Dear Amy,

Saturday, January 8, 2011 01:10:47 PM

Dear Amy,

I have been enjoying reading your blog. It is good to have a place to verbally blow off steam. That said, I was struck by this entry:

You have the wartime periods: historical, renowned, proud. The 60's, introducing The Beatles and a soar of actually half-decent movies. The 70's - far out man, one-way ticket to hippyville and sticking it to "the man". The 80's, by far the best time of all; brilliant tunes and, most importantly of all, the birth of Die Hard.*

Your summation of the past fifty years in a handful of lines put a smile on my face. However, I feel I need to challenge you abourt your view of the 1980s, especially the music part.

To me, the eighties were not a blissful time of charity and togetherness, with people skipping around in their mullets, whistling “Ebony and Ivory” while holding hands to form a giant circle of love.

To me, the 1980's blew.

I graduated from high school, left home for college (Miami University, in Oxford, Ohio, where I am currently living.) Then I struck out on my own and began discovering what it meant to be an adult, which at that time meant figuring out how much of my tiny paycheck was to go for bills and how much was to go for "entertainment."  There was plenty of experimentation (sex and drugs), plenty of folly (see previous), and little actual maturity or growth. One of the most important things I learned was this: Just because it seems like a good idea at the time doesn't mean it will still be a good idea after I sober up.

Jello Biafra, singer for the San Francisco based punk band The Dead Kennedys accused the music industry of seeking to produce “lowest common denominator rock”  and I agree.  The first thing that comes to mind when thinking of the eighties is how awful the music was. Most popular music was a mixture of computerized rhythm, synthesized instruments and the absolute nadir of lyrical shallowness. The sound of the music was extremely homogeneous. There was very little unique or original in this type of music because it was targeted towards mainstream appeal.

A quick look at Wikipedia reveals the most popular music acts of the decade were Madonna and Michael Jackson.  And Madonna isn't even an musician, she is a personality. She achieved fame from the notoriety of her appearance and her (for the time) outspoken attitudes about sex, not her singing ability.

The 1980s saw the problematic rise in popularity of “alternative rock.” A popular alternative to anything  is an oxymoron. How can something be alternative and mainstream at the same time?

Another contributor to the suckiness of eighties music was the introduction of the popular, and influential Music Television Network, known as MTV. MTV was an entire network, broadcasting 24 hours via cable, devoted to popular music videos. The music became secondary to a band's appearance and attire once it was discovered how effective MTV would have on influencing young adults clothing  and music choices.  In short, music became more about marketing rather than producing a quality ditty that would last for the ages.

This unfortunately led to a lot of really bad fashion choices for people in my age bracket. Big, teased hair, mullets, skinny neckties, shoulder pads for women and men are some of the decades's worst fashion offenses.  And yet they were staples of typical 20 something attire.

After MTV their makeover

Before MTV

Check out these before and after photos of Detroit band The Romantics. The Romantics had one fairly big hit single before MTV, the lively “That's What I Like About You.” But like many bands after the advent of MTV, they went through a major, cosmetic make over.  

The 1980s did produce some very good books, movies and music.  Unfortunately, for every Once in a Life Time,  there was hours of this dreck  to wade through.

Oh well. One of the great, or not so great, depending on your perspective, things about the Internet is the opportunity agree to disagree in instantly on-line.

Remember that I love you in that special, creepy way that a middle aged stranger you met on the Internet can love you.

Michael

PS
It occurred to me that 99% of the things I have done that I regret doing happened in the 1980s.
I found a link to this while catching up opn my reading this morning: Killing Joke

Please feel free to leave your comments below.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011 09:07:58 PM

Tron: Legacy in 3D

Sunday, January 2, 2011 04:16:17 PM

I walked out of Tron:Legacy 3D with my head a whirl. My first 3D movie experience since 1982's Friday the 13 ^th in 3D , although my friend Todd insists that it was Jaws 3D we walked out of, the effects were breathtaking, but subtle, played down for the long run instead of relying on the obvious, quick thrill,  3D cliches. Those were reserved for the trailers and helped me acclimatize to the upcoming special effects spectacle. The most striking 3D effect was Olivia Wilde's eyes(“Thirteen” from House ), which sometimes appeared to exist outside her head like a tree frog's.

