Too Absent Herald

note:I’ve found all the archives from the old site. I have to clean them up for UTF-8 this will be a test…. Only a test.

According to it’s description in the Criterion Collection, Liliana Cavani’s The Night Porter “is a provocative and problematic film.” True, the story of a surprise meeting between a former SS Colonel and one of his “subjects” in late 50s Vienna is bound to have more subtext than a Derrida round-table. And I’ll leave any film students to tell you that this is the attraction of the film.

I’ll also leave to them to deny they don’t tap their foot to Jackson Browne’s “Somebody’s Baby.”

No, the reason I rented the film is the box.

You can’t judge a book, or a DVD, by its cover. This was brought home when I decided to take a chance on Thief and found it to have rocketed to the near top of my favorite films. Trolling the racks of the beta (yes, beta) rentals in 1985, my brother and I would double over at the silver-coated box embossed with James Caan’s face.

So I had some trepidation at The Night Porter, especially because Netflix doesn’t let you have the box; only a dirty sleeve. The other point of worry is the fact that the SS Colonel is played by Dirk Bogarde. I can imagine Dirk Bogarde in power over me, and I can imagine him being cruel. But I could not find it possible to imagine him being attractive; not even in a slow, British-National-Socialist way. Of this sin I am guilty. But I remind you. . . the box.

That’s Charlotte Rampling, last and best seen being slapped across a bar by Paul Newman in The Verdict. How could this be? In fact, I suppose my thoughts were precisely that: How could this be the same person?

But go back to The Verdict. The same passion, and moreover, repression, are there. I realized that I had been suckered by the very thing I take pride in being immune to: Idolization of all things European.

Granted, The Night Porter has something the The Verdict could never have: the required Salome/Cabaret/dream/memory number, performed by Rampling for some dissolute SS boys (where the picture on the box comes from). But it’s also no La Strada, and certainly no Children of Paradise.

The problem with this film is that it doesn’t give enough of its individuals for any interest to develop. Unlike those two masterpieces (both far beyond crap like oh,… whatever’s playing now, here) Porter doesn’t make any real attempt to engage.

I have to stop this review. I simply realize that I’ve been too long too far from European cinema. Besides, my brother’s here with John Carpenter’s (1st film)Assault on Precinct 13, and he swears I’m gonna want to try and figure out why a 10 year-old girl is shot by the marauding zombies.

I’ll report back.

Trying to get started again on the now-fabled re-write. This is the point when I feel what David Simon said about writing: “I go into a room and stare at the page until blood comes out of my forehead.”

I still have a lot of care for the characters, and I suppose that that is something. Wait. Of course it is something. I watched Alien vs. Predator for chrissakes. THAT is contempt for your own creation(s). I still love the characters, but I think I might have to leave it as it is, for posterity. And move on to another story. Lemme explain:
The story is what I call a “talkie”, and I don’t think that that is going to be the deal-maker, for me. I mean that it is not going to get me noticed. I think of it like You Can Count on Me, which, like a lot of movies I like, started as a play.
At this point, the couple years I’ve been heading in this direction have taught me to immediately think of two words: independently financed.
Not that I don’t think of doing that. I mean, that is the whole reason I’m doing this: because it can be financed, cheaply; because “Cheap” and “fantastic” are no longer mutually exclusive. Well, they never were, but that’s another story.

I just finished a promotional DVD for the school and it has both drained and rejuvenated me. I guess, at least, I can take the fact that it does look good as a big reminder that this is all possible. I used a three year old camera, no deck, and no after-effects, and it still looks better than a lot of films I’ve seen for other places.

Next up: a video (finally, I swear it) for a song, though I don’t know which. And it’ll be shot in a day or so, just as soon as I can get to Brooklyn. Again, it’s not a “picture” but I will have a script.
The peer review of my video-production class quoted me as saying (while using the SNL-Narnia clip) as saying, “music will save you.” By which I meant that one of the things that entrances in film is that it comes at you in several sensations. With WhiskyRebellion I have the music and catchy-ness. So I can get my practice in keeping the visuals on point.
We’ll see.

