Five and a Half Dollar Movie Round-up
“Palindromes” is unremittingly bleak and cynical. Todd Solondz’ latest begins with the funeral of Dawn Weiner, the heroine of his earlier, funnier “Welcome to the Dollhouse.” The alluded-to date rape and suicide of his beloved character signals the film’s non-stop assault on hopefulness. His next victim is a cousin of Dawn’s, 13-year-old Aviva, who wants nothing more than to have “lots and lots of babies.” That innocent desire takes her from dispassionate, cringe-inducing underage sex to a botched abortion (at her liberal mother’s insistence) to hitchhiking and even more cringe-worthy sex with a trucker. From there, Aviva finds herself in the care of Mama Sunshine, a kind and mostly harmless christian who cares for a dozen or so disabled children who live and laugh together and sing and dance boy-band style peans to Jesus and the unborn children, while local yahoos in the basement plan the assassination of an abortion provider (Aviva’s, as luck would have it). And, yes, we see the attack on the doctor’s home, while he plays charades with his children.
Aviva is portrayed by multiple actresses, of different shapes, sizes and colors (including, at one point, Jennifer Jason Leigh). Solondz’ art school distraction serves to keep the character at an emotional distance from the audience. It’s less storytelling and more a sadistic little boy pulling the wings off a butterfly. I consider it a perverse accomplishment that out of an audience of half a dozen paying moviegoers, I was the only person in the theater by the time the credits rolled. Everyone else had left, one by one, in a huff as each new assault on Aviva’s innocence and our good taste came on screen.
“The Ballad of Jack and Rose” is immediately likable, opening with the crescendo of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “I Put A Spell On You” and a long camera pan across an idyllic island commune. The commune is home to Jack, a bombastic Scottish ex-pat played by Daniel Day-Lewis, and his teenage daughter Rose (the very lovely Camilla Belle). It is Rose who is under a spell, hopelessly devoted to her dying father, who has raised and home-schooled her alone ever since the rest of the 60’s society drop-outs who formed the commune – including the unseen mother and wife of the titular duo – left the island to rejoin normal society.
The outside world comes crashing in when Jack invites his girlfriend and her two teenage sons to live with him on the island. “She’s so normal,” hisses an emotionally betrayed Rose, who sets off to lose her virginity and chase the girlfriend from their home.
The 1980’s also come crashing in, as a developer begins building suburban houses over some wetlands on the other side of the island. Beau Bridges plays the developer as a rather likable, nice guy whose response to Jack’s violent and destructive tactics to ward off the development is a living room chat over tea. He is not the villain of the movie. Rather, he is yet another foil for Jack to come to terms with his crisis of conscience over his choices in life and his parenting of Rose.
The film’s climax is tense and unpredictable, but it’s unfortunately ruined by an utterly tacked-on thirty second epilogue. “Oldboy” shares the same dark secret as “Jack and Rose” (Hint: It’s not child molestation, genocide, abortion or assisted suicide, but I’m thinking of adding it to that list). Its ending likewise disappoints.
A stylish, fast-paced and frenetic Korean import, “Oldboy” begins with an unremarkable office worker’s night of public drunkenness and disorderly conduct, and his subsequent abduction and imprisonment. Finding himself in a windowless hotel room with a television as his only connection to the outside world, Dae-su Oh learns that his wife has been murdered and he is the main “person of interest”. He spends the next 15 years teaching himself to fight by watching action movies and boxing matches on the teevee, while plotting his escape and revenge.
When he is just-as-mysteriously let go, Dae-su Oh sets out to find out who imprisoned him, and why, and to get his revenge. At this point, the movie promises to be a slick and amusing revenge flick, akin to “Kill Bill,” with our stoic hero and his quickly acquired nubile sidekick kicking ass and taking names. Indeed, the first half of the movie is a rapid succession of delightful and inventive fights, investigations and fish-out-of-water interactions. But when the “who” of our mystery is revealed too quickly, the “why” and the motivation become increasingly bizarre and the movie runs out of steam.
A Socialist In the Senate?
Come 2006, the state of Vermont may be represented by an independent socialist in the U.S. Senate. Jim Jeffords, the former Republican Senator who went independent in protest of the Bush agenda, announced last month that he will not seek re-election. Bernie Sanders, Vermont’s sole representative in the House and an independent as well, quickly announced his intention to run for Jeffords’ seat.
Sanders has long served in public office as an independent, beginning with a five year stint as Mayor of Burlington in the 1980’s and culminating in the last fifteen years in the US House of Representatives. He has also spearheaded the birth of a competitive statewide third party in Vermont, the Progressive Party and founded the US House Progressive Caucus.
Sanders doesn’t shy away from the “s” word, either. He spoke at the Democratic Socialists of America convention in 1999, and I have, somewhere, pictures of him speaking at the 1983 Socialist Party convention.
