army, likewise shares that opportunistic marketability during economically recessionary, social disorderly times. In hindsight, should I make even a far-fetched hypothesis that much of the sleazy porn and ultra-violent chopsocky (of Chiang Chieh variety), sometimes even pre-John Woo crime action flicks, manifests the treachery that was Chairman Mao’s evil genius, power grab (I mean, doesn’t the 70’s Hong Kong porn reminds anyone of that tell-all book by Mao’s onetime personal physician, Li Zhisui, describing how ridiculously promiscuous the chairman was whenever he’s not too busy ruling China incompetently?). Or what about the more violent strain of Japanese Yakuza, samurai, and erotic-oriented, “Roman Porno,” “Pink films,” embodying that callous strain that would be manifested in what seems to be Japan’s historical first with anti-Semitic terrorism, in the form of The Lodi Airport massacre (coinciding their coordinated efforts with Yasser Arafat’s PLO)?
And before I end this hindsight socio-political rant, I shall entirely devote into what seems to be the most synonymous cultural phenom of the 70’s: porn. In recalling a past news letter for some local, arthouse movie theater, there was this review for “Porn Star: The Legend of Ron Jeremy,” describing in one captioned, archived promotional still of the namesake adult film icon in his younger and cockier years, saying how in that time, pornos actually utilized scripts! You probably didn’t know about this piece of film history had you not been distracted by how atypical to see a Freudian cigar-chomping, polyester leisure suit-wearing Jeremy, being flanked by two female leads of the moment! But still, I’ve been told via certain film historians and high brow film quarterlies that back in the 70’s, it was the golden age of porn, when people like (not only) Ron Jeremy, but also (the late) John Holmes were actually bigger stars than today, given the level of (sorry I can’t say this with a straight face) professionalism, rivaling almost even some of the most high production-valued Hollywood counterparts then in existence! But to those true Hollywood crime historians will tell you, a la the semi-biographical disco period drama, Boogie Nights, guys like Holmes fell on REAL hard times on the getting-your-hard-on business, with drugs and especially the eventual AIDS epidemic!
I guess that partially explains why in a past cover article in The Humanist magazine, many of the nostalgic-minded secular progressives were bemoaning the end of the sexual revolution. Apart from the usual diatribes against the usual suspects, i.e, "religious fundamentalists," I can't help but noticed of all the fashion motifs to best epitomize the sexual revolution, I found myself musing, why the 70's disco era? When you think of the sexual revolution, normally you would think it's all about hippies, unshaven body hair (especially with the ladies!), bad hygiene, lots of mud (a la Woodstock), and flashed hand signs indicating peace, making love not war... BUT still, The Humanist opted for disco balls, platform shoes, and those notoriously indestructible, polyester leisure suits--coupled with BRUT cologne... which had to be brutal by the way! Funny to think that in lieu of the sexual revolutionary era of The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, etc... The Humanist decided to go Village People and perhaps, Bo Donalson (Billy-Don't-Be-A-Hero) & The Heywoods! 'Kinda makes you wonder if the other funny thing about the 70's phase of the 60's sexual revolution has much to say about the budding sell-out, yuppie period of baby boomer, leftist history... slowly infiltrating within straight-laced society like Van Jones forgoing the radical pose for the radical cause, i.e, blending into the mainstream, just so you can mess it up from the inside... and all the while still live as if Disco never really sucked!
But then in 1980, came Ronald Wilson Reagan—which explains in hindsight, why it had such a strangely profound effect on me. In years to come before my self-realization of my Christian faith and conservative politics, in many ways that moment in both world and childhood history told me, there’s morning again in America—so as to not live under the perpetual night, fearing the slasher monsters in the closet or under the bed, which many of boomer generation of horror auteurs thrive upon; that aura of gothic uncertainty that forces the public into their false cathedrals of grindhouse/porno theaters, to perhaps seek some kind of morbid, perpetually quarter-life solace against the turbulence around them… but all of that morbid quarter life crisis can only go as far until the God-given instinct of seeking hope outside of the routine nihilism and misery around them, comes around.
