Over on Facebook, there’s been a public mourning over the death of Geek Love author Katherine Dunn as intense as the passing of Prince. It’s not as huge a population, but it’s as devoted. My friend Mitchell said, “I see Olympia everywhere.” I do too. The characters stalk your dreams. People who have read it say they are “haunted” by it. Because Katherine Dunn didn’t write too many novels, and the novels she did write came almost 20 years apart, there’s even more of a mystique around her. Geek Love exploded like a bomb in 1989. And then … silence. Of course she WASN’T silent. She wrote about boxing, she was a sports journalist for various newspapers, she traveled around covering boxing matches. This is not the “norm” for a writer who writes a book like Geek Love. And that made it almost better. Geek Love was not a book like any other book, and so it was perfect that the author would not be like other authors. When Dunn died, I did a Search on my site to see what I had already written about her over the years, and came across this fragment of hilarity: snippets of conversation between me and Michael, an old flame, who came and stayed with me for a week in 2006. And this is (some of) what we talked about. I didn’t even remember this post, and I read some of that and laughed out loud. I sent it to Michael and he was roaring too. The Fuck buddy moment? Libertarian Magicians?? What the hell. It’s a great snapshot of our friendship. But anyway, back then we discussed Katherine Dunn, which is why that forgotten post came up in Search, and the substance of that conversation is something I’ve talked about with other friends who loved Geek Love. Geek Love (at least my copy, and it was the first paperback copy) had no author photo. You couldn’t “attach” anything to her. It was just her voice and the characters she created. Katherine Dunn was a complete and utter mystery at the time, and you couldn’t Google her. It was perfect that I had no idea what she looked like. And because the characters in Geek Love are “freaks” and “geeks” on the sideshow circuit, and because it’s a first-person narration, it made you wonder … Of course, it’s even better that all of the characters came from her imagination, but still: we all talked about Katherine Dunn, and who we imagined her to be all the time.
With the advent of the Internet, it was easier to keep track of Katherine Dunn. And whenever you heard anything about her, it was always fascinating, and unexpected. Yes, of course, it would have been great if she had written more novels … or maybe it wouldn’t have been. I always missed her. I always wished I had heard more from her. Hers was one of the most essential and unique voices to come along in a long LONG time. Sorry, but Geek Love blows away anything that any of the Big Kahuna Men – like DeLillo or Jonathan Franzen or whoever – have ever attempted, or even dreamt of.
Yesterday, I was Googling around finding interviews with Dunn (there aren’t many, at least not recently), and came across a wonderful 2010 interview she gave to the Paris Review. There is so much great stuff. A couple of things I love, emblematic of why I love her, and why I find her so inspirational:
Twenty years is a long time for something to gel, what has happened?
I don’t want to be glib here, but twenty years worth of life and work happened. Some might say I’m right on schedule by my lights.
Is being a woman advantageous or disadvantageous for ringside reporting?
Thirty years ago it was an advantage because at most fights the lines to the women’s restroom were short.
Do you box?
No, I’ve never competed. I did, however, train in a boxing gym with a good coach beginning in 1993… Last November a young woman tried to snatch my purse on the street. I punched her out until the cavalry arrived. Most fun I’ve had in years.
“I have been a believer in the magic of language since, at a very early age, I discovered that some words got me into trouble and others got me out.”
-Katherine Dunn
In 2009, a news story emerged from the Pacific Northwest that author Katherine Dunn, known mainly for her 1989 novel Geek Love, had fought off a mugging attempt by slapping the thief in the face, and kicking the thief in the shins. Katherine Dunn was 64 at the time, and the mugger was mid-20s. The image was so pleasing. Any time I heard news of “Katherine Dunn”, I felt a surge of adrenaline and excitement, and this story made me think: “Of course. Of course she would make the news for something like that.”
The fact that she fought back was not a surprise, since Katherine Dunn spent the majority of her life covering boxing as a sports journalist. She also trained as a boxer. She had been a bartender, a waitress, a stripper, and she spent most of her time around boxers and tough guys. So, you know, she was not going to just let some asshole take her purse without a fight.
I got the news yesterday that Katherine Dunn died, at the age of 70.
