Twitch had me anxiously awaiting this film. So much so that while in China, I went to my Beijing source TWICE in hopes of a black market DVD. I wasn’t disappointed; it’s still a film I must own some day. And yet…

One thing reviews I’ve seen so far haven’t mentioned is how psychedelisugarpop the opening credits are. Here is everyone involved, essentially unreadable, at least to the conscious mind…and into the film.

*rather spot on depiction of a DMT experience, not exactly like my own in the early 90′s, which strangely also involved a painter, but it definitely worked.

*combined factors make Tokyo seem like the most tripped out city on earth: the neon and futuristic vibe, tiny alley like streets, ex-pat vibe created therein, well done, but definitely not a place to front on the cops

*the first portion of the film completely works, and but I now feel a compulsion to go off about Paz De La Huerta for a bit…

An actress who clearly loves to get naked and carnal in front of the camera, I first saw her in Season 1 of Boardwalk Empire where her Apple accent works perfectly. But after this I have to question her acting ability overall. And it might not be entirely her fault. Noe’s script has her bogged down in quasi-incestuous inappropriate lounging with her brother and only companion in a cruel world. But I am still tempted to blame her acting, especially in her big “break down” scene, which rings hollow. I’m really conflicted about this actress, she is sexy without being exotic somehow. Something about her feels “Chloë Sevigny” if that makes any sense, and indeed, it would be interesting to see her work with Larry Clarke esp. before she gets too old for his tableaux. She has all of this sexuality frontally presented, as if there were little inside, and yet a hint of another deeper level where much is hidden. I’ll be curious to see more of her work (haven’t seen the Jarmusch thing yet)- my verdict is still out. But since I’ve gone this kooky obsessive about it, I’ll further mention my sister and I have a running bet if her breasts are real or not. I say real.

What else to say about this film? It’s as abstracted as you’ve heard, yet in ways that make sense. There is nothing David Lynch’s ‘Inland Empire’ about it (in other words: “what the fuck am I watching here?”). There is something about spirits interacting with electric energy. There is something about the nature of expressed love. Mommy issues and sister issues and the search for love.

But one quote I must include, from a wasted girl who burst into the men’s room afterward looking for a friend and delighted me with a quote as they followed me into the frozen night from the theater. Apparently she had no idea what to expect from Gaspar Noe (who I still credit, along with Ms. Monica Bellucci, as capturing the most hardcore depiction of rape ever filmed), nor what she was getting into.

She said, “I mean what the fuck was that? That was a porno, Joey. A reincarnation porno.”

It wasn’t, but the quote was appropriate and hilarious. I would have liked to see more about some of the minor Japanese characters in the story: the painters roommate who build the amazing model of Tokyo; the girl with the glasses, who got with the main guy, but apparently had a thing for Mario. I guess I would have liked more of a film, shot in the same style, about naughty gaijin in Tokyo, than a film about this guy’s death.
I guess you’ve done it again Mr. Noe. Got me thinking about and liking a film I can’t entirely get on board with. Contrasting the brutality and the bliss. I still give you points for grit and balls, even with all the experimentalism.
And I don’t agree with those who say it was too long. The subject matter, style, presented in this way…just right.

After almost a quarter century, still a classic. Gus Van Sant did the film montage.

Also psyched for the new doc coming out, WSB:A man within…

Halloween post time: I missed it last year, at least an H themed post. So here is some animation relating to comic artist, musician, actress, and all around kook – Dame Darcy. She did the audio montage too.

Also be sure to check out Golden Shoes (embedding disabled).

We went up to Minnesota to put my Dad’s ashes in the plot near the “family farm” in Burnsville, MN. A great trip in all, there were some stressful moments as both sides of my family have relatives there we haven’t seen in a long time and they wanted to “entertain us” to the point of overbooking. My sister, bro-in-law and I also wanted to chill and check out the city some.
We stayed the first night in Burnsville. I was so wound up, as sometimes happens to me, I didn’t sleep a wink, despite consuming the better part of a bottle of Jameson. So things were all the more surreal at 11 AM when I was standing there holding my father in a metal urn and people I’d never met (or had no memory of) approached me knowing instantly who I was. I appreciated the turnout – cousins of his, long time family friends etc. They are a tight community in a small town and everyone turns up when there is another death.
Then we rode into Minneapolis, checked into the W in the cool Foshay building, I got a little sleep and we headed out for a great dinner. Then we had one full day to run about and see things. I passed through there 16 years ago on a road trip with some friends and have always had a good feeling for the place, but don’t know how I’d do in the harsh winter. I got to see Big Brain Comics, and this little cutie handing out samples in an upscale grocery told me that night happened to be the 6th Annual Zombie Pub Crawl. Some 8,000 zombies were expected to attend.

I gathered some make-up and was ready to go as Help! era John Lennon zombie, as it also would had been his 70th BDay, but in the end, after reading in the local rag about the spiting of copious amounts of fake blood, decided I didn’t want to risk having my pea coat ruined.

And it was unseasonably warm besides. But we did do some drive-bys for shots – hard to manage from a slowly moving vehicle in traffic, with wasted zombies milling all about. Nerds gone wild, just like Dragoncon – though maybe slightly less nerdy, and seasonally relevant. Looked like too many to get drinks in a reasonable amount of time despite all of the bars involved.