Sometimes I wonder, with the then-70’s, disco revival (then euphemized as ‘retro’), it was just a decades-long effort to not only nostalgically bring back the bell bottoms, platform shoes and disco ball, but maybe even some of the worst that came out of the immediate, post-counter-cultural revolutionary elements of political upheaval, with not only an oil embargo, global terrorism and economic disarray, but also with the social consequences of the divorce generation, then-Cold War era paranoia and misanthropy, where Peace sign-flashing kids of that time, still wanna maintain that delusional, short-sighted zeitgeist of disco radicalism, of also not growing up with the rest of the world, maturing one’s worldview of not only how the real world works, but also how ideals should realistically/flexibly work in the real world… Otherwise, how can one explain how some of the 1st wave of retiring baby boomers, are re-experiencing the long term consequences of not only their retirement plans going to bust, but also some of the relics of their radical past, coming home to roost—by forgoing their radical pose for the radical cause, a la Obama czars, John Holdren, Cass Sunstein, and some influential but unofficial likes of Bill Ayers/Bernadine Dorn, Andy Stern, The Radke Bros., etc…! I mean, how else can one explain the anti-80’s narrative themes we’ve been getting out of Hollywood via American Psycho, Hot Tub Time Machine, and whatever else, as if 80’s bashing/ridicule is the new “Disco Sucks” anthem… all the while having those anti-Reaganites, possibly smoking from the same bong they were inhaling back in the Carter years—during a disco revival event… in Studio 54!
I guess that also may partially explain why under the current tutelage of (center-left-leaning) Jon Meacham and Evan Thomas, the recent format phase of Newsweek magazine, appears to have a sort of throwback to the 70’s, with almost a tint of some kind of collegiate quarterly, dead to any sense of aesthetics with soul… or as I will put, the aesthetic symbol synonymous with the biggest and most traditional of left-wing strongholds; the college setting—or as I will put it, an over-glorified version of day care, where a lot of currency value and prestige is artificially high, so as to keep safe inside this neo-forbidden city (of privilege), an infantile, perpetually adolescent way of thinking and doing things, never stepping foot outside into the real world, where real people work, real people learn to socialize—however difficult it has or can be (this side of Scorcese’s Taxi Driver), and where real people try to move on and look forward to doing something that possibly most professional/perpetually juvenile radical collegiate probably don’t understand; raising a self-sustaining family to carry on what really matters… OR as some people will sexually/politically deride such real world people, “Teabaggers who bitterly cling onto their guns and religion, holding a distrust of immigrants” (never mind the fact that I believe today’s crop of immigrants, legal or even otherwise, would more likely have in common with the Tea Party movement than say, the so-called proletariat, wunderkind that claimed to work on their best interests—never mind the fact that these same pseudo-proletariats are also the same ones who while professing making edgy art for the masses in one era, winds up ultimately making edgy art to sort of demonize those same masses in a later era!)!
Maybe much of has happened back in the 70’s was going by the book—if the book’s called, “The Naked Communist,” in which the how-to guide for radicals (the other possibly Saul Alinsky’s Rules For Radicals), describing the practical blueprint on how to achieve a Marxist revolution in America, if not all of the world, via an ever-loosening of sexual mores, abolishing the ideals of what constitute art, rewriting history, fiscally unsustainable entitlement activism, and finding some social/legislative ways of dissolving the social cornerstone that is the institution of the family; in short, it’s kinda like The 70’s Khmer Rouge Killing Fields—but with drugs and sodomy binges!
But with what seems to be history redux, with Barack Obama taking on what some conservative pundits referred to as a 2nd Carter administration—and some of the Carter-esque symptoms that we now see (at the time of this blog’s posting, Jerry Brown will be elected into a 2nd California governorship) , I think it’s high time someone like me should seek out a much younger, if not future generations of me, to perhaps reach out and mentor them on how to deal with the insanity to come as I had, since, while they may not have the exact same life circumstances as me, it still doesn’t rule out the stronger possibilities of how an unstable, geo-political situation may inevitably trickle down to their familial level—in the still same worst ways possible.
