August and Everything After...

I was going to comment on how easy we forget the terrific things we do (eg. Hiroshima/Nagasaki, Downing Memo, hiding the dead bodies that occupy coffins as they parade into our country for mass burial) but didn't want to go on some harangue, being pompous and disconnected.

Instead an observation: It is amazing the irony in the word and it's qualitative implications, life. It would appear to the common man, the better "life" you have, the less you actually live. If one has a great life, it probably implies that s/he has a large vehicle that hinders her/him from walking with nature; more than likely a nice home in which s/he'll reside watching her/his t.v. screen, privy to the outdoors, the living organisms, even to her/his very own breath amid the redolent flora and fauna. It would seem that the more we seek out this "grandeur of life", the more we seek to evade the quintessential simplicity of the word...strange isn't it?

I'm off to see Kings of Leon tonight with Helios Sequence and I can only be grateful that I'm finally getting to see some more of the live music scene for which I wanted to spend the summer in Atlanta. Work has been demanding, and of late frustrating, but all in all I'm learning that the service industry is exactly that; slavery (I've never been precocious). It's prompting me to move on quicker than I had intended which only leaves me with a bit less "guita" than I had hoped for after my splurge to my beloved land, Argentina.

To the Arts: I finished reading "Winter of Our Discontent" shortly after the last post and found it to be characteristically, brilliant Steinbeck. Although I find his short stories entertaining with a nice thoughtful message, his longer novels involve such a simple depth of character, reminding me of Kerouac, and his concluding chapter/pages are always of a manner that slow you into another dimension of time that divulges the myriad ideas that you may have missed along the way and tie them together with the confounding simplicity a child conveys when he's shown how to lace his shoes for the first time.

I quickly picked up a Portuguese author I've wanted to read since my buddy Josh from Chicago recommended him, Jose Saramago. Although I've yet to get ahold of his most renown novel "Blindness", I had access to "All the Names" about a clerk who works in the Central Registry for the living and the dead. It is amazing the clarity that rips through the pages, especially when you realize that not once is there a quotation mark in one paragraph that might contain several conversations. Brilliantly clever in his ability to demonstrate to the reader the disparate nature of a conversation with another and the inner thoughts that we all have thrown into our soul for some response. It shows how when a man sets off to discover an unknown woman who ostensibly seems to be disconnected from his being, he actually discovers more about himself than he ever knew; and although she might not be related to him in a genetical sense, it reveals the confluence of humanity that is indexed in life and death. A great starter for me that has aroused me to explore for more, particularly "Blindness". The current read, one that I'm ashamed to admit not having read, "Brave New World" is so addictive and has me turning the pages sharing the triumph that Huxley has celebrated in articulating something so imaginative in his era, yet so relevant to current affairs. It is striking me with the same mallet that "Atlas Shrugged" did. A note of inner-petulance that we, as a species, have somehow been so ignorant to disregard the antecedent creators of an absurd world, a scary reality that we have somehow come to accept in action, but defied in literature some 50 years ago. I also checked out--yes, an actual library with actual books that I can read for absolutely nothing...no excuses--some other works of his to witness his development which is interesting in so many artists.

In music, I've been dabbling with the likes of the band I'll see tonight; I recommend "Taper Jean Girl", "Slow Night, So Long", and "Bucket" to get a taste. I've also returned a little to the Tangotronic/Electrotango of Argentina Contemporario if you will; listen to Tanghetto and Gotan Project both of which are compilations. But the new band that I'm promoting this post (especially to you Kyle)is The Shins whose "Young Pilgrim" has me singing to our govt. and "Saint Simon" just has me "la la la-ing" to the rhythmical lyrics that seem to make so much sense, and finally "Pink Bullets" is melodically anecdotal...but really the entire album is just the freshness that I needed; go buy it, "Chutes Too Narrow".

I finally got some more Kitano under my skin Mauro (certainly not the last)..."Kikujiro", the tale of a boy who just wants to find his mother, finds instead an old irritable man turn into an entertaining compassionate father-figure with some roaming thespians whose ad-hoc provokes the much needed laughter of a sweet child. I didn't find as much camera manipulation in this as in "Zaitoichi", which I have to say is why I'm continually drawn to Japanese cinema; their use with the dimension of time is certainly astral. I will say that his element of double exposure showed up with the banging of the gong and the chiming of the clock. 'Brilliant', I thought...I recalled an observation that I mentioned to you that the orient is much more in tune with nature's beat, both in music and in time; and "Beat" Takeshi fused the two, as our cultures were to be, later. Although it's several decades old, I found him so clever in his ingenuity of masking nudity. Waiting in the wing is Kurosawa's "Rashomon". I'm so happy you turned me onto this very interesting and surprisingly invigorating variant of cinematic intake.

