Leap In The Dark

New York City has long been known for attracting visitors and immigrants from all over the world as well as being a centre for artistic creation. So is it any wonder that artists of all shapes and sizes have shown up there seeking out fame and fortune? However, I doubt that even the creators of the I Love NY campaign (the first people to implement that annoying design of using a heart instead of the word love and who in light of its subsequent ubiquitous usage should have committed ritual suicide ages ago) could have foreseen the folk who flocked to the Big Apple in absurdist fantasy novel The Good Fairies Of New York.

While the book was originally published quite some time ago in England both Soft Skull Press and Tor Books currently have copies of the title on the market, with the latter being a mass market paperback while the former is available in an inexpensive trade paper back format. If it seems like I'm being a little bit biased towards Soft Skull, it's only because they've taken the extraordinary step for an independent publisher of picking up all of Millar's back catalogue, and have been steadily republishing them on a regular basis for the last couple of years. It was largely due to the success of Good Fairies when it was originally published back in 2006 that inspired them to be so unusually generous for a publisher.

I had read (and reviewed) Millar's Lonely Werewolf Girl when it was first released, but had missed out on Good Fairies. Having enjoyed others of his recently released backlist (Ruby And The Stone Age Diet and Milk, Sulphate and Alby Starvation) it became imperative that I read Good Fairies. After all, as Neil Gaiman so accurately puts it in his introduction : "It has a war in it and a most unusual production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer's Night Dream and Johnny Thunders' New York Dolls guitar solos. What more could anyone desire from a book?" What indeed? In fact not only do his guitar solos play a key role in the book, the ghost of Thunders himself wanders through on a quest - he is searching for his lost 1958 Gibson Tiger Top electric guitar which was stolen from him after a gig at CBGBS. According to what he tells fellow former and deceased member of the New York Dolls Billy Murcia, as they are hanging out in Heaven, he had put it down on a bar stool, turned away for a minute and when he looked again it was gone.

Thunder's quest however, no matter how urgent it might be to him (there's a definite lack of gritty rock and roll in Heaven) is merely a side show to the greater tales at hand - namely the recounting of the exile of two Scottish Thistle fairies, Morag MacPherson and Heather MacKintosh, and how they come to the aid of two of New York City's rather more typical inhabitants. Dinnie MacKintosh and Kerry live across the street from each other, but the gulf that divides their characters is as deep as the Grand Canyon and as wide as the Pacific Ocean. For while Kerry is a graceful beauty full of compassion and love for almost all her fellow human beings, (the sole exception being Cal her ex-boyfriend who dumped her when he found out she had a colostomy bag and completely reneged on his promise to teach her Johnny Thunder's guitar solos from his days with the New York Dolls, thus she is determined to wreck horrible vengeance on him in some form or another) Dinnie is not only the city's worst fiddle player, he's overweight, a slob, a bigot, and generally all around mean person.

So when Heather and Morag flutter through his apartment window stoned and drunk on too many magic mushrooms and too much single malt whisky he's not exactly ecstatic to see them. Nor is he much mollified by Heather's assurances that fairy vomit smells sweet to humans after she spews on his arm and carpet, and begins to heap abuse on their heads and demand they leave, even though both Morag and Heather tell him that humans in Scotland would be thrilled to be visited by fairies. He eventually gets half his wish when the two fairies discover a) that he is a MacKintosh like Heather and b) how bad a fiddle player Dinnie is. All of which leads to Morag making derogatory remarks about MacKintosh fiddle playing in general, and the two fairies having a glorious row ending only when Morag flutters out the window and Heather vowing she can teach even a clod like Dinnie to play better than any MacPherson.

The window Morag flutters into across the street from Dinnie's is of course Kerry's, and they immediately strike up a friendship. Morag vows to not only help Kerry learn all of Johnny Thunders' leads from his days as a New York Doll, but to help her exact vengeance upon the hated Cal by assisting Kerry in winning the East Fourth Street's Community Arts Association Prize. Cal's entry is an amateur production of A Midsummer's Night Dream, while Kerry is attempting to assemble the exceedingly rare and beautiful Celtic Flower Alphabet, in which each of the original symbols of the Celtic alphabet are represented by a different flower.