So for those who may have been given the privilege of reading over this future time capsule, the next time you feel like terrorism’s winning too much ground, gas prices are getting too d*mn high, the job market’s getting too few and far between—and above all, how that will translates to mommy and/or daddy taking out their socio-economical-psychological struggles out on you, via a switch, chancla, belt, or even the traditional Chinese feather duster, just remember to yourself:
For the recent life of me, I've been analyzing, mulling a lot about the current, technological age of communication, especially with not only with making new friends, but also maintaining contact/connections with them. Maybe it stems as far back as my grueling adolescent years, but at my current age of 34, I've been ever-learning about the likeliest reasons as to how and why I always have something of an extroverted drive--and the struggles of getting over the painful trials thereof!
Originally speaking, this blog's going to be entitled, "My Name Is <so and so>, And I'm A Facebook Addict," or a Myspace addict, or more along the lines of a networking addict, but part of me is more interested in encompassing this thesis on making/conversing with friends in general, albeit online, albeit in person (in real time), but making/contacting friends period. It makes me wonder if people I approach often aren't technically people to be understood, nor to bond, let alone friends, acquaintances to get to know with; they're just profiles, 2-dimensional caricatures, or bluntly speaking, just another electronically-transmitted, pixel-visioned abstraction, not to be taken seriously as flesh and blood human beings, where you can easily delete them--or more aptly put, "de-friend" them like they're just a figment of your solipsist imagination... ...and chances are, that's all taking place with real people in real time! ...or so it may seems... since it may be taking place with surreal people in surreal times. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAdbdUt_h9M
I recalled hearing about this PBS documentary on Frontline, questioning how the current young generation are, or have become so tech savvy--especially with the Internet, that somewhere down the road of life, something detrimental is going to inevitably occur with how we all communicate with one another--let alone make friends with one another, given the usual complaints with how people chat with each other no differently than with text messaging, i.e, brief intervals of indirect, shallow dialogues that doesn't really get into the heart of what's really going on in each others' lives... which then leads me to... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3_iLOp6IhM
...The consequential webcam girl industry, debates/complaints of cyber-cultural narcissism (i.e, promoting yourself on your own online shrine of sorts), and how all this and more, coincides with the values system of the Millennial Generation (read: to be rich and famous--for just being famous, i.e, reality TV). I've been mulling if I've been falling into this trap for the past few years, even though a couple of trusted confidants (one of which is a trained therapist) confided in me that I have none such narcissistic traits, though it should still scare me to think that I could easily have such negative characteristics--even though I was of the Gen-X generation, predating much of the societal nonsense sociologists, teachers and parents would/will be worries sick about a decade or so AFTER the start of the Internet age. I suppose it's that unintentional consequence of having people misreading your public online thoughts as self-aggrandizing, but still, it goes back to the theme of miscommunication in an online age--and the perils of making friends because of it! It's one of those nagging character questions of whether or not you're as negative--or positive as many other (not-so) anonymous folks would say, online or in person! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7rK_bfsQbs ...and speaking further in areas of online miscommunication, I know I'm not the only one out there who had more than a monopoly-share of having people, strangers I "friended," asking me that embarrassing question, "Who are you?" Yup, making friends online is part of that Wild West analogy/lore that is the Internet age... which kinda begs the uncomfortable tangent question: I apologize if I'm treading onto hypocritical territory but, whenever I am posed with that "Who are you question,"--probably just as uncomfortably as that student reporter who recently "confronted" S. Carolina Sen. Bob Etheridge(!), I can't help but be reminded that since everything's public online, (see the "self-promotion"), aren't those who asked the who-are-you-question, are equally culpable of allowing this online faux pas to happen, given how in the especially blogosphere, we expressed our most intimate details of our lives, being as blunt in our self-expression--ONLY, ONLY, until we (me included) dare raise a finger, questioning who's business are you intruding upon? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8IxeroqZSuo&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8J6uEUXlR0
