Soundtrack Saturday: Elvis Presley

Be honest: how many of you have actually sat through an entire Elvis movie?

"Jailhouse Rock" from Jailhouse Rock


"Can't Help Falling in Love" from Blue Hawaii


"Viva Las Vegas" from Viva Las Vegas

Manhattan

Manhattan
seen @ Movies With a View, Brooklyn Bridge Park, Brooklyn, NY
7.7.11

Getting delayed on the subway is as much a part of the New York experience as homeless people begging for change and street preachers on 42nd Street - and just as annoying. I had yesterday evening planned out fairly well: I'd go uptown to see my friend Lisa at an art gallery opening, and then head back down to Brooklyn to see Manhattan at Brooklyn Bridge Park (if it didn't rain). The city's transit system has recently improved in terms of communicating when trains will arrive and whether certain trains are delayed, but because the system is so very old and worn, delays have a tendency to happen fairly often, when you want them least. One time a train delay made me late for a job interview, and it was only through the kindness of the employer that I was allowed to reschedule.


So I came into Manhattan from Brooklyn, on the subway. The car filled up quicker than expected, even for rush hour, and before long I could tell that something was wrong. I looked up from my book and noticed a conversation between several people, complaining about the delay on another train that led them here. It was raining, and for a moment I thought perhaps there was flooding, a not-uncommon occurrence in the subways. According to the passengers, someone fell onto the tracks. Something like that is not as rare as you might think, either.


By the time the uptown train reached Greenwich Village, I was getting concerned that I might run late for Lisa's show. I hadn't planned on staying long, because it was important to me that I make it to the park early enough to get a decent spot in front of the screen. On the other hand, though, I hadn't seen Lisa in a very long time, and was hoping to do a little bit of catching up. Sure enough, I heard over the station loudspeaker that there were delays on the Brooklyn-bound trains and that uptown trains were moving at slower speeds. I got off the train and out of the station and walked to a different train. It had stopped raining by that point, for which I was grateful.


Lisa is one of the many people I met during my summer vacation in Barcelona back in 1993. (That's also where I met Vija.) It was a painting class arranged by my college as part of a program of art classes in Europe. I hadn't seen Lisa since that summer. I recently found her on Facebook; that's how I knew about her show. She was part of a big group exhibit in a gallery in someone's brownstone on the Upper West Side. 

Amazingly, she hadn't changed a bit looks-wise: tall, blonde and gorgeous. I was one of an army of friends and well-wishers who had come to her show, however - all of whom were more immediate parts of her life than me - and as it turned out, we didn't have time for more than a brief chat. I did, however, see Steve, another member of our erstwhile band of artists reconnected recently through Facebook. I had heard he might be there as well, so I was glad to see him too, since I hadn't seen him in 18 years either. We talked for a bit longer, but then I had to cut out.


After stopping into a deli for some food, I got back on the train, and by this time the delays were gone, though I was still worried about how crowded the park would be. I've been to Brooklyn Bridge Park a number of times in the past year or so (I went there last summer to see Some Like It Hot). It's a beautiful park, with the Bridge and the Manhattan skyline right in front of you. 

I got to the park at around eight and walked to the lawn where the movie screen was set up and wouldn't you know it... the lawn was packed near to capacity. I had hoped the rain might scare away a few people, but the rain had stopped for a couple of hours at least. Plus, this was the first movie in the series, which I had forgotten about. Many people were treating this event as an all-day picnic. I saw one group of people with a huge tray full of fried chicken, along with other kinds of food and drink, enough to feed a dozen at least! 

I carefully navigated my way through the minefield of beach blankets and tarps fulls of people to the far side of the lawn, where there was a small incline and small trees in a row. After a few minutes of walking up and down this area, I settled on a spot next to one of the trees, which worked out well after all because I could lean against it as I watched the movie.

As I spread out my blanket and got out my food, another problem arose. I distinctly remember ordering a ham and cheese sandwich, but I was given someone else's order by accident! I got a hamburger with the works, which might not have been so bad except I don't like ketchup on my hamburger, and I was only given one measly napkin to wipe it off the bun and burger. I got up and walked over to one of the promotional/customer service booths set up by the park and the movie series' sponsor, SyFy (yes, I realize Manhattan is not a sci-fi movie). The girl at the booth would not give me a napkin, even though she had an entire roll of paper towels behind her, citing some stupid house rule about limited supplies or something like that. I don't even remember. 

I was getting pissed. First I get the wrong order and now this. I managed to finagle a napkin from an ice cream vendor instead but I still couldn't wipe the ketchup off completely. Finally I said the hell with it and ate the burger without the bun. At least I had chips and a Snapple to go with it.

As this was the first show of the summer at Brooklyn Bridge Park, the pre-show announcements were accompanied by guest appearances from some local politicos looking to score points with the hoi polloi. There was a short film about New York tugboats. The filmmaker was about halfway across the lawn from me, surrounded by her friends. I know this because she stood up and waved when the emcee gave her a shout-out, although the emcee couldn't see her. For that matter, I couldn't see the emcee. That's how far back I was.


