Thanks to the guys over at VodPod, Black Freighter will now be posting our favorite online videos in the Freighter Films section on your right.
Rarely will I specifically point out a new video added to Freighter Films (down and on the left of your screen), but today's addition of the extended "You Know How I know You're Gay" from The 40 Year Old Virgin and starring Superman and Batman is just so spectacular that had to!
Hope you enjoy!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
2006: When the Past Met the Future
It is my belief that 2006 was a year that film embraced the future of our society more than most. Certainly spurred on by many recent events (9-11, the US Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, civil wars in Africa, etc), films chose many paths towards enlightening people about both history (Pan’s Labyrynth, United 93) or how those who forget history might be doomed…period (Children of Men, V for Vendetta).
Those last 2 might be a stretch in terms of where our future may lead us, but that is why they are so powerful (A subject I promise to return to one day soon, especially in light of Children of Men being ROBBED at the Oscars).
Dystopian movies (and books) bring to life the endpoint for societies that either ignore their problems or put too much faith that others know what is best for them. And it is interesting, for me, to explore these issues as they arise because we live in a world that spreads that gospel that ‘one person can make a difference,’ even while that same world beats down everyone that tries to fit outside the norm.
I might, given the time, address this issue as a whole further. For now, I bring to you my top 10 Favorite Dystopian Films.
A Clockwork Orange
The Matrix
1984
Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
The Terminator
Escape from New York
12 Monkeys
Blade Runner
Children of Men
V for Vendetta
---
Just to give you a list of further great dystopian film out there, here's Donald Keddle of Seoul, Korea's List of 25 Great Dystopian Movies
Those last 2 might be a stretch in terms of where our future may lead us, but that is why they are so powerful (A subject I promise to return to one day soon, especially in light of Children of Men being ROBBED at the Oscars).
Dystopian movies (and books) bring to life the endpoint for societies that either ignore their problems or put too much faith that others know what is best for them. And it is interesting, for me, to explore these issues as they arise because we live in a world that spreads that gospel that ‘one person can make a difference,’ even while that same world beats down everyone that tries to fit outside the norm.
I might, given the time, address this issue as a whole further. For now, I bring to you my top 10 Favorite Dystopian Films.
A Clockwork Orange
The Matrix
1984
Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
The Terminator
Escape from New York
12 Monkeys
Blade Runner
Children of Men
V for Vendetta
---
Just to give you a list of further great dystopian film out there, here's Donald Keddle of Seoul, Korea's List of 25 Great Dystopian Movies
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Point Break
Upon opening my in-box today I found a message from my friend Miguel, reminding me that tonight was opening night for the off-off-off Broadway premiere of Point Break: The Show.
Within your head mockery ensues, but keep in mind that Broadway has recently seen Wedding Singer: The Musical, High Fidelity: The Musical, and On Golden Pond: The Musical.
Also remember that Urinetown won a Tony a few years back. So anything is possible.
So here's my case for why this could be a sleeper hit.
1) Keanu Kitsch
You absolutely know that the first time the actor in the Johnny Utah role says 'Whoa' that's a standing ovation.
2) Patrick Swayze: The Comeback
Not enough credit is given to the man who in a very short time span pulled off Red Dawn and Dirty Dancing. People freely talk about the range of actors like Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire, but do you think they could pull off those 2 roles? Exactly. And that's why it;'s about time Swayze gets his due.
3) Surfers
Surfers are in dude. And I dare you to name the last Broadway show about surfers...Score points for originality.
4) Who will play Gary Busey?
Aren't you curious who would dare try to step into this role? Are you scared or excited about the possibility that there might be someone who could out-Busey Busey?
5) Ex-Presidents
Bank robbing surfers wearing President masks. It's awesome. And yet also such a credible commentary on today's political scene. This movie was ahead of its time. It knew where are presidents would one day lead us: red dresses, cigars, impeachment, needless wars, gross negligence of the economy...This movie made a statement that we missed the first time around. I beg of you all...Pay heed now...
---
For Tickets:
Point Break: The Show
For Rankinblog's Take:
All-Time Stupidest Movies
Within your head mockery ensues, but keep in mind that Broadway has recently seen Wedding Singer: The Musical, High Fidelity: The Musical, and On Golden Pond: The Musical.
Also remember that Urinetown won a Tony a few years back. So anything is possible.
So here's my case for why this could be a sleeper hit.
1) Keanu Kitsch
You absolutely know that the first time the actor in the Johnny Utah role says 'Whoa' that's a standing ovation.
2) Patrick Swayze: The Comeback
Not enough credit is given to the man who in a very short time span pulled off Red Dawn and Dirty Dancing. People freely talk about the range of actors like Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire, but do you think they could pull off those 2 roles? Exactly. And that's why it;'s about time Swayze gets his due.
3) Surfers
Surfers are in dude. And I dare you to name the last Broadway show about surfers...Score points for originality.
4) Who will play Gary Busey?
Aren't you curious who would dare try to step into this role? Are you scared or excited about the possibility that there might be someone who could out-Busey Busey?
5) Ex-Presidents
Bank robbing surfers wearing President masks. It's awesome. And yet also such a credible commentary on today's political scene. This movie was ahead of its time. It knew where are presidents would one day lead us: red dresses, cigars, impeachment, needless wars, gross negligence of the economy...This movie made a statement that we missed the first time around. I beg of you all...Pay heed now...
---
For Tickets:
Point Break: The Show
For Rankinblog's Take:
All-Time Stupidest Movies
Monday, January 22, 2007
Body Modification
I feel that it takes one with a healthy amount of self-esteem to have the audacity to judge another for the way the act, talk, or dress. I remember being incredibly taken back by a friend's inability to get over his girlfriend's choice to get a tattoo. And that he never forgave her for it.
At 19, during what I suppose was my largest identity crisis, I went so far as to pierce my ear, which while no big deal to the world at large, was quite a big deal to the large world (aka my father and his home) to which I returned each evening. At the time I thought I was making a statement with that and the way I grew my hair out.
My wife has a small tattoo on her right ankle. I've very little opinion on it. I think both of our families reject its existence by always acting surprised when they see it. It doesn't define her though. It just tells me that she likes lizards. Also that she probably has a much high pain threshold than I do.
Another friend of mine once dated a girl with a tongue ring and bragged of that fact from the rooftops. Of course, I don't think he ever got what he was looking or from her, so what's the difference.
I find belly-button rings incredibly sexy. I mean, eye-catchingly, mesmerizingly sexy. Yet if you asked me if I wanted my wife to get one, I'd say no. I don't know why. Maybe I'm afraid of cold metal brushing up against me when I'm naked. Or maybe I just think that it would lower it's appeal over time, sort of like how you'd lose holiday spirit if you kept your Christmas lights up all year round.
Now that I've got that rant out of the way, I have to say that the latest generation of body modifications scare the Bejesus out of me. I think the links below can spell out better than I exactly how far people are willing to take measures to not only find their identity, but essentially to 'brand' themselves.
Time has shown me that it is not what we do to our body that defines us, but what we use our body to do. I just hope that the people that undertake the measures below understand that.
---
Eyeglasses
Wristwatch
At 19, during what I suppose was my largest identity crisis, I went so far as to pierce my ear, which while no big deal to the world at large, was quite a big deal to the large world (aka my father and his home) to which I returned each evening. At the time I thought I was making a statement with that and the way I grew my hair out.
My wife has a small tattoo on her right ankle. I've very little opinion on it. I think both of our families reject its existence by always acting surprised when they see it. It doesn't define her though. It just tells me that she likes lizards. Also that she probably has a much high pain threshold than I do.
Another friend of mine once dated a girl with a tongue ring and bragged of that fact from the rooftops. Of course, I don't think he ever got what he was looking or from her, so what's the difference.
I find belly-button rings incredibly sexy. I mean, eye-catchingly, mesmerizingly sexy. Yet if you asked me if I wanted my wife to get one, I'd say no. I don't know why. Maybe I'm afraid of cold metal brushing up against me when I'm naked. Or maybe I just think that it would lower it's appeal over time, sort of like how you'd lose holiday spirit if you kept your Christmas lights up all year round.
Now that I've got that rant out of the way, I have to say that the latest generation of body modifications scare the Bejesus out of me. I think the links below can spell out better than I exactly how far people are willing to take measures to not only find their identity, but essentially to 'brand' themselves.
Time has shown me that it is not what we do to our body that defines us, but what we use our body to do. I just hope that the people that undertake the measures below understand that.
---
Eyeglasses
Wristwatch
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Southern Comfort Music Fund
Watching the Saints in action this weekend made me well aware of how the country as a whole (well maybe not Chicago, New England, or Indiana) will likely rally around their run to the Super Bowl. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina it would appear downright disrespectful and un-patriotic not to root for them, right?
Or maybe we should just look at the bigger picture, which is that it's time for Americans to support the rebuilding of New Orleans because of desire and not guilt. Southern Comfort is helping us as citizens to recognize that difference. So see below and don't feel bad if you want to root for Peyton and the Colts.
---
Southern Comfort, created in New Orleans, is launching the SoCo Music Fund to help raise awareness and funds for the musicians and music culture of the Big Easy.
The fund's Web site, www.socomusicfund.org, features a collection of eight 3-5 minute films featuring artists and groups explaining the aspects of New Orleans music. The stories are comprised of performance footage with interviews and background. Artists explain why so many great artists either didn't leave New Orleans or are returning to New Orleans to start the music back up.
With a donation of $10 or more, visitors to the Web site will receive a copy of the "Start the Music Up" soundtrack CD. The money will go toward the New Orleans Habitat for Humanity Musicians Village and support the New Orleans Musicians Hurricane Relief Fund.
"Music is important in terms of regenerating the 'life' of New Orleans," said, Jordan Hirsch, director of the New Orleans Musicians Hurricane Relief Fund. "It is what connects the people to the city and it reminds us why we want to return and why we should rebuild. New Orleans' music culture cannot be recreated anywhere else in the world."
Southern Comfort Music Fund
Or maybe we should just look at the bigger picture, which is that it's time for Americans to support the rebuilding of New Orleans because of desire and not guilt. Southern Comfort is helping us as citizens to recognize that difference. So see below and don't feel bad if you want to root for Peyton and the Colts.
---
Southern Comfort, created in New Orleans, is launching the SoCo Music Fund to help raise awareness and funds for the musicians and music culture of the Big Easy.
The fund's Web site, www.socomusicfund.org, features a collection of eight 3-5 minute films featuring artists and groups explaining the aspects of New Orleans music. The stories are comprised of performance footage with interviews and background. Artists explain why so many great artists either didn't leave New Orleans or are returning to New Orleans to start the music back up.
With a donation of $10 or more, visitors to the Web site will receive a copy of the "Start the Music Up" soundtrack CD. The money will go toward the New Orleans Habitat for Humanity Musicians Village and support the New Orleans Musicians Hurricane Relief Fund.