For Jeff Bridges fans, Tron: Legacy features twice as much as the first Tron.  He reprises his role as an aging Kevin Flynn, trapped in his own cyber creation, called The Grid, and his nemesis, the program Clu, whose search for perfection threatens the real world. Bridges plays Flynn as a cross between The Dude and Obi- Tron Kenobi, favoring dharmic garb and dropping  Buddhist kōans such as “remove yourself from the equation,” and “You're messing with my Zen.” As Clu, a computer program, which doesn't age,  he appears as the Jeff Bridges from the 1982 original film.

The film's explosive climax revolves around the struggle between the creator and his creation.  Kevin Flynn is the creator of the virtual world that most of the film occupies.  His creation, Clu, is attempting to usurp his creator. When Clu exhorts his digital minions to topple their god, he appears like a digital Lucifer, attempting to set his throne higher than his God's.   

If Kevin Flynn is God and Clu is Lucifer/Satan, then Flynn's son Sam and the mysterious Quorra are Adam and Eve, played with youthful abandon and reckless impulsivity by Garrett Hedlund and Olivia Wilde.

Sam is the major share holder of his father's own company which appears to have morphed into a giant, heartless software company that forces its customers to buy endless, meaningless software upgrades, named Encom (Income, get it?). This is against the older Flynn's philosophy that information should be free (as in beer), much like the Open Source software philosiphy.  I am an enthusiastic open source user (I am writing this using OpenOffice.org Writer word processor under the Ubuntu 10.10 operating system). The direct influence of open source can be seen in this article at the OMG Ubuntu! website.  Check out the uber-dork comments at the bottom.  

Despite some story line incongruities,  Tron:  Legacy 3D was a great way to spend a cold Sunday afternoon in Cincinnati.  Visually, the film was a treat to watch and the story hummed along at a nice pace, although it did get a little slow during the middle section.  It was a much better sequel than the smoldering crapfest that The Matrix Reloaded was.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011 08:08:34 PM

Insomniac theater presents: Triangle

Wednesday, January 5, 9:52 AM

Triangle  was completely unknown to me until I read about it on Cortez the Killer's year-end review at the Bloodsprayer.com  (read the article here).  I don't want to rehash what he has already said, but I do  want to add my "Yeah, wow!"

In terms of "jumping out of your skin" moments, Triangle  had the most of any movie I'd watched in quite a while.  Poor Olivia, I would grab her anytime something scary happened.  And there were plenty of scary moments to be had.

Triangle doesn't waste any time getting started.  As soon as the main characters are introduced to the viewer, crazy things begin to happen. And it doesn't stop until the end, leaving me somewhat breathless. There were some inconsistencies along the way, but I quickly forgot them as soon as the blood started to flow.

And like many good horror movies,Triangle doesn't reveal all its secrets until the very end.  There were times when it reminded me of 2007's Los Cronoscrimenes,  but in the end,  it is its own movie.

Insomniac theater double feature: It's Alive and Bad Biology

Friday, December 10, 2010 01:28 AM

Once again, the rest of the house is slumbering, even Olivia, my late night movie buddy, is asleep. Instead of watching movies I already own, it is time check out my Netflix streaming queue. The big deal about that is Netflix streaming only works with Windows or Apple operating systems. The reason why that is problematic for me could be its own post; let me say that every time I boot my laptop into Vista, I feel a part of my soul die.

Subconsciously, I devoted the evening's viewing to themes of sex and reproduction. In my queue I saw It's Alive (1974), written and directed by cinema maverick, Larry Cohen. A quick look at his IMDB profile revealed that he was responsible for one of the strangest films I have ever seen, 1976' s God Told Me To, part police procedural, part sci-fi story, and part trans gender sex in the armpit with your brother who is really a homicidal Jesus alien type movie. I really need to watch that one again.