In getting onto the David Mamet angle of this blog, I've been reminded from my collegiate studies, of how the language patterns, broken syntax, grammatical errors of Glengary Glen Ross, epitomizes what's so wrong with communication nowadays--and that's before the Text messaging, IM age we're currently on! I can't help but noticed that much of the profanity-laced dialogue, or shall I say lack thereof, is in part that the salesmen characters here are not in the business of interpersonal communication with each other, much less interpersonal comaraderie; in the cutthroat everyday world of salesmanship, you're here to do your self-serving job making sales--at the expense of your fellow man OR woman. And in especially the online age of selling yourself as an online celebrity--or the entitled Millennial delusions thereof, everybody's under the cutthroat ultimatum of fulfilling one's personal quota of who's the most "famous," talked-about personality online or anywhere--never mind the fact that being a personality and being personal (as a person sans the image, etc...) are two entirely different--YET at times, subtle things! I guess that explains why in my recent memories, epiphanies, I've been concluding that young people especially these days, are too busy trying to fulfill their personality quotas--at the expense of real friends AND communication, especially online, since the dysfunctional syntax of Glengary Glen Ross is not unlike that of text messaging: brief, but not necessarily to the point! ...let alone interpersonal, otherwise the drama online or in person, probably wouldn't have happened... or at least in greater frequency. I guess that's why as of late, I've been musing facetiously as to why in this age, if I want to seriously learn how to make friends--and keep them (vis-a-vis online or in real time), maybe I should take cues from David Cronenberg and Marshall McLuhan, when the former especially, talked about, "Long live the new flesh!," kind of like where the facebook/myspace/twitter world should merge with the real world that is me, so as to adapt to the newly evolving world that is, "Digitaldrome," or "facebookdrome," "myspacedrome," xangadrome, or what not...! ...or maybe not, since I'm the kind of ambitious person that would like to get to know more (quality) online people in the flesh, in person, in real time!
As far back as I can remember, I've always been enthralled by the title art of certain Asian pop films--especially on movie posters from Hong Kong. There's something inherently powerful behind the way they write the original Chinese, Japanese, Korean characters, to sort of (sometimes) coincide with their English-friendly translated titles. Maybe it's all of the history behind the people, that allows the studio artisans to make the title just as alluring as the trailers and movies themselves, trying to tantalize audiences of what sort of epic drama, tragedy, and ultimately triumph that will come out of it--no matter how long and excrutiating the plot processes will be.
Some of the title artwork utilizes the clever usage of traditional Asian calligraphy by using a blood drop or even splatter, to simulate a brush stroke or dot, such as...
And even without the traditional brush strokes of calligraphy, there's still something a lot to be said with calligraphy done in straight-angled lines...
...to afford whatever light-heartedness even the most hardened Asian soul there is in all of human/world history....to reflect the better and happier/joyous aspects of life, that's not necessarily all about enduring the figurative hells on earth, since especially at my current age of 34, I've realized that life's way too complicated to be relegated to just another tragic, depressing, nihilistic amoral universe--just as much I simultaneously know that life is way too complicated to be just another happy ending moral universe, this side of Disney, Hollywood, etc...
I guess that's why not too long ago, when I submitted some stories for possible marketable considerations to a friend already connected somewhat in the film industry, he remarked how rough, hard, and full of passion there is. Well, being Asian--and with the aforementioned tastes above, isn't it that obvious to see why?
