Before the presentation, The Underground Multiplex will present Chapter 6 in the ongoing trailer series Sisters of No Mercy 3D. Can Mother Superior do battle with Father Neal, “Saint” Theresa, Hack Jack the Zombie Mack and the army of zombie hos? The only way you can bear witness is by attending Saturday night at midnight, Facets Multimedia, 1517 W. Fullerton in Chicago.

Bear Witness

Is Big Other a failure? Of course, in every way.

See the proof below from our own AD Jameson, who ever-so-mildly breaks the rules of this column (submit!: see this), by stating that he might return to his long-suffering project, detailed below.  Even so, we may root for his continued and everlasting failure on this project, can’t we? It’s the least we can do in the esprit de corps that is this collaborative blog.

***

Nearly twelve years ago, at the end of the millennium, I started writing a book called “The Music Novel.” It was set in Seattle in two different time periods: 1993–4 and 1999, contrasting the heyday of the grunge movement (culminating with Kurt Cobain’s suicide) with the fin de siècle WTO protests. It was something of a statement, I suppose, on “The 1990s,” though I was much more interested in formalist experimentation: the rift in time afforded a chance to contrast different versions of the same characters. I even toyed with some silly idea of presenting the earlier time at the tops of each page, the latter period at the bottoms, with a page tear separating them. (I was playing a lot in those days with photocopiers, and had a fondness for torn and overlapped pages.)

For the next five years, I made copious notes—hundreds and hundreds of pages of plot details, character descriptions, period research, complex thematic structures. The project swelled to encompass topics as disparate as Chinese dragons, the Book of Revelations, shrinking penis disorder, and the lost kingdom of Lemuria. (It’s OK to laugh. I laugh about it now, too.) But despite my feverish note-making, what I didn’t do is any actual writing. “The Music Novel” became a book that I instead thought about in cafes, for hours on end (an imaginary novel).

I proposed it—despite my mentor Curtis White‘s misgivings—as my Master’s thesis. (Curt said, “Why don’t you put together a story collection, instead?” How wise!) But even that academic deadline—first looming, then surpassed, then receding, anxiously, further and further into the past—failed to whip me to whip the material into shape. Finished with my classes and my fellowship, finished with an extra  third year spent tooling around downstate Illinois, I took a job in Thailand and moved there for two years, where I continued to poke and prod at the material. (I ended up submitting a different project—an early draft of my first novel, Giant Slugs—as my Master’s thesis.)

I bought new tablets and pens, experimented with different timelines and presentations. I restructured the behemoth into five parts, then three parts, each one titled “Dreaming.” Then I re-conceived it as a children’s novel, a rewrite of the Chronicles of Narnia. (Again, you can laugh.) Then I re-imagined it as some abstract, lyrical horror/science-fiction novel, or series of novels. Nothing worked.

Finally, on an especially hot Thai day, while sitting in a Starbucks in the downtown’s Siam Square (soon to be the site of its own populist protests), I conceded that the project had grown much too complicated for my humble talents. I’d also outgrown the material to a large extent; my initial compare/contrast model struck me as too forced, too hokey. The page rips were merely a gimmick. And what, in any case, did I have to say about the ’90s? (Let alone “The ’90s”!)

I like to think I learned a valuable lesson from all of this: just write the damn book. Instead of failing to write one book, one imaginary novel, I’d failed to write half a dozen. Maybe more!

Not being one to abandon so much daydreaming and material (did I learn anything??), I split the pages of notes into two different books: “Seattle” and “Come.” “Seattle” became a much more minimalist thing, a seven-chapter story of a young Thai woman living in Seattle. It was “The Music Novel” stripped of all but a few of its characters, while retaining its formalist interest in character. “Come” inherited all the rest: the city-wide sprawl and the ’90s setting and my interest in music cultures. (It’s since ballooned to become a four-book series—did I learn anything??).