What neither human are aware of initially is how the two eighteen inch high fairies came to be in New York City. They'd been chased out of Scotland for desecrating one of the three great Fairy Relics, The MacLeod Banner. Not only had they cut two pieces out of it to use as blankets, adding insult to injury, they subsequently blew their noses in them. While fleeing Scotland they met up with three fairies from Ireland, Maeve, Padraig, and Brannoc who were helping the son and daughter of the King of the Cornish fairies, Tulip and Petal, to escape their father's rule. Somewhere in transit the seven had stumbled upon a field of magic mushrooms, indulged heavily, ended up on a cargo flight to New York City and found themselves hung over and coming too on the back of a transport truck wending through the streets of the city.

While Morag and Heather were settling in with their new human companions the other five exiles were living in the relative serenity of Central Park. While they had managed to make the acquaintance of some friendly squirrels and make friends with local black fairies from Harlem, it was soon revealed that even emigration to the New World wasn't far enough to keep them safe from their father as he decided to send his entire army after them. Meanwhile things aren't going so well for the other exiles as neither of their plans to help their human friends are working out so well. Even Morag's befriending the ghost of Johnny Thunders doesn't alleviate the disaster of having the centrepiece of Kerry's flower alphabet, a rare triple bloomed Welsh poppy, go missing. When Heather manages to piss off both the Italian fairies - she's been robbing the wrong banks - and the Chinese fairies, chaos ensues and leads to the first race riot between fairies in the history of New York City.

Martin Millar has penned a spectacular and gloriously wild ride of a book which manages to be both side splitting and touching at the same time. While it might seem like there are far too many threads of story lines for a reader to ever keep straight, his unique style of writing in short, sharp bursts gives us constant updates as to everyone's condition and the overall picture gradually takes shape in front of us. Like working on a giant jigsaw puzzle, as a little more of each segment is revealed, the whole becomes clearer as well. The characters come into focus and the story takes on a life of its own as we delve deeper into their lives. As we are swept up into the current of events we can't help but give whoops of enjoyment as we hit the downward spirals, and think carefully over what is being said during the introspective ascents that precede them.

So wrap your clan kilt around your hips, strap on your claymore, and pick up your fiddle and be prepared for anything in this bizarre mix of traditional Scottish fairies and New York Punk. You might just find your preconceived notions of both stood on their heads and you'll be a lot happier for it. Fantasy writing needs to be shaken out of its stolid reverie and Mllar pushes and pulls it into dancing to something a little more daring than usual and its a lot better for it. You've heard of cyberpunk, well welcome to the world of faepunk, it can get bit wild and weird at times, but its a breath of fresh air that will revive even the most jaded of readers.

Posted by Richard Marcus at 11:10 AM | Permalink

You don't see that many movie biographies anymore. There was a time when they were fairly common in both Hollywood and Europe, but now the interest in both making and watching them seems to have almost vanished. My guess is most producers and studios now a days think if there can't be a ton of action in it, there's no point in making a movie. If you think about it, the majority of the movie biographies that have been made recently are once about either sports figures (Ali) or performers of some kind (I Walk The Line and Ray). Each of those have set pieces like fights or concerts built in which guarantee there will be more than just people on the screen talking.

So to say I was surprised when I learned somebody was making a movie about Ernesto Guevara, known to most of the world by his nickname “Che” (which is an Argentinian slang word for friend) would be something of an understatement. First of all, the United States is one country where you can definitely be assured that Che's popularity is not widespread, if in fact he's not considered an outright enemy. Who in that country is going to have either the interest or the money to make a movie about a man who spent most of his adult life fighting against the spread of what he called "American Imperialism" in South and Latin America? As it turns out, nobody, aside from director Steven Soderbergh in the Anglo American film community was interested in a movie filmed primarily in Spanish about one of the most well known figures of the twentieth century. In fact it was the actor who ended up depicting Che, Benicio Del Toro, from Puerto Rico, who first proposed the project and was the driving force behind its development.

Originally released theatrically in two parts, The Argentinian, which deals with his time in Cuba during and after the revolution, and Guerrilla, detailing his attempts to bring the revolution to Bolivia in South America, IFC Films released a three disc DVD set, Che: Collector's Edition, in January 2010. The set contains both parts of the movie and a third disc of special features, primarily interviews with those responsible for its creation; Del Toro, Soderbergh, and author Jon Lee Anderson whose biography Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life inspired the movie. The special features disc also contains a typical "making of" the movie short about the first film, but there was nothing on the second film so it felt like sort of an incomplete package.