"Music is important in terms of regenerating the 'life' of New Orleans," said, Jordan Hirsch, director of the New Orleans Musicians Hurricane Relief Fund. "It is what connects the people to the city and it reminds us why we want to return and why we should rebuild. New Orleans' music culture cannot be recreated anywhere else in the world."
Southern Comfort Music Fund
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The Postman Only Rings Once
In the upcoming film, GRINDHOUSE, Directors Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez present two full-length movies in a new horror double feature stylized in the old 1970s 'grindhouse' exploitation manner.
Now AintitCool News is reporting a very clever promotion that the filmmakers and the SXSW film festival are doing, where they are calling for trailers for 'fake' grindhouse movies (under 2 minutes in length).
This contest struck enough of a chord in me that I decided to give writing a concept a shot. And thus THE POSTMAN ONLY RINGS ONCE was born...
---
Cue Music open: Love, American Style, remixed slightly.
Voice Over reads: Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays The Postman from the swift completion of his appointed rounds. But in his neighborhood, he only rings once...And you'd better not answer!
We’re inside a house as an attractive woman parades around in next to nothing. Then the sickness blasts onto the screen as “The Postman” rings, then kicks down the door and attacks the woman. Quick cuts between a series of bloody rapes and the postman interacting with the neighborhood (getting along with dogs, children, etc).
All hell breaks loose though at the end, when a woman fights back by grabbing a letter and giving The Postman a paper cut across the face.
Cut to a woman racing down the street as The Postman chases her in his Mail Truck. Close up on his face through the windshield. He smiles in a sickeningly plastic and malicious way.
Cut to THE POSTMAN smiling and talking to local man:
“You know, you just can’t get this kind of service from Fed Ex.”
---
Toysrevil has a hell of an idea himself and it looks like he's been developing it for quite a while. Check it out. It deserves to be noticed.
Red Star
Now AintitCool News is reporting a very clever promotion that the filmmakers and the SXSW film festival are doing, where they are calling for trailers for 'fake' grindhouse movies (under 2 minutes in length).
This contest struck enough of a chord in me that I decided to give writing a concept a shot. And thus THE POSTMAN ONLY RINGS ONCE was born...
---
Cue Music open: Love, American Style, remixed slightly.
Voice Over reads: Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays The Postman from the swift completion of his appointed rounds. But in his neighborhood, he only rings once...And you'd better not answer!
We’re inside a house as an attractive woman parades around in next to nothing. Then the sickness blasts onto the screen as “The Postman” rings, then kicks down the door and attacks the woman. Quick cuts between a series of bloody rapes and the postman interacting with the neighborhood (getting along with dogs, children, etc).
All hell breaks loose though at the end, when a woman fights back by grabbing a letter and giving The Postman a paper cut across the face.
Cut to a woman racing down the street as The Postman chases her in his Mail Truck. Close up on his face through the windshield. He smiles in a sickeningly plastic and malicious way.
Cut to THE POSTMAN smiling and talking to local man:
“You know, you just can’t get this kind of service from Fed Ex.”
---
Toysrevil has a hell of an idea himself and it looks like he's been developing it for quite a while. Check it out. It deserves to be noticed.
Red Star
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
The Truly Golden Globe
Last night, watching the Golden Globes, I realized that the theatre is fast becoming the new UN. As politics inspire the masses (and not always in a good way), we see more and more films enter the multiplex will a message meant to be shouted to the masses.
It’s cyclical. Vietnam bred the Deer Hunter and Apocolypse Now. Reaganomics bred Wall Street. The Information age bred everything from Enemy of the State to the Net.
We live in turbulent political times, 9/11, Wars in the Middle East, Liberals vs. Conservations, Bush vs. Everyone, and the list goes on. With times like these it is not surprising to see our lives placed before us on screen. I’m a writer. I write from life. That’s how it works. I expect no different from anyone else.
Of course, the longer we find ourselves burdened by our politics, the more often we will find artists go to the well to prove a point.
What’s worth noting is that this is not a phenomenon unique to the United States. Just look at some of the years most acclaimed movies:
United 93
(Directed by Paul Greengrass, England)
The Queen
(Directed by Stephen Frears, England)
Babel
(Directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, Mexico)
The Last King of Scotland
(Directed by Kevin McDonald, Scotland)
The Children of Men
(Directed by Alfonso Cuaron, Mexico)
Pan’s Labrynth
(Directed Guillermo Del Toro, Mexico)
L’Enfant
(Directed by Jean Pierre and Luc Dardenne, Belgium)
Letters from Iwo Jima / Flags of Our Fathers
(Directed by Clint Eastwood, United States)
And so maybe you will need to search harder to find the escapism you often seek at the bottom of a popcorn bucket. I’m sure the opening weekend grosses of Spiderman 3, Shrek 3, and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End will show that without a doubt.
Meanwhile, for those of you concerned about a lack of discussion on the part of the international community, I say that perhaps your best bet for intelligent debate will not be found within the UN borders of First Avenue west, East 42nd Street south, East 48th Street north and the East River east, but rather within the four walls of your local cinema.
---
And then, under everyone's radar (because they weren't allowed to see it) is Mike Judge's Idiocracy.
It’s cyclical. Vietnam bred the Deer Hunter and Apocolypse Now. Reaganomics bred Wall Street. The Information age bred everything from Enemy of the State to the Net.
We live in turbulent political times, 9/11, Wars in the Middle East, Liberals vs. Conservations, Bush vs. Everyone, and the list goes on. With times like these it is not surprising to see our lives placed before us on screen. I’m a writer. I write from life. That’s how it works. I expect no different from anyone else.
Of course, the longer we find ourselves burdened by our politics, the more often we will find artists go to the well to prove a point.
What’s worth noting is that this is not a phenomenon unique to the United States. Just look at some of the years most acclaimed movies:
United 93
(Directed by Paul Greengrass, England)
The Queen
(Directed by Stephen Frears, England)
Babel
(Directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, Mexico)
The Last King of Scotland
(Directed by Kevin McDonald, Scotland)
The Children of Men
(Directed by Alfonso Cuaron, Mexico)
Pan’s Labrynth
(Directed Guillermo Del Toro, Mexico)
L’Enfant
(Directed by Jean Pierre and Luc Dardenne, Belgium)
Letters from Iwo Jima / Flags of Our Fathers
(Directed by Clint Eastwood, United States)
And so maybe you will need to search harder to find the escapism you often seek at the bottom of a popcorn bucket. I’m sure the opening weekend grosses of Spiderman 3, Shrek 3, and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End will show that without a doubt.
Meanwhile, for those of you concerned about a lack of discussion on the part of the international community, I say that perhaps your best bet for intelligent debate will not be found within the UN borders of First Avenue west, East 42nd Street south, East 48th Street north and the East River east, but rather within the four walls of your local cinema.
---
And then, under everyone's radar (because they weren't allowed to see it) is Mike Judge's Idiocracy.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Band on the Rise
The current incarnation of Building James was derived from a sense of urgency. Not, ‘I just impregnated my girlfriend’ urgency, though. Or even, ‘I have to go to the restroom’ urgency. No, this was urgency on a whole other level.
It was the urgency born of a sense of destiny.
The destiny to create catchy tunes that adhere to your brain like extra strength crazy glue. But it wasn’t always that way.
Born, raised, and still living near the same working class area of Manchester, New Hampshire, Buckner takes a bewildered approach towards the history of how Building James came to be.
“The story of Ben and I began back in the fall of 1991, when the band "inferno" was born. Ben and I had never met, but we both knew this kid Jaime Bourque, and Jaime asked me if I'd be interested in joining his band,” recalls guitarist and vocalist Daniel Buckner.
With a soft, conversational tone, Buckner recounts these early days with an equal sense of embarrassment and pride, recognizing that his social skills have grown in equal measure to his musical ones.
“The first time I got the courage up to speak to Ben he comes over and we delved into one of those awkward conversations between two people who really don't have a whole lot to say. I think I said something like "Aren't you the guy that is playing in that band with Jaime Bourque? I think we're going to be playing together." And Ben probably said something like "Yeah, I heard that.”
Now, watching the duo rehearse so playfully, that sense of awkwardness seems as distant a memory as the music that initially bound and divided them back in those early years.
“At this time in history, Nirvana's 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' was reining the airwaves. And I REALLY didn't like the song, probably mostly because MY BROTHER did. I saw the CD that Ben had, and in my head I'm thinking "Ugh. This dork is following the herd. Whatever." In a totally uncharacteristic move for me (at the time), I kept my mouth shut. It's probably the only reason we're friends today. I also openly admit how wrong I was. That album kicks ass,” admits Buckner.
Relationships have always remained at the core, providing the strength that separates band that forever light up the night sky, like U2, from the shooting stars that have burnt up like the Eagles. That’s why; both Dan and Ben believe that, while the music from those early days may have long since fallen away, the foundation for all the music that is to come was built all those years ago.
“It wasn't until we changed our practice location to a rented space in Bow, NH that Ben and I truly became friends. Because of the move, I began riding out to practice with Ben. I can remember the uncomfortable first ride, and the sparse conversation. And then we found out that we were both born with a nearly identical sense of humor. From that point on, I don't think there have more than a handful of serious conversations between us.”
Inferno never really caught fire, despite everyone’s hard work the hard work. Unfortunately, their next band, The Flytones, suffered the same ill fate. But both experiences, as well as the life experiences that they have shared in that time, have only strengthened the resolve that both men have in the construction of their new band, Building James.
“We've been through bands, babies, break-ups and marriages. And we are always there for one another. Our friendship transcends any band we may be playing in, and to be entirely honest, our friendship is probably a contributing factor to why the Flytones broke up.”
Conveying that very sense of honesty that drives his lyrics, Buckner admits that the unity that makes Building James so unique, may in fact have been a destructive force in previous times.
“Ben and I can be VERY difficult to be around because we form our own circle. It was probably very uncomfortable for Aaron, and it wouldn't surprise me if he felt somewhat the third wheel in the band where he was the leader. Not that we didn't LOVE Aaron, because we did. He was absolutely one of my best friends, and I knew him longer than I had known Ben. But Ben is my best friend, and I am his. That certainly lends itself to someone feeling like the odd man out.”
Currently, Building James is putting the finishing touches on it’s new EP, as well as awaiting the final edit for the video for it’s first single, Kate’s Apartment. And while juggling familial and career responsibilities has deterred many artists, Ben and Dan refuse to give up on what they both see as a shared fate.
“We joke about how this current incarnation of our work was inspired by divine intervention, but the truth is that, musically and personally speaking, Ben and I have an intertwined destiny. Now it’s up to us to figure out what that means.”
---
Check out the Building James blog or their myspace to hear the latest buzz about the band.
Building James on Myspace
It was the urgency born of a sense of destiny.
