Picnic: A Socio-Sexual Examination. Part 2 (Or, "Don't hate the player, hate the game")

"Picnic". Columbia Pictures, 1955. Directed by Joshua Logan, based on the play by William Inge. Starring William Holden, Kim Novak, Rosalind Russell, Susan Strasberg & Cliff Robertson.

This is the second installment of my "slightly tongue-in-cheek yet I'm not entirely making this up" review.

Recap: Sexy drifter Hal Carter, a man with a checkered past and an apparent "Spanish fly" effect on women, arrives in a small Kansas town on Labour Day.

Cut to the beach for a little pre-picnic swim. Show-off Hal makes quite a splash (groan!) at the lake, drawing much attention from the female swimmers. Millie becomes the envy of them all as she boasts that Hal's her date for the picnic. Score one for the nerdy girl!

It seems this whole swimming scene was included for one purpose alone: the changing room sequence. Wet bathing suits are peeled off & hit the floor. The camera pulls back to reveal a cut view of the men's and women's changing room, separated by only a joint wall. Being 1955 and for modesty, the camera is strategically placed most of the time but the effect is we see our characters standing around chatting in the nip. At one point, Millie tries to sneak a peek through to the men's side and can't help but join in on Hal & Alan's conversation. It's a cute scene, but again, it's purpose does seem only to add to the titillation.

Back at Mrs. Owens' rooming house they're packing their picnic baskets. Rosemary Sydney, resident cougar, awaits her boring beau, novelty salesman (read:purveyor of fake dog doo) Howard Bevans...all the while hoping she'll get a better offer. She claims there's a mystery man she met at a dance who wants to marry her and he could arrive any minute to whisk her away. But then, she also claims that she was as beautiful as Madge in her younger days -- another dubious claim. Rosemary Sydney is a boiling pot of repression and sexual frustration. While she's quick to keep up the appearance of propriety and wear the label of "old maid school teacher", she's desperately horny. She's desperate for a man, desperate for an escape from the other old maids at the school and the rooming house. It's Labour Day and the school year's about to start again -- she's got to get her hooks into a man. Today. Enter Hobo Hal, arriving at the house to pick up Millie for their date. The ladies are charmed by Hal, and Hal is quick to oblige them -- taking off his jacket to reveal his muscular build. Rosemary Sydney has a hallelujah moment.

Too bad for Rosemary: boring Howard is her date not buff Hal, and she's pretty pissed about it. She becomes increasingly cranky and prissy. In an odd scene that's vaguely suggestive of oral sex, Howard produces a bottle of whiskey in the car and coaxes prudish Rosemary to have a tipple. So now we have Rosemary: bitter, desperate, horny and just drunk enough to shed a few inhibitions. Yeah, this is going to end well.

Gathered together at the picnic, the gang from the Owens' rooming house see more of Hal in action. He swaggers about, climbing trees, doing push-ups -- anything to draw attention to his physical prowess. Relaxed, he lets his guard down a bit, dropping hints about his troubled past: particularly abuse he suffered from an alcoholic father. Again we see the dichotomy between Hal the show-off and Hal the vulnerable. On the one hand he flaunts his body, brags about his sexploits and appears to be the typical "big man on campus" jock. At the same time we see Hal's child-like naivete and his fractured past. It seems like most of Hal's problems have stemmed from the way others have treated him. Could it be Hal is simply a victim of his own simple-mindedness and the deviousness of others? Or, maybe his sexy pheromones are clouding my opinion too! One thing's for sure -- Rosemary Sydney can't take her eyes off Hal's pants....