Also in my queue was Frank Henenlotter 's Bad Biology (2008). Henenlotter is known for the Basket Case trilogy and his work rescuing and releasing classic exploitation (is that an oxymoron?) films for Something Weird Video.

It's Alive was one of those movies I wasn't allowed to see as a child, so I did what I usually did when blocked by my parents refusal to grant access to the mysteries of cinematic terror, I read the novelization. Since the film originally was released when I was ten, I probably read the book when it was released in 1977 at age 13. I remember very little except the cover. I had forgotten about it until I read  “Who Needs Birth Control: Terrifying Births in Horror History” at The Horror Digest . Both a scary fable about parenthood and parable about the dangers of big pharma, there wasn't much of interest to me except for two scenes; the carnage in the delivery room and the scene where Frank Davis, the father, explains the difference between Frankenstein and Frankenstein's monster.

It's Alive begins on the eve of the birth of the second child for the Davis's,  a middle class couple. In the days before sonograms, no-one is aware of the hideously deformed, monster child that is about to enter the world. Just like the rest of us, this baby wants to be loved and is fully prepared to kill in order to be with his mother. Including killing everyone in the delivery room. Way more deadly than the new born in Alien .

Besides being effectively scary, the massacre in the delivery room also raised questions about birthing procedures in the 1970s; did mothers really get tied to the tables with leather restraints? Also, how come no one thought to cover the poor mother's obviously exposed vagina while running in and out of the room?

The movie ends with Frank accepting the child as his own, proving that love may conquer many things, but bullets and greed have the final say. 

Next I watched Frank Henenlotter 's Bad Biology , a movie I had heard about from the excellent Mondo Movie podcast. They had a special episode devoted to Frank Henenlotter last year. Although there is a birthing scene at the end (and a couple through out), Bad Biology is about sex. And there is lots of it. Usually with a good-sized dose of violence to boot, or whatever else is handy.

Anthony Snead and Charlee Danielson play two hyper sexualized beings in search of each other and relief. Despite the obvious low budget and unknown actors, it was a very enjoyable film. Ms. Danielson really put herself out there. She was both horrifying and funny, often wearing only fake blood. The rest of the cast displayed similar dedication to what must have been some uncomfortable scenes involving a monster sized, well, why spoil it?  

Sunday, January 2, 2011 08:27 PM

Separated at birth: Black Swan

Friday, December 24, 2010 05:37 PM

 

One look at the poster art for Black Swan  and my 1981 class picture made me realize  what I had long suspected was true;  I do have a twin out there that I was torn from at birth by some bizarre flux in both time and space wherein I was sent backward through time and across space to the middle of Not Quite Nowhere, Ohio. Replace "ballerina" with "couch potato defaulting on his student loans" and the parallels are inescapable.  Even down to a hypothetical romantic interlude with Mila Kunis.

Black Swan was an amazing film to watch; great performances, breathtaking visual effects, and an abundance of cringe worthy creep. All these impressive elements fail to come together to make a whole that is greater than its sum.  

Much of Black Swan details the artist's conflict between the Apollonian and Dionysian aspects of creative expression.  The medium for this discussion is the White and Black Swan roles from the ballet Swan Lake.  Both these roles are traditionally danced by the same ballerina, in this case, perfection obsessed, Nina Auschenbach.   She has the technical (Apollonian) skills to dance the White Swan, but is told repeatedly that she needs to develope the passion and sensuality required for the Black Swan.  Her muse for the Dionysian Black Swan is the untamed, wild beauty of passionate co ballerina, Tadzio (Mila Kunis).

Nina's struggle to encompass both ends of the dichotomy has a dire effect on her and her art. As the Silenus  (the Dionysian "teacher figure," traditionally red headed) like Thomas, played by a very subdued Vincent Cassell, tells her, “the only person standing in your way is you.” This turns out to be true in many ways.