However, any disappointment felt at the special features can easily be overlooked by the quality of the film itself. (As I watched the two discs one after the other I'm treating it as one movie not two) While some might feel slightly daunted by a four hour plus movie that's almost entirely in Spanish with English subtitles, watching it without a break gives you a far better idea of the scope of Guevara's life and his absolute dedication to his ideals. We first meet him in 1964 when he travelled to New York City to address the United Nations on behalf of his adopted country, Cuba. During his visit he was interviewed by reporter Lisa Howard (played by Julia Ormond) who questions him about the Cuban revolution. The interview, his subsequent speech to the United Nations, and the various activities he participated in while staying in New York serve as the impetus for flashbacks to the 1950's, beginning with a dinner party in Mexico City where he first met Fidel Castro (Demian Bichir).

We then follow Che as he and Fidel lead eighty-two men to Cuba to begin the struggle to overthrow the military dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista. Under Batista American corporations owned most of the land which they used for the production of sugar cane and as plantations. The majority of Cubans were uneducated and lived in poverty with no access to medical care and little chance of improving their lot in life. The major objective of the revolution, as stated by Castro and Guevara, was land reform, which would involve the redistribution of land owned by the big companies to the people of Cuba. They also promised universal education and medical treatment, running water and electricity, and a general over all increase in the standard of living for the poor.

The movie shows that right from the beginning, even when they were still only a small force in danger of starvation and death, the guerillas under Che and Castro began implementing what they could of their platform. They established a school for those who joined them so they could learn to read and write – one early scene in the movie shows Guevara telling people they can only join up with the rebels if they have their own weapon and know how to read and write. Once they had the facilities to teach people the guerrillas had to go to school and do studies while they were on the trail. When two guerrillas are caught stealing from local peasants, and raping and killing a family, Guevara has them executed. The revolution is being fought for these people, and anybody who attacks them is an enemy of the revolution.

There is very little in the movie about either Che's personal life or his life as a government official in the Cuban government. While critics of Che and Cuba will claim this is to cover up the deaths he was responsible for, there are allusions to them made at points in the movie. However, this is not a complete portrait of the man, it is the story of the beginning and end of his life as a revolutionary. We see how as a young man how he was prepared to give up the security of a middle class existence as a doctor in Argentina to go and live in the jungles of Cuba at great personal hardship (he suffered horribly from asthma and at times he is pictured as being almost completely incapacitated by it). In 1966 he leaves his family and his secure position in the Cuban government to go live in the jungles of Bolivia in order to attempt the same type of campaign he had been part of in the 1950's.

The picture we do get of him is that of a man singularly obsessed by his vision to the exclusion of anything else. It is easy to see how he could very easily have ordered the execution of people he thought were conspiring against what he believed in. Those who see this movie as being an overly positive representation of Che, do so only because individual acts are not depicted. However, ask yourself what lengths do you think a person as possessed as the man shown in this movie would go to in order to see his dreams come true? This is a movie about a dedicated revolutionary who will stop at nothing in his attempt to shape the world according to his ideals. Whether we agree with his beliefs or not, we can't help but realize somebody this blinkered in their world view is as potentially ruthless to those he perceives opposing him as he is compassionate towards those he believes he is fighting for.

Benicio Del Toro does a magnificent job of bringing that dichotomy to life. We see a man who is genuine in his caring for people and sincere in his efforts to make the world better for those who are suffering from hardships. His Che is at his most humane and genuine when he's helping the poor in either Cuba or Bolivia. Yet put the same man in front of the General Assembly of the United Nations and he turns into someone you're sure would cut down anyone he thought stood in his way. El Toro also manages to capture that which has made Che the inspirational figure he remains to so many people around the world today. While he doesn't appear to have the charisma of someone like Castro, or any other renowned political leader you can think of, his quiet dedication and his ability to relate to almost anyone he meets on one level or another, make him someone people will not only listen to, but will willingly follow anywhere.

To oppressed people around the world Che Guevara remains a figure of inspiration and hope to this day. To others, he will always be a villain and a murderer. Any film biography made about an individual of this nature is always going to have its detractors who claim it misrepresented who and what he was. Che (The Argentinian and Guerrilla) doesn't do the impossible and find some sort of middle ground which will satisfy those on both sides of the argument that surrounds his status in history. What it does do is give audiences a view of a man who was absolutely dedicated to an ideal at the expense of everything else; his health, his family, and in the end, his life. A good biography should present the facts of a person's life and leave us to evaluate them in order to reach our own conclusions. Che accomplishes that objective even with its rather narrow focus. Dynamic, entertaining, and informative, you couldn't ask for anything more of a movie biography.