I must admit that I had never seen Manhattan before, even though I have seen most of Woody Allen's other films. People say that it's his paean to New York, but the truth is that Woody's New York is lily-white and upper-middle-class and always has been. I found the characters self-indulgent and thoroughly unlikeable, especially Woody's - his character's relationship with Muriel Hemingway is particularly creepy in light of his real-life relationship with Soon-Yi Previn. Maybe I needed to see this at another time, when I was a little less crabby over the subway and the sandwich and the napkin, but I doubt I would've liked the movie much more.


One part of the movie I should mention: there's a scene where Woody's complaining about a friend buying a new car, and he says something like, "All cars in Manhattan should be banned," and that got a small cheer from some people in the back. It was probably members of Transportation Alternatives, a local advocacy group that's a co-sponsor of the movie series. (They were there last night to valet park bicycles.) As much as I may complain about the subway, the bottom line is that New York is much better off with it than without it.

Mr. Hulot's Holiday

Mr. Hulot's Holiday
seen @ Films on the Green Festival, Tompkins Square Park, New York NY
7.1.11


The differences between Greenwich Village's two major parks, Tompkins Square Park and Washington Square Park, are profound. Where the latter has straight, direct paths from all sides, the former has winding paths covered by the foliage from the trees. WSP has the fountain and the arch; TSP has handball and basketball courts. WSP attracts more street musicians and buskers, not to mention tourists. TSP is more of a neighborhood park. Both have children's playgrounds and dog runs; both have public bathrooms (I give the slight edge to TSP's; it's a little less scuzzy.)

Both parks reflect their neighborhoods. WSP is a sunny, scenic attraction that lies in the heart of not only the Village, but the New York University campus, and as such, attracts more of a cosmopolitan, international crowd. WSP is folk music and Henry James and co-eds and Fifth Avenue. TSP is a scruffier, more shadowy space that, even in the face of gentrification, still clings to its alternative image. TSP is punk rock and Allen Ginsberg and homeless people and St. Mark's Place.

When I first met Jenny, she was still living in the Village. This would've been the mid-90s. She moved east into Alphabet City around '97 or so, and through her, I got a real taste of the East Village: the bars, the cafes, the cheap places to eat. Even now, there are places that still remind me of her. For a very brief period in the late '90s I lived on East Second Street, which was great because I could walk to work. That was the only time I actually lived in Manhattan. I remember there was a decent record store on the street level. Years later, I worked on Avenue A for awhile, and that was fun, though it had its moments. There was this homeless guy who would camp out on our front step every so often, and every time I'd chase him away, he'd come back sooner or later. Most of my co-workers were musicians, some of whom played at the Sidewalk Cafe across the street. There was a bar below us and a smoothie stand next door that sold delicious Rice Krispie treats.


I vaguely recall the riot at Tompkins from 1988. I didn't go into the Village much back then (sticking to the Upper West Side, where I went to high school) and barely paid any attention to the news, so I can't talk about that period with any authority. I only know what came after, and even though Tompkins has dramatically morphed into a more family-friendly park, I've still never felt completely comfortable there. I guess I just prefer Washington Square.


Not that either place would've helped changed the way I felt last Friday night while watching Mr. Hulot's Holiday at Tompkins. I think that after weeks of dormancy, my hay fever is coming back with a vengeance. I've gotten the trifecta: runny nose, sore throat, sneezing, and though I've been taking my allergy pills it continues to stick around. I never get it in July, though, which is strange. Normally by this time of the year I'm feeling great, but not now. I had a headache throughout most of the movie and was on the verge of dozing off a couple of times at least. It was a short movie, which helped, but I didn't find it all that funny, which didn't.

I knew about co-writer-director-star Jacques Tati from seeing The Illusionist earlier this year and from reading about him here and there. Apparently the not-quite-silent-movie format of The Illusionist was a regular thing in his own movies. The title character is a kind of French Mr. Bean, saying very little and bumbling his way into situations, but he doesn't have the manic energy of a Chaplin, nor his gift for slapstick. The humor is kinda cute, but it's also tame. The movie had subtitles, of course, but I still missed having Andrea around. I told her about this show, but she doesn't like watching movies outdoors.


I came to the park with my own chair, but I didn't need it - they provided rows of chairs. The screen was at the south end of the park, approximately where the old bandshell used to be. The movie attracted quite a large crowd, too. I didn't expect so many people for a foreign, subtitled movie.One lady next to me brought bug spray and applied some to herself. I think I may do that myself the next time I go to an outdoor show.

'Kinyarwanda' is AFFRM's second release!

Kinyarwanda

More to follow.

