Breakin'

All this week we'll take a look at some classic hip-hop films from the 80s and talk about the early days of the music and the culture from four different angles: graffiti writers, deejays, breakdancers, and emcees.

Breakin'
seen online at YouTube
1.19.11

I never had the body for breakdancing. I've always been a little on the rotund side. Even as a kid, I could never see myself spinning and flipping around like that. Popping seemed simpler. I think I spent most of the sixth grade working on my popping moves - unsuccessfully.

Truth is, I wanted to dance like Michael Jackson. Back then, who didn't? The first time I saw him moonwalk, it was like a revelation. Breakdancing may have been the move back in the 80s, but there was no doubt who was the dancing king. This was also the dawning age of music videos, and with every new video of his, Michael had moves that I looked at and studied and tried to imitate - again, unsuccessfully. And it's not even like I aspired to be a professional dancer or anything. It's just that he was Michael. And to be able to dance like him was to capture a tiny fraction of his magic.

I knew a few breakers in junior high, though I don't remember too much about them. I do remember years later, however, when I worked with this one young dude who was a breaker. This was the late 90s, and I remember being surprised at the time that breakdancing was still around. These days, it's not unusual to walk around Manhattan (or even in the subways) and see some dance crew performing out on the streets for cash. Sometimes they're breakers, but not always. They've become tourist attractions more than anything else.

The difference between Breakin' and Beat Street is like night and day. The former was the bigger commercial hit, but the latter, as I said yesterday, seems more genuine. Breakin' is set in Los Angeles and has a white lead character, which, while not an inherently bad thing, is a marked contrast to Beat Street, which is more interested in showing hip hop's roots. Breakin' kinda skirts around the edges of race without actually going there; one almost gets the impression that the characters want to be able to talk frankly about it instead of hiding behind phrases like "they're a different class of people," but that would be far too much to ask of what is essentially a good-time dance movie.

I don't really have a whole lot more to say. I've never been much of a dancer in general, and I don't wanna get too much into other forms of dance, since this is supposed to be all about hip-hop. Anybody have anything else to say about breaking? Now's your chance.

Beat Street

All this week we'll take a look at some classic hip-hop films from the 80s and talk about the early days of the music and the culture from four different angles: graffiti writers, deejays, breakdancers, and emcees.

Beat Street
seen online via YouTube
1.18.11

The closest I ever came to being a deejay growing up was making my mix tapes. I was a total Top 40 nerd as a kid - I consumed just about everything on the radio, no matter how crappy. Now, of course, there were singers from the 80s whose music has stood the test of time - Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Duran Duran - but thanks to my numerous mix tapes, I preserved the mediocre ones as well.

In the 70s, the radio station of choice in New York was WABC, and I remember listening to it, but when Z100 came along in the 80s, I made the switch, and most of my mix tapes were made from there. Of course, I'd never miss "American Top 40" with Casey Kasem every week, a show I took very seriously, because how else would you know which songs are the best? (I think it was WPLJ that syndicated his show back then.) Free thought and individual taste would come later in life; keep in mind I was only ten or so.

The mix tapes were inspired by my father, who had the most incredible record, tape and 8-track collection - and he was always making mix tapes. His music was R&B and country. He'd buy blank tapes by the dozen, Maxell or Sony usually, then record the music off of his records, and write the names of the singers on the labels. He had the best handwriting of anyone I knew, and his labels would always look sharp, so I knew my mix tapes had to look just as good. I numbered each one - "Volume 1," "Volume 2," and so on - and carefully wrote out on the labels both the song title and artist of each song on the tape. My father bought me a spinner rack to shelve my mix tapes, which grew with each year. It was my pride and joy as much as my father's tapes were his.