The destiny to create catchy tunes that adhere to your brain like extra strength crazy glue. But it wasn’t always that way.
Born, raised, and still living near the same working class area of Manchester, New Hampshire, Buckner takes a bewildered approach towards the history of how Building James came to be.
“The story of Ben and I began back in the fall of 1991, when the band "inferno" was born. Ben and I had never met, but we both knew this kid Jaime Bourque, and Jaime asked me if I'd be interested in joining his band,” recalls guitarist and vocalist Daniel Buckner.
With a soft, conversational tone, Buckner recounts these early days with an equal sense of embarrassment and pride, recognizing that his social skills have grown in equal measure to his musical ones.
“The first time I got the courage up to speak to Ben he comes over and we delved into one of those awkward conversations between two people who really don't have a whole lot to say. I think I said something like "Aren't you the guy that is playing in that band with Jaime Bourque? I think we're going to be playing together." And Ben probably said something like "Yeah, I heard that.”
Now, watching the duo rehearse so playfully, that sense of awkwardness seems as distant a memory as the music that initially bound and divided them back in those early years.
“At this time in history, Nirvana's 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' was reining the airwaves. And I REALLY didn't like the song, probably mostly because MY BROTHER did. I saw the CD that Ben had, and in my head I'm thinking "Ugh. This dork is following the herd. Whatever." In a totally uncharacteristic move for me (at the time), I kept my mouth shut. It's probably the only reason we're friends today. I also openly admit how wrong I was. That album kicks ass,” admits Buckner.
Relationships have always remained at the core, providing the strength that separates band that forever light up the night sky, like U2, from the shooting stars that have burnt up like the Eagles. That’s why; both Dan and Ben believe that, while the music from those early days may have long since fallen away, the foundation for all the music that is to come was built all those years ago.
“It wasn't until we changed our practice location to a rented space in Bow, NH that Ben and I truly became friends. Because of the move, I began riding out to practice with Ben. I can remember the uncomfortable first ride, and the sparse conversation. And then we found out that we were both born with a nearly identical sense of humor. From that point on, I don't think there have more than a handful of serious conversations between us.”
Inferno never really caught fire, despite everyone’s hard work the hard work. Unfortunately, their next band, The Flytones, suffered the same ill fate. But both experiences, as well as the life experiences that they have shared in that time, have only strengthened the resolve that both men have in the construction of their new band, Building James.
“We've been through bands, babies, break-ups and marriages. And we are always there for one another. Our friendship transcends any band we may be playing in, and to be entirely honest, our friendship is probably a contributing factor to why the Flytones broke up.”
Conveying that very sense of honesty that drives his lyrics, Buckner admits that the unity that makes Building James so unique, may in fact have been a destructive force in previous times.
“Ben and I can be VERY difficult to be around because we form our own circle. It was probably very uncomfortable for Aaron, and it wouldn't surprise me if he felt somewhat the third wheel in the band where he was the leader. Not that we didn't LOVE Aaron, because we did. He was absolutely one of my best friends, and I knew him longer than I had known Ben. But Ben is my best friend, and I am his. That certainly lends itself to someone feeling like the odd man out.”
Currently, Building James is putting the finishing touches on it’s new EP, as well as awaiting the final edit for the video for it’s first single, Kate’s Apartment. And while juggling familial and career responsibilities has deterred many artists, Ben and Dan refuse to give up on what they both see as a shared fate.
“We joke about how this current incarnation of our work was inspired by divine intervention, but the truth is that, musically and personally speaking, Ben and I have an intertwined destiny. Now it’s up to us to figure out what that means.”
---
Check out the Building James blog or their myspace to hear the latest buzz about the band.
Building James on Myspace
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Shirts For A Cure
The Syrentha J. Savio Endowment (SSE) was established by punk rock photographer Mark Beemer in 2002. SSE provides financial assistance to underprivileged women who cannot afford expensive breast cancer medicine and therapy. Because SSE is active within the punk rock community, the Shirts For A Cure project was launched to give voice to the social concerns of punk bands and their many fans.
When a band donates a shirt design, the design becomes an SSE exclusive. We sell the shirt and use the proceeds to help women fighting breast cancer. If you would like to support our cause by purchasing a shirt, please click on any of the band names below to see artwork and color schemes. All shirts are printed on 100% pre-shrunk cotton. Each shirt costs $12 plus shipping and handling.
If you're into indie rock, then chances are your favorite band is here, and even if you're not, everyone needs another t-shirt and this is for a good cause. Personally I'm a fan of the Coheed and Cambria and The Used t's. And I've definitely got the Minus the Bear one on pre-order...If this sounds interesting, check it out here...
Shirts for a Cure
When a band donates a shirt design, the design becomes an SSE exclusive. We sell the shirt and use the proceeds to help women fighting breast cancer. If you would like to support our cause by purchasing a shirt, please click on any of the band names below to see artwork and color schemes. All shirts are printed on 100% pre-shrunk cotton. Each shirt costs $12 plus shipping and handling.
If you're into indie rock, then chances are your favorite band is here, and even if you're not, everyone needs another t-shirt and this is for a good cause. Personally I'm a fan of the Coheed and Cambria and The Used t's. And I've definitely got the Minus the Bear one on pre-order...If this sounds interesting, check it out here...
Shirts for a Cure
Friday, January 12, 2007
Let the Sunshine In
Alex Garland is the literary mastermind behing The Beach and The Coma. Danny Boyle is the filmic genius behind A Shallow Grave and Trainspotting. Together they created one of the greatest cult hits of recent years, 28 Days Later. Now they are back together with Sunshine. Here's a peak below.
---
---
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Country
Last night, President Bush decided the best interests of the country lie in sending more troops into battle, despite the fact that, when polled, over 60% of the US was 'overwhelmingly against' sending more troops abroad. So if this is the, what (or who) really is our country?
Smarter people than I have debated this, as you will see in the words directly below.
From Mark Twain:
"For in a republic, who is "the Country"? Is it the Government which is for the moment in the saddle? Why, the Government is merely a servant- merely a temporary servant; it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn't. Its function is to obey orders, not originate them. Who, then, is "the Country"? Is it the newspaper? is it the pulpit? Is it the school superintendent? Why, these are mere parts of the country, not the whole of it; they have not command, they have only their little share in the command. They are but one in a thousand; it is in the thousand that command is lodged; they must determine what is right and what is wrong; they must decide who is a patriot and who isn't. Who are the thousand--that is to say, who are "the Country"? In a monarchy, the king and his family are the country; in a republic it is the common voice of the people. Each of you, for himself, by himself and on his own responsibility, must speak. And it is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of pulpit, press, government, or the empty catch-phrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, and which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man. To decide it against your convictions is to be an unqualified and inexcusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country, let men label you as they may. If you alone of all the nation shall decide on way, and that way be the right way according to your convictions of the right, you have done your duty by yourself and by your country--hold up your head. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
---
And while those were words written at a different time for different people, they were still written for the same reasons.
For a more modern view of last night's events, I point you to a blog called Neo-Neocon, which I find to be an interesting example of the 'new middle' otherwise known as where the post 9-11 confusion has lead democrats and republicans alike.
Neo-Neocon
Smarter people than I have debated this, as you will see in the words directly below.
From Mark Twain:
"For in a republic, who is "the Country"? Is it the Government which is for the moment in the saddle? Why, the Government is merely a servant- merely a temporary servant; it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn't. Its function is to obey orders, not originate them. Who, then, is "the Country"? Is it the newspaper? is it the pulpit? Is it the school superintendent? Why, these are mere parts of the country, not the whole of it; they have not command, they have only their little share in the command. They are but one in a thousand; it is in the thousand that command is lodged; they must determine what is right and what is wrong; they must decide who is a patriot and who isn't. Who are the thousand--that is to say, who are "the Country"? In a monarchy, the king and his family are the country; in a republic it is the common voice of the people. Each of you, for himself, by himself and on his own responsibility, must speak. And it is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of pulpit, press, government, or the empty catch-phrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, and which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man. To decide it against your convictions is to be an unqualified and inexcusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country, let men label you as they may. If you alone of all the nation shall decide on way, and that way be the right way according to your convictions of the right, you have done your duty by yourself and by your country--hold up your head. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
---
And while those were words written at a different time for different people, they were still written for the same reasons.
For a more modern view of last night's events, I point you to a blog called Neo-Neocon, which I find to be an interesting example of the 'new middle' otherwise known as where the post 9-11 confusion has lead democrats and republicans alike.
Neo-Neocon
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Language
As one who often holds the frightening truths of the classic '1984' up to modern day scrutiny (without becoming one of the Lone Gunmen), I find it interesting how language has actually become a political weapon of late. So much so that the 2006 Word of the Year was 'Truthiness.'
And with that, I think the words below are worth remembering.
From Alan Moore:
"George Orwell, in 1984, with his "Newspeak" idea, the idea that a tyrannical government might actually be able to LIMIT the vocabulary and language of a population, and in doing so, because people no longer had so rich a language, no longer had so many WORDS that they were capable of knowing, then they would not have so many CONCEPTS that were within their grasp. That you could limit the intelligence and consciousness of a population simply by limiting their language. This would seem true, but also, the converse would seem true. If you expose people to a more interesting and open form of language, then you might actually expand their consciousness into areas that they perhaps hadn't thought about or considered before."
---
And as if truthiness wasn't frightening enough, the blog 'Crooks and Liars' has shown that Stephen Colbert is so brilliantly illustrating what happens when you take this whole thing a step further...
Factiness
And with that, I think the words below are worth remembering.
From Alan Moore:
"George Orwell, in 1984, with his "Newspeak" idea, the idea that a tyrannical government might actually be able to LIMIT the vocabulary and language of a population, and in doing so, because people no longer had so rich a language, no longer had so many WORDS that they were capable of knowing, then they would not have so many CONCEPTS that were within their grasp. That you could limit the intelligence and consciousness of a population simply by limiting their language. This would seem true, but also, the converse would seem true. If you expose people to a more interesting and open form of language, then you might actually expand their consciousness into areas that they perhaps hadn't thought about or considered before."
---
And as if truthiness wasn't frightening enough, the blog 'Crooks and Liars' has shown that Stephen Colbert is so brilliantly illustrating what happens when you take this whole thing a step further...
Factiness
Diggin In
So it's personal essay time today...
I'm writing these lines after the fact. I began writing with something else in mind and things changed quickly. Funny that I would begin writing about how life changes so quickly and that my writing would follow suit. That would be irony in a completely un-Alanis kind of way.
Rain on your wedding day is actually good luck, and not ironic, just unfortunate.
Anyways, life seems to have caught up with me of late. Not that I didn’t expect that this would eventually happen, just that I didn’t see that life wouldn’t just catch up, but try to pass me on the right.