I still think, when drunk, about “Come” (without writing all that much), but I’ve knuckled down on “Seattle,” hammering away at it for months and years since moving back to the States. And that book is, in some ways, pretty far along: I have a nearly complete first or second draft that’s touching 70,000 words. Meanwhile, one small excerpt appeared in Fiction International, last December. (Anyone who’s seen that may well wonder: what on earth does Kool-Aid Man and performance art have to do with Thai women and Seattle? Good question.)

But “Seattle” is still a long way from being done. For one thing, that near-complete draft is a complete mess, stylistically. One of the project’s frustrations is that it calls for a very consistent tone, one that mostly resists my efforts. (That’s another mistake: writing a novel I can’t write, rather than one I can write.) I can access that style now and then, for a little while, but then it slips away once more, and I descend into prose that’s much too cutesy, which I have to tear out; I find myself rewriting for days and weeks just to gain a few words. The book’s also much too cramped; although I conceived it as a simple, pared down project, it’s been expanding under its own internal pressures; rather than being some dreamy slip of a thing, it’s becoming a rather long book, comprised of several hundred pages. Because no matter how much I tried reducing it, it’s still a complex project, filled with dozens of interwoven thematic concerns (and twelve chapters now, instead of seven). (Kool-Aid Man, being such a big celeb, demanded the extra five.)

These days, occasionally, I get a burst of energy, the sense that I can “finally finish the thing,” and so I sit down again with the MS…and then quickly quit again, exhausted (usually right after I reread it). More than anything else I’ve ever worked on, “Seattle” can take it out of me—not an encouraging sign. (“Hey, readers! Are you looking for something truly enervating?”) I remain convinced that it can be finished, and what’s more, that were I to finish it (here comes another warning bell), it might be “the best thing I’ve ever written”…but…can I finish it? (Can anyone?)

We shall see; I’m resuming work on it this very month. Or…possibly in September. (No reason to spoil my summer, right?)

Meanwhile, I’ve made a little rule for myself: that I can’t go to the actual Seattle—somewhere I’ve never been—till I finish the book. Because knowing something about the city might ruin my dream of the place, ya’ know?

The safe bet’s on my never making it there.

###

A D Jameson is the author of two books: the prose collection Amazing Adult Fantasy (Mutable Sound, 2011), in which he tries to come to terms with having been raised on ’80s pop culture, and the novel Giant Slugs (Lawrence and Gibson, 2011), an absurdist retelling of the Epic of Gilgamesh. He has taught classes at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Lake Forest College, DePaul University, Facets Multimedia, and StoryStudio Chicago. He is also the nonfiction / reviews editor of the online journal Requited. This fall, he will become a PhD candidate at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

Last Week: #AuthorFail 4: Jeffrey DeShell

Next Week: #AuthorFail 6: Jarret Middleton

Human Rights Watch Film Festival (click for full schedule and descriptions)

Tomorrow I’m going with my old Facets buddy to check out “Crude,” a documentary about the civil action lawsuit the indigenous people of Ecuador’s Amazon region filed against Chevron/Texaco back in the 90s.

Three years in the making, this riveting new documentary from acclaimed filmmaker Joe Berlinger (Brother’s Keeper, Paradise Lost, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster) tells the epic story of one of the largest and most controversial legal cases on the planet. An inside look at the infamous $27 billion “Amazon Chernobyl” case, Crude is a real-life, high stakes legal drama involving global politics, the environmental movement, celebrity activism, human rights advocacy, multinational corporate power, and the fate of disappearing indigenous cultures. Subverting the conventions of advocacy filmmaking, this award-winning film explores a complex situation from all angles, bringing an important story of environmental peril and human suffering into focus.

Back when I was living in Peru in 2007-2008, people were talking about this law suit, so I’m excited to see it.  And, obviously, it’s fairly relevant given the situation we’re having in the Gulf.  Should be good.

There are a couple others that look really good that I hope to see this week.  Life just keeps getting busier and busier though.  Ikes!

Peace and Justice.