The Coen Brothers...

This weekend, I rented a few movies directed by the Ethan and Joel, and more than anything, this is just an analysis of "Barton Fink" which is a brilliant film. I hope that you Mauro, will go rent this (again?) and compare notes to things that made you go "hmmm". Keep in mind at the end of each post you can post a comment to which I can respond, etc.
At first, I thought that The Earle itself was hell, but now am inclined to think that it’s one of the many regions of hell. One indicant that supports this is Mayhew’s reference to “all good writers end up in Hollywood at some point” and then something to the affect that “maybe that’s why we’ve developed such a strong thirst”, obviously implying the heat of hell. I’m sure you noticed the 666 reference when he enters the elevator; “6 please”, “next stop 6”, and finally, “this stop, 6”. The shoes outside the door waiting for collection to shine are symbols of transportation to me. I infer that it somehow represents their abandonment, burning of a bridge if you will, of transport to another dimension…at least temporarily because most all of them actually come to put them on again. It’s so obvious when you realize that this is a main theme all the expletives are not without import…”Jesus, that’s a load off.” “Ah, hell” “Well that be damned and I just feel like hell about it”.
I find the mosquitoes interesting, because as Charlie (Goodman) notes, mosquitoes aren’t suppose to sustain well in arid environments; however, there omnipresent in this hell-hole (pun intended). I think that this is a representation of a major theme in the movie which is Fink’s constant ‘shutting out’ of basic feelings of man. Mauro, you’ve read much more Nietzsche than have I and consequently will probably understand immediately the importance of this theme. According to Nietzsche’s theories, beauty in art is derived from everything irrational in human beings; true beauty can not be calculated, it isn’t a derivative of logic or rational thoughts, rather the darker, deeper, more barbaric and primitive the sentiments and state of being, the more beautiful and pure the art…this is what I understand. (In one example of this, the Coen brothers show us in hell, Charlie is fully aware of man’s desires and their constancy in hiding them when Charlie shows the underside of his tie that dons a naked woman). So we have Fink who has always tended to the intellect for his plays (he’s from NYC for Shiite’s sake) and has now come to Hollywood to get a decent paycheck. He constantly claims that he’s writing for the common man, and the only way to get to real theatre, real art, real beauty is by experiencing pain, yet he hasn’t reached that nadir yet. In relation to this, I found that he constantly cut off Charlie in his anecdotes, shutting out the element of man that’s always been privy to him, and at the same time the very thing he must confront in order to achieve that which is his desire. Audrey is another example of him shutting out the basic inclinations of man. In the end, he gives in to the avatar of examples in man’s ultimate desire for a woman. In this scene, we hear Audrey again say that “all anyone needs is a little understanding” which is the point of understanding the truer nature of our deeper selves. I also note the importance of her saying, “sometimes instead of a waif, Bill would chose to protect an idiot man-child; the studio hated that…some of the scripts were so…spirited.” I see this as society rejecting (hating) the idea of having to protect the very thing it has always protected; like wanting it to remain hidden and now it’s exposed as the veritable action we’ve always taken. Keep in mind, “spirited” is not just a random word, for the Coen brothers aren’t profligate in any way; as is the import of “idiot man-child” referring to the mind as the most essential quality of man.
When he wakes, he slips down the cover and finds a mosquito drawing blood from Audrey; this will allow me to expound the importance of the insect in saying that it represents a fundamental aspect of nature and life. The mosquito wanting to “draw out” that which it needs from the liquid of our lives, and more importantly the rejection that Fink displays in swatting it is in concordance with his rejection of the common man; blood splatters in a nice clean circle (circle of life) and reveals to him that which is inevitable…”it is, you mustn’t deny it Fink.” In this instance of rejecting one of nature’s events, he finds that he has killed the thing that was trying to show him the way to himself. Again, he has pushed out the idea of the common man, as he did with Charlie, as he has done with himself.
In regard to the mind vs. the deeper element, Charlie constantly is trying to “help” Fink realize his mistake. He misquotes at one point, “what’s that phrase…where there’s a head, there’s hope?” Fink quickly corrects, “No Charlie, where there’s LIFE there’s hope” without realizing the essence. Another statement that Charlie makes, the Coens are soooo brilliant, “I understand Bart, when things get all messed up at the head office, it can make your life hell.” A very interesting scene is when Charlie is taking away Audrey’s body, her head hits the dresser on the way out…this can not be a coincidence. Just after this, Barton’s head falls back and hits the bathroom wall and he passes out only to be awaken by Charlie who is slapping his face. Charlie at another point walks out, saying, “this must be hell to a guy like you…you know, a guy from New York” (citing the intellect) then walks out hitting his head saying, “this heat”. These are all things that can be easily missed but are so important to the thematic expression they’re driving at. Finally, when Lipnick says, “your mind is the property of Capitol Pictures and Capitol Pictures isn’t going to produce anything you produce.” I think that it’s a way of the writer’s saying, so what…art doesn’t originate from the mind, so have it! **When Charlie delivers the “parcel” to Fink and says something to the affect of, “nothing important, just some personal things I didn’t want to drag along. Amazing isn’t it? Everything that’s important, all the things ya wanna keep from a lifetime, you can fit into a little box.” When Fink walks out of the room, out of hell, he is walking with the parcel which represents his head being detached from his body…he’s walking with it, but it’s not the thing that is the drive of all else. Finally, he is free from the “hell” that has contained him…his mind.
There are really many other things that I noticed, but can’t find a congruent thought to follow it that is sound.