Occasionally I'd take them to parties at school. I made my mix tapes for me above all else, and I never put much thought into things like sequence or theme. I never tried to make a tape specifically for parties. The thought may have occurred to me at some point or another, but I was more interested in making them for my personal enjoyment. Generally, my tastes were the same as everyone else's in junior high, so if I played one of my tapes at a party, my choice of selections was rarely an issue. Rap music was part of everything else on the radio, so Run DMC and Whodini and UTFO and LL Cool J and the Fat Boys were as much a part of my volumes as anything else popular at the time.

In college, I actually was a deejay at our radio station for a semester, and that, obviously, was a very different experience. I still tended to gravitate towards songs I'd first heard on the radio, although this time it was classic rock that informed my choices instead of pop. I did, however, mix pop songs from my youth in with Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones, and I even made it a point to include one song a week from my father's collection, which he generously permitted me to do. I'd record my hour-long sessions and play them back for him to hear. I think he was impressed.

Beat Street is a mostly-sanitized version of the house party experience as it was in the early days of hip hop, which I was far too young to have known about. I've done some reading, however, so I now know that it features many of the pioneers of hip hop throughout the movie in supporting roles, including two of the greatest deejays of all time - Afrika Bambaataa and Kool Herc.

The highly-recommended book Yes Yes Y'all: The Experience Music Project Oral History of Hip Hop's First Decade compiles interviews with numerous hip hop veterans, including Bambaataa and Herc. They both talk about putting on shows in the Bronx in the 70s and how they worked at making their venues safe for all who came. Herc was the one who would play hard-to-find R&B and funk music never heard on the radio, while Bambaataa was the one who'd mix in unusual beats and sounds with his diverse range of music, as well as establishing a sense of community.

Going by what I've read in that book, Beat Street seems to get it mostly right: hooking the sound system up to a telephone pole, frisking people at the door, b-boy battles, and so on. It's a Hollywood version of the whole experience, so you've also got the obligatory love story subplot and the Big Show at The End where everyone comes together, but despite the rotten acting and cheesy script, there does seem to be a feeling of sincerity to it all. And Rae Dawn Chong is adorable.

Harry Belafonte was a producer. Here's a great quote from him from Jet Magazine: "What appealed to me [about the movie] was being witness to the creation of a real folk art that developed under its own steam. The entertainment industry didn't create this. It was born on its own and it will go at its own pace to its own conclusion."

The Museum of the Moving Image, reborn

...The threefold nature of MMI's mission—film screenings programmed by David Schwartz, education initiatives overseen by Christopher Wisniewski, and ongoing and permanent installation exhibitions and acquisitions—are all poised to benefit substantially from the museum's makeover. Mr. Wisniewski offered that the physical needs of the museum's education programs were "one of the impulses for this expansion project in the first place. Education has been a central part of the museum's mission since it first opened. We've been booked to capacity with school kids for years, and normally we have to turn people away."

Did somebody say film screenings? I definitely plan on making it over there for a few, so expect my take on the renovated Museum soon.

Also:
- Director Paul Greengrass has a Martin Luther King biopic planned. (Vulture)
- Paul Haggis says he's actually not involved in a Scientology tell-all book. (24 Frames)
- The Chilean miners are ready to tell their story for Hollywood. (THR)
- The Oscar-winning Irish musical Once is coming to Broadway. (TheaterMania)
- Sorting out the problems in Oscar's foreign language category. (The Wrap)
- Two perspectives on what went wrong with For Colored Girls. (In Contention, GMan Reviews)
- What exactly is Jeff Bridges saying in True Grit? (In Contention)
- This new blog shows pics of classic film stars on bicycles. (Rides a Bike)

Style Wars

All this week we'll take a look at some classic hip-hop films from the 80s and talk about the early days of the music and the culture from four different angles: graffiti writers, deejays, breakdancers, and emcees.

Style Wars
seen online via YouTube
1.16.11

I should say upfront that I do consider graffiti an art form, albeit a highly misunderstood one. Living in New York most of my life, I've seen far too many good examples of it to think otherwise. Like jazz music, there's an improvisational skill involved in its creation that's the result of numerous hours of practice. The connection to territory, the self-identification with a specific place, is an integral element. And like any artist, graffiti writers want their work to give them a shot at immortality.