I’ve been staring at the computer screen trying to think of what to say next. Katherine Dunn is so meaningful to me, and Geek Love was so important that any words I say will just sound melodramatic or like an exaggeration, or … empty? I don’t know. Katherine Dunn blasted me into wordlessness with Geek Love, and after that, for all time, all I could do was say to people, “Read it. Just read it. Trust me. Just read it.” Because what else is there to say? The book says it all. (Of course it’s on my Recommended Fiction list.) I have written about Geek Love over the years, as it turns out, here on my site (a quick Search showed me that), but most of it is inarticulate, and most of it just describes my reaction after I came to the last sentence. Because of that reaction, Geek Love is my #1 most MEMORABLE reading experience, that’s for sure. Books have made me cry before. For sure. But not like THAT. A bursting STORM the second I read the final sentence, that undid me for the rest of the day. My boyfriend had to take care of me as though I had experienced a deep personal loss. Which I had. It was the loss experienced when one takes off one’s blinders, it was the loss of Illusion and the belief in said Illusions. None of which I could put into words at the time.
Incidentally, it was Geek Love that started the process of me “waking up,” of me realizing I was living the wrong life. I was obediently following a path that was not MINE. The path I was on looked like the path of everyone around me (you date, you live together, you make plans together, you get married, you find jobs) … and so I couldn’t say what was wrong with it, and I felt myself that I was being ungrateful or weird in feeling SUCH a strong REJECTION of that path. Yes, I suppose you could say: “Well, Sheila, you were just dating the wrong person. Maybe it would have felt right with another man.” I think the life I’ve lived ever since then shows that as a lie. It’s the comforting lie that the “normals” tell the “weirdos.” Now, yes, of course, blah blah, we are all special, everyone is different, everyone has their problems, even people in white-picket-fence houses have their quirks. Sure. Yup. But there’s “different” and then there’s DIFFERENT. You see, the mainstream is so strong that the culture has absorbed it by osmosis. But it’s The Truman Show if you feel like none of that is “for you.” The norm is not the “norm” for all of us. What is freeing to you is a prison to me. But this is a difficult truth, an unwelcome truth to some (although that has always seemed strange to me: why does me “opting out” make YOU feel defensive?), and terrifying if you’re 22 years old and you don’t know what’s on the other side of that abyss. What will life look like if you don’t have the job/spouse/kids? All I know is is that I was young (21, 22), and I had such a strong sense of rejection inside of me that it made my relationship a torment (especially because I couldn’t verbalize what was wrong), and it made my life Hell. Granted, I had some other issues that I was unaware of at the time. But the fact remains. I was, in actuality, holding the brass ring of the culture, especially for young women. I had it. And I hated it. (I just reviewed The Lobster, coincidentally, which lampoons all of this.)
Geek Love was a wake-up call and I say that with no exaggeration. All along I had felt that something was wrong with ME, like why did I so vehemently not want the supposed awesomeness of what I HAD, which was: a relationship with a nice handsome responsible boyfriend, vacations and camping trips, long-term plans, even a sweet marriage proposal (which I said “No” to … I still don’t know where I found the balls to refuse. AND we were on a “romantic” vacation when I refused. Go, Sheila.) Geek Love said: “Not only CAN you say No to this whole version of life, you HAVE to say No to this.” (None of this was clear at the time. But the extreme reaction I had to the book was eloquent and in retrospect it is so obvious what was going on.)