The picnic itself is a bizarre spectacle. The townsfolk amuse themselves with a variety of physical competitions. Sure, there's the standard 3-legged race and pie eating contest. But then there's also a game called "trained seals" where the men are tied-up in submissive positions and gagged with a stick in their mouths as the women toss rings at them. (Not surprisingly Rosemary Sydney is particularly fond of that game.) As night falls they have a group hymn sing. What a sea of bored faces! As I look across the glassy-eyed crowd I can't help but wonder if this is what Jonestown looked like. The evening is capped by the crowning of the "Queen of Neewollah" (that's Halloween spelled backwards. Slightly demonic, wouldn't you say?). Naturally, Madge is a shoe-in as Queen. The Queen floats down the river in a swan-shaped boat in a seemingly dark pagan ritual. The citizens take on a creepy, cult-like demeanor, bowing and chanting in unison "Nee-woll-ah".

It's amazing they don't don hooded robes and chuck Millie on an altar as a virgin sacrifice! At any rate, let's just interpret this as comment on the drone-like conformity found in small-town America. Despite the apparent festivities of the day we get the impression this could be a very closed society... not at all the type of place welcoming to free spirits.

Now that their Queen has been crowned, they celebrate with a dance.

Next: The Climax... coming in Part 3

"No Doubt" by Robin Gibb

Mmmm, oh, ooh, oh baby.

It's Friday night, and I just got paid.

Going out on the town, trying to get my freak on.

I can't see me staying home all alone.

No, it ain't right, I got to go out and see if I can find that special one.

You can be the one that I want to get it on with, you and me, me and you, rocking to the break of dawn.

You can be the one that I want to go home with, take you from the club to my spot, then we can get right to it, yeah.

No doubt - me and you, yeah, yeah.

No doubt - popping Christal, yeah.

No doubt - chilling at the house.

Get into the shower for half an hour, yeah.

No doubt - all inside the club, yeah.

No doubt - get some good lovin'.

No doubt - I just want to break you off.

Oo-wee to the break of dawn.

I can tell that you need a love like mine, but you try to lay shy like you ain't feeling my vibe.

But I know what you need,the only kind of love I give.

So why don't we both keep it real, do the kind of things we feel?

Oh yeah.

You can be the one that I want to get it on with, all night long, me and you, getting it on.

Is that what you were thinking?

You can be the one that I wanted to go home with, the one to go home with then we can get right to it, yeah. Take you from the club to my spot, then we can get right to it, yeah.

No doubt - me and u, yeah, yeah.

No doubt - poping Christal, yeah.

No doubt - chilling at the house.

Get into the shower for half an hour, yeah.

No doubt - all inside the club, yeah.

No doubt - get some good lovin'.

No doubt - I just want to break you off.

Ooo-wee to the break of dawn.

No doubt, no doubt...

"No Doubt" by Robin Gibb, from the album "Magnet". Lyrics and image are copyright their owner, Robin Gibb.

Review: "Escape from Special" by Miss Lasko-Gross

Ever since the public library started a comics and graphic novel collection I've been discovering all kinds of wonderful new things. The best part about it is they're FREE, so it's like a no obligation test drive where you can find out whether or not you're going to enjoy a series without committing $20 to buy it! (Perfect for an unabashed cheapskate like myself!) On more than one occasion now I've hit upon something really wonderful there-- the type of book that just strikes a chord with you.

Last Friday I made one of those discoveries: "Escape from Special" by Miss Lasko-Gross.

"Escape from Special" is the first book in a trilogy of autobiographical coming-of-age comics. The format is short anecdotes, usually laugh out loud funny ones. In this first installment we meet Melissa Gross: a headstrong, curious and neurotic little girl whose strong personality often puts her at odds with those around her. This first book covers Melissa's life from her first memory as a toddler up until the end of middle school. Everywhere she goes Melissa is alienated... and that makes her "special": whether she's the lone atheist at temple, the independent thinker at school, or the outcast on the playground. Through random anecdotes we see how in pretty much every situation Melissa manages to sabotage her own attempts to "fit in".

To me, this is very reminiscent of Jeffrey Brown's comics, only from a female point of view. To find a female coming-of-age book like this is very refreshing for me; I can think of similar experiences from my own childhood.