I knew one or two writers in junior high school. (When I say "writers" in this context, I'm referring to those who make graffiti.) I thought what they did was cool and all, but I was never as caught up in that aspect of hip hop. Understand that when I was growing up, hip hop had already begun to go mainstream. When my father bought me Run DMC's King of Rock, even he knew who they were by that point because rap was everywhere. Still, I never aspired to be a writer.

Something changed in me when I got older, though. Part of it was my drifting away from Top 40 music, which included rap, and more towards rock and metal, which changed my attitude towards rap for awhile (more on that later in the week). Most of it, I imagine, was the simple fact of learning more about the world and seeing it differently, but suddenly graffiti didn't look so cool to me anymore.

I still have some memories of the days when graffiti covered subway cars. Being a kid, I didn't think anything of it; that's just how things were back then and I never questioned it. I'm more used to seeing graffiti-free subway cars in my life than I am to seeing "bombed" ones. So I've come to accept that that's the way it should be, and not only for subway cars.

I watched Style Wars with an open mind. I listened to the various writers of the 70s and 80s talk about their lifestyle, and the lengths they go to pursue it and why, and I was even able to see some of the beauty in these urban murals that adorned the subways, but I still found it difficult to fully appreciate.

Part of the problem is its omnipresence. The way it covers so much territory in so many places is more than a little disturbing. Seeing so many "tags" on top of each other, consuming the same areas endlessly, makes it lose any aesthetic value it might have had at one point and just become ugly. (In fairness, the movie does address the ostracism of those who write over other people's work.)

Another part is the danger element. I understand the desire for people to see one's work, but when you see the places writers go to do their work - high atop bridges, deep within the underground tunnels, on rooftops - it makes you question the sanity of some of these people. There's a scene in Style Wars where a teenage writer and his mother are interviewed, and the kid says he tells his mother where he goes and what he does, which is laudable, but then he says something like how he knows she worries, but he's never gonna get caught by the cops, so it's no big deal. At that the mother rolls her eyes.

My friend Reid, who's very much into graffiti, has tried to explain the danger aspect to me on numerous occasions. He and his pal Nick often go on escapades around the city, looking for the most out-of-the-way areas to find graffiti to photograph, often at risk to life and limb, and since they know many of the current writers in New York, they often find "tags" they recognize. Personally, I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday afternoon, but that's just me.

This brings up another point, though, one that gets touched upon in the movie. One writer says that he doesn't consider himself an "artist," but a "bomber," i.e., one who deliberately defaces public property (at least, I think that's how the slang term is defined), and a different one (I think) says that he doesn't do what he does for the masses, but for his peers. That would, I suppose, explain the obscure locations often chosen for their work, but it wouldn't explain the subway cars, which many New Yorkers use. Maybe I'm too caught up in the artistic aspect of graffiti to see it otherwise, but why use such a grand canvas in the most public of venues if not to attract the greatest audience?

Speaking of which, there's also a scene showing graffiti art in a gallery, with a bunch of "regular" people commenting on its merits. I have yet to see the controversial film Exit Through the Gift Shop, which has garnered quite a bit of praise over the past months for its skewering of the mainstream art world through street art, but I'll just say here that I think the disconnect between what's considered "high art" and "low art" is absolutely a topic worthy of discussion. Does graffiti lose its context once you put it in a frame and hang it in a gallery? I don't pretend to know the answer. (I was disappointed that no mention was made during this scene of street artist turned mainstream wunderkind Jean-Michel Basquiat. I would've liked to have known how the writers of the day looked upon someone like him.)

