Lost In Translation

Miami Blues

I was a fan of the George Artimage film (1990) based on Charles Willeford's Hoke Moseley novel Miami Blues (1984) before reading it. This edition has an introduction written by Elmore Leonard. And, indeed, I see similarities between the two authors-they are both masters of the literary crime novel. I really enjoyed inhabiting the seedy 80s Miami in Willeford's novel. I like how Willeford uses Junior's introduction to Miami as a way to introduce the city to those of us who are also not familiar with it: the dimensions of the city with the Everglades, the distinctions of Miami proper with Miami Beach, Colombian murder squads, how Carter's offer of refugee status for Cubans in opposition to Castro destroyed the city when Castro emptied his prisons in Marioelito (referred by Moseley as Marielitos), and other aspects specific to Miami. Hoke Mosley is also a original crime fighting protagonist-like Kurosawa's Murakami in Stray Dog he loses his gun. However, that's not the worst of it, because he also is savagely beaten within an inch of his life and loses his badge in the bargain as well. He also has dentures that are a constant source of worry, but these do not detract from the fact that he is a first rate detective and completely devoted to his job. The perpetrator of this offense is one of the more memorable psychopaths in recent history as well-the musclebound Frederick J. Frenger, Jr.-known as Junior. A man who never even considered  going straight once released from prison. Instead he mugs three men and flies to his fate in Miami. He accidentally kills a Hare Krishna upon arrival at the airport after breaking his finger and coincidentally ends up in a relationship with the man's dim-witted sister. The movie follows the book very closely, but there is great pleasure in the details. I will definitely be reading more Willeford in the future.

Fat City

I've unearthed another lost 70s classic from director John Huston, Fat City (1972). Huston ended his career doing some interesting artistic and literary films: A Flannery O'Connor adaptation of Wise Blood (1979), the Malcolm Lowry adaptation of Under The Volcano (1982), and the James Joyce adaptation of The Dead (1987). Fat City was also adapted from a novel by Leonard Gardner. It is the story of a down and out alcoholic boxer played by Stacy Keach. He is working out in a gym and sees a kid, played by a young Jeff Bridges, who he thinks might have promise as a boxer-this leads to the 30 year old taking anotherr chance in the ring. It may be a boxing film, but it is also about the American Dream gone wrong. He takes up with another alcoholic, courageously portrayed by Susan Tyrrell, barfly in a relationship that prefigures the car wreck of a relationship of Faye Dunaway and Mickey Rourke in Barfly. The portrayal of down and out Stockton California is haunting and very authentic. There is a poignant ending that is sad and appropriate. The Kris Kristofferson song, "Help Me Make It Through The Night," that opens and closes the film is fitting as well. It is a film well-worth searching out.

Making Movies

Sidney Lumet, who died earlier this year, has no less than four film masterpieces: 12 Angry Men, Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, and Network. Serpico and Dog Day Afternoon, are two of my favorite New York films of all time (others include: The French Connection, The Marathon Man, Day Of The Condor, Taxi Driver, Manhattan, Goodfellas). There are several other exceptional films also directed by Sidney Lumet: Prince Of The City, The Verdict, The Hill, and Before The Devil Knows You're Dead. Woody Allen also mentioned The Hill as one of the greatest American films of all time. So you know you're dealing with an American film institution and when Lumet writes a book about film making, Making Movies (1996), you know it is going to have a lot of useful and interesting opinions. He draws on his history of film making to explain how and why he does what he does in his films. This is a must for any serious film fan.

White Heat

I recently read a quote where Woody Allen had said that White Heat (1949) was one of the greatest American films of all-time. I had heard other good things about it, so I sought it out and I was entertained and surprised by the film. It was much more violent that I would have thought for a film made at the end of the 40s. James Cagney's Cody Jarette is a cold blooded psychopath who doesn't think twice about eliminating an obstacle. It is also a police procedural on one level and I wonder if the technology actually represented the methods G-Men used to fight crime in the era. I was also surprised by the brisk pacing of the film that seemed to move quickly from action to action. There's also some great location filming and cinematography. It's an American crime noir classic.