Posted by Richard Marcus at 08:43 PM | Permalink

I've never been one for sustained doses of light, ethereal music that floats around sounding pretty, but in the end has little or no substance. You know what I mean, its the kind of stuff you'll hear wafting out of stores that seem to sell primarily candles or offer some sort of spiritual renewal in exchange for a large investment of capital. Like the ideas being sold in those stores, the music is usually a co-opted, watered down version of some other culture's ideas being passed off as something original. Aside from the way it mal-treats music, the other major crime it perpetrates is the manner in which it abuses perfectly good instruments creating the impression they are somehow only good for creating this schlock.

Two of the instruments that have suffered the most at the hands of this industry have been the harp and the flute. Whether the concert variety of either instrument, or one of the many traditional types unique to various cultures around the world, they have been reduced to only pale imitations of their true capabilities. With their long association with angelic hosts harps probably have it worse than flutes, but with the "discovery" of the Native American cedar flute in recent years, both have become the instruments of choice for the vacuous and vacant.

Needless to say I was less then thrilled when I received a CD of harp and flute music in the mail, and under most circumstances I would have simply ignored the disc and gone about my business. However, a quick scan of both the press release accompanying the disc, and the disc itself, made it clear harpist Tomoko Sugawara was cut from an entirely different bolt of cloth than the perpetrators of the crimes described above, and her forthcoming disc, Along The Silk Road, being released on March 11/10 on the Motema label, offered the promise of something different and exciting.

First of all there was the instrument she was playing on the disc, a type of harp which was first known to be played in 1900BC in Mesopotamia. The kugo, or angular harp, is not only one of the earliest examples of a plucked string instrument, it was also one of the more enduring ones as it was in use up until 1700AD in some Islamic countries. Even more fascinating is the fact it was in common usage along the length of the Silk Road - the historic trading route that connected the Far East with the Near East and could be found in China, Korea, and Japan as well as Egypt and Muslim occupied Spain. However the advent of the frame harp, the instrument most of us visualize when we think of a harp, in Europe around 800AD marked the beginning of the end for the kugo, and it had passed out of use in the Far East by 1100AD and gradually vanished entirely.

The kugo Sugawara plays was created from plans she and music archaeologist Bo Lawrengren developed based on a harp of its type pictured on a reliquary box painted in the 6th or 7th century BC. The thirteen pieces on her CD are a cross section of the various cultures where the angular harp was used, thus offering listeners a musical tour of the ancient world stretching from Spain to China. However, instead of merely trying to recreate the music of those times, many of the pieces are by contemporary composers from the countries where the instrument once held sway. These are balanced by pieces from its original heyday, dating back as far as the Tang Dynasty in China and 13th century Spain and Iran. While "The Waves Of Kokonor" and "Wang Zhaojun" have been transcribed and adapted from their original to better suit the range of Sugawara's harp, "Qawl" by Quth al-Dinal-Shirazi (1236-1311) of Iran is taken from the original's vocal part, which, along with the title's percussion line, is all of the song that has survived. Sugawara is accompanied by percussionist Ozan Aksoy on this track playing the bendir, with each of them adding improvised elements to flesh out piece.

The booklet that accompanies the CD offers detailed notes on each piece of music, including the modern composers explanation of how they tried to accommodate an instrument none of them had ever heard or seen played. While their talk of scales and tunings will be lost on any but those who are musicians, what is clear is that this is brand new territory for all of them. However, listening to the pieces one can't help thinking they've done an amazing job as the first thing you notice are the amazing variety of sounds and textures the instrument is capable of producing. Sugawara creates music with her kugo I would have never associated with a harp in the past. Her duets with alto flutist Robert Dick, "Shakugo I, II, and II" by Robert Lombardo, avoided all the usual cliches one has come to expect from this type of pairing, with the composer taking full advantage of both instrument's capabilities. While there are moments which can be described as ethereal within them, they are anchored by earthier elements that utilize the lower range of both their scales.