Maybe we aren't so "special" after all.

Rendered in muted black & white with a tight, almost childlike drawing style the book perfectly captures the awkwardness of childhood and adolescence. The style lends it a freshness & sense of immediacy but at the same time we know we're looking back on those moments with adult eyes. You feel that sense of urgency that kids have -- that everything that's happening is the end of the world -- while at the same time acknowledging the ludicrousness of it all.

I read "Escape from Special" on Friday; on Saturday I bought the sequel, "A Mess of Everything". I haven't had a chance to read it yet but based on the first book my expectations are high.

"Picnic": A (slightly tongue-in-cheek) Socio-Sexual Examination (Part 1)

"Picnic". Columbia Pictures, 1955. Directed by Joshua Logan. Based on the Pulitzer Prize winning play by William Inge. Starring William Holden, Kim Novak, Susan Strasberg, Rosalind Russell & Cliff Robertson.

(All photos & video clips used solely for purposes of review.)


Introduction. As my fixation with William Holden continues I am slowly going through his filmography. From all accounts, "Picnic" is cited as Holden's most sexually charged performance (just look at this movie poster for crying out loud!) so naturally I've been biding my time for the right moment to savour this one. Here's my interpretation of a seemingly innocuous little film that's one part "Rebel Without A Cause" and one part "American Beauty" with a healthy dash of "WTF" thrown in too. (Be warned I am going to hyperbolize a bit as is my poetic licence to do!)




Synopsis
"Picnic" opens with a freight train (yes ok, an obvious phallic symbol) pulling into a sleepy little Kansas town. From the train leaps a stow-away: a dingy hobo named Hal Carter. Hobo Hal wastes no time peeling off his clothes to bathe in the nearby river before venturing into town. (Footnote: William Holden in varying degrees of undress, usually bathing, happens at least once in almost every movie I've seen him in -- it's practically his trademark!) With his fabulous physique now a little more presentable, Hal wanders into a residential neighbourhood, knocks on the door of an elderly lady offering his "services" for hire. Noticing Hal's obvious, um... assets... Mrs. Potts puts Hal to work in her backyard... under the condition that he removes his shirt (ostensibly because she wants to wash it, and... ya know, he's a man so going topless is fine and... YOU GO GIRL, MRS. POTTS!!!) Of course, as Hal stands working behind the trash barrel his lower body is hidden, creating the illusion that he is nude. It's probably no coincidence that Mrs. Potts puts Hal in plain view for the rooming house next door for all there to enjoy the view. You sly ol' dawg, Mrs. Potts!

Cut to the rooming house owned by Mrs. Owens, a single mom whose life has passed her by. Languishing at the bottom of the social strata, she ekes out a living renting out rooms to spinster ladies, such as self professed "old maid school teacher"and part-time cougar Rosemary Sidney. Mrs. Owens vicariously places all her hopes in her two teenage daughters, Millie and Madge. Millie, the younger daughter is a brainy tomboy who resents living under the shadow of her more attractive, but otherwise bland older sister, Madge. Madge is the local all-American beauty queen with a surprisingly bad case of ennui. She's pretty and popular and is dating the richest boy in town but she's bored and unhappy -- and worse, she isn't bright enough to know why. What she does know is that no one is really interested in her beyond her good looks and that her boyfriend Alan is a bit of a bore. She admits to her mom that they "make love" down by the river but hints that flaccid Alan gives her no pleasure physically. Still, Mrs. Owens would prefer that Madge bag her rich beau while she can because really time is ticking away on Madge and once her looks fade she'll have no chance to make it in life. Admittedly, I'm kind of in agreement: Madge seemingly has no personality, interests or skills. As an aside, "Picnic" was Kim Novak's first breakout role and honestly her performance is very wooden. She easily could've been replaced by a mannequin.