At what could be my very last blog before turning 34 this Friday, I would like to share my recent epiphanies concerning a couple of my favorite auteurs, David Cronenberg and William Friedkin. Some time ago, while I was using the director's commentary extra of Friedkin's To Live And Die In L.A., I am reminded of what he said about not holding back graphic content, for the sake of creativity. Concurring with Friedkin's sensibilities is fellow 1970's, "New Hollywood generation" film maker, David Cronenberg, when he said on some early 80's promotional material (regarding Videodrome), that nothing should be off limits regarding sexual and/or visceral (read, graphic violent) content--though, Cronenberg did opined that showing live animal killings/mutilation is something of a cowardly cheap shot, as in a dumb gimmick to substitute whatever lack of visual ingenuity... which then leads me to this following thesis:
Is showing graphic film sex and violence (especially today) is a sign of having no real talent, whatsoever? Maybe back in the early days of the MPAA, and various other, international film ratings boards (i.e, the UK's BBFC, Japan's Eirin, Hong Kong's Category I-III system), flaunting graphic sex and violence had some cultural and creative relevance, given that in the late 60's/early70's, everybody's in the (show) business of letting out the sort of visual content previously/largely restrained from the Silent era, onward 'til, BUT...
At my current age, having seen just about every known film there is in existence, with such aforementioned content, hasn't that Baby-boomer-era film school of thought, became irrelevant, NOW that way too many films out on distribution, had been using this to ad nauseum effect, hence diluting whatever then-creative importance that was graphic sex and violence, to the point it's more commercialized and conformist--as opposed cutting edge and creative? Nowhere is this irony more evident than what I refer to as, The Texas Chainsaw Paradox (incidentally of which, should have been my original blog title). Here, (director) Tobe Hooper once said on the director's commentary that despite of the popular perception many movie audiences had, claiming to have seen (visually) bloodcurdling evisceration, Hooper takes factual note that you don't see a whole lot of blood--much less any viscera, since 90%, if not more (of the graphic violence) is psychologically-implied, rather than explicitly visual--meaning, whatever death-rattling sounds you may have heard off camera, is exponentially worse than if you actually showed the carnage. In fact, if you were to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre reel to reel, you'll noticed that there's about (as Hooper states) 2-10 ounces of fake blood shown--throughout the film's entirety! Even veteran horror film insider/FX whiz/make-up artist/actor, Tom Savini, notes that what Hooper did with using psychological terror is what makes Texas Chainsaw the most effectively scary, slasher film... possibly of all time, since as the adage goes (regarding the slasher genre then as now), it's been highly imitated, BUT never successfully duplicated! Maybe it's that timeless piece of filmmaking advice, where some of the best forms of movie creativity is born out of necessity. In this case, it's Hooper's then-agreement with the MPAA, that if he showed as little to no gore throughout Texas Chainsaw Massacre, theoretically, he can get a PG rating. But as film history shows us, it's not quite the intended, film ratings results--but still... it was able to achieve the sort of cinematic standards many, many, many movies later, fails to grasp.
And with that big, fat analogy in mind, what does it really say about the more, high-brow, serious auteurs, constantly compelling themselves to showcase every known expensive forms of micro-FX, albeit for simulated gunshot wounds, albeit even for simulated sex scenes? Could the likes of Cronenberg, Friedkin, Scorcese, Coppola, et al, are actually now a bunch of perpetually-adolescent, shock jocks, who can't find any other effectively alternative way of telling the story straight up, without the flexibly visual tactics of the power of perceptions? ...and I haven't gotten into chewing out today's generation of (entitled/deluded?) gorehounds, a la Eli Roth (a.k.a, Inglourious Basterd's, Bear Jew!)! I guess that's why at my hopefully, ever-wiser, cool-headed age, I came to the conclusion that if you can't tell the same story in a more different setting, i.e, no guns, no blood, no sex or orgies, etc... then what kind of story are you really telling, if any at all? Isn't the film industry technically part of the greater, umbrella "creative community?" If so, shouldn't there be more creativity involved with telling a visual story WITHOUT THE SHOCK 'N AWE CRUTCH, KNOWN AS SEX AND VIOLENCE? And with the oft-debated, film snobbery/ideology, concerning how a movie with a bigger budget, vis-a-vis, FX, wouldn't this violate every film snob's--uhhhhh, I mean auteur's... basic tenants that you can't rely your entire creative weight on pricey special effects alone, that otherwise distracts not only the storytelling process, but likewise (if not possibly more) the film's entire budget?* *See Lars Von Trier's over-hyped, Dogme 95 manifesto--AT LEAST LONG BEFORE he went adolescent/film snobbish crazy with his award-winning, Anti-Christ).