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AFFRM's DuVernay: POCs are part of indie film too

AFFRM to launch 'Follow' this weekend

Born on the Fourth of July

Born on the Fourth of July
last seen online via YouTube
7.3.11

I was little more than a toddler when the Vietnam War ended, so I have no first-hand memories of it. While there are more than a few comparisons that can be made with the recent, undeclared Iraq war, the truth, I think, based of all the things I've read and learned, is that Vietnam was unique in American history because of its impact on the American psyche. We were no longer invincible. We were no longer sure we held the moral high ground. It was a feeling we were completely unaccustomed to, and I don't think we've ever fully recovered from it. Perhaps the worst part, however, and it's something that came to mind as I watched Born on the Fourth of July last night, is how little we've learned since Vietnam. Waging war has become as much a business as Apple or Microsoft, and just as profitable.


For a brief moment, I thought 9/11 would be different, and I probably wasn't alone in that. The problem, however, was that fighting terrorists was not the same as fighting an aggressor nation, like Germany in World War 2. Still, we had a major opportunity to take all the goodwill and sympathy generated by the world and put it to good use and we blew it. We let ourselves be ruled by fear. We let ourselves be lied to by a leader who was completely inadequate for the job, we went after an enemy with no known connection to the events of 9/11 and called it justice, we vilified anyone who tried to protest, and most importantly, we expended thousands of lives in the process. Not too different from Vietnam after all.

"Love it or leave it" - that was Ron Kovic's attitude about America even after he came back from Vietnam and the hospital a paraplegic, haunted by guilt over the things he had seen and done. But he eventually realizes - and it's an important point to remember, on today of all days - that love of one's country does not and should not mean blind loyalty. The Founding Fathers knew this - and the reason we have a holiday today is because they realized the right to dissent is a basic human right that cannot and must not be taken for granted (and no, dissent does not mean smear campaigns and vitriolic rants, as we've seen from both sides of the political aisle in recent years). It's the recognition of this and other fundamental rights that makes America unique... but only if we remember them.

Soundtrack Saturday: Barbra Streisand

 

I don't care what anybody says about her; I think she's an incredible singer and always have.

"People" from Funny Girl


"The Main Event/Fight" from The Main Event


"Evergreen" from A Star is Born

A Soldier's Story

A Soldier's Story
last seen online via YouTube
6.30.11

Have you ever had a relative embarrass you in public? Maybe it was at a party and they'd had way too much to drink. Or maybe they'd said something insensitive in front of your new boy- or girlfriend, whom they were meeting for the first time. Something along those lines. Maybe this sort of thing is par for the course with this particular person. Maybe they always embarrass you somehow no matter how hard they try not to. They're family. It may not be that easy to write them out of your life, and maybe, when all is said and done, you don't really want to - but how many times can you forgive them before it gets to be too much?


There's a Chris Rock stand-up routine where he says a line that has stuck in my mind from the first time I heard it: "I love black people! But I can't stand niggers." He makes a distinction between ordinary, respectable blacks and those who embody the worst stereotypes, and while this may sound elitist on the face of it, I have to say, I know exactly what he means, because I see that distinction all the time. 

I see some black folks - mostly young people, but not always - acting up in public like they haven't got any sense. I see stories like this, or this, praying that the guilty parties aren't black people, knowing they are all the same, and it's friggin' embarrassing. And while I realize that non-blacks are every bit as capable of idiotic and irresponsible behavior, we're the ones who have been treated as second-class human beings in this country for centuries through no fault of our own, and now that we've fought, and continue to fight, for the right to be recognized as equals, some of us still would rather play the fool.

And that, in a nutshell, is the conflict at the heart of the movie A Soldier's Story, a murder mystery set on a black army base during World War 2. The murder victim is a drill sergeant whose brusk manner towards his men in general and one in particular, a young backwoods country dude, hides a deep loathing and contempt for those who, in his eyes, "embarrass" the race by their actions. The investigating officer is another black man, one who is hamstrung by the white bureaucracy that hinders him from doing his job.

My father took me to see this as a child, perhaps hoping I'd learn a thing or two. Of course, I understand it much more now than I did then, but still, the memory of seeing this movie with him lingers in my mind. It's absolutely the kind of movie he loved, so it's kind of special to me in a way.


I think it's significant to also point out another, tangential aspect of this notion of "black people versus niggers," so to speak, as presented in the movie. Adolph Caesar, the superb actor who plays the murdered sergeant, is light-skinned. The young country bumpkin soldier his character harasses is dark-skinned. While it's never directly addressed in the movie, this reflects a prejudice of a certain kind within the black community, one that we don't like to discuss, but it exists all the same. 

The belief that light-skinned blacks have it easier in life than dark-skinned ones goes all the way back to slavery times, when the former would be the ones with the relatively cushy jobs working inside the mansion and the latter would work the fields in the hot sun. A great deal of resentment built up as a result of this arrangement, on both sides, and it has never really went away, and by casting these roles this way, it adds an extra level of subtext to the story. (The fascinating book The Color Complex deals with this phenomenon in great detail.)


I kinda wish I could've watched this with my father one more time. I like to think he and I would've had a good discussion about it.