*NB

Ralph Reed… Ralph Reed couldn’t get elected Lt. Governor of Georgia.

“… and the angels sing…”
At least “the better angels.”

There is a wonderfully thorough piece in GQ, of all places. It details Ralph’s “story” as well as detailing Jack Abramoff’s major discretions.

Regarding Reed, who had planned on being “installed” rather than elected Lt Governor (which would have led to a Pres run in 2012 [swallow that!]). Instead he’s out on his ass. Here’s the narrative with regards to the Indian Casinos:

Abramoff’s most lucrative racket, the one that earned him the nickname “Casino Jack,” was representing Indian tribes with gambling interests, either in closing down competing casinos or in expanding their own operations. Also, he and his partner, Michael Scanlon, swindled those tribes with inflated invoices, which might explain why Abramoff referred to his clients in e-mails as “fucking morons,” “monkeys,” and, once, “mofos [who] are the stupidest idiots in the land for sure.” Total take: $65 million, minimum.

Reed was brought in to get his contacts on the Christian Right to vote against a Casino. The problem is that the motivation for this was to protect another Casino. They were stealing from both sides.

The richness of the story is to see how the people that speak for the “moralists” actually think of their so-called constituency:

Simply put, Abramoff crony Scanlon wrote in an e-mail to one of the Coushattas’ lawyers, we want to bring out the wackos to vote against something and make sure the rest of the public lets the whole thing slip past them. The wackos get their information [from] the Christian right, Christian radio, mail, the internet, and telephone.

And that’s what Reed was paid to do: froth up the wackos on behalf of the morons and the monkeys.

Really brilliant.

———————
*Why isn’t this about writing or pictures? —

This is what’s nice about the internet, to me:

I got a new “theme” or layout for the site. It’s called Hemingway and it was designed, I think, with a better focus on reading (thanks, Kyle).

So I get that going, and I of course want to tweak it a bit. This involves joining the “Discussion Forums” for said new Theme (thanks again, Kyle).

From there I find others who also use this theme. One of whose sites is [this savage art]. And he just happens to have links to screenwriting sites all over the place, which I have been deeply enjoying.

I don’t want to write so much about political things anymore. It’s just too miserable, frankly. I’ll be talking about things as the elections approach (especially RE: Dog-boy Santorum). But for now, I’m keeping my eyes on the walls of the cave.

Prelim. Notes on Michael Mann
The first time I was confronted by subtext (though far from knowing what to call it) was during a late night viewing of Siskel & Ebert (yeah), discussing the 1983 “film” Breathless. Ebert mentoned that the admiration of The Silver Surfer had a lot to do with the main character’s driven yet unfocused motivation. That, if anyone is reading this, is why I subject everyone who visits me to a viewing of the trailer. The trailer is all you need, I say, to understand the overly stylized version of the story.

I don’t know why I like the way the 1983 film re-works the classic story by Godard. I only know that I also like Pound, Joyce, Dante, Homer, high-minded dropped references that Faulkner and Fitzgerald drop, and most things that are inscrutable, ancient, and opaque to first viewing. But getting to like such things most often takes time, sweat, and, in terms of film, repeated viewings.

Having said that, is it odd to say that I can’t wait to see Miami Vice?

Absolutely not. Because an attraction and addiction to epiphany is what I know will be fed by a Michael Mann film.

I was thinking about what I would put on the DVD player while typing this, and I quickly ran through all the moments that shine in each of his films. In summary, I can say that there is always such a moment when I will find myself perfectly frozen, -often agape,- at some scene or sequence.

And like the best hang-on-the-wall art, it never improves. I’m “into” film as we say. And I know a lot more than I should, perhaps, each time I sit down to watch a movie. But the moments I am thinking of, and the new ones I look forward to,- are never diminished by understanding how they are done.