Back to flaccid Alan, who it turns out used to be Hobo Hal's old college roommate (that is, back when Hal was riding out a football scholarship before being chucked out of the frat house for poor grades.) Hal tells Alan his hard luck story of how he was bilked out of all his money by essentially a liquored-up & rapey Thelma and Louise in a sports car.


Don't hate him because he's beautiful; the poor man can't catch a break. Hal begs rich Alan for a job...preferably an executive position with a corner office and personal secretary. Alan gives him a job as a farm hand. We begin to see Hal Carter as a man with a small brain, a huge penis and a distorted sense of entitlement. As footnote, William Holden initially refused this role. Being 37 years old at the time he was correct in thinking that he was too old to play this character. However, Holden pours a lot of bravura into this performance and manges to pull it off. He throws in equal amounts of swagger and dim-witted earnestness, enough to make you unsure of Hal's true motivations. Is he really a scheming con man or just a handsome idiot?


So Hal's got a job now but no work today because it happens to be Labour Day and the whole town shuts down for a huge picnic. Naturally Alan is taking Madge so he invites Hal to tag along as little Millie's date (because who better to pair up with a rebellious underage girl than an over-sexed homeless man, right?)


What could possibly go wrong?

More in Part 2.

M.I.A.

No, I haven't forgotten about this blog. I've just been on a bit of a "hiatus" working on other things. Hopefully soon I will have some new items to post. In the meantime, here's a sampling of what I've been up to lately...

For starters, I deactivated my Facebook a couple of months ago. I haven't regretted it. I didn't "advertise" the fact I was leaving it, I just did it (and I'm sure no one really noticed I was gone). Social networking isn't for me. I'm not the least bit interested in reconnecting with former classmates, past co-workers, etc. If someone is not currently part of my life there's probably a very good reason for that. Ironically, the handful of people from my past that I wouldn't mind staying in touch with don't use Facebook. Also, the minutia of my acquaintances lives frankly doesn't interest me. Constant status updates about every mundane little thing they're doing (the fact they enjoy coffee or that they changed their socks today) annoy me. I really prefer to keep at arm's length with a lot of people. And I really question the need for virtual "approval" from people. My mood has much improved since deactivating Facebook, and my productivity/creativity has probably doubled.


Obviously I've been following the final season of "Lost". Absolutely one of the best written and most ambitious shows on television ever. That's no exaggeration. If you haven't been following it you're really missing out (but you've got to watch it from the beginning -- in order!!!) Damn, I'm gonna miss this when it's gone.




Back in my university days I was very into jazz music. Not "modern" jazz; I mean mostly swing from the 30s and 40s. Lately I've been rekindling my love of old jazz. Recently I got some CDs to replace some of my old worn-out cassettes (this "Okeh" Duke Ellington double cassette set used to be a particular favourite of mine). I feel like there's a time & a place for certain music, sometimes it feels like putting on a comfortable old pair of slippers. I've been nagging Chris to help me do an electronic "jazz" album (old style jazz/swing/scat inspired tunes done all on synths with some triphop beats), and I hope to do some Duke Ellington covers. I'm not sure he exactly shares my vision yet. :) Ok its not everyone's cup of tea... but if it ever gets done it will be awesome -- trust me on this.



Recently I picked up an ultra cheap SD camcorder, similar to this one and I've been making videos. The image quality is pretty poor... but I guess that's part of it's charm. I have lots of ideas of future videos I want to make -- the only thing slowing me down is my lack of skill! Keep checking YouTube for updates.

I won't mention any books or movies here yet -- I'll save them for upcoming reviews. Suffice to say I've been running the gamut from awesome to WTF lately...


Stay tuned!