I also watched “Blood Simple” and “Hudsucker Proxy” with “Barton Fink” and found them very interesting in so many facets; however, BF remained the better of the three and had me smiling with my head shaking, “no way!” These brother’s are certainly becoming a favorite of mine, and I can see that watching there movies several times over will bring more and more realizations of things missed, but things that add to their ultimate explication of something that is important to them, something that the main audience have missed so far.

...just clap your hands

After reading "East of Eden" in Seoul, I found an amazing affinity with the style that Steinbeck imbues; thus, I've gone on a little SteinSpree. First, there was "The Pearl" which I found to be a more modern and more laymen version of "The Prophet" (Gilbran)...laymen in the way Kerouac would tell a story; pull up by the fire and just tell a tale. Then came "Tortilla Flat" which I find a humorous assortment of accounts that show how silly justification of our virtue can be when seen without the dressing. TF reminded me so much of Don Quixote with its randomness of 'rescue' and prominent plight of everday people that provoke laughter unfettered. Both of these are quite short reads and connived me to continue with "The Winter of Our Discontent".

I've come across some incredible sonorous vibes. Mauro, you have to go out and buy Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah! right now...do not investigate it, do not even think about it...if you've ever trusted me in anything, trust that you will absolutely love the incomprehensible vocals of Ounsworth and find that it falls somewhere in between Flaming Lips and Ween, with a Talking Heads vibes.
Sleater Kinney is another band that has raptured me with its screaming melody that isn't pop punk but not an angry "I hate life" metal either. These girls will get your hips swingin'. Kristin...I strongly encourage you to go get this entire album. They played live here in ATL, but I missed them because I thought they'd be way to Avril Livigne...I was so misguided in my own stuffiness! Some other bands that I've found to be quite interesting are Wilderness which have great instrumentation with strange off-balanced vocals that I haven't taken the time to interpret...yet; Surfjan Stevens is another NYC band that is making an album for each state, after bummin' around it, and has recently released their "Come on Feel the Illinois" which demonstrates in so many dialects his ability as a musician; just a great album.

Finally, I saw "Team America" and fell off my chair laughing at this witty work by Trey Parker & Matt Stone. An uproarious background of "Hollywood's Finest" satire and parodies abound, the soundtrack will absolutely make you piss yourself, in a weeping emotion of humor, and of course the political snubbing, although not a direct screaming rant, (ie. Michael Moore) is obvious in its entire energy of a film. If you want a screaming comedy and are sick of the slap-stick, cheap humor go out and rent this group of marionettes that will jiggle your notion of comedy upon new strings.

Within the Womb