Narrated by Dustin Hoffman, Visual Acoustics celebrates the life and career of Julius Shulman, the world’s greatest architectural photographer, whose images brought modern architecture to the American mainstream. Shulman, who passed away this year, captured the work of modern architects since the 1930′s, including Frank Lloyd Wright, Richard Neutra, John Lautner and Pierre Koenig. His images epitomized the singular beauty of Southern California’s modernist movement and brought its iconic structures to the attention of the general public. This unique film is both a testament to the evolution of modern architecture and a joyful portrait of a talented artist who chronicled it with his unforgettable images. Featuring: Julius Shulman, Frank Gehry, Tom Ford.

Directed by Eric Bricker, U.S.A., 2009, 84 mins.

About Julius Shulman, 1910-2009
(NPR, Art in America)
Photographer of architecture, naturalist, educator, and commentator on urban form. One of the leading architectural photographers of the 20th century, Shulman developed close association with the modernist architects, principally those active in Southern California such as Gregory Ain, John Lautner, Richard Neutra, and R.M. Schindler. Shulman’s images played a major role in crafting the image of the Los Angeles and “Southern California lifestyle” to the rest of the nation and world during the 1950s and 1960s. A prolific author, consultant, lecturer, exhibitor, and editor of his own vast archive, Shulman remained active up until his passing away in July of 2009.

Showtimes:
Fri., Nov. 20 at 7 & 9 pm
Sat.-Sun., Nov. 21-22 at 3, 5, 7 & 9 pm
Mon.-Thurs.. Nov. 23-26 at 7 & 9 pm

Tickets:
$9 general admission
FREE for Facets Members!

For all Cinémathèque inquiries, contact Charles Coleman at
773.281.9075 or charles@facets.org

– via Facets Multimedia

For me, there's truly NO PLACE like Paris. Its street life and energy is infectious -- and I got to travel there via the "big screen" earlier this week by catching "Paris" at a Chicago cinema.

I love this statue, which stands majestically in Place de la République, one of the most famous and busiest squares in Paris. This 19th century statue stands as a monument to the history of the French Republic.

I’m not usually a big moviegoer, but I am a sucker for a good foreign-language film. Yes, I’m a bit of a snob – I feel a bit smarter sitting and watching some artsy independent film rather than, say, “The Transformers” (not that there’s anything wrong with that if you liked it!). But since I don’t get overseas nearly as often as I’d like, I figure forking over $10 or $11 for a two-hour onscreen journey into another culture is a fair price to pay.

Knowing how passionate I am about overseas travel, friends and colleagues constantly quiz me: “So where’s your next foreign trip? I know you’re on your way somewhere.” For the first time in a long time, I’m staying put—mostly because I’m out of vacation time and am forcing myself to stick to a serious budget (for reasons I will share in this blog before too long, I hope). But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up globetrotting. Instead, I’m doing it right here in Chicago—no passport, visas or trips to O’Hare International Airport required—and am traveling by way of the big screen. 

Just this week, I checked out “Paris,” a lovely, wonderfully written film starring Juliette Binoche that was shot—of course—in Paris, my absolute FAVORITE city in the entire world and the one place I’d happily live if told I could never go anywhere else for the rest of my life.

For me, this was two hours of latte-sipping bliss, watching the film’s characters stroll the city’s picturesque streets; hang out in its cafés, stand in its apartments and gaze down at the beautifully laid out streets below. The film showed the interconnectedness of a wide range of Parisians (and Africans across the sea), making clear that sometimes “real life” is more dramatic than anything we can imagine. Of course, the film made me long desperately for Paris, to buy some extra American Airlines frequent-flyer miles to top off my account so I can fly there later this year.

But in lieu of dashing off to O’Hare to catch a flight after the film, I treated myself—as I often do when I go to see a French-themed film—to an early dinner at La Creperie, a cozy bistro-like hideaway just across the street from the Landmark Century Centre Cinema. A favorite spot of mine that’s been owned for nearly 40 years by a French-American couple, it gives me a way to extend my would-be French experience for another hour or two, complete with a great glass of vin blanc and an incredible savory crepe of chicken, goat cheese and tomatoes.