In The iPod-December 2011: Tom Waits, Ryan Adams, and More

Tom Wait's new album Bad As Me (2011) is one of the year's best and one of Waits' best albums in years. Waits reunites with Keith Richards and Marc Ribot who also worked with him on The Bone Machine (1992). The best tracks are buried near the end with the apocalyptic "Hell Broke Luce" and "New Year's Day." Other standout tracks include "Chicago" and the bonus track "Tell Me."

I always look forward to the next Ryan Adams album and you always know there will be one since he is so prolific. He tool a few off and came back with a sparse singer/songwriter vibe on his latest Ashes & Fire (2011). I am still processing this record, but so far like the title track and "Invisible Riverside" are my standout tracks, but the whole album seems pretty solid to me.

After seeing the film Carlos, I was impressed by the soundtrack that was made up of several post punk songs by a variety of bands. One of them, "Dreams Never End" was off a New Order album that I had never owned before, Movement (1981) that also has a bonus disc of different versions of several classics. Some other impressive tracks include, "ICB," and "Truth."

Apparently director Oliver Assayas wanted to do a whole soundtrack with The Feelies songs, but they declined saying that they didn't want to be associated with terrorism. However, there were a few songs from them on the soundtrack which led me to get Crazy Rhythms (1980) with great songs like "The Boy With Perpetual Nervousness," " Fa Ce la," "Raised Eyebrows," and the title track. I had another album, Only Life (1988) from way back with great tracks like the title track, "Higher Ground," and "Far Away."

I was inspired by another film, Pedro Almodovor's Broken Embraces, in which a DJ is spinning Can's "Vitamin C" from Ege Bamyasi (1972). It still sounds very contemporary to me. Especially "Pinch" and "Spoon" in addition to "Vitamin C."

I also went and unearthed Mudhoney's fine second release, Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge (1991). I was always more of a Nirvana and Mudhoney fan than Soundgarden Pearl Jam fan. It has several classics like "Good Enough," "Into The Drink," "Let It Slide," and "Who You Drivin."

A Clockwork Orange

"What's it gonna be then, eh?" It is the opening salvo of Anthony Burgess's master piece A Clockwork Orange (1962 British edition: the reprint has a great cover with milk plus). To me this is a very punk rock statement for the early 60s and a harbinger of things to come, as it is repeated throughout the novel. The American version that the film was based on didn't include the final chapter was much more pessimistic. As Blake Morrison points out in the informative introduction, there is a moral dilemma which asks whether it is better to for man to choose to be bad than to be conditioned to be good. Burgess clearly has his answer, but it is lost in the American version and the film. I had heard that the novel was difficult to understand with all the nasdat slang ( the old American version had a glossary for the slang), but I realized that the language is one of the things I liked best about the novel-in particular the nasdat and slightly archaic language as well. The verbal mannerisms of young Alex seem appropriate-but perhaps because I can't completely separate the novel from Kubrick's masterly take on the novel. It was based on the American version of the novel which eliminated the last chapter that shows Alex growing up and out of his old ways-which is pointed out in the excellent introduction by Morrison. I was fascinated to learn that the author's own first wife was beaten, kicked, and robbed by a gang of four GI deserters and suffered a miscarriage and died an early death perhaps related to the incident. A similar incident occurs in the book. This episode has a sort of post modern meta-narrative slant to it in that the author F. Alexander is writing a book called A Clockwork Orange in the novel-Burgess is clearly ahead of his time. It also belongs to that great tradition of dystopia novels by the likes of Orwell and Huxley as well.

Double Suicide

Double Suicide (1969) is another fascinating film from director Masahiro Shinoda. Shinoda's framing of the well-known story as a bunraku puppet play is interesting in that the film opens with a theater troupe preparing for a play. When the action begins it is not completely realistic, although there are many realistic elements like traditional Japanese houses and clothing, blacken teeth on the women and other period specific details. However, the backdrop is stylized with woodblock prints and other artistic flourishes. However, the most telling detail that draws attention to this film as a contrived experience driven by the author and director is the presence of the kabuki stagehands dressed in traditional black (kuroko). They represent the fatalism of tradition and character according to Donald Richie (via Joan Mellen's  Voices From The Japanese Cinema). There are some memorable performances by the leads Shima Iwashita who plays the long suffering wife and the object of her husband's straying the prostitute Koharu. The straying husband is played by Kichiemon Nkamura. It is yet another exploration of the individual versus society-one is expected to suppress personal happiness for the sake of the family. Instead these two opt for double suicide.