CD Review: "Self-Portrait" by Jay-Jay Johanson

As I look back upon the past year, certainly my biggest disappointment was missing out on the chance to see Jay-Jay Johanson perform live in Montreal. My departure and his arrival in la belle province were within days of each other. Although I'm certain there will be other opportunities to see him, I can't help but feel a few pangs of regret in my more self-indulgent moments. The next best thing (I suppose) was that I finally got my hands on his latest album, "Self-Portrait". I realize that I'm a bit late to the party on this one, as the album was released in 2008, but it was incredibly hard to find here in North America. I was grateful to finally receive it as a birthday gift (thanks Christian!)

As I've stated in reviews of his past albums, Johanson is a highly introspective artist. His medium is trip-hop/jazz/electronic characterized by sombre tones and autobiographical lyrics. With each album it seems that Johanson bares a little bit more of his soul to us. His previous effort, "The Long-Term Physical Effects Are Not Yet Known" was, to my mind, pretty much his most perfect album so I had very high expectations for "Self-Portrait". After all, with a title like that I expected more of the same.

Ironically, I found "Self-Portrait" to be a much less personal effort. This is not so much a view of Jay-Jay the man, but rather a look at Jay-Jay through the lens of relationships he's had with women throughout his life. None of which, it seems, were very successful. Not surprisingly, if this is a "Self-Portrait", then the picture is a bleak one. Musically, the album veers away from anything catchy or pop; it falls more under the umbrella of jazz with lots of piano and hints of downbeats. The tone is dark and melancholy, brimming with regret.

The lead single, "Wonder Wonders" opens the album and sets the tone with musings of whatever happened to a past love. "Lightning Strikes" continues with much the same dwelling, marking the passage of time and healing of old wounds, leading to "Autumn Winter Spring". To my untrained ear, there really is very little variation on this album. Most of the songs are similar in tone, tempo, instrumentation. If you were to interpret "Self-Portrait" in visual terms, it would be a canvas of a solid, neutral colour. The difference between songs feels a bit like discerning the spectrum from grey to charcoal, slate, silver, oyster, pearl or taupe... Ok, that's a bit unfair, but there really isn't any "stand out" track on this album for me. "Liar" is short and sweet, like a brief interlude which gives us a bit of a break. "Trauma", definitely the most "jazzy" is probably my favourite track. I've always been drawn to maudlin, angst-filled lyrics and these are some pretty good ones:

"On the borderline of silence,
Trauma setting in
And the loneliness is killing me
So you've got to accept my apology
It'll all become a catastrophe."

Musically, the strongest and most stand-out track would be "Broken Nose"; a story of domestic violence marked by an urgent, pounding staccato piano line. Although I feel I've come to know Jay-Jay fairly well from his songs, I'm not really sure who the abused woman is in this tale of woe or how she fits into his autobiography. The vocal melody in "Medicine" seems inexplicably familiar to me, as though I've heard something similar before but I can't place it. The album ends with "Sore", which feels like a heavy black raincloud rolling closer onto the horizon. So, we're not exactly left on a high note.

"Self-Portrait" is a bit of a disappointment. It's "good" but falls flat for me. I can see this maybe being one of those albums that "grows on me" over time but right now I just don't feel connected to it. Perhaps Jay-Jay felt these songs were an accurate depicition of his life, though not necessarily a flattering one. (Like a passport photo may be a more honest representation than a soft-focus glamour shot?) I find the title of the album puzzling and a bit of a misnomer, since the songs seem to focus on the women more than on Jay-Jay himself. Honestly, I felt "The Long Term Physical Effects..." was more honest, more psychologically revealing, and overall stronger album but then who am I to say?

I've never been older

"Anything may be betrayed, any one may be forgiven. But not those who lack the courage of their own greatness."
(Gail Wynand in "The Fountainhead" - Ayn Rand)

Another year is coming to a close for me. I can't say I'm thrilled about getting older... although it beats the alternative! I suppose it's just "old fartism" taking hold, but I find myself re-evaluating; questioning things that I previously took as "given". My ability to "suffer fools" is steadily diminishing.