While a flute and harp duet is pretty much what one would expect from this type of disc, harp and percussion are not what most would call a likely pairing. However, three of the selections on this disc, the previously mentioned "Qawl" from Persia (Iran) and "Cantiga de Santa Maria, No. 249 and No. 213 composed by King Alfonso X of Spain (12221- 84), show the kugo's versatility with Sugawara pairing with Aksoy on bendir and darabukka to great effect. There's nothing soft or fragile about this harp's playing, especially on the very robust Spanish tunes. In spite of their sacred sounding names they contain elements remarkably similar to those found in more contemporary secular dance music like tangos and flamenco. (It came as no surprise to learn that Alfonso's court was heavily influenced by his Moorish neighbours who ruled the South of Spain and he had both Islamic and Jewish courtiers at his court) Sugawara's phrasing in these tunes in particular sound far more like a lute, or even a guitar, than what one would normally expect from a harp, and offer a perfect counterpoint to the lively rhythms being played by Aksoy.

Along The Silk Road might feature a type of harp as its solo instrument, but this is not harp as we've come to expect it to be played based on recent examples. Everybody involved with this project, from the composers to the performers, have gone out of their way to allow Sugawara's instrument's capabilities to be explored to its fullest, thus creating a disc of music both diverse and exciting. This might be an ancient instrument that has not been heard or seen in performance for hundreds of years, but it sounds far more vital and alive than any harp recording I've heard in years.

Posted by Richard Marcus at 05:24 AM | Permalink

Adapting any book, or series of books, to either film or television is a tricky proposition as those involved have to decide how to best recreate the authors vision on screen. This usually involves paring the original story down to its bare essentials, and finding a way to visually represent intellectual concepts. This job only increases in difficulty the more popular the original title, as the audience is going to have expectations about what will appear on their screens which the show's creators will have to live up to if they hope to cash in on the success of the books.

It's debatable which is the most delicate when it comes to making an adaptation; ensuring the story adheres to the original as closely as possible, or, bringing much beloved characters to life on the screen. On the one hand if the story deviates too much from the way the author wrote it audiences will leave the theatre feeling let down. However, if the characters they see on screen don't at least bear some resemblance to what the audience expects them to be like you can pretty much kiss good-bye any sort of success with a project, especially if it's an extended television adaptation that will air over a series of evenings.

Reginald Hill's series of police procedural novels featuring the characters Detective Superintendent (DS) Andy Dalziel and Detective Inspector (DI) Peter Pascoe have been international best sellers almost since he published the first book, A Clubbable Woman. The two lead characters, their associates in the fictional Mid-Yorkshire Criminal Investigation Division (CID), and the civilians they associate with, have left indelible impressions on all who have read them, with DS Dalziel in particular being nearly literally larger than life. Those who made the decision back in 1996 to begin adapting the books for television faced the very difficult task of not only bringing to life stories that people were exceedingly familiar with, but ensuring the beloved characters were presented just right.

Judging by the three episodes that made up the show's first season that have just been released as the DVD package Dalziel & Pascoe Season 1 by BBC America, not only did they succeed in retelling the stories, through a combination of skilled casting and well written scripts, they brought the two leads to life perfectly. Both Warren Clarke as DS Andy Dalziel and Colin Buchanan as DI Peter Pascoe manage to not only recreate their own characters, but have done an excellent job showing the beginnings of their professional and personal relationship.

The three episodes in "Season 1", A Clubbable Woman, An Advancement Of Learning, and An Autumn Shroud, all take place early in Pascoe's career with the Mid-Yorkshire CID. In fact, in the first episode it appears that he has not only just joined the force, but is also new to the area, as his boss spends a good deal of time filling him in about the locals and their stories. Pascoe and Dalziel are the proverbial "chalk and cheese", as the younger man is a university graduate with a degree in sociology while Dalziel is an old school copper who takes great pride in being referred to as "that bastard" and pleasure in announcing that he "scratches his balls in public and farts louder than is naturally necessary". However, as they discover to their mutual surprise, they work well together. It seems the combination of a bull in a china shop and polite intelligence is a very effective rendition of the good cop - bad cop routine.

Over the years Reginald Hill's mysteries featuring these two gentlemen have evolved to the point where the case they are attempting to solve almost serves as the backdrop for exploring a variety of themes and sociological situations. While these three earlier works were far more straightforward, the people responsible for creating the adaptations have still managed to capture those elements that even then separated Hill's work from others. None of the cases are the usual straight forward "who done it's" with a "bad guy", and an innocent victim, nor are the solutions ever completely cut and dried. Certainly somebody is always arrested in the end, but what their ultimate fate will be is another matter all together as there always seem to be mitigating circumstances that are sure to play a factor in their trial and sentencing.