I wonder if I had gotten out of the blocks quicker if things would be different. If I had thought to save money earlier, traveled less, stayed healthier, if I had put aside my marriage longer, or if I simply worked harder. I wonder if I’ll ever stop wondering about these things.
Life passing you by is a painful experience because it never does it at the start. Life always passes on the final turn. That’s why it always leads to heartbreak.
When I think this, even though love is not the issue, I think about the first girl I ever loved. She probably doesn’t know she was my first love. I don’t even think she realized how strong my feelings were, simply because I was so guarded about my feelings back then.
Her name was Suzanne and she grew up in Long Island with my summer long beach bum friend, Kevin. Kevin is the type of guy who doesn’t let life pass him. He’s more like the guy who tricks life into a false start or doesn’t even race at all.
So anyways, back when we were about 15 or 16, one weekend he brought me to where he grew up because his friends were throwing him a birthday party.
A stranger, surrounded by a close knit group of high school friends, and shy and awkward as can be. You can imagine how little I was enjoying the party at first.
I remember sitting by myself on a lounge chair near the pool listening to Bell Biv Devoe and wondering how much longer I would have to stay at my own friend’s party.
And then I saw this girl. She was magnificent. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Beside her was this guy talking to her about the most egocentric and self-centered things. His words were mindless and I could sense the entrapment she projected from across the pool.
And god, for probably the first time in my life, I didn't think. I just walked across the pool and started talking to her as if our previous conversation had been interrupted. Here was this beautiful stranger who I'd never normally have the courage to strike up a conversation with and I was saving her and we both knew it.
I think of this and I think to myself, this was an occasion where I passed life, instead of letting life pass me.
And this guy walked away and I introduced myself to her in a self-assured way that I’ve never once approached since. We spent ever minute we could together that summer, watching Woody Allen movies, playing chess, and listening to jazz. She was an old soul, like myself, but more so, and if I was 15 going on 30, then our relationship was a crush going on soulmates.
When people like this come into a life like mine, my instincts go all cowboy and such. It becomes about corralling this spirit and making sure it doesn't roam too far from me. She was the first person that knew everything about me. I felt no fear when I was with her, so I didn't feel the need to pretend anymore. She is the person that challenged me to take down my walls and be honest, so if I am open and if I show people more of myself than most, than it is because of her.
We talked and the words meant so much more when they passed between us, as if they were all secrets only we could share, regardless of how important or meaningless they were. There is a moment that often passes in people's life, where for the first time they talk about how time flies because they have been so lost in conversation. I remember that moment like a birthday or mitzvah because when you put yourself to sleep by watching time tick away, you recognize the importance of finding someone that makes that time move faster.
As the summer came to a close I told her how I didn't care how much distance the school year would put between us. How I didn't care about train rides and bus trips and after school jobs that I'd need just to pay for phone calls that rang up ridiculous bills. I told her how blessed I felt that she came into my life and how I didn't and couldn't imagine a life without her. I poured everything out to her, that summer, and that night. But I didn’t tell her I loved her.
Suzanne said a lot of those same things, but differently somehow. Her voice was different and she tended to reorganize the words to mean different things and put up a wall, just in case. But the door was open, if I could just say the words.
But I couldn’t. Or I didn’t. I still don’t know which it was.
And it was at that moment that life, for that race at least, passed me on the final stretch. And I lost that race. And I lost the first person that meant anything to me.
Having fallen in love and found a soulmate, that race means less to me now, just like Tiger Woods probably cares little about losing his first tournament. It’s a memory sure, but one that means so little by comparison to the life he leads.
But the context of the story remains a painful reminder of what my mistakes have cost me. And now here I am again, looking over my shoulder as life catches up, trying to find the strength, the speed, and the desire to fight harder.
All my desires, my wants, my needs; they are all weighing me down, even as they are pushing me to fight even more. That’s how life catches up; it waits and lingers, and makes its move when you are at your weakest.
And I am digging down harder than I ever have before. I just hope it’s hard enough.
---
Living Almost Large seems to be experiencing similar thoughts, so if you too share my perspective, go on by and see yet another, and realize we aren't alone.
I'm writing these lines after the fact. I began writing with something else in mind and things changed quickly. Funny that I would begin writing about how life changes so quickly and that my writing would follow suit. That would be irony in a completely un-Alanis kind of way.
Rain on your wedding day is actually good luck, and not ironic, just unfortunate.
Anyways, life seems to have caught up with me of late. Not that I didn’t expect that this would eventually happen, just that I didn’t see that life wouldn’t just catch up, but try to pass me on the right.
I wonder if I had gotten out of the blocks quicker if things would be different. If I had thought to save money earlier, traveled less, stayed healthier, if I had put aside my marriage longer, or if I simply worked harder. I wonder if I’ll ever stop wondering about these things.
Life passing you by is a painful experience because it never does it at the start. Life always passes on the final turn. That’s why it always leads to heartbreak.
When I think this, even though love is not the issue, I think about the first girl I ever loved. She probably doesn’t know she was my first love. I don’t even think she realized how strong my feelings were, simply because I was so guarded about my feelings back then.
Her name was Suzanne and she grew up in Long Island with my summer long beach bum friend, Kevin. Kevin is the type of guy who doesn’t let life pass him. He’s more like the guy who tricks life into a false start or doesn’t even race at all.
So anyways, back when we were about 15 or 16, one weekend he brought me to where he grew up because his friends were throwing him a birthday party.
A stranger, surrounded by a close knit group of high school friends, and shy and awkward as can be. You can imagine how little I was enjoying the party at first.
I remember sitting by myself on a lounge chair near the pool listening to Bell Biv Devoe and wondering how much longer I would have to stay at my own friend’s party.
And then I saw this girl. She was magnificent. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Beside her was this guy talking to her about the most egocentric and self-centered things. His words were mindless and I could sense the entrapment she projected from across the pool.
And god, for probably the first time in my life, I didn't think. I just walked across the pool and started talking to her as if our previous conversation had been interrupted. Here was this beautiful stranger who I'd never normally have the courage to strike up a conversation with and I was saving her and we both knew it.
I think of this and I think to myself, this was an occasion where I passed life, instead of letting life pass me.
And this guy walked away and I introduced myself to her in a self-assured way that I’ve never once approached since. We spent ever minute we could together that summer, watching Woody Allen movies, playing chess, and listening to jazz. She was an old soul, like myself, but more so, and if I was 15 going on 30, then our relationship was a crush going on soulmates.
When people like this come into a life like mine, my instincts go all cowboy and such. It becomes about corralling this spirit and making sure it doesn't roam too far from me. She was the first person that knew everything about me. I felt no fear when I was with her, so I didn't feel the need to pretend anymore. She is the person that challenged me to take down my walls and be honest, so if I am open and if I show people more of myself than most, than it is because of her.
We talked and the words meant so much more when they passed between us, as if they were all secrets only we could share, regardless of how important or meaningless they were. There is a moment that often passes in people's life, where for the first time they talk about how time flies because they have been so lost in conversation. I remember that moment like a birthday or mitzvah because when you put yourself to sleep by watching time tick away, you recognize the importance of finding someone that makes that time move faster.
As the summer came to a close I told her how I didn't care how much distance the school year would put between us. How I didn't care about train rides and bus trips and after school jobs that I'd need just to pay for phone calls that rang up ridiculous bills. I told her how blessed I felt that she came into my life and how I didn't and couldn't imagine a life without her. I poured everything out to her, that summer, and that night. But I didn’t tell her I loved her.
Suzanne said a lot of those same things, but differently somehow. Her voice was different and she tended to reorganize the words to mean different things and put up a wall, just in case. But the door was open, if I could just say the words.
But I couldn’t. Or I didn’t. I still don’t know which it was.
And it was at that moment that life, for that race at least, passed me on the final stretch. And I lost that race. And I lost the first person that meant anything to me.
Having fallen in love and found a soulmate, that race means less to me now, just like Tiger Woods probably cares little about losing his first tournament. It’s a memory sure, but one that means so little by comparison to the life he leads.
But the context of the story remains a painful reminder of what my mistakes have cost me. And now here I am again, looking over my shoulder as life catches up, trying to find the strength, the speed, and the desire to fight harder.
All my desires, my wants, my needs; they are all weighing me down, even as they are pushing me to fight even more. That’s how life catches up; it waits and lingers, and makes its move when you are at your weakest.
And I am digging down harder than I ever have before. I just hope it’s hard enough.
---
Living Almost Large seems to be experiencing similar thoughts, so if you too share my perspective, go on by and see yet another, and realize we aren't alone.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
The Place No One Wants to Visit
I lie in bed last night. I couldn't tell you for how long. It may have been hours. Minutes. I could have dreamed the whole thing. Doesn't matter though because for those hours, minutes, and dreams everything seemed so real that you could have told me that that place never existed and I'd still have been able to give you directions to get there.
I kept thinking about how my grandfather used to recount his high school football practice back in the 20's. He was a halfback and they used to stick the football's meant for the running backs in the freezer overnight so that they'd practically turn to stone. He never forgot the way that his body shook with each handoff. The way the air escaped him. The way he prayed that he wouldn't crack a rib like Tommy did last week.
Kate seemed surprised when I snuggled up to her. I never do that. The first time I ever lay in bed with a woman I remember I was all elbows and shoulders, she was all breasts and ribs. Ever since then I've reacted, rather than acted.
Kevin used to tell me that's how you surfed. You can never force nature to bend to your will, but if you wait, til just the right moment, you can make nature take you anywhere you will yourself to go. That thought always occurred to me as I rolled beneath the waves and tried not to fight. If you don't fight to find the surface then the surface will just appear. It's funny, but when you struggle beneath the waves you have more of a chance of never surfacing then if you just let go.
I've never been very good at just letting go.
I rolled over and placed my arms in that position. I don't why its always been so comfortable. It's looks weird and painful. My right arm stretched above my head as if I'm calling for the abll, my left hand covering my crotch like I'm afraid that's where the ball is going to be thrown.
There is no ball. No cracked ribs. No ocean to drown in.
Just bills and dreams and hopes and worries and the belief that everything is going to work out in the end because that's what your parents always told you. The older you get the more you realize that your parents didn't know everything. They just knew what you knew 2 steps ahead.
I could have dreamed the whole thing. Doesn't matter though because for those hours, minutes, and dreams everything seemed so real that you could have told me that that place never existed and I'd still have been able to give you directions to get there. The one place that everyone knows and no one cares to visit.
Their own head.
I kept thinking about how my grandfather used to recount his high school football practice back in the 20's. He was a halfback and they used to stick the football's meant for the running backs in the freezer overnight so that they'd practically turn to stone. He never forgot the way that his body shook with each handoff. The way the air escaped him. The way he prayed that he wouldn't crack a rib like Tommy did last week.
