Up All Night

Saturday, May 12, 2007

(Sigh) I’ve outgrown Martin Scorsese

The other night I watched Martin Scorsese's latest, The Departed. Not having paid much attention to mainstream film this last year, I not only didn't know the film had won several Oscars, but that it was a Scorsese film at all. Michael just brought it home because he'd been wanting to see it, and I was game to spend a couple of hours on the sofa.

For those unacquainted, The Departed is the story of two Boston cops (Matt Damon and Leo DiCaprio) who each come up on the mean streets under the influence (one directly, one indirectly) of local crime lord Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson). There were Mick, Dago and "black guy" (which amused me) references aplenty, shot in the understated wide-shot, natural light style made famous in the 70s by the maverick filmmaker cult that included Eastwood, Altman, Coppola and Scorsese himself. I was engaged by the cinematography, the hilariously obvious symbolism and the fast-paced, profanity-laced banter. The violence was highly stylized, the relationships between characters one-dimensional and consistently representative of missing family ties. This was all established in the first few scenes, and about 20 minutes or so in, I commented that whoever the director was must be a Scorsese devotee. That's when Michael revealed that this was no knock-off, but the genuine article. My curiosity piqued, I began watching even more closely. I've always considered Scorsese a master of this certain genre, and I wanted to see what he had to say.

Turns out I had already sussed it all in the establishing scenes. Nothing wrong with that, after all I defend the Star Wars movies to people who really care about filmcraft. Also Oliver Stone and Steven Spielberg. I may or may not personally love their work, but it has a distinct signature and the people flock to see it. It's called auteurism, and for most aspiring directors it's a goal. When someone sees your work and knows by characters, themes and the look and feel of the movie experience that this is your work - and they like it - the director has succeeded.

Meanwhile, back on my sofa, I'm watching with an open mind, disbelief willingly suspended, in it for the fun. On cue, we meet Scorsese's classic Female Character (Vera Farmiga). Beautiful, smart (or so we are told) and pure of heart. She's a police shrink engaged to one of the cops but irrepressibly drawn to the other. She represents Good. She wants to help them both. They are fractured and they need her. Or so we are told.

The thing is, we can't possibly know this from anything the character herself does or says. Her lines are mostly frustrated, exhorting speeches, her range of emotions narrow (giggles, tears, rants against Corruption). Naturally, she sleeps with the cop to whom she's not engaged, which for some inexplicable reason is meant to create an unbreakable bond between them which is never explored further (or even mentioned again). It is the only sex scene in the movie.

Is this different from other Scorsese pictures? No. Is that a bad thing? If you go by the Lucas/Stone school of auteurism, no. But if you look across the careers of Altman, Coppola, Eastwood and even Steven Spielberg (if Saving Private Ryan counts), you see a pattern of growth, not just in their innate directorial abilities, but in their understanding of human nature, the roles people play in each other's lives and an ability to render characters of depth across genders, ethnicities and age groups. Not so for Martin. While his ability to create a sense of time and place within his films remains unwavering, with The Departed he has revealed a weakness which it's likely at this point he'll never overcome. He is unlikely to break free from his story mold: bad is good, but also bad. Women are scary, unknowable and ultimately unimportant to the larger torment in which the Men are embroiled. That's a wrap, and the Oscar goes to...

Selfishly, it really depresses me that his journey stops here. I used to agree with King Missile - "Martin Scorsese Makes the Best Fucking Films." When John S. Hall wrote the song in 1992, he was a much younger man, and when I believed it in 1992 I was a much younger woman. Now I need more from my legendary American filmmakers. Altman's dead, Stone and Lucas don't care and Scorsese is comfy in a box that doesn't do it for me anymore. The pantheon of my one-time idols is shrinking. I will just have to re-watch Short Cuts and Peggy Sue Got Married until the next Eastwood film comes out and hope for the best.

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

OPEN LETTER: Atomic Tattoo victim of personal taste and undue influence

Normally it's considered proper etiquette to author one's own blog, but I received this open letter from three local folks who brought to my attention the poor treatment received by one new local business - Atomic Tattoo on E. North Ave. - from another - Hooligan's. I was so incensed when I read this letter that I felt I had to post it in its entirety. Please leave comments and show your support for Atomic accordingly. Whether or not they are a business you would personally patronize, this kind of treatment is at least part of what keeps our neighborhoods from flourishing. Thanks, Jon Anne


Dear Neighbors,

Recently, Atomic Tattoo opened up on North Avenue by Open Pantry. I don’t know the owners well, but I was really enjoying watching them get set up, especially when they started working on covering the building with a cool mural they designed themselves.