Which is not to say that Sanders gets full bona fides on the left. His “independence” has long had a nudge-and-wink relationship with the Democrats, with whom he caucuses in the House, and who have not mounted a serious challenge against his candidacy for at least ten years. In fact, the Democrats are unlikely to field a serious candidate against Bernie’s Senate campaign either.
There’s also Bernie’s disappointing hedging on some military engagements.
But, then, he has an across-the-board 100% voting score on labor issues, women’s issues and a litany of progressive causes, and he takes every opportunity he can to give Alan Greenspan agita.
His is a voice that would serve us well to be amplified in that most exclusive club, the US Senate. Considering the fact that the Democrats won’t contest the seat, the Republicans do not have a marquee name to run and Sanders already gets elected by huge majorities of all of Vermont’s voters every two years, he looks to be a shoo-in.
Keep an eye on this one. Bernie has a tremendous potential to be a rallying point for progressive and independent politics. He also has more rope to hang himself. I prefer to give him qualified support now and hope for the best, than to denounce him and expect the worst. I urge you to do the same.
Expanding My Media Empire
In my continuing effort to expand my media empire, the Blarg is now syndicated on LiveJournal. If you have an LJ account, you can add my Blarg to your “friends” list by going here.
I’m trying to solve the mystery of why all posts are given the same date and time as the last article posted. I’m running Blosxom. If you can provide any help, I’d greatly appreciate it. Otherwise, I’m going to keep tinkering with plug-ins until this fucking thing works the way I want.
Get Back In Line
Today is May Day, the international holiday of the working class, a celebration of our labor unions and our rich history of struggle. I marched, along with 40,000 comrades, past the United Nations, across 42nd street and back up 6th avenue to Central Park for nuclear abolition and an end to the war in Iraq.
Back home, spinning a Kinks CD, I am inexplicably drawn to an anti-union song, “Get Back In Line.” Ray Davies, the lead singer and chief songwriter of the Kinks, is a curmudgeon. He’s also one of the greatest songwriters of the rock-n-roll era. He infuses his songs with a dry wit and clever character studies, as well as a supernatural sense of melody, that all his songs are likable, even when he’s bashing socialism or criticizing labor unions.
Back in 1964, in the first great wave of the “British Invasion,” the Kinks scored a #1 hit on both sides of the Atlantic with “You Really Got Me,” an infectious rave-up that employs the first integral use of feedback in a rock song. The Kinks were stars, but they were denied the opportunity to tour America while all of their compatriots were making the Ed Sullivan Show their first stop in lucrative and career-enhancing tour of the states. The exact reason for the Kinks Ban is murky. It had something to do with Ray’s tendency to get into fist fights on stage with his brother Dave. Many, Ray Davies chief among them, blame the American Federation of Musicians for banning the Kinks from America.
I find it hard to believe that the union ever had the kind of power to singlehandedly prevent famous rockstars from touring. They certainly don’t have that power now. My friend Elana works for Local 802 AFM now, and she is investigating this mystery.
Whatever kept the Kinks out of the US, it ultimately enhanced their art and helped define their career. While the Beatles and Rolling Stones were getting sick of playing concerts for arenas full of American girls whose screaming drowned out their music (both eventually quit touring for much of the 60’s), the Kinks were embracing their distinct Britishness.
Davies wrote about Carnaby Street fops, English pubs, the Waterloo train station, village greens, holidays in Germany, English music halls – all are rather alien to American teenagers. By 1967’s “Summer of Love,” the Kinks’ new album was extolling the virtues of “little shops, china cups and virginity” (That record, “The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society” sounds much more timeless than the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper”).
In 1970, Davies wrote the song “Get Back In Line.” Although the yearning ballad is a poetic imagining of a union hiring hall, the clear subtext is that it’s Davies’ shot at the Musicians union in America.
The lyrics, quoted in whole, are:
Facing the world ain’t easy when there isn’t anything going
Standing at the corner waiting watching time go by
Will I go to work today or shall I bide my time
‘Cos when I see that union man walking down the street
He’s the man who decides if I live or I die, if I starve, or I eat
Then he walks up to me and the sun begins to shine
Then he walks right past and I know that I’ve got to get back in the line
Now I think of what my mamma told me
She always said that it would never ever work out
But all I want to do is make some money
And bring you home some wine
For I don’t ever want you to see me
Standing in that line
‘Cause that union man’s got such a hold over me
He’s the man who decides if I live or I die, if I starve, or I eat
Then he walks up to me and the sun begins to shine
Then he walks right past and I know that I’ve got to get back in the line
It’s a beautiful, heartbreaking song, even if it is an ugly shot at unions. It took me a long time to appreciate this song. In fact, it was only recently, finding myself in a similarly powerless situation as the song’s protagonist, that I recognized the song’s meaning for what it was: championing a little guy’s survival from forces that are frequently beyond his control. It’s a standard theme of Ray Davies’ writing, and it’s not so curmudgeonly now that I think about it.