Otherwise, how do you explain the shoe-string budgeted, wunderkind likes of Aguirre: The Wrath of God, or even the action/horror genre likes of Night Of The Living Dead, El Mariachi, etc? I mean, if the latter two examples are the sort of aspiring, successful (low budget) genre debuts you want to use to jump start your "Titan of Cinema" career, then wouldn't that compel people like us to use more good 'ol fashioned, story telling, character development, plotting, etc... for crafting a more timeless, effective audience pleaser? Even I'm relatively assured many of today's "simple folk" movie goers, have more than enough brains to say that showing splattered brain matter, don't necessarily equate to smart scriptwriting? Like hey, memo to the studio heads (both mainstream to art house), greenlighting your respective projects: don't underestimate your paying audience! And in going back with Friedkin (preferably with no ill-intent or disrespect), when I recalled (in To Live & Die In L.A.) how there are at least, 3 major scenes of gunshot wounds to the face, sometimes I have to ask ol' Billy; what's with these gunshot blasts to the frontal lobe/cranium areas? Is this some sort of repressed, psychological fetish I'm not aware of? And don't forget, almost 3 decades ago, I would normally get squeamish with any violent scene involving gunshot wounds to the forehead--which kinda gives indication how much have changed with my sense of being jaded! ...and don't get me started with Friedkin's other embarrassing effort (with Al Pacino) called, Cruising!* *Something about a lost, uncut European version (of this undercover police procedural-in-a-gay-bar-scene) showcasing more scenes of fisting and golden showers! BARF!!!
At year 2010, when we're about to enter the teen phase of the 21st Century, I (literally) pray that none of today's crop of auteurs--both established and up-and-coming, won't rely too much on the teenage-primal inclinations, of displaying technologically-complicated, shock FX, just to Freudian-compensate whatever possibilities of absent talent, 'cause at this current age of dwindling box office receipts, and even more so with the dwindling, prime selections of film festival-quality work, a la Cannes, Berlin, Venice, Sundance, methinks many of our creative community types will have to move past the pre-9-11 mentality of doing show business-as-usual, assuming the award-winning/box office-lucrative rules of shock then, still applies now, since if you don't have the business acumen of understanding what the real world, hard-working, ticket-paying movie audience really wants in timeless, quality entertainment (i.e, the recent CNN article debunking the sex-sells myth of movie-making), then what business do you really have being in show business?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tiH5oAwkYE Sometime ago, I was reading an interesting article on The UK's Empire Magazine, concerning the best crime films of all time, and amongst the selected for the mobster sub-genre, it lists The Long Good Friday starring Bob Hoskins. Now, what makes Long Good Friday a gangster film of interest is that according the Empire's film critic/staff writer board, they alleged that the Harold Shand character as the epitome of (Margaret) Thatcherite values, sort of like an across-the-pond version of Ronald Reagan. Apart from the usual genre trappings of bloody whackings, (car) explosions, copious amounts of bullet expenditures, the film's political subtext describes the Shand character as a self-made man, coming his humble Cockney roots to become a multimillionaire businessman, with a strong patriotic sense (i.e, Shand's supposed to be in the developing business deal to transform The Docklands into a national Olympic Games complex), and above all, someone who's nouveau riche-tasteless--AND as someone who's been charting/obsessing a lot about the politicization of good taste, I can't help but be reminded of how much The Harold Shand anti-hero shares much of the self-made success stories of many Asians in America--BUT yet, seemingly lacking in the sort of historically-astute sense of aesthetics; has anyone ever ventured inside the average, "suburban (L.A.) Chinatown," homes of Monterey Park, San Gabriel, Alhambra, Arcadia, South Pasadena, (regular) Pasadena, and yes, possibly even San Marino? They might as well be the architectural embodiment of that derisive word, "McMansion!" I mean, whenever I recall the scene from the (Lilliana Cavani) film, "Ripley's Game," where Dougray Scott's Jonathan Travani ranted (under inebriation) how much (John Malkovich's) Tom Ripley has way too much money--AND no taste, I can't help but think that line could be applicable to the likes of me, and my fellow, model minorities... especially should they hypothetically expatriate into the swanky Northern provinces of Italy, or the tres chic parts of Paris, London, you name it... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxaIV897PkQ ...and as someone who spent a recent lifetime collecting (high end) action figures from Hong Kong-based, Dragon Models Unlimited, Blue Box Toys, with a (ahem) "scholarly interest" in militaria, automatic weapons, etc... what's the surest odds that some of the (more established, old money) locals in say, Milan, Neuilly St. Mere, aristocratic England, thumbing their noses down on me for thinking like another nouveau riche, d*mn Yankee--albeit a nouveau riche, d*mn Yankee of pure Chinese ancestry, i.e, not suburban, touristy White? Will they be understanding enough to show me how to better understand classic literature of Dostoyevsky, Moliere, Kundera, Nabokov, Chaucer, (James) Joyce, Oscar Wilde, Dumas, or even the controversial likes of Michel Houellbecq, De Sade, & Pasolini (both in film and print), as opposed to Marvel or DC Comics?
Speaking of movies, what shall some of the more established, old-money Europeans (especially nowadays with a more Left-wing slant) will/would say, if they were to see so many of my "Gold Mountain" compatriots, listing cheesy 1980's popular movies as part of their faves, i.e, Top Gun, the Stallone/Schwarzeneggar/Segal trinity of action cinema, ET, Star Wars, 80's brat pack (i.e, Breakfast Club), Titanic/Pearl Harbor, or some romantic comedies, much of which is heavily derided, skewered, and much worse--by the snobbish likes of Cahiers du Cinema, as nothing more than "bourgeoisie" values? It's a very wide difference between Hollywood, and say, Kubrick, Fellini, Bergman, Italian Neo-realist, French New Wave.* *Try checking out Film Comment's quaint little section, where established, high-brow auteurs describe their guilty (film) pleasures, i.e, when French feminist shock maestro, Catherine Breillat, once confessed that she liked sentimental films--never mind the fact that she (and everybody else of her film sensibility) despise sentimentality, as being stupid, full of kitsch, and possibly worse (hint: maybe it's artistically Fascist, in a Walter Benjamin sense!)! I mean, check out the sort of politically-convenient criticisms by France's Socialist Party blowhards, taking Pres. Sarkozy to task for having more pro-American/Hollywood tastes in films (think vintage 1990's Stallone) than say, his (singer-songwriter/ex-supermodel/billionaire tire heiress) Carla Bruni!