The paint hadn’t even finished drying before the owner of Hooligan’s stepped up to see to it that no freaky tattooed people got to represent too much of themselves on what he viewed as his turf. He rallied his troops and forced the shop owners to paint over hours and hours of their hard work.

First of all, I am not aware of anyone who has ever claimed tattoos have ruined their lives, but who isn’t aware of an organization called Alcoholic’s Anonymous? The guys at Atomic are selling art that is so deeply meaningful to the people that buy it they brand it on their bodies. More tattooed people than not will tell you the story of why their artwork is so precious and about the healing it’s offered them. Hooligan’s sells booze. So who’s really the bigger detriment here? Who’s really poisoning and doing more harm community? I’ve heard story after story of people whose lives have been destroyed by alcohol, but not one about a tattoo that ruined someone’s entire life!

The owners of Atomic have jumped through the same hoops and faced the same headaches every other business owner has had to go through to set up shop and they deserve to represent themselves in the way they choose. It’s a tattoo shop! What could be a more fitting façade for their building than covering it with their work? Hooligan’s has a sign that looks like it’s from the 1960s with pictures of beer on it. The sign is an eyesore if you ask me, and as far as anyone knows could be enough to tempt an alcoholic to relapse, but nobody makes him take it down. And they shouldn’t, because that would be disrespecting his right to represent himself in the way he prefers.

The East Side and Riverwest represent a lot of different things to a lot of different people; that’s one of the best things about it. Most people in Milwaukee think of these neighborhoods as places where the more open-minded people dwell, and that’s another big reason why forcing Atomic to paint over their mural is not only a violation of the shop owners right to represent themselves as they see fit, it’s a violation of the spirit of these neighborhoods.

Is having to drive by something you may not find particularly aesthetically appealing really worth oppressing the people behind it; just so your sense of how things should look can be appeased? How selfish can you possibly be? Going out of your way to control others like this only feeds all the stress and pain everyone in this world is feeling.

Don’t people have more positive things to do with their time?

More than a few people really liked the mural, but did anybody bother to take a neighborhood survey before they sent the City in to dole out a little more oppression and headaches? No. Someone with more money and clout than these guys decided it was more important to him to have his way than to just let his neighbors do their thing. We all claim to want to make the world a better place; why don’t we start by just trying to leave each other alone instead of ripping each other down when we disagree. If people come to their senses enough to allow the mural to return, and whether you like its imagery or not, I hope you can at least enjoy the step towards a nicer world for everyone to live in it represents.

Live in Love,
Mel, Blossom & David

P.S. Once people wake up enough to see why banning the guys at Atomic from representing their business according to their preferences is wrong the issue of the time and money running around in circles to suit other peoples wants has cost them should be addressed. The mural cost hundreds of dollars and three days to paint. Now they’ve had to spend more money and time on painting over it. When the right thing is done it will still cost them time and money to replace it.

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Saturday, March 31, 2007

Tribal update: Rites of Spring

On March 9, I accepted Michael Gull's proposal for marriage. If you read his blog or have ever seen his stand-up comedy, and if you have ever read my column, you may be thinking "I bet they're fun to watch the news with." Or not. For those unfamiliar, we're the new James Carville and Mary Matalin of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with me in the role of Carville. I'll be honest: I'm the last person I would have expected to see in a life partnership with someone whose political views are so opposed to my own. Or are they? Michael considers himself a "Reagan Republican" by way of explanation regarding his strong feelings that G.W. Bush has really fucked things up. This doesn't clear up much for me, never having been a fan of trickle-down economics or presidents who star in movies with monkeys, but I always nod understandingly when it comes up. It's not the point for me. I respect his conviction and appreciate that we can have lively conversations about our opinions that never turn pesonal. I'm also a little comforted by the fact that he's pro-choice, pro-gay marriage and pro-education. It's a start.