I've told Reid this, and I don't think he entirely disagrees, but if I were mayor of New York, I wouldn't fight the graffiti writers - I'd commission them. I'd attempt to harness their energy towards civic projects that beautify the community and pay them for it. There's an area here in Queens that Reid and I have been to on several occasions called 5 Pointz, a kind of studio where graffiti can be made and seen in its "natural habitat," so to speak - in this case, an old warehouse. It's quite breathtaking, and if I were in charge I'd encourage more venues like it. I may not entirely grok graffiti, but I do believe it's art of a sort, and that its practitioners should have a place to pursue it - preferably, one that enhances the city's beauty instead of detracting from it, and one that doesn't put their lives in jeopardy!

Graffiti tends to provoke strong reactions in people, both pro and con, so if you have an opinion on it, I'd love to hear it.

Saturday Set List: Her mocking smile says it all

Soundtrack of the week: Boogie Nights
...which, oddly enough, does not have the song "Boogie Nights" on it. Nor is it only disco; there were some rock and pop songs in this movie too. Such as this one (which is actually from the second disc):

Elvin Bishop, "Fooled Around and Fell In Love"

Song-about-movies of the week: "Marlene on the Wall"
I knew a girl in high school named Marlene the first time I heard this song, and I never could understand why Suzanne Vega would pronounce "mar-LEEN" as "mar-LAY-na." It would be years before I found out who Marlene Dietrich was.

Song-that-would-make-a-good-movie of the week: "I've Committed Murder"
A pulpy neo-noir story with a classic femme fatale at its center. She does all sorts of morally questionable things to help her lover climb the ladder of success, but she goes too far when she kills for him. Can he keep his cool and reap the rewards of her actions, or will he turn her over to the police? Does she love him enough to keep protecting him, or will his attack of conscience turn him into a liability? I could see Kimberly Elise or Kerry Washington as the lead.

Actor-singer of the week: Val Kilmer
No matter what you thought of The Doors, you have to admit that he nailed the role of Jim Morrison.

Val Kilmer, "Five to One" (NSFW)

Rabbit Hole

Rabbit Hole
seen @ Kew Gardens Cinemas, Kew Gardens, Queens, NY
1.13.11

So after talking about Chasing Amy the other day, here we've got another movie with a comic book connection, which surprised me. Rabbit Hole, besides being the name of the movie, is also the name of a comic made by a teenage character in the story named Jason. He refers to it as a comic book, but it's more like a graphic novel: it appears to be fairly thick, and it's oversized, like a European album. It's also lavishly illustrated, in full color, using different media. It's about a boy traveling through different timelines in search of his missing father.

It's not clear what Jason's plans for the book are. If he were to self-publish it, it would be fairly expensive even if he had his own scanner and printer; the paper looks bigger than letter-size. I don't even think the finished version is a reproduction. It looks like the original art, folded and stapled into book form. It could be that he doesn't even want it reproduced - again, it's not made clear. He does seem like a comic book reader, though - he wears a Fletcher Hanks T-shirt in one scene. Talk about hipster cred.

The actual artist for the "Rabbit Hole" comic is a youngster named Dash Shaw, whose claim to fame is an enormous graphic novel called Bottomless Belly Button. He's currently working on an animated film co-produced by Rabbit Hole director John Cameron Mitchell. His art style isn't too far removed from what he used in the film comic. He definitely seems as much of a fine artist as an illustrator.

Rabbit Hole is about a couple in mourning over their dead child, who was hit by a speeding car. I don't think people realize how much damage speeding cars do. According to the Centers for Disease Control, motor vehicle injuries are the biggest cause of death for children in the US. I want you to stop and think about that for a minute. Cars kill kids more than any disease. How does that happen?

Simply put, ours is a culture devoted to the car. In America, we've made getting around by car too easy, to the point where traveling any other way is problematic at best if you don't live in a major metropolis like New York or Chicago or Boston or Washington. I never realized how well-off I was living in a city with 24-7 public transportation until I moved to a place without it.