Kate seemed surprised when I snuggled up to her. I never do that. The first time I ever lay in bed with a woman I remember I was all elbows and shoulders, she was all breasts and ribs. Ever since then I've reacted, rather than acted.
Kevin used to tell me that's how you surfed. You can never force nature to bend to your will, but if you wait, til just the right moment, you can make nature take you anywhere you will yourself to go. That thought always occurred to me as I rolled beneath the waves and tried not to fight. If you don't fight to find the surface then the surface will just appear. It's funny, but when you struggle beneath the waves you have more of a chance of never surfacing then if you just let go.
I've never been very good at just letting go.
I rolled over and placed my arms in that position. I don't why its always been so comfortable. It's looks weird and painful. My right arm stretched above my head as if I'm calling for the abll, my left hand covering my crotch like I'm afraid that's where the ball is going to be thrown.
There is no ball. No cracked ribs. No ocean to drown in.
Just bills and dreams and hopes and worries and the belief that everything is going to work out in the end because that's what your parents always told you. The older you get the more you realize that your parents didn't know everything. They just knew what you knew 2 steps ahead.
I could have dreamed the whole thing. Doesn't matter though because for those hours, minutes, and dreams everything seemed so real that you could have told me that that place never existed and I'd still have been able to give you directions to get there. The one place that everyone knows and no one cares to visit.
Their own head.
Monday, January 8, 2007
Friction
ruthiness is the quality by which a person purports to know something emotionally or instinctively, without regard to evidence or to what the person might conclude from intellectual examination. The term was coined and popularized by Stephen Colbert after he used it during the first episode of his satirical television program The Colbert Report.
A Million Little Pieces is a fictionalized memoir by James Frey. It tells the story of a 23-year-old alcoholic and drug abuser and how he copes with rehabilitation in a Twelve Steps-oriented treatment centre.
Released to wide acclaim in April 2003, the book has garnered recent international attention due to accusations of plagiarism or otherwise outright fabrication. It was thought the events in the memoir were completely true.
To date we have learned:
The Minneapolis Star Tribune had questioned Frey's claims as early as 2003. Frey responded then by saying, "I've never denied I've altered small details."
On January 8, 2006, The Smoking Gun published on its website the article "A Million Little Lies," about what they allege are gross fabrications in Frey's account of his experiences, life and criminal record.
On January 13, 2006, Steven Levitt, co-author of the book Freakonomics, stated in his website blog that, having searched the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention database of mortality detail records, he was unable to identify a single death that reasonably closely matched Frey's description of the circumstances of the death of "Lilly", Frey's alleged girlfriend in the book.
On January 27, 2006, in the Moscow-based alternative newspaper the eXile, essayist John Dolan levied charges of plagiarism against Frey, accusing him of lifting material from Another Day in Paradise and Steel Toes, both written by the late drug-addict/author Eddie Little. Neither Frey, nor his publisher Random House, have addressed the allegations of plagiarism.
On January 26, 2006, Frey once again appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show and admitted that the same "demons" that had made him turn to alcohol and drugs had also driven him to fabricate crucial portions of his "memoir"; it first having been shopped as a fiction novel but declined by many, including Random House itself. Winfrey told Frey that she felt "really duped" but that, "more importantly, I feel that you betrayed millions of readers." She also apologized for her previous telephoned statement to Larry King Live - when Frey appeared on that show January 11, 2006 - that what mattered was not the truth of Frey's book, but its value as a therapeutic tool for addicts. She said, "I left the impression that the truth is not important."
On January 27, 2006, Random House issued a statement regarding the controversy. It noted that future editions of the book would contain notes from both the publisher and Frey on the text, as well as prominent notations on the cover and on their website about the additions. It also noted that future printings of the book would be delayed until these changes were made, and these additions were also being sent out promptly to booksellers for inclusion in previously shipped copies of the book.
On February 1, 2006, Random House published Frey's note to the reader which will be included in future editions of the book. In the note, Frey apologized for fabricating portions of his book and for having made himself seem "tougher and more daring and more aggressive than in reality I was, or I am." He added, "People cope with adversity in many different ways, ways that are deeply personal. . . . My mistake . . . is writing about the person I created in my mind to help me cope, and not the person who went through the experience." Frey admitted that he had literary reasons for his fabrications, as well: "I wanted the stories in the book to ebb and flow, to have dramatic arcs, to have the tension that all great stories require." Nevertheless, he defended the right of memoirists to draw upon their memories, not simply upon documented facts, in creating their memoirs
The Chicago Tribune recently published an editorial in its January 16th issue entitled "The Truthiness Hurts", crediting the rise of "truthiness" as serendipitously providing an apt description of the Oprah Book Club controversy over James Frey's semi-fictional memoir A Million Little Pieces. In it, the Tribune said,
"Just as a media uproar erupts over fabrications in James Frey's best-selling memoir about his drug habit, along comes a new word that fits the situation perfectly.
"Truthiness is the invention of Stephen Colbert, host of the nightly Colbert Report on Comedy Central."
"...All of that is irrelevant, Frey protests, because it is the essence of the story that matters. In other words, the truthiness.
"The buzz certainly hasn't hurt sales of Frey's second book... Let the buyer beware. Like Frey's first book, this one has a ring of truthiness about it. Not to be confused with the truth."
Why am I talking about this? Because I'm writing a memoir. Or a fictional tale. I'm not quite sure anymore.
The truth is that the story that I am writing did occur, in some shape or form, to me in the summer of 1996. The people involved are real people. The major events that shape the story did happen. The conversations did take place.
The truthiness of the story is that no one documents every word said to him or her. That there were too many people that summer to keep track of, so it would make sense to consolidate characters. That much of the angst that drives the tale wasn't truly vented until later, but needed to be addressed to fit the context of the story.
Now what Frey did appalls me, not because he used creative license for dramatic affect, but because there is documents that prove he attempted to sell this as fiction and was convinced by an agent to pass it off as memoir to increase the price of the sale. But the fact is that he is correct in how difficult it is to walk the line between fact and fiction. Even the most amazing of true stories would suffer without dramatic effect.
But at what cost to integrity?
A writer's words are his tools and if his audience cannot trust his words and his motivations behind them than he is no better than a carpenter with broken hammer.
If I did have a hammer, I'd want it to work. I have my words and my honor and I pray that together I can do this new story justice.
So to abide by the new rules of memoir and truthiness, I now change the scope and context of my tale. A tale that is now 'based on a true story.' A tale that is not a memoir in the pre-Frey sense.
But my tale it too intensely personal for me to consider it simply based on my life, even if all the details are not fact. It is not fiction to me. It is not real according to the new rules.
Too personal and painful to be straight fiction. Not real enough to be memoir. It's a combination of both. It's what happens when you mash up both concepts real hard.
It's Friction.
---
I couldn't put life into better perspective than David Zinger.
A Million Little Pieces is a fictionalized memoir by James Frey. It tells the story of a 23-year-old alcoholic and drug abuser and how he copes with rehabilitation in a Twelve Steps-oriented treatment centre.
Released to wide acclaim in April 2003, the book has garnered recent international attention due to accusations of plagiarism or otherwise outright fabrication. It was thought the events in the memoir were completely true.
To date we have learned:
The Minneapolis Star Tribune had questioned Frey's claims as early as 2003. Frey responded then by saying, "I've never denied I've altered small details."
On January 8, 2006, The Smoking Gun published on its website the article "A Million Little Lies," about what they allege are gross fabrications in Frey's account of his experiences, life and criminal record.
On January 13, 2006, Steven Levitt, co-author of the book Freakonomics, stated in his website blog that, having searched the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention database of mortality detail records, he was unable to identify a single death that reasonably closely matched Frey's description of the circumstances of the death of "Lilly", Frey's alleged girlfriend in the book.
On January 27, 2006, in the Moscow-based alternative newspaper the eXile, essayist John Dolan levied charges of plagiarism against Frey, accusing him of lifting material from Another Day in Paradise and Steel Toes, both written by the late drug-addict/author Eddie Little. Neither Frey, nor his publisher Random House, have addressed the allegations of plagiarism.
On January 26, 2006, Frey once again appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show and admitted that the same "demons" that had made him turn to alcohol and drugs had also driven him to fabricate crucial portions of his "memoir"; it first having been shopped as a fiction novel but declined by many, including Random House itself. Winfrey told Frey that she felt "really duped" but that, "more importantly, I feel that you betrayed millions of readers." She also apologized for her previous telephoned statement to Larry King Live - when Frey appeared on that show January 11, 2006 - that what mattered was not the truth of Frey's book, but its value as a therapeutic tool for addicts. She said, "I left the impression that the truth is not important."
On January 27, 2006, Random House issued a statement regarding the controversy. It noted that future editions of the book would contain notes from both the publisher and Frey on the text, as well as prominent notations on the cover and on their website about the additions. It also noted that future printings of the book would be delayed until these changes were made, and these additions were also being sent out promptly to booksellers for inclusion in previously shipped copies of the book.
On February 1, 2006, Random House published Frey's note to the reader which will be included in future editions of the book. In the note, Frey apologized for fabricating portions of his book and for having made himself seem "tougher and more daring and more aggressive than in reality I was, or I am." He added, "People cope with adversity in many different ways, ways that are deeply personal. . . . My mistake . . . is writing about the person I created in my mind to help me cope, and not the person who went through the experience." Frey admitted that he had literary reasons for his fabrications, as well: "I wanted the stories in the book to ebb and flow, to have dramatic arcs, to have the tension that all great stories require." Nevertheless, he defended the right of memoirists to draw upon their memories, not simply upon documented facts, in creating their memoirs
The Chicago Tribune recently published an editorial in its January 16th issue entitled "The Truthiness Hurts", crediting the rise of "truthiness" as serendipitously providing an apt description of the Oprah Book Club controversy over James Frey's semi-fictional memoir A Million Little Pieces. In it, the Tribune said,
"Just as a media uproar erupts over fabrications in James Frey's best-selling memoir about his drug habit, along comes a new word that fits the situation perfectly.
"Truthiness is the invention of Stephen Colbert, host of the nightly Colbert Report on Comedy Central."
"...All of that is irrelevant, Frey protests, because it is the essence of the story that matters. In other words, the truthiness.
"The buzz certainly hasn't hurt sales of Frey's second book... Let the buyer beware. Like Frey's first book, this one has a ring of truthiness about it. Not to be confused with the truth."
Why am I talking about this? Because I'm writing a memoir. Or a fictional tale. I'm not quite sure anymore.
The truth is that the story that I am writing did occur, in some shape or form, to me in the summer of 1996. The people involved are real people. The major events that shape the story did happen. The conversations did take place.
The truthiness of the story is that no one documents every word said to him or her. That there were too many people that summer to keep track of, so it would make sense to consolidate characters. That much of the angst that drives the tale wasn't truly vented until later, but needed to be addressed to fit the context of the story.