And don't get me started with musical tastes...! Maybe it's that clip from the Korea episode of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, where poor ol' Tony had to man up his best against the worst thing to ever materialized in pop cultural history since disco: karaoke! Recalling some past yearbooks, past experiences with friends, or friends of some friends, you'll take notice that any Asian-American kid who grew up in the 80's and 90's tended to have musical inclinations for the Bubblegum pop of Britney Spears, boy bands a la NSync, Backstreet Boys (or even the prototypical likes of New Kids On The Block!), 80's hair metal, sentimental schmaltz of the Celine Dion, Mariah Carey brand... ALL of which is the hallmark of modern rock 'n roll snobbery! I should know; I actually went through a Mariah Carey/Celine Dion phase at one point! Even though rock music is still a relatively new musical style (50 or so years old, by comparison to centuries of classical, Old World/European music), still... there's still a whiff of rock 'n roll snobbery when it comes to the "personal," sometimes even classic rock likes of The Doors, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Rage Against The Machine, Bob Dylan, Grateful Dead, Neil Young, Depeche Mode, Pink Floyd, & Peter Frampton, versus the "corporate rock" likes of early Bon Jovi, Warrant, the aforementioned boy bands, Tiffany, the artist formerly known as Debbie Gibson, Pet Shop Boys, and dare I say, the (quasi-) Latino music craze of Ricky Martin, Christina Aguillera, and Shakira (as opposed to Los Lobos, etc...). And with the advent of karaoke, it's not unusual to hear many Americans of the classic rock ideology, finding more than a lifetime supply of complaints on quite possibly, the worst of the worst in corporate rock music-- BUT with an American Idol twist (think William Hung--though that's not to say that the Ricky Martin song was anymore revered prior to Hung's rendition!)! *click on minute 4:15 to understand where I'm getting with this! | | \|/ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOs6Qf58OP4&feature=related I guess that's why at my current, ever-driven age to grow up and move on, I always find some ample opportunities to combat mythical, Asian Fetish insecurities by remembering what relationship, culture clash possibilities can occur when you combine a White, Neil Young/Kurt Cobain fan with a petite, Asian karaoke enthusiast--with a soft spot for Cantonese "remakes" of prior pop American songs! Yup; it'll be less like a scene out of Joy Luck Club, Snow Falling On Cedars--AS OPPOSED to a John Waters movie!
And finally, in once again referring to Tony Bourdain, any fan of the No Reservations, A Cook's Tour "franchise shows," will tell you that in all the years spent watching Bourdain's food-and-travel shows, you'll learn that one of the most frequent themes in these programs is that too many Americans are taking the tourist ways of traveling, seeing the world, i.e, frequenting overseas franchise restaurants (catered to pop American tastes... literally), with a kind of rush hour mentality with sampling the local culture... In short, traveling the world with the Disney EPCOT Center lens of the world, where everything is just another mass-manufactured stereotype, readily-made for "chunky" Americans with no sense of what REAL travel is all about; read: checking out what the locals are always eating, doing, or living for, versus the hotel culture of sheltered, suburban Americana... correction: FAKE Americana... It shudders my nerves to think if any of my more suburban well-off church friends, were to venture somewhere like say, Venice, Bordeaux, and the like, what's our Vegas odds that the locals will view Asian Americans--especially Evangelical Christian Asian America, embodying the absolute worst stereotypes of the dirty, ignorant American--never mind the fact that (at least with my subjective experience), some of the more FOB-ish types probably don't give a monkey's wrench about American politics or culture, let alone all things The Bush Doctrine, circa The Jacques Chirac era!
Speaking of fake Americana, I can't help but link this discussion with what could be, one of the biggest Asian-American stereotypes on record--especially those of us living on The West Coast: near-religious pilgrimage to Las Vegas! As a Christian for little over half my life, one of the most enduring myths of Sin City is that well... it's a sinful city--never mind the fact that the Vegas since the early 80's, is a far cry from the smuttier, Mafia-controlled mystique of the 50's, 60's, and into much of the 70's, a la (the late) Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal... If anything, it's ironically a more (if not always), a libertarian-conservative city, now governed by big, (multi-national?) corporations, marketing the XXX-rated city into a more, "family-friendly" theme park--and if you were to ask Bourdain about what he thinks about theme park culture, well... let's just say he'll spend about and hour or more with your time, ranting on how incredibly fake the mass-marketed, theme park mentality is (making an almost Disney-esque parody of not only Paris, Camelot, New York City, and the Middle East, but also Vegas itself!)! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDQO6RgqAQ *click on minute 4:15 on the vid link above...
Frankly, I don't know what's worst; seeing fellow Asian-Americans going to Las Vegas to sin and gamble, or seeing fellow Asian-Americans going to Vegas to sin and gamble WITH a McCulture sensibility!