But way to go MPLS! You’re still looking good too St. Paul. I’ll be back.

*I realize the irony of writing about zombies in the same post you are memorializing your deceased father…but that’s the way it happened.*

In early Sept. Dean and I went to Beijing for a culture fix and to celebrate his birthday. In addition to the food and DVD’s we couldn’t get in Liaocheng, we hit the 798 arts district and went to Wodaokou to check out an indie music club I’d heard about called D-22. It was very refreshing. For context, you have to understand the complete lack of decent western music in China. Michael Jackson and Westlife are names dropped when you ask what sort of western music people like. If you are really lucky, someone has heard of the Beatles and have a notion they were influential. So going to a venue in Beijing and liking what we heard was huge. As it was a Tuesday night, there was no actual band playing, but a film. It was a tour film for PK-14, which used their songs during the mundane bits when they were sleeping in the van and such (and to think, bands bitch about being “on the road” in the States) and a crazy ass experimental sound track over the live footage. This was the filmmakers doing and unfortunately I have no info on him. But I bought a PK-4 disc. Imagine my surprise when I got back to L to realize they’d been the global hit on the NPR’s The World the previous day. They is plenty of other press about them out there as well.

I’m trying to get some tracks uploaded to attach to this post but can’t figure it out right now. More later…

Living in China, I’ve had some encounters with other American’s over here to “teach English” who are in fact protestant Christians who feel they must convert, “save”, these lowly Chinese savages and inject bible-speak into every conversation they can. This despite the fact that Confucious, who is 500 years older than the “Christ child”, has had a more lasting effect upon the morality of China than the impact Holy J seems to have had upon the west. The wars, rape and murder keep on and on, but some just won’t shut about him. Unfortunately, many of these boring-ass myths are new to the Chinese students and they indulge the coersation, not to mention they’ll do most “anything to practice English”. I was hoping to vent some of this angst enjoying a film with this name, but the story has almost nothing to do with the title. A better title would have been Gynocide, which is seen written on a notebook at one point during the film. Note the feminist symbol for the T in the poster…

The prologue of this film is straight beautiful, even if a bit heavy handed. There are glimpses of the blunt carnality to come. But the film is more of a psychological thriller/ghost story than apocryphal. Charolette Gainsbourg steels the show from Defoe, but they both have rather solid performances. I wouldn’t have minded seeing her go off even more when it gets to that bit. I didn’t think the violence was as hardcore as some, or as realistic. A man would not carry on so after receiving such wounds. It’s got the fucking and genital mutilation you may have heard about, but not to such great effect. I’m not sure about Von Trier’s overall message in this film – is sort of wreaks of misogynistic paranoia. And you know it’s bad if I’m saying such a thing…. But it’s creepy like you want a scary movie to be creepy. I also give props for making a “small”, non-blockbuster film, and tasteful use of CG for a pleasant change.

In the midst of moving to and adjusting within the lifestyle of China, I haven’t had a chance before now to give proper memorial for an old friend who recently past. Thom was a totally swell guy I hung with quite a bit in the late 80′s/early 90′s.

In high school, I had a friend who’s Mom moved to Canada for several months leaving his older sister in charge. No surprise, this became a party house of sorts, during what we now refer to as “Salad Days”(I believe taken from the Minor Threat song). It was in this era that I first met Thom. He was a year older and went to another high school, but we had similar musical and cultural tastes. In fact we collaborated on a zine called Soma, which I think only ever achieved two issues, and who knows if I even have one buried in my files any longer. But he went on to become program director for my favorite ATL radio station, GA tech’s WREK, where they have a podcast and memorial in the works. I last ran into he and his wife in the winter of 2006(07?) and was pleased to realize he seemed the “same old Thom”. He died in a hiking accident in the Grand Canyon, and while this is obviously horrible, to happen while he was so young, I take comfort in the fact he was spared some more painful fate in possibly not as beautiful a setting. Knowing we all have to go some time, may I say I hope for a similar passage. I wish all the best to his surviving wife and family, and know that all who knew him will always think fondly of him. He was that open and friendly type, without enemies or spite, while still striving hard against a mundane system that deserves to be shaken up-

Missed out on an obit. last Friday, and this one is a little different as I actually once “met” and interacted with him. He read on the UGA campus in what I’ll guess was ’95, but I can’t reference a month right now. Some friends and I owned a bookstore in Athens at the time and when I walked up to him after the reading, maybe I was being a bit “glory”, but I couldn’t help but throw out the idea that, had he time, it might be cool if he came by. My intention was truly just for him to see and enjoy the place, as it was a bookstore like no other, I wasn’t trying to cash in on some “celebrity appearance”.

But how exactly to spontaneously pitch this?
I guess he wasn’t too impressed, for his response came, and I’ll never forget,
“You have a bookstoaahh?” like a junkie Elmer Fudd doing an impersonation of a New Yorker.

And then quickly some student union handler whisked him away with a promised carrot juice. Surely he was tired after the reading, surely wackballs approached him constantly, and as the sage N. Peart reminds us “one must put up barriers to keep oneself in tact.” I’m not bitter or anything, that’s just my little Jim Carroll story. He came of age in a great city at a unique time in it’s history and wrote some great stuff. I first saw this photo on the inner sleeve of J. Giorno’s compilation “Your a hook”.

J Carroll and P Smith in 1969. photo by Wren D’Antonio