Now what Frey did appalls me, not because he used creative license for dramatic affect, but because there is documents that prove he attempted to sell this as fiction and was convinced by an agent to pass it off as memoir to increase the price of the sale. But the fact is that he is correct in how difficult it is to walk the line between fact and fiction. Even the most amazing of true stories would suffer without dramatic effect.
But at what cost to integrity?
A writer's words are his tools and if his audience cannot trust his words and his motivations behind them than he is no better than a carpenter with broken hammer.
If I did have a hammer, I'd want it to work. I have my words and my honor and I pray that together I can do this new story justice.
So to abide by the new rules of memoir and truthiness, I now change the scope and context of my tale. A tale that is now 'based on a true story.' A tale that is not a memoir in the pre-Frey sense.
But my tale it too intensely personal for me to consider it simply based on my life, even if all the details are not fact. It is not fiction to me. It is not real according to the new rules.
Too personal and painful to be straight fiction. Not real enough to be memoir. It's a combination of both. It's what happens when you mash up both concepts real hard.
It's Friction.
---
I couldn't put life into better perspective than David Zinger.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Top 10 Movies I DIDN'T See This Year
I've determined that 2006 is the year that passed me by quicker than any before it. To celebrate that depressing fact, I've decided to analyze all that I've missed in various disciplines and give explanations for my failures.
And thus being a self-proclaimed Movie King, I shall begin with a list of the Top 10 Movies that I didn't see this year and why. Keep in mind that to qualify for the list the movie needed to be released wide in 2006. I didn't need any additional obstacles, like having to see the midnight showing of Letters from Iwo Jima down near Battery Park on December 30th. I could barely make it 4 blocks to the 68th street AMC the rest of the year, I don't need to feel guilt about spanning the island of Manhattan to see a movie with subtitles.
1) The Queen
Having spent 1/2 my year writing for a gay TV channel, I figured I'd seen enough queens. Then I found out that it wasn't that kind of movie. But I was out of crumpets so I went and saw X-Men 3.
2) The Departed
Heard that you get to see Jack Nicholson's willy in this movie. Then I was left with too many you can't handle the truth jokes to be able to sit through the movie.
3) Flags of Our Fathers
And the funny thing is that I was kicking myself since this was really my only chance to analyze how the American political machine and war go hand in hand.
4) Akeelah & The Bee
I bought a grande Chai Latte at Starbucks. Isn't that enough?
5) Little Children
I swear, you make one wrong turn and you wind up seeing Little Miss Sunshine...
6) The Pursuit of Happyness
It really warms my heart to know that Will Smith and his son could bond for a few months over the idea of being poor and destitute..while sitting in their trailers..
7) The Last King of Scotland
Forrest Whitaker scares me. Ever since Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Seriously.
8) The Holiday
You know I just learned this movie didn't have Queen Latifah in it. Turns out it was a Jack Black movie. So really, the chances were slim I was gonna see it anyway...
9) Blood Diamond
Wait you mean that Djimon Hounsou is playing a noble Black man in trying circumstances? Get outta town!
10) All the King's Men
So what your telling me is that power corrupts people? Nah, I don't buy it.
---
2006 Awards Tracker (Psst: Put money on Helen Mirren winning)
And thus being a self-proclaimed Movie King, I shall begin with a list of the Top 10 Movies that I didn't see this year and why. Keep in mind that to qualify for the list the movie needed to be released wide in 2006. I didn't need any additional obstacles, like having to see the midnight showing of Letters from Iwo Jima down near Battery Park on December 30th. I could barely make it 4 blocks to the 68th street AMC the rest of the year, I don't need to feel guilt about spanning the island of Manhattan to see a movie with subtitles.
1) The Queen
Having spent 1/2 my year writing for a gay TV channel, I figured I'd seen enough queens. Then I found out that it wasn't that kind of movie. But I was out of crumpets so I went and saw X-Men 3.
2) The Departed
Heard that you get to see Jack Nicholson's willy in this movie. Then I was left with too many you can't handle the truth jokes to be able to sit through the movie.
3) Flags of Our Fathers
And the funny thing is that I was kicking myself since this was really my only chance to analyze how the American political machine and war go hand in hand.
4) Akeelah & The Bee
I bought a grande Chai Latte at Starbucks. Isn't that enough?
5) Little Children
I swear, you make one wrong turn and you wind up seeing Little Miss Sunshine...
6) The Pursuit of Happyness
It really warms my heart to know that Will Smith and his son could bond for a few months over the idea of being poor and destitute..while sitting in their trailers..
7) The Last King of Scotland
Forrest Whitaker scares me. Ever since Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Seriously.
8) The Holiday
You know I just learned this movie didn't have Queen Latifah in it. Turns out it was a Jack Black movie. So really, the chances were slim I was gonna see it anyway...
9) Blood Diamond
Wait you mean that Djimon Hounsou is playing a noble Black man in trying circumstances? Get outta town!
10) All the King's Men
So what your telling me is that power corrupts people? Nah, I don't buy it.
---
2006 Awards Tracker (Psst: Put money on Helen Mirren winning)
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Top 5 Books I DIDN'T Read This Year
ABSURDISTAN
By GARY SHTEYNGART
What they say: Shteyngart's scruffy, exuberant second novel, equal parts Gogol and Borat, is immodest on every level -It also happens to be smart, funny and, in the end, extraordinarily rich and moving. "Absurdistan" introduces Misha Vainberg, the rap-music-obsessed, grossly overweight son of the 1,238th richest man in Russia. After attending college in the United States, he is now stuck in St. Petersburg, scrambling for an American visa that may never arrive.
What I say: Absurdistan is not located between Pakistan and Afghanistan, regardless of what the liberal media thinks, or for that matter what the clerk at Shakespeare and Company thinks when he pointed me to the Geography section.
FUN HOME
By ALISON BECHDEL
What they say: The unlikeliest literary success of 2006 is a stunning memoir about a girl growing up in a small town with her cryptic, perfectionist dad and slowly realizing that a) she is gay and b) he is too. Oh, and it's a comic book: Bechdel's breathtakingly smart commentary duets with eloquent line drawings. Forget genre and sexual orientation: this is a masterpiece about two people who live in the same house but different worlds, and their mysterious debts to each other.
What I say: When the hell was the last time I went to comic book store? I mean, aren't comics the lowest form of literature? Aren't they an indignity to the written word? I mean, please…
THE ROAD
By CORMAC MCCARTHY
What they say: A sad man and his young son trudge across the burnt landscape of a world that has committed suicide in some catastrophe. This could be Mad Max, or it could be Samuel Beckett; it's certainly as thrilling as the one and as emotionally costly as the other.
What I say: Didn't need to read it. Try taking the 2 train and switching at Times Square at 8:45 AM. Then you'll know what trudging across the burnt landscape of a world that has committed suicide is.
BLACK SWAN GREEN
By DAVID MITCHELL,
What they say: Mitchell's last novel, Cloud Atlas, skipped from the 19th century to the far future. This time he contents himself with one year--1982--in the life of one boy--dreamy, stammering Jason Taylor--in one English town. But everything's still there: this funny, close-focus coming-of-age story is also a huge, swirling novel of power, death and love.
What I say: Sure it's probably brilliant, I mean Cloud Atlas remains one of the best reads I ever had. But a coming of age story involving a dreamy protagonist overcoming the heartache of love and death? What idiot would attempt to write drivel like that? ;)
WHAT IS THE WHAT
By DAVE EGGERS
What they say: When Valentino was young, soldiers burned his village in Sudan. Parentless, he walked hundreds of miles in search of safety. When he came to America as a young man, his problems started again. Don't read this novel--which is closely based on his life--for any reason other than it's a great document of hope, despair and the will to keep walking.
What I say: I can think of no other person more well suited to write about the despair of a Sudanese villager than a sarcastic, self-aware, and snarky Brooklynite. And that's from an Eggers fan…
---
The Real Books Worth Reading: The New York Times Best Books of 2006
By GARY SHTEYNGART
What they say: Shteyngart's scruffy, exuberant second novel, equal parts Gogol and Borat, is immodest on every level -It also happens to be smart, funny and, in the end, extraordinarily rich and moving. "Absurdistan" introduces Misha Vainberg, the rap-music-obsessed, grossly overweight son of the 1,238th richest man in Russia. After attending college in the United States, he is now stuck in St. Petersburg, scrambling for an American visa that may never arrive.
What I say: Absurdistan is not located between Pakistan and Afghanistan, regardless of what the liberal media thinks, or for that matter what the clerk at Shakespeare and Company thinks when he pointed me to the Geography section.
FUN HOME
By ALISON BECHDEL
What they say: The unlikeliest literary success of 2006 is a stunning memoir about a girl growing up in a small town with her cryptic, perfectionist dad and slowly realizing that a) she is gay and b) he is too. Oh, and it's a comic book: Bechdel's breathtakingly smart commentary duets with eloquent line drawings. Forget genre and sexual orientation: this is a masterpiece about two people who live in the same house but different worlds, and their mysterious debts to each other.
What I say: When the hell was the last time I went to comic book store? I mean, aren't comics the lowest form of literature? Aren't they an indignity to the written word? I mean, please…
THE ROAD
By CORMAC MCCARTHY
What they say: A sad man and his young son trudge across the burnt landscape of a world that has committed suicide in some catastrophe. This could be Mad Max, or it could be Samuel Beckett; it's certainly as thrilling as the one and as emotionally costly as the other.
What I say: Didn't need to read it. Try taking the 2 train and switching at Times Square at 8:45 AM. Then you'll know what trudging across the burnt landscape of a world that has committed suicide is.
BLACK SWAN GREEN
By DAVID MITCHELL,
What they say: Mitchell's last novel, Cloud Atlas, skipped from the 19th century to the far future. This time he contents himself with one year--1982--in the life of one boy--dreamy, stammering Jason Taylor--in one English town. But everything's still there: this funny, close-focus coming-of-age story is also a huge, swirling novel of power, death and love.
What I say: Sure it's probably brilliant, I mean Cloud Atlas remains one of the best reads I ever had. But a coming of age story involving a dreamy protagonist overcoming the heartache of love and death? What idiot would attempt to write drivel like that? ;)
WHAT IS THE WHAT
By DAVE EGGERS
What they say: When Valentino was young, soldiers burned his village in Sudan. Parentless, he walked hundreds of miles in search of safety. When he came to America as a young man, his problems started again. Don't read this novel--which is closely based on his life--for any reason other than it's a great document of hope, despair and the will to keep walking.
What I say: I can think of no other person more well suited to write about the despair of a Sudanese villager than a sarcastic, self-aware, and snarky Brooklynite. And that's from an Eggers fan…
---
The Real Books Worth Reading: The New York Times Best Books of 2006
Friday, January 5, 2007
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Vengence
I was reading an article that mentioned a recent successful lawsuit brought against a lesbian lover by the man whose marriage she broke up. Apparently this is recognized by the court as, “ALIENATION OF AFFECTION.” It is held under the Heart Balm procedure, which essentially states that a woman is a man’s possession once they are married.