With each episode being nearly ninety minutes in length there is plenty of time to not only develop the plot slowly, but events proceed at what seems a far more natural pace than we usually see in police procedurals. Not only are the cases given plenty of time to develop, but equal time is given for character development for both our erstwhile protagonists and the other characters featured in that particular episode. Over the course of these first three episodes, and in particular episode three, An Autumn Shroud, special attention is paid to the character of Dalziel. Early on we learn that his wife left him years ago for another man, and although on the surface it doesn't appear as if he cares all that much, we are given glimpses beneath the rough exterior and something of the loneliness that he feels.

Needless to say the acting throughout, the leads, the secondary characters, and the special guests who only appear in individual episodes, is exemplary throughout. As usual part of the fun in watching an older British television show, and this one dates from 1996, is seeing familiar faces and trying to figure out what you might have seen them in since. However no matter how strong the work of those in secondary roles, the series still rests on the broad shoulders of Warren Clarke as Dalziel, and he does a magnificent job in bringing "Fat Andy" to life. He brings just the right mix of bluster, belligerence, and arrogance to the role in the first two episodes to make it obvious its not an act, while at the same time showing a natural intelligence and awareness that make his more introspective moments in episode three seem unforced and natural.

At this stage in the series Dalziel is the catalyst round which everyone else revolves, and the other characters' performances are still based primarily on reacting to their boss. Colin Buchanan's Peter Pascoe has caught just the right note of wry affection warring with impatience at his boss's pigheadedness. He does give us the occasional glimpse of his own intelligence, but at the moment his light is still being hidden by the rather large shadow cast by superior. All of which would be consistent for a person who has only just started working in a new situation for somebody as unique as Superintendent Dalziel.

It's not often that favourite books survive the transition from page to either small or large screen completely unscathed, and maybe there will be those who will be able to find fault with how well Reginald Hill's beloved characters have made that journey, but I'm not one of them. Not only have the episodes in Dalziel & Pascoe Season 1 succeeded in telling the stories with the same intelligence as the author, they have captured the spirit of the books as well. While the DVD package is straight forward with no special features, and the sound is basic stereo as befits the age of the original programming, the quality of the material is so superior that I doubt anyone who liked the books will walk away disappointed.

Posted by Richard Marcus at 05:19 AM | Permalink

All across North America, and in fact around the world, the tradition of the trickster has a long and storied history among the older cultures of the world. Whether the Raven of the West Coast, Coyote of the plains, the bumbling Nanabush or Nanabozo of the woodlands, or whatever shape or form he has been given by his people, his purpose is the same. By epitomizing our worst traits, and putting them into action, he teaches us object lessons on how to live. By his own estimation he's the most intelligent. the bravest, the toughest, and generally all around best at everything, yet he invariably ends up falling flat on his face. Somehow or other he's always just tricky enough to outsmart himself and no one else.

The other thing all tricksters, no matter what their nationality, have in common is their complete lack of humility. No matter what happens, no matter how embarrassing the situation they end up finding themselves in, they never seem to able to learn the lesson that they were the ones responsible for their own downfall. While many of their predicaments are quite funny, there are occasions when our laughter at what happens to them is slightly tinged with sadness or even unease. For, while the stories are told to ensure we never get to full of ourselves, there are only so many times you can watch someone slip on a banana peel and find it funny until you start to either feel sorry for them or begin to wonder what it might be like to slip on it yourself.

Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any room in the modern world for tricksters anymore. Which is a pity, because we're currently a world that thinks way to highly of itself and has a far overblown sense of our own importance. We've all become so wrapped up in going about our business that we've forgotten how to live. Well, Canadian author Drew Hayden Talyor, a member of the Ojibway nation - or as they refer to themselves, Anishnawbe (The People) - has decided its about time to see what would happen if the ancient trickster of his nation were to show up on a modern day Reservation. What would he look like, what would people's reaction to him be, and what kind of mayhem would be the result? The answers to those questions and others can all be found in his first full length novel, Motorcycles & Sweetgrass, being published by Random House Canada on March 9/10.