DFW's Syllabus

Katie Rophie had an interesting piece in Slate on David Foster Wallace's syllabus and how it inspires her in her own syllabus writing. As a teacher, I loathe the yearly writing of the syllabus since I rarely ever follow it to the letter-sometimes it is a missed class or the first time I taught a certain course. I want and need leeway to change it according to my needs, classroom assessment, etc... I guess that's why DFW and I both reserve the right to change the syllabus on our whims. I was struck by how earnest and open DFW is giving students his phone numbers and precise expectations he has for them and that is a lesson I took to heart when writing my syllabuses for "Language and Literature" and "Current English." However, I must say I was taken aback by his choices in content. Well, it all the content I expect to see short stories by Kafka and Donald Barthelme. I didn't expect to see popular novelists like james Ellroy, Thomas Harris, Stephen King, and The Chronicles of Narnia. I expect he was trying to bring students into the fold of literature by sticking with things they might have already been familiar with. And while that might be admirable, I see it as a failing. (There might be other reasons) But I feel it is the instructor's role as a harbinger of culture to challenge and introduce students to literature that they might have attempted to read or discover on their own. I find it hard to believe that these "popular" works of art were obscure or unfamiliar to the students and some more literary equivalents might have substituted.

Bicycle Diaries

Bicycle Diaries (2009) by musician/artist David Byrne is only tangentially about bicycles. This is a polymath at his best, because this book is a treaties on urban planning, a travelogue, a mediation on music and art among other things. In the introduction when Byrne talks about ways to improve cities that would make them more bicycle/pedestrian friendly with mix use neighborhoods with rent control that would create/keep diverse neighborhoods I thought he must be an acolyte of Jane Jacobs (who wrote the seminal book on urban planning The Life and Death of Great American Cities). It turns out that he is, but she doesn't get a mention until the epilogue near the end of the book on page 286. The first section of book discusses American cities like Pittsburgh and others he has visited throughout his career and the story of flights from cities, cars, and the subsequent suburbs that developed in the wake. He proposes that cities be re-made and people will want to live closer to were they work and enjoy the vitality of the cities. Much of the rest has its travelogue moments. In Berlin Byrnes contemplates art and beauty and the radical art of Otto Muehl in particular. In Istanbul he attend s an art festival and ponders about Turkey's future as they struggle to become eligible to join the EU. In Buenos Aires he muses on politics and Latin music. Then There's Manila, in which I was able to learn how his musical project, a disco opera, based on the life of Imelda Marcos is explained and elaborated upon. In Sydney he analyzes the battle between man and nature in Australia. He is mainly concerned with art and cultural stereotypes while visiting London. While in San Francisco he contemplates about men and and machines and the rise of computer technology in the last 30 years. His last chapter is on that of his home, New York city about the changes the city has gone through and about his five borough ride while arriving at he conclusion that getting there is half the fun. This is the kind of sprawling eclectic book that I can really sink my teeth in, I'll have to make sure I'm a regular visitor to Byrne's blog in the future.

The Black Dahlia

The Black Dahlia (1987) is the first novel in James Ellroy's crime noir LA Quartet. It is based on the real life "Black Dahlia/Elizabeth Short" case, which Ellroy became fixated on because his mother was also raped and killed when he was young-something that spawned a book about his obsession with crime and the underworld and these cases: My Dark Places. I think I originally read L.A. Confidential after seeing Curtis Hanson's masterly adaptation. I also thoroughly enjoyed this book as well and look forward to reading the other two installments of the quartet. There is great attention to details of LA past, police procedure, noirish atmosphere, and surprising plot turns. This novel is essentially about two cops and former boxers, Bucky Bleichert and Lee Blanchard and the women who came between them the reformed wayward North Dakota girl Kay Lake and Elizabeth Short with whom both became obsessed with. This is much better than the film directed by Brian DePalma, which was pretty much universally reviled, but I admit to enjoying the film version. However, when you read the novel you live with the characters and their obsessions and the impressions are felt much more strongly.