As one might imagine, through Women’s lib and common sense, the Heart Balm laws have almost entirely been stricken from the law books. Alienation, however, still exists in some places, such as Hawaii, Illinois, North Carolina, Mississippi, New Mexico, South Dakota, and Utah.
In United States law, alienation of affections is a tort action brought by a deserted spouse against a third party alleged to be responsible for the failure of the marriage. The defendant in an alienation of affections suit is typically an adulterous spouse's lover, although family members and counselors who have advised a spouse to seek divorce have also been sued for alienation of affections.
On the one hand, I simply am appalled by the frivolous use of our legal system. On the other, I think of the opportunities afforded to those with broken hearts in the 7 states of vengeance.
I have had my heart broken several times in heterosexual relationships. Once I had a relationship deteriorate because she came out of the closet. And I’m probably considered the average guy, so I can’t imagine that my past is anything special.
Of course, in none of these cases was I married. Also, I lived in New Jersey and New York. Still, as a writer, thinker, and all around daydreamer, I can’t help but think of the possibilities.
I don’t have to press my imagination to think of a couple broken up by the jealousy or counsel of a third party. But let’s take this theory one step further.
Let’s say that there is a gay or lesbian couple that is married in Hawaii. The state would not recognize the marriage, but would recognize it as a civil union, afforded all the same liberties and legal benefits of a marriage. Now, hypothetically, let’s say that one member of this couple sought out a clergy member for advice about the ‘health’ and ‘future’ of their relationship. And said clergyman responded that the healthiest move for them would be to leave this relationship, not simply because it is unhealthy, but because it is unholy.
Now we have a story here…
See, legally speaking, from what I’ve read and researched, we have an actual legal civil suit that can be brought against the Church by the other member of this gay couple, so in essence we would have The Gay Community v. The Catholic Church.
And that is one case I wouldn’t call frivolous.
---
To read more about Alienation of Affection, there is actually a blog fully devoted to it...
Alienation of Affection
As one might imagine, through Women’s lib and common sense, the Heart Balm laws have almost entirely been stricken from the law books. Alienation, however, still exists in some places, such as Hawaii, Illinois, North Carolina, Mississippi, New Mexico, South Dakota, and Utah.
In United States law, alienation of affections is a tort action brought by a deserted spouse against a third party alleged to be responsible for the failure of the marriage. The defendant in an alienation of affections suit is typically an adulterous spouse's lover, although family members and counselors who have advised a spouse to seek divorce have also been sued for alienation of affections.
On the one hand, I simply am appalled by the frivolous use of our legal system. On the other, I think of the opportunities afforded to those with broken hearts in the 7 states of vengeance.
I have had my heart broken several times in heterosexual relationships. Once I had a relationship deteriorate because she came out of the closet. And I’m probably considered the average guy, so I can’t imagine that my past is anything special.
Of course, in none of these cases was I married. Also, I lived in New Jersey and New York. Still, as a writer, thinker, and all around daydreamer, I can’t help but think of the possibilities.
I don’t have to press my imagination to think of a couple broken up by the jealousy or counsel of a third party. But let’s take this theory one step further.
Let’s say that there is a gay or lesbian couple that is married in Hawaii. The state would not recognize the marriage, but would recognize it as a civil union, afforded all the same liberties and legal benefits of a marriage. Now, hypothetically, let’s say that one member of this couple sought out a clergy member for advice about the ‘health’ and ‘future’ of their relationship. And said clergyman responded that the healthiest move for them would be to leave this relationship, not simply because it is unhealthy, but because it is unholy.
Now we have a story here…
See, legally speaking, from what I’ve read and researched, we have an actual legal civil suit that can be brought against the Church by the other member of this gay couple, so in essence we would have The Gay Community v. The Catholic Church.
And that is one case I wouldn’t call frivolous.
---
To read more about Alienation of Affection, there is actually a blog fully devoted to it...
Alienation of Affection
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Man or Superman?
Superman Returned (at least on DVD) a few weeks back, though it appears many people didn’t notice. The irony of this is tremendous because I think that originally the movie aimed to answer the very question that audiences answered by staying away, the question of, ‘Is Superman still relevant?’
In 1938 Superman appeared for the first time, rocketing from Krypton into the hearts of millions who post depression, and pre-WWII, needed a hero to believe in. With gang related crime taking over many large Metropolises and the world on the brink of a society changing war, many viewed Americans as morally and physically crippled. We needed someone to not only change how the world saw us, but how we viewed ourselves. At that time the strongest man to stand for truth, justice, and the American way couldn’t even stand. With all due respect, there was a man in a wheelchair leading Americans at that time. We needed someone that could match Roosevelt’s strength of character with vitality and brute force if necessary.
We needed a hero.
Superman changed that faster than a speeding bullet.
And in his brief Golden Age, we were reminded of why our country was founded, what we stood for, and what sacrifices we needed to make as we entered WWII.
But Superman, like America, needed to evolve. And so came the Silver Age of Superman. Post WWII, in the early 50’s, American’s were forced to face up to a new challenge. Nuclear Winter.
With a Cold War staring us in the face Superman’s story changed, ever so slightly, to warn us of an impending danger. Delving into his origin in earnest, for the first time, we learned that his home planet of Krypton was destroyed in an explosion of great magnitude that could have been avoided had scientists only reacted differently. And so, even before the Cuban Missile Crisis, Superman preached to us a great lesson about the dangers of science influencing politics.
And it was by then that I feel Superman flew to his greatest heights. It is at this point that something occurred. Something that Superman, the myth and the legend, has never recovered from.
We went to space.
By de-mystifying the heart of this hero, the American space program managed to do the one thing that Lex Luthor has never managed. Defeat Superman.
When Superman was created man had barely to the skies in earnest, and prolonged flight, let alone space seemed a lifetime away. Soaring high above, Superman stood for a future where our civilization finally took to the stars and the stars came to Earth to meet us.
But as Armstrong took one small step for man, his giant leap for mankind man have sounded the death knell for one of our greatest heroes.
We will always see ourselves in Batman, his dark side and his anger; the sides of ourselves that we rarely acknowledge in public, but often privately give into. Violence has often made its way into many of our lives and through Batman we often find an outlet for the thoughts and fears we often attempt to bury.
Women often see themselves in Wonder Woman, once and always a symbol of feminist strength in an often male-dominated society. Projecting strength, as well as beauty, she still stands tall as a figure of what all women can aspire to, whether it be brains, brawn, beauty, or all of the above.
Children will always see themselves in Spiderman, a kid granted power in the world at an age when adults rule their worlds. Awkward and battling not just super villains, but school yard bullies, Spiderman was true to a life we could envision had we been granted super powers sometime between Chemistry and Gym class.
But what of Superman?
It wasn’t just our space program that demystified his flight. DC Comics assisted in that as well, creating countless Pseudo-Supermans like Captain Marvel, Green Lantern, as well as watered down members of the Superman family like Supergirl, Superboy, and even Krypto the Superdog. Yes, a flying, super powered dog.
And as our society moved towards communicating in satire and sarcasm, his earnestness became almost threatening, his core values almost corny. His strong mid-western values, which were bred in Smallville USA, have become less of the idea of American morality and strength of character, and have practically become a rallying cry to a religious right who envision Superman as their next vision of Christ. As so just like his very costume Superman himself is the next border to be fought over by red and blue. Ironically, we find ourselves fighting over a (Super)man whose values most of us have come to stop understanding and relating to. But it’s not just his values that are troublesome.
Superman is bulletproof in the age of vests and armor, flying in the age of space travel, and writing for a newspaper in the age of the Internet. His very presence seems as obsolete as Clark Kent’s typewriter.
And yet to me, it was not until September the 11th, 2001 that he truly died.
To me, Superman did not die in that famous comic at the hands of Doomsday. No, he died early on a beautiful fall day when terrorists we never knew of changed not just the landscape of New York City, but of the soul of America.
Superman wasn’t there to save us that day. And forgiving him will not come easily. It was on that day we finally understood that true heroism isn’t a matter of super powers, in fact it’s the opposite. What takes more courage, rushing into a burning building when you could be easily crushed, or when you could simply hold the building up while others casually saunter out?
I’m not sure how many of you could watch that day as people left with no alternative leapt from the towers. I for one, like them, hoped for a miracle. For a Superman to soar from the skies and bring them to safety. For a Superman that never arrived.
Here was our greatest symbol. A man who always fought for truth, justice, and the AMERICAN way. And he was invisible at perhaps our darkest hour.
Is it unforgivable? Time will tell, but the early returns are not good.
I wish not to attack Bryan Singer for remaining true to the vision of Superman he embraced with Richard Donner’s classic 1978 film. Enchanted by that film, Singer returned our hero to THAT society, one that exists now as a jumble of time and space. Not quite Donner’s New York, not quite the Chicago it’s modeled on. With costumes and cars that mixed time periods, but an evolved Space Shuttle of years to come, I assume that Singer aimed for timelessness. What he accomplished was the opposite, a man out of time.
And this man out of time, who once stood for truth, justice, and the American way? He returned, a father out of wedlock through premarital sex and a man who ran out on his love with nary a goodbye. (And yet Christian right figures still pull out the Christ depiction. I love how they pick and choose what they see.)
This was the Superman that returned. Singer took two chances, one that we would want to witness the return of a Superman, rather than the birth of one, and also that we wanted to see this Superman, a flawed and HUMAN Superman. And ultimately, I feel that his first gamble was correct, but that his second, while admirable, was poorly constructed.
While just one man’s opinion, this is what I believe we needed to see:
To believe in Superman we don’t need to see him be born again. We all know the story by now. We all understand what he stands for. What we need to understand is where he fits in modern society. And so we needed to see Superman returning to America, post 9-11, having abandoned us in perhaps our greatest hour of need.
We needed to see Superman returning to the previous vision of Metropolis, as seen through New York, only now so obviously missing two of its greatest structures. We needed to see a Superman returning to Earth upon seeing two bright and stark lights shining straight into space from a place he once called home. You want a vision to behold, imagine Superman flying into New York City, around the Stature of Liberty, and finding the Towers replaced by their anniversary light display.
And when this Superman returned he would not so easily have been welcomed. No, not by our culture. Families who lost loved one would find another source on which to place blame. Police and firefighters who had laid down their lives would feel overlooked for their valiant efforts. And our government would remember how it once placed its faith in another and would begin to envision a threat to our security from a former friend.
The story we all need to see isn’t about old lovers reunited or love triangles that formed in absence. It’s about society coming to understand what heroism is. It’s about accepting the limitations of being human. And its about rediscovering the idea of values, without any preconceived notice that values must equal religion.