The action takes place on the fictional Anishnawbe Reserve of Otter Lake, located somewhere in central Ontario, Canada. Maggie Secord has the usual problems single moms do with raising a teenage boy, but they're compounded by her decision to take over he late husband's role of elected Chief of the band. She's sure there was a good reason for her doing so at the time, but now she's damned if she can remember what that was. It's been especially difficult in the last couple of years as the government has finally decided to return to the band land that had been "borrowed" from them. Aside from all the paper work, and meetings with all levels of government - county, provincial, and federal - this involves, it sometimes seems, every person living on the reserve having their own opinions as to how the land should be put to use and each of them spelling their plans out in detail for her.

As if things couldn't get any more difficult, there's the whole matter of the mysterious white stranger who showed up at her mother's house just before she died. He pulled up on a bright red 1953 Indian motorcycle, and marched into the house and into her bedroom like he was expected. Well it turns out he was, for looking in his grandma's window, Maggie's son Virgil sees the young, blond white guy, kissing his grandma in a very friendly manner. Now grandma Lillian Benojee was one of those who were taken off to the residential schools in an attempt to take the Indian out of native children. Somehow or other though she managed to hold onto her language and beliefs, while also accepting some of the white man's. It always amazed her children how she could go to church on Sunday, yet also know all the old tales about Nanabush the trickster and recite them and her prayers with an equal amount of sincerity. In fact she could talk about both Jesus and Nanabush as if she knew them personally.

While we never find out about the former, Lillian does turn out to have been buddies with Nanabush and it was she who invited him to show up at Otter Lake reserve to say good bye to her before she left and to ask him a favour. Virgil, who was already suspicious of John after seeing him kissing his grandma, becomes even more so when he turns his attention to his mother. There's something decidedly odd about this white man whose eyes are always changing colour, can speak the Anishnawbe language better than most elders, and knows how to braid sweetgrass so perfectly. Aside from everything else, why do the local racoons seem to be following him everywhere he goes?

In Motorcycles & Sweetgrass Drew Hayden Taylor has brought the character of Nanabush the trickster out of the old tales of his people and has him up to his usual tricks. He's not just some fun loving guy who plays practical jokes on people, he's also vindictive, selfish, and a liar. While he does make life more interesting for Maggie while he's on the reserve and helps her to have fun for the first time since her husband died, he also creates no end of problems for her with his solution for dealing with the land being returned to the tribe. Along the way Taylor manages to poke fun at his own people and politicians, while raising the issues of non-natives attitudes to land clams and Residential schools in a way which is humorous but at the same time doesn't diminish the reality of the situation.

People who aren't used to twenty-first century Natives, are going to be surprised to hear how much life on a reserve sounds like life in any small town. Everybody knows everybody, and its hard to have business that others aren't going to be sticking there noses in all the time. Of course they did use to be quite a bit different from those who are now living in neighbouring towns, and life on a reserve isn't quite the same as anywhere else. Yet, while Taylor manages to bring that reality to life its not the one we read in the newspapers all the time of despair and hopelessness. These are real people trying to balance the realities of living in the twenty-first century and holding onto their culture.

While Taylor doesn't shy away from the ugly truths that populate the history of the relationship between Native Canadians and their government, he uses humour to bring these issues into focus. Like the Nanabush stories of the past with their lessons on how to live a good life, Motorcycles & Sweetgrass slyly sneaks its message in when we're not looking. Its a gentle and timely reminder that while we may think we know what we're doing, there's a damn good chance that we're missing out on what's really important in our lives. We can get hung up in politics and issues all we want, but at the end of the day we all still have to look at ourselves in the mirror.

Posted by Richard Marcus at 10:06 AM | Permalink

The late 1970's saw pockets of new artistic expression break out in rebellion against the staid and conservative old order in various cities all over the world. The most obvious example was of course punk rock and its rejection of the glamour and wealth that had come to be associated with pop music stardom. Whereas the Beatles had received honours from the Queen for services to their country, the Sex Pistols penned an attack on the establishment with their harsh and sardonic take on the country's national anthem, "God Save The Queen". However it was more than just a rejection of old standards taking place, as punk symbolized the populist attitude towards the arts of the time.

The "do it yourself", independent spirit that was so much a part of the early days of punk rock, was also to be found in the film world as well. With the advent of video technology, it had become less expensive for an individual to make a film on his or her own without the support of a major studio. This period of independence happened to coincide with the rise in popularity in North America of Germany's great experimental film makers of the day; Werner Herzog, Wim Wenders, and Rainer Werner Fassbinder, who inspired many both in North America and Europe to become film makers.