Now, outside all of this personal stuff: Geek Love is a novel, not a self-help book, it’s not a cross-stitch sermon on the wall, and its truths are not cozy or easy to swallow. There is a price to pay for being a “geek.” You will pay it. But for the characters in the book, there is no other way. They are a circus sideshow family. They all have physical deformities which have turned them into a sensation on the sideshow circuit. The book would never pass the Tumblr test of how we are supposed to speak of physical challenges. Screw Tumblr. I have only read Geek Love once, that one time was enough, but the passages were burned into my cornea for all time. It would be impossible to make into a film (although Mitchell said, after he read it back in the day, that he could see it done as a cartoon, which I think is a brilliant idea). If you can make it past the grisly and gruesome opening sections, when you learn about the family (it’s not gruesome because of their deformities: the gruesome-ness goes way WAY beyond that – it actually turned my stomach and I thought I might have to put the book down) you will be rewarded riches beyond number. It is redemptive, in its way, but it is devastating in other ways. It is a book about withstanding loss. White-knuckling it. It is about love. It is about memories so terrible that life shatters, and forevermore there will only be pieces, fragments, nobody can be put back together again. And the lie – and it is a lie, and a very sinister lie – is that pieces so scattered can ever be put back together again. That lie (and it’s everywhere, from Oprah to life coaches to New-Age-woo-speak self-help books) is what makes people feel like “freaks”, or “geeks.” That lie is part of what drives people to suicide, addiction, anti-social behavior: the pressure to conform, the pressure to “put yourself together,” that putting yourself together is possible in any way, shape or form. Maybe its possible for SOME people but it is NOT possible for others. There will always be those who are on the “inside,” and those on the “outside.” Katherine Dunn’s book acknowledges that. And while such a harrowing experience could not really be called a “celebration,” it does, in the end, become a celebration. There is a price that must be paid. Nothing is free. Many people are unable to pay such a price. That’s the breaks. Katherine Dunn de-stabilizes the entire concept of “mainstream.”
Geek Love had a powerful impact – not just personally, but on a generation of writers. It was a “sui generis” book and Katherine Dunn was a sui generis writer, especially when you consider the fact that she didn’t move into the literary mainstream in any way whatsoever. She didn’t play the game like other people played it. She didn’t follow up Geek Love a couple years later with another novel, and then another novel, and then writing conferences, and short story collections, and personal essays, and a memoir, and you know the drill. That wasn’t her. She wrote it and then she vanished from the contemporary mainstream literary scene. She was a sports journalist and she covered boxing. There are a couple of collections of her boxing writing: One Ring Circus: Dispatches from the World of Boxing, and, in collaboration with photographer Jim Lommasson, Shadow Boxers: Sweat, Sacrifice & the Will to Survive in American Boxing Gyms, which won the 2004 Dorothea Lange–Paul Taylor Prize. There were other novels too: Attic, Truck. Plus the fascinating Death Scenes: A Homicide Detective’s Scrapbook.
In a conformist society, Katherine Dunn was an outlaw and a renegade. She followed her own star. You don’t realize how out of the ordinary it is until someone comes along and actually does it. There is no “set” path to being a writer, of course. However, in today’s world of MFA writing programs, and writers’ workshops which churn out young writers who all seem to write alike (a huge issue with such programs), having this woman emerge from (seemingly) out of nowhere and write a book that makes everything being published around it seem shallow and facile … is a moment of triumph for our culture. Sometimes things do work out. Sometimes the real cream actually does rise to the top. Sometimes something is SO good, and SO strongly itself, that 1. it cannot be compared to anything else and 2. its impact cannot be denied or explained away or ignored. A book like that feels inevitable once it arrives, but of course nothing is inevitable. Katherine Dunn had to dream it up. She had to sit down and write it.
I look at that picture of her above and I think: “She had Geek Love in her? WHERE did that book come from?”
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, although her stories of why she wrote it are fascinating, as well as important for writers to take a look at and try to absorb. Where do ideas come from? That is the question. What really matters is that Geek Love is here now, and it is ours. It will impact anyone who discovers it for generations to come. Once you’ve read the book, life immediately becomes unimaginable without it. I can count such books on one hand.
Rest in peace, Katherine Dunn.
From Geek Love:
Then there are those who feel their own strangeness and are terrified by it. They struggle toward normalcy. They suffer to exactly that degree that they are unable to appear normal to others, or to convince themselves that their aberration does not exist. These are true freaks, who appear, almost always, conventional and dull.
I loved this cynical bitter film, by Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos (making his English-language film debut). I was afraid it would cop out at the end. It doesn’t. And as someone who “identifies” as a cultural outlaw, a renegade, an opt-out-er, a spinster (spinsters get shit DONE, never forget) … (and who the hell cares if I “identify” when society itself has already identified me as such), I found it extremely validating, which is hilarious, considering how sinister the entire situation is as presented the film. That’s the thing about being an outlaw. You can identify with the darkest shit that the rest of society doesn’t want to admit or look at because you LIVE it. Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz, Lea Seydoux, John C. Reilly and a host of great character actors are all on the same page in terms of TONE, the most difficult thing, I imagine, in a film like this: finding the right tone. It’s ruthless and relentless. HIGHLY recommended.