Casell was much more fun to watch as the wildeyed, manically grinning Joseph from Sheitan, (which I first read about here) to this very restrained but just as manipulative figure.

Black Swan also explores psychological thriller terrritory as Nina struggles to cope with her rapidly decaying world and the line between reality and fantasy becomes increasingly blurred.

In the final scene, Black Swan makes its last, and weakest, revelation; once again, the artist who gives so much of themselves to appease the cfritical masses suffers great personal injury at the expense of appeaseing the masses.

Saturday, December 25, 2010 06:33 PM

Insomniac Theater Presents: Love is strange

Wednesday, December 22, 3:22 am

Another night with out sleep.

Thank You for the Music

Wednesday, December 15, 10:05 am

I had another peaceful, perfect moment this morning.  Holding my coffee under my nose, looking out the back window at my snow covered yard, beautiful music on the stereo, the remains of an egg omelet that I had made myself on the table and everything was in place.   The universe had become balanced and I felt contentment at a great level.   It is hard to go to a place like that because they are so fragile.  Once you step out of the moment, they are gone, sending you back to an inferior place.

I think about these those beautiful moments of contentment and tried to make a list of what was so satisfying to me; there is the coffee, being in my own house, and the music.

Music is one of the reasons I enjoy being home alone.  I set my iPod on shuffle and crank op the stereo. Glorious, sensual music pours out of the speakers in a warm, glowing stream filling the air from the floor to the ceiling, with tiny, sparkling bits of sound.  

The Scream

My collection is very diverse, like several different collections combined.  I never know what will catch my ear. Sometimes  something will reach out and transform me, changing my feelings or perspective and it is not so much the genre, or lyrical quality or a specific artist;  sometimes it is just the sound.

The first time that happened was 1983, when I heard Siouxsie and the Banshees' first  album, The Scream (1978).  "Pure," the opening track is a spooky,  instrumental.  The weeping guitars,  baying moans and thunderous, rhythm less percussion caught my attention like nothing I had heard before.  Even now, nearly 30 years after I first heard it, it still makes me grin.

In my head, I saw the musicians recording the song in a dimly lit studio, wearing dark clothes, their movements slow and spare, music spilling out into the darkened corners.  "Jigsaw Feeling," the next track continued in the same way; but this time, the mood was one of barely contained energy; the slashing, squealing guitar mimicked the sound of a psychic jigsaw,  cutting someone's personality to pieces;  "One day I'm feeling total, the next I'm split in two."  A perfect reflection of the fragmentation I was feeling as a freshman in college.  By the time the final chord of the final song played, the universe had gone dark.

I had never heard anything like it before, because, you know, there was very little punk rock in small, mid-western towns like Norwalk, Ohio thirty years ago.

People who know me know I like to inflict my music choices on others-if you haven't received a mix CD from me, let me know and I will make you one today. I have no idea what will be on it or why, other than it sounded good to me.  It will be a learning experience for me.

Feeling the music in this new way gave me a new appreciation for the sounds I was hearing.  So dear Siouxsie, thank you for the music because it made my life so much richer.

Friday, December 17th, 2010 10:08 AM

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Monday, December 6, 2010 09:43 AM

NB: The film version of the seventh and final Harry Potter book,  Harry Potter and the Something something, part one,  has opened and I feel duty bound to watch  it.   In preparation for the final film chapters of the Harry Potter Saga, I will watch the six previous films and write about the experience.  There will be SPOILERS !

There isn't much to say about Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince except there could have been a bigger parallel what was going on in the wizarding world and what was happening in George W. Bush's America; that is, the Post September 11 debate on safety versus civil rights.

Voldemorte and his minions excellently exploited the wizarding world's fear to further his cause, which is to end the world.

And of course there is quidditch, confrontations with Malfoy, some riddles to be solved, classroom mishaps and the usual growing pains. I am now officially ready for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Dumbleodre  all face big changes at Hogwarts this year.