This coming year will mark a "milestone" high school reunion for me... that is, if I were to go to it (which I'm not). It will be 20 years, which is older than I was when I graduated! Back then I never gave much thought to ever being this old. The "year twenty-ten" sounded like science fiction. It still kind of does. The thing that really makes me bitter is that most of my youth was wasted on things I "had to do", rarely things I wanted to do. Some people spend their 20s travelling, partying, forming meaningful relationships (and some not so meaningful ones). Most of my time was spent going to school (to someday get a job), working pathetically low-paying jobs (with the hope of someday advancing to a better job), and spending time with people who meant nothing to me (usually met through meaningless jobs). So now I have a job. So what? Am I supposed to wait for retirement to start living?

You've been warned: a serious mid-life crisis is brewing.

Obviously it's not all bad. Mostly, I'm very happy with my life these days. I'm married to my best friend. I have money in the bank. I own a house and a car. I've met some interesting and kind people & made great friends (although I wish I could overcome my social awkwardness around them). I'm grateful there have been no major calamities (knock on wood). Still, I regret all the wasted time & energy. If only I'd known those people back then. If only I cared less then, or thought plans through more. If only I'd drank more. I wish I'd discovered Objectivism earlier in life!

As a footnote to the season: "Simplification" has become a key word lately. I would love to "downsize" the holidays. I find myself less sympathetic to certain charities or causes. I really believe North Americans have to drop some of their "needs".

"I'll brown his hash!"

"Life is but a Dream": A Review of AMC's "The Prisoner"

(Yes, spoilers abound!)

"Remake The Prisoner? Sure... and why not add a few brush strokes to the Mona Lisa while you're at it!"

(- cartoon I recall in an old "Starlog" magazine)


The idea of a "re visioning" of the 1960s cult classic "The Prisoner" has been tossed around for many years but the American network AMC has finally gone & done it! Between Nov 15 - 17, AMC returned us to "The Village", taking some baffling detours along the way.


The new mini-series consisted of six episodes, each named after an episode of the original series (often a misleading misnomer, as we'll discuss later). As with the original, the first episode is entitled "Arrival". We're presented with a man whom we know little about but learn that he has acrimoniously resigned from his job. (Why does he feel the need to spray paint "resign" on his office window? Why does he have a can of spray paint in his desk? But I digress...) In the "classic" series, our main character (as created and portrayed by Patrick McGoohan) was mostly an "unknown": we never knew what his job was, who he worked for, or why he resigned. In fact, we never knew his name -- lending credence to the idea that he is an "everyman". He could be anyone.. a stand-in for you or me. In the remake, we gradually learn our man (portrayed by Jim Caveizel) is named "Michael", he's a single guy living in an apartment in New York City, and he works for a company called Summakor where his job is monitoring surveillance footage from CCTs (closed circuit televisions), looking for patterns in human behaviour. Does that sound like he could be you? No, me neither. Let's continue.


Michael awakes in a desert. Not knowing where he is or how he got there, he finds "The Village", where the citizens have numbers not names and lead quietly contented lives, wallowing in blissful ignorance and seemingly lorded over by a mysterious control freak named "2" (played by a doddering Ian McKellan). Our man is christened "6" and learns that he is to remain a permanent resident there. 6 learns that anyone who believes there is anything beyond The Village is called a "Dreamer" (...because they usually have dreams about it at night. Duh!) Whereas The Village of the old series was rife with overt propaganda & brainwashing, the new Village feels like a caricature of suburbia where everyone just watches soap operas & eats nothing but wrap sandwiches and cake. The Villagers seem less sinister, and more like village idiots.

There's a defining moment in "Arrival" that effectively illustrates the difference between McGoohan's & Caveizel's "6". Upon arriving in the desert, the remake 6 witnesses a man being shot by some pursuers. Faced with this scenario, McGoohan's 6 would have seethed with outrage and then burst into action. Caveizel's character cries. In my opinion, this is NOT the same character and AMC would have been wise to give their new character a different number. To call him "6" suggests this is the same man. Clearly he is not. Even his Lotus 7 has been down-graded to a Subaru hatch-back. Seriously. They are not even playing in the same league!