It’s rained for 5 days straight. My marathon month and a half is now over. I’m taking a trip tomorrow to my home state for some much-needed R&R. I don’t even know how to relax anymore. Here’s the music on Ye Olde Shuffle from this rainy rainy week. It’s a good one.
“For Those About to Rock” – AC/DC. Well, this shuffle has started off very nicely indeed.
“Tell Me Something Good” – Matthew Morrison (from Glee). Rufus/Chaka Khan would be like: “What the hell is this.” But it’s entertaining.
“I Am a River” – The Foo Fighters. This is from their Sonic Highways project: even just the concept of it I love, let alone the music – which is innovative, beautiful. I am sure the Foo Fighters has their detractors, but I love their energy, positivity, as well as their sound. Plus the connection to Nirvana, which is what got me into them in the first place. Nirvana was dark. The Foo Fighters are light. I think Nirvana is the better band, and Kurt Cobain a superior songwriter … but at this point it’s apples/oranges. I love the Foo Fighters and have from Day One. I’m “in,” what can I say.
“Stray Heart” – Green Day. I guess after the one-two punch of American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown, they wanted to get back to the basics, love songs, personal songs, and maybe not … quite so angry. This is from Dos, one of my favorite tracks. Memorable tune, great bass … I mean, it won’t sweep the world, but still: when it comes on, I get excited.
“I Like Your Style” – Jim Dale and Glenn Close, from the Broadway soundtrack for Barnum. I saw this production when I was in high school, with Tony Orlando as Barnum, and Glenn Close was still in the role. My siblings and I can recite the lyrics of the entire show beginning to end. We drive other people out of rooms when we get going.
“Mr. Bojangles” – Nina Simone. Have you all read my friend Odie’s angry take-down of the Nina movie? What a train-wreck. There was a big Buzzfeed piece about how the whole debacle happened, and now everyone’s suing each other, and blaming each other, and trying to absolve themselves. It sounds like a mess and they deserve all of the scorn heaped down on their heads. I haven’t even seen it. I want to – but I am obeying my friend Odie’s command to not pay to see it. I’ll find another way.
“C’Mon Everybody” – Elvis Presley from Viva Las Vegas. This is the number done in the school auditorium, with Ann-Margret dancing along beside him. It’s a thrilling performance number, with dancers down on the floor (see if you can spot Teri Garr), and Elvis up on the stage. The thing about the pairing between Elvis and Ann-Margret is that she gave him a run for his money, and he loved performing with someone AS vital as he was. They are like twins onscreen. Watch how Elvis moves. I mean: it’s sexy … I guess … because he’s sexy in general … but it’s more hilarious than anything else.
“The Man That Got Away” – Judy Garland. Untouchable.
“You’re the Boss” – Elvis Presley and Ann-Margret. Together again! They only recorded 4 or 5 songs together for Viva Las Vegas and we get (almost) two in a row? It’s a good omen. This smokin’-hot duet (listen to how she coos, “Daddy”) was deemed too hot for the movie. Also, the Colonel was increasingly upset that there was just too damn much of Ann-Margret in the movie in the first place. Regardless: we are lucky that we have the recording. If I recall correctly, the two of them were in the studio together, recording the song, so what we have is a record of that interaction. You feel like you’re in the room with them, every coo, every chuckle, the fade outs, the little improvised moments between them … You hear this song, and it makes total sense that Elvis would think, We’re gonna need a bigger bed for this.
“Symphony No. 3 in E-Flat Major, Op. 55 “Eroica”: I. Allegro Con Brio” – Beethoven. The London Symphony Orchestra. I love it when it gets BIG.