One of those who was closely associated with Fassbinder was Ulli Lommel, who ended up working in New York City in the mid to late 1970's, becoming involved with both the punk scene and associated with Andy Warhol. It was during this period that he made the movie Blank Generation, staring New York punk rocker Richard Hell, which has now been re-issued on DVD by MVD Visual. The DVD also contains an all new in depth interview with Hell looking back on those days and commenting on the film. For those of you familiar with any of Hell's music from the 1970's you'll recognize the title of the film as being taken from the title of what was easily the most popular song he recorded with his group of that time, The Voidoids.

Don't be fooled by the cover of the DVD which reproduces the cover of the old Hell album of the same name, or the fact that it claims live performances of Hell and the Voidoids are part of the film, this is not a film about punk rock, or a punk rock film, in any shape or form. Richard Hell plays the roll of Billy, an aspiring punk "star", and the movie seems to be about his relationship with a French reporter who is supposedly shooting a film about him. Nada, played by Carole Bouquet, is also involved with a journalist from Germany, played by the film's director, who is in New York desperate to interview Andy Warhol.

If that sounds like very little to build a movie around, while you're right, as the film is rather a disjointed mess with none of the scenes seeming to have little or anything to do with each other. One could make the argument that director Lommel was trying to create the sense of directionless and nihilism suggested by the movie's title by showing us the characters own lack of purpose through these scenes. However there is so little of real substance within them, as an audience we quickly lose interest in what's going on with the characters.

As compensation of a sorts there are some great shots of New York City in the late 1970's - the movie was actually shot in 1977 - 78, even though it wasn't released until 1980 - including footage shot in CBGBs of Richard Hell and The Voidoids in concert. While we never see the band for more than a few moments at a time, the scenes inside the bar are great as they capture the look and feel of it wonderfully. In fact Edward Lachman's cinematography is one of the best things about the movie. He has captured the rundown feel of New York at the end of the late seventies perfectly with its dirty buildings, cracked sidewalks, and general air of abandonment. People may not remember, but there was a time in the mid 1970's when New York City came close to declaring bankruptcy, and the film captures the depression and decay of the city at the time.

As for the music in the film, snippets of four of Hell and The Voidoids' songs are played underneath much of the films activity - with "Blank Generation" being used most often. I assume it was the director's not so subtle way of reminding us what the movie is supposedly about by playing the song as some sort of emphasis, but it starts to become a bit of a joke after a while. It's rather unfortunate, because Hell's music is very good, and a great example of the energy and intelligence that typified the best aspects of punk rock. However, here the music has been trivialized. The incidental music on the other hand is one of the other bright spots of the movie, as it works really well with the cinematography to create atmosphere and set the mood of the piece. It turns out it was one of the first soundtracks composed by future Oscar winner Elliot Goldenthal. I think it tells you something of the films quality when the soundtrack is one of its most memorable parts, but it also says quite a bit about Goldenthal's abilities that he was able to create something as interesting a he did with so little to work with.

The real highlight of the DVD is the forty-five minute interview with Richard Hell conducted by Luc Sante. In it Hell is not only brutally honest about his opinion of the movie and his performance - he thought he wasn't very good as he was horribly self-conscious during the whole shoot - he talks openly and candidly about the whole process involved with making the film. Hell is an articulate and witty individual, and he gives us some interesting background as to what he was doing at the time the film was being made, and what was happening in New York City as well. However both he and Sante are very damming about the movie and director Ulli Lommel with one of the few positive comments Hell having to make about the movie being in reference to Andy Warhol's brief appearance in it as himself. (Warhol was also an associate producer for the movie)

If you were thinking of picking up a copy of the newest DVD re-issue of Blank Generation because you were under the impression it was a concert film, or at least contained some good examples of Richard Hell And The Voidoids' material, you're going to sadly disappointed. Actually you're going to be pretty disappointed in this movie no matter what reason you pick it up for. However, the interview with Richard Hell is great, the movie does recreate New York City of the late 1970's really well, and it contains some pretty cool footage of the interior of CBGBs - so its not a total write off. Its a far cry from being comparable in any shape or form to some of the great art that was being produced at the time, and is more an example of how even during periods of great creative outbursts there are bound to be a few duds.

Posted by Richard Marcus at 05:49 PM | Permalink