We needed to see Superman through the eyes of a police officer that survived 9/11. Someone not easily forgiving. Someone that lost a loved one or a partner. Someone who was quite able to save lives in extreme circumstances. And someone who would eventually have to admit that there were instances beyond their control where a Superman was needed.
We needed to see Superman through Lois’ eyes. Not star struck eyes, or jealous eyes, but those of a reporter mired in today’s questionable media age. Someone highly skeptical, someone hungry for the story and perhaps not as objective as the public needs.
We needed to see Superman through a terrorist’s eye. Through Lex’s terrorist eyes. Kevin Spacey’s grandest line about Gods not sharing their powers held no weight to me. It held no weight because there is a cave in Afghanistan from where I’ve heard that rhetoric more times than I can count in the past 5 years.
And we needed to see Superman through Clark Kent’s eyes. We needed to understand the humanity of Superman not as a weak and feeble clod, but as a man burdened by the weight of a world. Imagine the guilt, the fear, and anger this returning Superman would feel.
Now imagine what he might think it would take to win over the people again. That Superman would need to perform epic feats of strength just to get the ball rolling. More than that you must imagine the courage, determination, and hard work that it would take to face up against a culture bred upon disbelief. To fight for something he forgot, that we’ve all forgotten, even against odds that seem monumental and insurmountable, that is what makes a Superman. And the character that would be necessary would portray a set of values that have nothing to do with the Bible, the Torah, or the Koran. And yet they would be relevant to readers of all of them.
So why didn’t anyone care? Not because he didn’t look good flying through the air. And not because Brandon Routh, Kate Bosworth, and Kevin Spacey failed. Not because Bryan Singer didn’t have a vision.
No one cared because in a culture desperately seeking a hero, and willing to put anyone up on a pedestal for only as long as takes to tear them down, it is not enough for Superman to merely return.
He must make us believe. And I for one, did not.
---
If you made it this far (and weren't bored to death about superheroes) then I would like to point out Steven Wells' recent, absurdist take on Superman and Jesus, which I think both avoids everything I write and yet proves it at the same time (you may have to squint real hard and listen to Du Hast by Rammstein, but trust me it's there).
Science vs. Religion
In 1938 Superman appeared for the first time, rocketing from Krypton into the hearts of millions who post depression, and pre-WWII, needed a hero to believe in. With gang related crime taking over many large Metropolises and the world on the brink of a society changing war, many viewed Americans as morally and physically crippled. We needed someone to not only change how the world saw us, but how we viewed ourselves. At that time the strongest man to stand for truth, justice, and the American way couldn’t even stand. With all due respect, there was a man in a wheelchair leading Americans at that time. We needed someone that could match Roosevelt’s strength of character with vitality and brute force if necessary.
We needed a hero.
Superman changed that faster than a speeding bullet.
And in his brief Golden Age, we were reminded of why our country was founded, what we stood for, and what sacrifices we needed to make as we entered WWII.
But Superman, like America, needed to evolve. And so came the Silver Age of Superman. Post WWII, in the early 50’s, American’s were forced to face up to a new challenge. Nuclear Winter.
With a Cold War staring us in the face Superman’s story changed, ever so slightly, to warn us of an impending danger. Delving into his origin in earnest, for the first time, we learned that his home planet of Krypton was destroyed in an explosion of great magnitude that could have been avoided had scientists only reacted differently. And so, even before the Cuban Missile Crisis, Superman preached to us a great lesson about the dangers of science influencing politics.
And it was by then that I feel Superman flew to his greatest heights. It is at this point that something occurred. Something that Superman, the myth and the legend, has never recovered from.
We went to space.
By de-mystifying the heart of this hero, the American space program managed to do the one thing that Lex Luthor has never managed. Defeat Superman.
When Superman was created man had barely to the skies in earnest, and prolonged flight, let alone space seemed a lifetime away. Soaring high above, Superman stood for a future where our civilization finally took to the stars and the stars came to Earth to meet us.
But as Armstrong took one small step for man, his giant leap for mankind man have sounded the death knell for one of our greatest heroes.
We will always see ourselves in Batman, his dark side and his anger; the sides of ourselves that we rarely acknowledge in public, but often privately give into. Violence has often made its way into many of our lives and through Batman we often find an outlet for the thoughts and fears we often attempt to bury.
Women often see themselves in Wonder Woman, once and always a symbol of feminist strength in an often male-dominated society. Projecting strength, as well as beauty, she still stands tall as a figure of what all women can aspire to, whether it be brains, brawn, beauty, or all of the above.
Children will always see themselves in Spiderman, a kid granted power in the world at an age when adults rule their worlds. Awkward and battling not just super villains, but school yard bullies, Spiderman was true to a life we could envision had we been granted super powers sometime between Chemistry and Gym class.
But what of Superman?
It wasn’t just our space program that demystified his flight. DC Comics assisted in that as well, creating countless Pseudo-Supermans like Captain Marvel, Green Lantern, as well as watered down members of the Superman family like Supergirl, Superboy, and even Krypto the Superdog. Yes, a flying, super powered dog.
And as our society moved towards communicating in satire and sarcasm, his earnestness became almost threatening, his core values almost corny. His strong mid-western values, which were bred in Smallville USA, have become less of the idea of American morality and strength of character, and have practically become a rallying cry to a religious right who envision Superman as their next vision of Christ. As so just like his very costume Superman himself is the next border to be fought over by red and blue. Ironically, we find ourselves fighting over a (Super)man whose values most of us have come to stop understanding and relating to. But it’s not just his values that are troublesome.
Superman is bulletproof in the age of vests and armor, flying in the age of space travel, and writing for a newspaper in the age of the Internet. His very presence seems as obsolete as Clark Kent’s typewriter.
And yet to me, it was not until September the 11th, 2001 that he truly died.
To me, Superman did not die in that famous comic at the hands of Doomsday. No, he died early on a beautiful fall day when terrorists we never knew of changed not just the landscape of New York City, but of the soul of America.
Superman wasn’t there to save us that day. And forgiving him will not come easily. It was on that day we finally understood that true heroism isn’t a matter of super powers, in fact it’s the opposite. What takes more courage, rushing into a burning building when you could be easily crushed, or when you could simply hold the building up while others casually saunter out?
I’m not sure how many of you could watch that day as people left with no alternative leapt from the towers. I for one, like them, hoped for a miracle. For a Superman to soar from the skies and bring them to safety. For a Superman that never arrived.
Here was our greatest symbol. A man who always fought for truth, justice, and the AMERICAN way. And he was invisible at perhaps our darkest hour.
Is it unforgivable? Time will tell, but the early returns are not good.
I wish not to attack Bryan Singer for remaining true to the vision of Superman he embraced with Richard Donner’s classic 1978 film. Enchanted by that film, Singer returned our hero to THAT society, one that exists now as a jumble of time and space. Not quite Donner’s New York, not quite the Chicago it’s modeled on. With costumes and cars that mixed time periods, but an evolved Space Shuttle of years to come, I assume that Singer aimed for timelessness. What he accomplished was the opposite, a man out of time.
And this man out of time, who once stood for truth, justice, and the American way? He returned, a father out of wedlock through premarital sex and a man who ran out on his love with nary a goodbye. (And yet Christian right figures still pull out the Christ depiction. I love how they pick and choose what they see.)
This was the Superman that returned. Singer took two chances, one that we would want to witness the return of a Superman, rather than the birth of one, and also that we wanted to see this Superman, a flawed and HUMAN Superman. And ultimately, I feel that his first gamble was correct, but that his second, while admirable, was poorly constructed.
While just one man’s opinion, this is what I believe we needed to see:
To believe in Superman we don’t need to see him be born again. We all know the story by now. We all understand what he stands for. What we need to understand is where he fits in modern society. And so we needed to see Superman returning to America, post 9-11, having abandoned us in perhaps our greatest hour of need.
We needed to see Superman returning to the previous vision of Metropolis, as seen through New York, only now so obviously missing two of its greatest structures. We needed to see a Superman returning to Earth upon seeing two bright and stark lights shining straight into space from a place he once called home. You want a vision to behold, imagine Superman flying into New York City, around the Stature of Liberty, and finding the Towers replaced by their anniversary light display.
And when this Superman returned he would not so easily have been welcomed. No, not by our culture. Families who lost loved one would find another source on which to place blame. Police and firefighters who had laid down their lives would feel overlooked for their valiant efforts. And our government would remember how it once placed its faith in another and would begin to envision a threat to our security from a former friend.
The story we all need to see isn’t about old lovers reunited or love triangles that formed in absence. It’s about society coming to understand what heroism is. It’s about accepting the limitations of being human. And its about rediscovering the idea of values, without any preconceived notice that values must equal religion.
We needed to see Superman through the eyes of a police officer that survived 9/11. Someone not easily forgiving. Someone that lost a loved one or a partner. Someone who was quite able to save lives in extreme circumstances. And someone who would eventually have to admit that there were instances beyond their control where a Superman was needed.
We needed to see Superman through Lois’ eyes. Not star struck eyes, or jealous eyes, but those of a reporter mired in today’s questionable media age. Someone highly skeptical, someone hungry for the story and perhaps not as objective as the public needs.
We needed to see Superman through a terrorist’s eye. Through Lex’s terrorist eyes. Kevin Spacey’s grandest line about Gods not sharing their powers held no weight to me. It held no weight because there is a cave in Afghanistan from where I’ve heard that rhetoric more times than I can count in the past 5 years.
And we needed to see Superman through Clark Kent’s eyes. We needed to understand the humanity of Superman not as a weak and feeble clod, but as a man burdened by the weight of a world. Imagine the guilt, the fear, and anger this returning Superman would feel.
Now imagine what he might think it would take to win over the people again. That Superman would need to perform epic feats of strength just to get the ball rolling. More than that you must imagine the courage, determination, and hard work that it would take to face up against a culture bred upon disbelief. To fight for something he forgot, that we’ve all forgotten, even against odds that seem monumental and insurmountable, that is what makes a Superman. And the character that would be necessary would portray a set of values that have nothing to do with the Bible, the Torah, or the Koran. And yet they would be relevant to readers of all of them.
So why didn’t anyone care? Not because he didn’t look good flying through the air. And not because Brandon Routh, Kate Bosworth, and Kevin Spacey failed. Not because Bryan Singer didn’t have a vision.
No one cared because in a culture desperately seeking a hero, and willing to put anyone up on a pedestal for only as long as takes to tear them down, it is not enough for Superman to merely return.
He must make us believe. And I for one, did not.
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If you made it this far (and weren't bored to death about superheroes) then I would like to point out Steven Wells' recent, absurdist take on Superman and Jesus, which I think both avoids everything I write and yet proves it at the same time (you may have to squint real hard and listen to Du Hast by Rammstein, but trust me it's there).
Science vs. Religion
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