But at my age, "I do's" come with more than a wedding cake and new pots and pans. When the ring slipped on my finger, I also received four stepkids and a big black cat. That's six new members for the Tribe counting Michael himself. My sister and her partner just bought a house, which added an adult, two large dogs and a four-and-a-half foot iguana, plus a brother who rented Lucky's old flat next door. That's five more. My girl Joy recently got engaged and they also bought a house. He brought a cat. That's two more, bringing the total of new "official lifetime" members to 13. If you count the original Tribe as me, my sisters (including Joy), and our kids and pets (yeah, we count the pets), we stood sixteen strong before. So now there's 29 of us, but only 19 with thumbs, unless you count the iguana. Which also means we have way too many pets, and I didn't even count the fish. I now live my life in a series of story problems.

Here's one I practice a lot, though I still can't figure out the equation:

A woman leaves her office on the East side at 5:25 and drives west at 25 mph. If she has 7 miles to travel in rush hour traffic, what is the possibility that she and her partner can feed the five kids, take one to soccer practice and another to work and still have time to do the dishes and a load of laundry before bed?

This is another favorite:

There will be 20 people for Sunday dinner in a typical bungalow. If six adults can sit at the dining table and six kids can sit on the striped picnic cloth on the floor, where in the hell is everybody else supposed to sit? Extra credit: What is the environmental impact of paper plates and cups as compared to the amount of dish soap it takes to clean up after 20 people?


I'm so happy for all of us, and at the same time a little sad that we're starting to spread out - Joy's new house is three blocks away and Lucky's a heart-wrenching five - but it's time to go all sons of Abraham up in here anyway, I imagine. When it was just the original mix of eight next door neighbors, eight bedrooms and three bathrooms seemed like enough. But now we have grown beyond our old borders and must go out into the world and take over new blocks on the east side of Tosa. Before we know it, there could be more children, and with the oldest being almost 18, there could even be grandkids in a decade or less. And once that ball gets rolling, who knows where everyone would sit?

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Friday, February 23, 2007

Blister on the bun

Good for the Violent Femmes. They've landed what most bands only dream about - a major deal with a major fast food chain. If there was any question about the long-term financial security of Miltown's all-time favorite nihilist-pop sensations, we can officially put the issue to rest. It's nigh unto impossible to turn on network television these days without encountering hot cheese melting over a slab of ground beef to the opening strains of "Blister in the Sun."

"Blister in the Sun?" From the same company who brought you the Frosty, Dave Thomas and an iconic little girl? Every time it comes on, I watch closely to see if this time, just maybe, I will discern a legitimate connection between a cup of chili and Gordon Gano's crying girlfriend of 23 years ago. So far no luck. One recent evening the whole conundrum was bugging me so much that I actually emailed Wendy's directly and asked them if anyone there had ever listened to the song. I'm still waiting for an answer, but when it arrives - and I'm sure it will - I promise to post it right away.

For now, I'm going with one of two possibilities:
1. Wendy's ad execs are on crack
2. Nobody at Wendy's has ever listened to rock music

1:32 a.m.
'Night

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Saturday, January 20, 2007

A Soldier’s Question

This letter is from my friend Joe Klein, who's stationed in Iraq. I wrote about him last July when he was shipped out. He's a middle-aged, blissfully married father of two. He's been there long enough now to start asking the deeper questions. Here's one he sent me today.


Jon Anne,

I am currently on 5 day R&R in [blank].

The conversation that continues to amaze me is how ... and I know it in myself ... we start to take death in a fatalistic way. The armor we wear becomes in encumbrance ... If it is my time, it *is* my time.

These men and women have divergent views. The closer to combat each moves, the less the self seems so important. A fatalistic peace settles upon the consciousness of those who face danger. The training desensitizes us to the threat made against us.

The divergence is related to distance from the sound of explosions or gunfire. It seems to me the rear echelons fear more then those on the front line.

So many young men and young women ...

The enemy becomes faceless and inhumane.

I cannot let myself be lost in the dehumanization.

I only see men and women, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters.

We are all embraced in the violence. We are all touched by fear.
We are all dancing to the tune ... played by far away presidents, parliaments, congresses, kings and mullahs.

I ask myself ... how do we make it civilized again? How do we restore peace and learn to love each other?

Please tell me, how?
--
Joseph T. Klein

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