For example, we can marvel at the deep focus or moving camera in Citizen Kane, or revel in knowing how Ford used color filters to get the clouds to stand out in B/W westerns.

But if you show me James Belushi driving a Firebird though a parking garage (Thief), or have the camera suddenly mimic a bystander’s gaze in a Harlem club (Ali), or slow the action in an action film down to a crawl and actually have the characters exhibit self-consciousness (the Dennis Haysbert subplot in Heat)…These moments are lulls in traditional storylines. Yet they get me everytime.

As a writer, I know these visuals sit humbly on the page. And this is what makes me anxious about not sitting in the director’s seat. But that’s for another, later discussion. Back to the films…
I think my favorite is Thief, because, for all how different James Caan (the Thief) is from my life, I always get the feeling that it is happening before my eyes, and that one time he may just decide to NOT do “X”, and instead do “Y”.

And let me stress: This is an ACTION MOVIE. These people (especially Caan) are good at blowing shit up. Yet these characters are driven from within. The best example, of course, is the operatic Heat. I think it truly is an opera, because when I think of what opera is I remember the scene in Amadeus, when Mozart explain that in opera you can have twenty people singing at once. That’s Heat. In LA. And with guns and a muted grey/black palette.

Mann has a knack for presenting simple characters that yet have deep complexity. And how does he do it? How does he show the depth with so little in action and dialogue? There’s a whole tone at work in these films that owes a lot to documentary style, which Mann was heavily involved in. The characters in Heat, Thief, Last of the Mohicans, Manhunter,– they don’t talk much, NOT because they are naturally quiet, but because they know themselves. They don’t need to verbalize everything. Plus, they have someone like Mann with a camera to SHOW everything else.

Miami Vice is a special case for me, since I never watched the show. Perhaps that will work in my favor. I only know the jokes. Looking back over the other stories, I think I can safely walk into my first theater viewing of a Mann film, knowing exactly what I’m going to see. And still loving every minute of it.

A few weeks ago, I had an altercation while walking my dog. It ended peaceably, with me walking away as the other guy yelled names at me. Since I didn’t feel like the encounter ended well, with us not listening to each other, I wanted to do something about it. So I posted a letter to him on the Missed Connections section of Craigslist. The following is the letter and the host of angry responses that I received:

To Guy on his Front Porch Who I still Don’t Think Got What I was Saying:

Do you remember the argument that we had last week while you were sitting out on your front porch? I’m not happy about the way it ended, with us agreeing to disagree, and I feel like if I could state my case once more, that you might see my side of the matter. Some of this may sound familiar, but I am going to lay out my whole argument once again, and I think that you might find yourself nodding in assent.

If my dog defecates on your lawn, then I am legally and ethically obligated to clean it up. I will not argue with that contention. But what if my dog’s gut is in a bind, as happens after stealing a pound of brick cheese, sliced with wax paper separations? Her movements will not be clean, and the breaks will be a mess. But I recognize that if my dog moves her bowels upon your lawn, no matter how gross, it is my duty to pick it up. I think that thus far we are in agreement.

Now consider the case of my dog having a wet movement on your lawn beside a previously extant pile of another dog’s contrivance. I contend that I can choose which pile to pick up, the fresh or the preexisting one. And you replied that I was responsible for my own dog’s bit, and nothing more. It is here that I feel we could not see eye to eye.

But I have thought of an analogy that may get this conversation back in gear. Consider the case of walking down the street and accidentally dropping a gum wrapper. Upon looking down, you notice that there are two gum wrappers, only one of which was yours. Must you investigate to see which one was originally yours, or can you pick up either one and get on your way? I say that the choice is yours. Once the wrapper has hit the ground, it is no longer a singular object that belongs to you, but rather represents a debt you owe to society to pick up one gum wrapper. If, for instance, the wrapper fell in a dank puddle, then you may search out for another wrapper to pick up.