No matter where you live, you can travel the globe without going far from home. If you don’t live in a big metropolis with great artsy movie houses like the previously mentioned Landmark Century Centre Cinema or Facets Multimedia on Chicago’s North Side, or the Gene Siskel Film Center in downtown Chicago, you can still rent foreign films from Netflix or Blockbuster, literally bringing the world to your door. (But if you DO live in the Windy City, the Chicago International Film Festival plays on through Oct. 22, allowing moviegoers to feast on films from Argentina to Kazakhstan to Uruguay and tons of places in-between.)

And that’s a whole lot cheaper than an airline ticket somewhere around the world, even if it’s not quite the same (or as much fun) as being there.

Clickable through the title above and here.

After the harsh beauty of Women of the Night I decided to step back and show a film that is deceptively more civilized.  Not considered one of Mizoguchi’s stronger efforts, The Lady of Musashino takes on a strong willed heroine and the change in middle class japan over the post war period in one suburb of Tokyo.

Finally having a chance to edit and upload the class discussions of Mizoguchi. Here we look at his atypical Women of the Night. A very angry film that verges on the type of hardwired B film that Fuller could pump out, Mizoguchi later renounced the film after his Buddhist conversion. This is not to say it is bad. Oh no, it is bad and completely unbelievably powerful.

Link of the discussion in title.

Sisters of the Gion (1936)
Women of the Night (1948)
Gion Festival Music (1953)
The Crucified Woman (1954)
The Crucified Lovers (1954)
Streets of Shame (1956)

Oh yes I am excited.

The way it is filmed is direct and clear, no stylistic self-consciousness but an abundance of long shots and off screen space. Burnett has a humility and respect for the characters that also comes through for the audience: He trusts our eyes just as much as he loves his characters (the same way Jean Renoir or Leo McCarey love theirs, clear eyed and bemused), we witness things because he grants us them: When we see brothers reconcile it is off hand and over the shoulder-Burnett lets us see without violating their space or their trust.

Enjy the discussion, reachable through the title or the picture.

Ashes and Embers is a particularly strong film that can also be hard to digest. I have to admit I went into class with a little trepidation, because of all the films I am showing,Ashes is in many ways the most confrontational, but as usual my fears were unfounded and many in the class not only found it to be a strong piece of work but also revelatory.

Anyone expecting a “nicer” film after the end of Bush Mama, where Dorothy exhorted her husband to tell his stories in a way that the common man would understand, it is clear that Gerima does not mean it as a dilution of his style. Building on the “subjective in the objective” style of Bush Mama (where we get the view of the community AND the view of one member of that community). The film encompasses a lot of concerns and styles. It is rough around the edges but with an emotional truthfulness and intensity that makes up for it. Unavailable on DVD, it can still be purchased from Sankofa.com on good old VHS.

We watched the 82-minute director’s cut in class and I told everyone the ’83 cut was 2 ½ hours long. I was surprised by my faulty memory: The cut is actually just a little under two hours. It says a lot about the novelistic depth and Renoir-like humanity of Burnett’s work that I “remembered with advantages”, confusing the length for the depth of the film.

It is important to remember these are not the same people as Killer of Sheep (though Henry Saunders makes a cameo). His is a different strata of Watts- more established, a little higher on the economic ladder. It is not a group we see too often in movies.

Burnett wants to show his whole community. Like the “Watts Tower” by Simon Rodia, Burnett has built a piece of folk art that reflects back on his community while standing proudly inside of it.

Finally am having a chance to catch up and post some of our class discussions again. My Brother’s Wedding is coming later today.