 

Monday, December 13, 2010 05:48 AM

Sometimes you have to take one for the team-Love and Other Drugs

Monday, December 6, 2010 08:02 AM

Sunday I settled my “Meg Ryan” debt. That is, the number of movies made for women that I owed my wife for putting up with my movie selections. We watched Love and Other Drugs instead going to see Deathly Hallows.   Love and Other Drugs is a story of a young man's transition obnoxious jack ass to self important  jack ass and then fulfilling his true destiny by become a doctor jack ass, due to his falling in love with dying woman.  Despite some bright spots, the movie collapsed under the weight of its own inaneness.

Jake Gyllenhaall plays Jamie Randall, a narcissistic pharmaceutical representative and self proclaimed shit head. In the last minute or two, he suddenly transforms from a womanizing, self centered pharmacy rep to caring nurturer and medical student.

Maggie Murdoch, adroitly portrayed by Anne Hathaway, is the crucible that provides the catalytic fire responsible for Randall's 180 degree change. Maggie has early onset Parkinson's Disease. She faces life with a indomitable, yet vulnerable, Hollywood damaged heroine way.  Her character is by far the more interesting character and I was grateful we got to see so much of her (wink wink, nudge nudge). By not concentrating more on her and concentrating too 

much on Gyllenhaal's unfunny and un-interesting character, Love and Other Drugs missed an opportunity to be a much better film.

There is a touching sequence in the middle of the film that resonated with me personally; while attending a sales conference in Chicago with Randall, Maggie finds herself in a survivors group. She leaves the survivors group with a new sense of empowerment only to encounter Jamie, who has become convinced that if they try hard enough, they could find a cure for her Parkinson's. As she tries to flourish, his well intended efforts push her back into the box of being defined by her illness.

For me, it is the difference between a sign that reads “Parking for People with Disabilities,” and one that says “Handicapped Only,” as if there were some sort of apartheid between the TAB (temporarily able bodied) and the handicapped or disabled. Because of my illness, I often need help; sometimes, to accept that help I have to surrender the undisabled part of me. Maggie does not wish to be consumed by her illness and struggles to retain her personality beyond her illness.

Given her willingness to do nude scenes and play a disabled person, excuse me, person with a disability, I am surprised there is no Oscar buzz around Anne Hathaway's performance. Perhaps there would have been if the movie had concentrated more on her character's story and less on the unfunny Viagra jokes.

 In fairness, I should mention that Jake Gyllenhaall looks pretty good naked too.

Feel free to leave your comments here on the blog page.

Friday, December 10, 2010 01:21 PM

30 Years Ago Today

Wednesday, December 8, 2010 10:41:02 AM

30 years ago, I was a freshman in high school. on Monday morning December 9th, 1980my clock radio clicked on and I heard for the first time, “Our fife together is so precious together, We have grown - we have grown” It was the first lines to “(Just Like) Starting Over,” the first single from Double Fantasy John Lennon first album of new material in five years.

My older brothers and sisters had left a pile of Beatles' 45's as a testament to their appreciation to the lads from Liverpool. There had always been the idea of John, Paul, George and Ringo in our house. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was one of the first albums I bought (along with Joe Walsh's But Seriously Folks). Taking it home and listening to it put flesh and blood to that idea that I had known the Beatles all my life.

At age fifteen, John Lennon was only a former Beatle to me, I knew almost nothing of his work after the Beatles broke up.  On December 9, 1980, my joy at learning that John Lennon was still making music turned to sadness and horror as the details of his murder by a mentally ill young man became known. Stalked, hunted, and shot in the lobby his home, The Dakota, in New York City the previous night, Lennon's murder was irony at its cruelest to the excitement he sang about in that first single.

A nurse and I were talkng yesterday about him; she wondered where he would be if hje hadn't died.  I was thinking that world would be a better, less scary place if he were still with us. I thought of some of the things he had said:  "Imagine there's no countries,   Nothing to kill or die for,"  "Give peace a chance,"  "There's nothing you can make that can't be made, No one you can save that can't be saved, Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time- It's easy..."

All we need is love.

Thursday, December 9, 2010 05:31:32 PM