It is like a bank. You don’t get the exact dollar bill that you put in. but you get a dollar bill worth the same amount. But that is an asset and we are talking of liabilities here.

I hope that we can both agree here that your lawn is like a bank. If my dog makes a deposit, I will withdraw it or one equal to it. If you want to argue on equality then we are at a different logical step of this argument.

I hope that this extrication of the matter helped out a bit. And I hope that next time you will refrain from calling me a “hobo-sexual” as I walk by your house.

Sincerely, Your Down the Street Neighbor

Responses:

1) Nice, fancy words you used in your argument (or do you
prefer the British “arguement”). Typical of a
liberal, intellectual fascist. You people can explain
away anything. You chose to pick up the mess that was
easier to clean up. Case closed. You acted selfishly.

2)Dog poop is not a fungible commodity. You’re just a person who is trying to justify not cleaning up dog diarrhea.

(I am not Porch Guy)

3) That BS logic sounds like an argument my grandma would come up with just to get out of doing something she found unpleasant. Is that you, grandma? Who compares dog poop to gum wrappers- HONESTLY? And who picks up ONLY the gum wrapper that they dropped when there are two on the ground right next to each other? And you would never give a dollar to the bank knowing that the one you got back later would be in the form of a liquid, would you? Goodness, it’s hard to know what to even respond to with that post, it’s so ridiculous.

P.S. Hobo-sexual! That’s a good one. Maybe he wouldn’t call you that if you didn’t have sex with hobos.

P.P.S. You and your dog smell bad.

4) So then you would have no problem if you and I were in line at the movies and we both dropped our wallets simultaneously, mine containing only a $20 and yours containing your recently cashed paycheck and I pick yours up instead of mine. As you said, “I say that the choice is yours.” Would you have a problem with that?

5) Uh, you don’t get it. You are responsible for your own dogs shit. If your dogs was allowed to eat something fowl, that also is your responsibility. The shit, no matter how stinky or runny, is your responsibility. You are saying; if you son is throwing rocks and breaks a picture window, but there is a pre-existing crack in a small casement window, you should be allowed to pay for the small one??? THE LAW says you are wrong, and I shall quote here, “Allowing a dog to “go to the bathroom” on school grounds, a City park or other public or private property (It is not considered to be a nuisance violation if you immediately clean up after your dog – called “Poop-Scoop” laws in most communities); Allowing your pet to scratch, dig or defecate on any lawn, tree, shrub, plant, building or any other public or private property other than that of the owner or person in charge or control of the animal.”

Be a responsible pet owner, keep you pet out of inappropriate foodstuffs. Clean up after him/her.

6) nah. nope. no way. not fair.

i am not a dog owner, or a property owner (yet). BUT: this is bullshit. or, rather, dogshit.

Pick up the crap *your* dog dumps, and not some other crap. why would you want to scoop someone else’s dogshit, unless it was easier to clean up than your own dog’s shit?? that’s just not fair or right. you make it sound like your own dog may have had some massive & messy pooping going on, and you didn’t want to clean it up, so you went for the old dried poop instead. CHEATER!!!!

better still: keep your dog from pooping on other people’s property. i don’t think ANYONE appreciates that, even if you do clean it up.

i don’t think it IS like a bank. i think you should clean YOUR dog’s poop, and YOUR dog’s poop only.

7) First off, thank you for that insight into insanity. Your swiss cheese logic had me rolling on the floor. You don’t get to choose a nicer poop to pick up if youre unhappy with the excrement your dog dispenses. Don’t be a jerk. Clean up your dog’s diarrhea AND PICK UP YOUR GUM WRAPPER WHILE YOU’RE AT!

8) Yeah, that may be the worst logic I have ever heard. Just grow up and pick up your dog’s icky poop and be glad this guy didn’t give you any more grief. If you are that immature, maybe you should rethink having a pet in the first place.

There were about a dozen more, but they largely became repetitive. So my question is, why did this incident/ letter make people so angry?