But here's the thing: cars are so ingrained in our national identity that we resist any attempts to provide substitutes for it. Here in New York City, the state government stole money specifically set aside for our public transit system to balance its own budget, and the result has been vicious service cuts and higher fares, making it harder than ever to ride the trains and buses on an everyday basis. Bike lanes have swept all over the city within the past few years, but certain misguided politicians and media reporters have vigorously opposed them, despite numerous statistics showing how much safer streets have become with their presence. And this is here in New York, allegedly a bastion of liberal enlightenment and diversity. Can you imagine how much more prevalent this attitude is in smaller cities and towns, places with fewer transit options?

I could go on, but my point is that we're putting our children at risk every day when we drive like maniacs on the road - when we speed, when we drive and use the cellphone (which Nicole Kidman's character does at one point in Rabbit Hole), when we drive and drink. We're so eager to enforce traffic laws on bicyclists to the point of harassment, but we're slower to react when cars routinely kill and maim pedestrians - children, like in this movie - on a weekly basis. That's got to change.

At Home in Utopia

At Home in Utopia
seen online @ New Day Digital
1.12.11

Okay, so last week I kinda made fun of the whole Red scare of the early 20th century and the 50s in particular. It's not like I'm especially sympathetic to Communists, but when you grow up being taught that America is the country where people are free to believe what they want without fear of reprisal, and then you see people being persecuted by the government for thinking a certain way about things, it does kinda makes you turn the snark-o-meter up to eleven.

I've read my share about Communism, both the foreign and domestic kinds. I think that it sounds better on paper than in practice, although to see how powerful an idea it once was tends to give one pause. But I don't wanna get into a political debate - my point was, and is, that ideological opposition to another political system is insufficient justification, in and of itself, for curtailing civil liberties and the rights of the individual. Anyway...

At Home in Utopia is a documentary from 2008 about a high-rise neighborhood in the Bronx that was a haven for Jews, Communists and unionists in the early 20th century. My pal Andrea lives in this place (though she didn't grow up there), and it was she who told me about the film. The place's official name is the United Workers Cooperative Colony, but it's commonly known as the Coops (rhyming with hoops). It's a small but cozy group of buildings clustered together across the street from Bronx Park and a stone's throw from the 2 train, and it was built as an alternative to the crowded, more hectic Jewish neighborhoods of Manhattan's Lower East Side and Brooklyn's Williamsburg - one with a greater sense of community, and with a beauty all its own.

The doc interviews long-time residents of the Coops who talk about how being Jewish, being Communist, being pro-labor, marked them as outsiders back in the day and how this place was home to all of them in a way the rest of the world wasn't. Even if you've never been any of those things, it's not too hard to sympathize with their situation back then and understand why they needed a place they could call theirs.

And for a co-op, it's not too bad, to look on it today. When Andrea invited me to her place a few months ago, she took me on a small tour of the grounds. There are fountains and small gardens in between the walkways. The apartment buildings are arranged in a way that provides a sense of enclosure, and since they're not that tall, they don't come across as intimidating as many of the bigger high-rises around the Five Boroughs. A sign of the Coops' Communist roots can be found on some of the doorway facades, where you can clearly see a hammer and sickle above the entrance.

In later years, the Coops became more integrated. Blacks were encouraged to move in, and the doc interviews some of the ones who lived there back in the day, as well and the warm friendships made between them and the Jews (including a sad story about an interracial date spoiled by racist cops). It also discusses a performance by Communist sympathizer Paul Robeson attended by many Coop residents and the atmosphere of intimidation by the cops who guarded the show. Seeing this, I was reminded of the first time I read one of my favorite books, Native Son, by Richard Wright (a Communist himself), back in high school.

At Home in Utopia is a fascinating look at a vastly different time in American history. The Coops were a truly unique experiment, one that was ahead of its time, I would surmise, and it would be a great tragedy if the lessons learned from this place were forgotten. (New Day Digital streamed the movie for free today; they offer options to pay for it at their website.)