The mystery continues in the 2nd episode, "Harmony". The title gave me false hope, as it alludes to one of my favourite episodes from the original series. "Living in Harmony" was a brilliant spaghetti Western story about a sheriff (6) who tries to bring justice to a corrupt town while refusing to carry a gun. In the remake "Harmony" is about how a fellow named 16 pretends to be 6's brother and the two of them drive a tour bus together. Hm. Next.

Things get back on track a bit in "Anvil". In the original series "Hammer Into Anvil", 6 plays a brilliant game of psychological "cat & mouse", playing on the paranoia of 2 and eventually bringing about his downfall. In the remake, 6 is recruited as part of the "Underground"; a covert network of spies. No one really seems to know who is spying on whom... and it doesn't really matter because in The Village children are trained in school how to spy on each other, so basically everyone watches everyone all the time. As it turns out, 909, who is 6's partner in the spy game, is (surprise surprise!) spying on him! Oh, and 909 is also having an affair with 2's son, 1112. Later, 1112 will murder 909. Why? Meh. Does it really matter? Ok... um... because death is the only way to escape The Village. And I should mention that along the way, 6 gets a couple of love interests himself: a mentally unstable doctor named 313 and a blind girl named 415 (whom he slept with back in NYC, but that was another life.)

Speaking of 1112, let's digress a bit & talk about the "2" family since this becomes the main crux of the whole series. 2's wife (whom I don't think actually has a number of her own) lives in a comatose state, presumably created by the 3 pills that her hubby shoves down her throat everyday. We're told one pill is a sedative, one pill is a hallucinogen and the third pill... well supposedly does something else. At this point, let's just throw the mother of all spoilers out there, shall we? 2's wife "dreams" the Village. It's her own psychological "utopia" that they're all living in. And yes, you guessed it... 2 (whose real name is Curtis) & wife run the Summakor corporation. So, Summakor watches people via CCT, and if you exhibit any unfavourable psychological traits, you're sent to "The Village" for rehabilitation. The problem is, Curtis/2's wife can't sustain the dream. When she wakes up, "holes" appear in the Village (literally, sink holes in the sand) and the holes lead to oblivion & death (honest). So Mrs. 2 needs a replacement. What a happy coincidence that Michael/6 turned up. And he also has a mentally unstable mate! Hmm...

It really is difficult to explain what goes on in most of the show. Taking a nod from "Lost", the plot doesn't advance in a linear way. Events are shown out of sequence. It's only when we learn more about Summakor that we see synchronicity between events in The Village and events in New York. The Prisoner always did raise more questions than it answered, but the remake gets very confusing at times. The end, however, ties everything up into a neat little package. I really don't need to tell you what happens as I'm sure your mind has already said "it must be... but that's too obvious & stupid". Well, yes that is what happens.

To me, the original The Prisoner could always be interpreted on 2 levels. On the one hand, it's a story of "man vs society". The individual against the collective. It represents a Kafka-esque struggle for the right of an individual to remain individual. On another level, the show was an allegory of the conflict of "man vs himself". A person who explored their own subconscious to understand why they've made certain choices in their life ("why did you resign?") and why they believe in their own convictions. This is why at the end of the original series, it's revealed that the mysterious "Number 1" who has been controlling things is in fact 6 himself (... albeit in a monkey mask!). In this context, the remake makes no sense. If I create constructs in my own mind, I can live in it. This makes sense on a metaphorical level and a common sense level. In the remake, The Village is a construct of 2's wife -- it takes a huge leap of faith and science fiction to accept that anyone else vacations in her head.