Bush Mama is a first film of remarkable emotional intensity and anger. Gerima is a different filmmaker than Burnett and the contrasts can be striking. Gerima stuffs his film with all of the ideas and life he can, whether they are cacophonous, disagreeing or messy. It is the film of someone who wasn’t sure he would make another.
It is also remarkable to have a filmmaker offer such a nuanced and sympathetic portrayal of women. Dorothy, the main character here, starts out the film in a daze and ends it in defiance, yet you never doubt that Gerima is with her in charting her emotional and political growth. The movie is not only about this journey but the community that surrounds Dorothy and it’s varying reactions to its insulation and absorption from the Los Angeles around it (insulated from other social classes, absorbed into the state system, whether that is welfare or jail).

The discussion that I have uploaded here deals with the class grappling and questioning Gerima’s distinctive worldview and artistry.

It has been a busy and crazy week but I have finally been able to post our class discussion for Killer of Sheep, the Charles Burnett masterpiece that I used to open my L.A. Rebellion class this past Wednesday night. It is a hard film to open with because there is so much to talk about and the movie can overwhelm your senses. When it is done, you still want to take it in a little bit and not ness. talk about it.
Too bad!
There was so much to deal with I will be offering some more words at the beginning of the next class. One thing I will say is I was happy with how much we were able to talk about the doubling that Burnett used as one of his main visual motifs and the very Southern form of storytelling that is as displaced in 70′s Watts as the films main characters.

Click above to go to the Facets home page.
Can you imagine my excitement? Probably not,or at least the degree of it. This coming Wednesday, July 23rd at 7pm, I start my next class at Facets on the films of Charles Burnett and Haile Gerima. Now Burnett has come a little bit more into the film fans consciousness with the release of Killer of Sheep last year and The Charles Burnett Collection, both through Milestone films. Is their someone at Milestone that I am now legally obligated to marry because of the happiness this has brought me. No matter, you have my email address.

Some people go all gaga over Star Wars and the fact that they had laser battles. Well here are two other filmmakers from the seventies who will transport you just as easily to a different world filled with more cinematic wonder and awe than a guy in a hairy suit can muster. This is film making of the highest order.

You owe it to yourself to see these films. And the chance to see them with a group of like minded film fans? Joy. Pure joy.

The Films of Charles Burnett and Haile Gerima

As I think you can imagine, I am quite excited about starting the above class. These two film makers are simply amazing, two of the brightest independents we have here in the states and they have made between them some of the most challenging and inspiring films of the last half century. Here is the blurb from the facets site (which is also clickable from the title:

“In Los Angeles, during the 1970′s, a group of minority film students at UCLA made films that would change the face of independent American cinema over the next 30 years. Including such future luminaries as Julie Dash (Daughter of Dust) and Wayne Wang (Smoke), the group was spearheaded by two remarkable African American filmmakers, Charles Burnett and Haile Gerima. Though from disparate backgrounds, Burnett from the American South and Gerima from Ethiopia, they sought to give voice to a community that was not recognized by Hollywood. They took advantage of their “outsider” positioning, by reinvigorating the push for a politically driven cinema, in a movement that became known as the “L.A. Rebellion.” Seeing the way African Americans were portrayed in the mainstream, they sought to authentically represent the black experience by using the poetic and impressionistic techniques of Italian Neo-Realism, which presented a truer vision of what they observed in daily life. In this class we will examine the extraordinary work produced by these esteemed leaders of the contemporary African American independent cinema movement.”

While I am sorry that we won’t be able to screen Billy Woodberry’s seminalBless their Little Hearts(from what I understand there is only one print, held by the Miami Library, that Woodberry himself checks out for screenings, though this might be apocrophyl), or some of the other film makers- for instance, Julie Dash’s work, to be able to concentrate on these two important film makers and these wonderful and still under recognized films (Killer of Sheep being a happy exception). Movie’s like Ashes & Embers and Bush Mama are not even available on DVD, so the chance to see them and watch them with others is one I am going to prize.

For an idea of the films, look at these two examples. The first is from Killer of Sheep:

How can you watch those and not be excited!