In conclusion: It's my opinion that if you're going to "reinvent the wheel" then completely reinvent it. Give us a completely new story with completely new characters. If you're going to just "re-do" something, then make it worth doing. Be faithful to the original but "value add" something to it. (eg. give us some "deleted" scenes, more back story, improve the f/x, build characterization.) To do any less is just a bastardization of the original.

As they say in The Village, "A still tongue makes a quiet life" so I'll end here. Be seeing you.

Lately I've been into...

Currently reading:

"World War Z" - Max Brooks

There's been a bit of hype about "World War Z" (and zombies in general, as discussed here previously), so when I found a used copy for cheap I thought I'd check it out. That was way back in September and I'm still trying to slough through it. I'm having a weird relationship with this book: sometimes I pick it up & have a hard time getting through a chapter. Other times I get really "into" it & dig it. Suffice to say it's not great "literature". My biggest complaint about it is that although it's an interesting concept, it's not great writing. Let me qualify that: "logistically" and "technically" it's really good. It has a great concept and the story is quite ambitious. All the individual "threads" tie together nicely and it seems like the author did a lot of research (scientific, military, political) to make the whole zombie pandemic thing seem plausible. My complaint is largely that although every chapter is supposed to be "spoken" by ethnically and geographically diverse characters, to me, they all have the same literary "voice". Maybe I'm just expecting too much. It is just horror fantasy, and admittedly I'm not even finished it yet. Damn all those undergrad English lit courses I took for inhibiting my enjoyment of pulp fiction! I keep looking for symbolism and meaning instead of just entertainment!



And now having just poo-pooed on "pulp" fiction....


"Concrete" - Paul Chadwick

The editions I'm reading are not the same as pictured here, but I've been devouring volumes of Paul Chadwick's "Concrete" comics. If you're not familiar with the series, here it is in a nutshell: These are the adventures of Concrete, formerly political speech writer Ron Lithgow, whose brain is transplanted by aliens into a massive clay-like and seemingly indestructible body. Concrete is a sensitive, introspective fellow who attempts to "make lemonade" from the lemons he's been handed, and embarks on extraordinary globe-trotting adventures (eg., climbing Mt Everest solo, swimming across the Atlantic ocean, etc.), or sometimes just use his new abilities to help out people in need. Problem is there are always complications. In lesser hands, this premise would invite heavy handed slapstick, but what Chadwick gives us is just the opposite. In the style of what's good about "indie" comics, it's done in a touching, sometimes philosophic, and ever so "human" way. Another thing that appeals to me is that it's just so 1980s America. Get your hands on a copy & see what I mean. My only complaint: I am baffled as to how Concrete's assistant Larry Munro manges to score so much tail...

Currently listening to:

To be honest, I've been kind of "off" music lately.

I'm bored with my old music collection right now (I still love it mind you, just bored) and haven't found anything new that's piqued my interest. The only "current" band that I'm digging these days is Death Cab for Cutie. But as much as I like them, I really need to be a certain mood or frame of mind to listen to them because my gawd they can depress me! And yes, I'm a Morrissey/Smiths fan from way back, so I am fond of melancholy pop!

On a related note: Why do people take their taste in music so personally? Why do people take pop music so seriously? Is it because when they listen to their earphones, the music becomes the voice in their head, in essence "their" voice and it incorporates into their personality? Seriously, let's discuss this! I'd like to hear your thoughts on this.

Well, anyway, as a result, I've been listening to "talk radio" more and more. And yes, most of it is really bad. Most radio phone-in shows seem to be an open forum for the ignorant and ill-informed to shoot their mouths off. Beyond that, you do occasionally learn some interesting things, mostly from science programs. But again, news and current affairs are depressing too.

My plan for this winter is to become a real homebody. Recently we moved the tv out of the room that was originally earmarked as mine, and I've starting setting it up as my drawing studio/projects room. Hopefully I can get some time & concentration in the coming months & start working on some arts & crafts. I feel better when I'm producing something but sometimes I just seem to lack the inspiration or the focus. There are so many distractions. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a little ADHD...