“I’ll Never Let You Go” – Elvis Presley. Recorded at Sun. This was extremely early on. I’d have to look at the book of his recording history to get the timeline exactly straight. After “That’s All Right” hit so huge, with “Blue Moon of Kentucky”, there came a time of experimentation. A month or so, two months, as the guys (Elvis, Scotty, Bill, Sam Phillips) cast around for new songs, and how to capitalize on the “new sound” they had stumbled upon. There were some hits and misses. This is kind of a miss – and they all felt that way too. They worked it to DEATH, trying to capture what they all heard in their heads. The first half of the song is country-crooning, very slow, with just a guitar, no rhythm going on … and then … with a swoop, it speeds up, Elvis going, “WEELLLLLLL” … So it was “conceptual” (let’s start with the old and then bring in the new), and you can feel that concept (and so could they). These weren’t conceptual guys, so the song doesn’t really fit.
“Let’s Go Away For Awhile” – The Beach Boys. From Pet Sounds. You listen to this and you can honestly see why the Beach Boys heard what Brian Wilson had been working on and were like, “This is supposed to be a Beach Boys song? What the HELL.” Nobody even sings on it! It’s orchestral. Jazz-influenced. Beautiful, with that happy-sad thing they usually had going on in their melodies.
“The Galway Races” – The Dubliners. I basically had listened to so much Irish music by the time I was 8 years old that it would fill multiple lifetimes. It was the soundtrack of my childhood. Yet I still listen.
“The Fly” – U2. Speaking of Ireland. From Achtung Baby. Love that opening guitar. Crank it UP.
“Angel” – Elvis Presley. A ballad from Follow That Dream. This is the “vocal dubs” version (they went through so many takes of this damn song, and I have them all. Elvis eventually stops this one, calling out, “Bill?” I love hearing him in process.) I love Millie Kirkham’s swoopy soprano in the background (you will recall her huge contribution to “Blue Christmas.”)
“Regret” – St. Vincent. I just love her. Great songs, too.
“I’m Leavin’ You” – Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash. Giants.
“All Together Now” – The Beatles. From Yellow Submarine. So British.
“Can’t Buy Me Love” – The Beatles. Classic. From Hard Day’s Night. The performance of this song in the 1964 movie is one of the most thrilling in the movie – and one of the best “music videos” ever.
“Carolina, No” – The Beach Boys. Another one from Pet Sounds. How exciting! I think everyone would come out of Love & Mercy and want to give The Beach Boys another look (if they hadn’t ever given them a second thought, that is). That may be one of the most special parts of that gorgeous film. So innovative, the song ends with dogs barking and a train roaring by.
“I’m a Pilgrim Traveler” – the great Wynona Carr. She’s mostly unknown now, or at least let’s say she died in obscurity, and she should be much better known. She’s got one of those thick voices, from gospel/church. She, like Sam Cooke (and she shows up in a cameo in Peter Guralnick’s biography of Sam Cooke), started out on the gospel circuit, and, like Cooke, switched to pop/secular. I love it all. I was so excited that ’42, the Jackie Robinson biopic, had her “Life is a Baseball Game” playing over the closing credits.
“Every Tear Disappears” – St. Vincent. I am extremely pleased with this Shuffle so far.
“Fly” – Nick Drake. A million years ago, I had a brief dalliance with a woman, and I never use the word dalliance. It was more a flirtation than anything else. We listened to Nick Drake constantly. So I always think of that time when his songs come up. I hope I don’t offend anyone when I say that eventually we both said, and it was practically simultaneously: “I’m sorry. I prefer men and their hairy bodies and movable parts. This isn’t working for me. No hard feelings?” There were no hard feelings (literally. Sorry). But we were falling in love, in a way. We’re still great friends.
“Reconsider Baby” – Elvis. One of his sexiest bluesiest tracks. Boots Randolph on saxophone takes OVER the bridge, and you can hear Elvis saying stuff like, “Yeah” in the background, and making grunting noises. It’s unbelievably hot.
“If I Were a Carpenter” – Johnny and June Cash. Classic.
“Fuck Buddy Song” – Pat McCurdy. He’s a friend. The song is hilarious because it’s an angry fuck buddy who feels aggrieved and pressured. “You can’t just call and expect me to drop everything. Oh yes you can.” (You can tell how much Pat loves Gilbert & Sullivan in this track, and many others.)
“Rockin Chair Daddy” – Harmonica Frank. Recorded at Sun Records. Greil Marcus has an interesting section about Harmonica Frank in Mystery Train: Images of America in Rock ‘n’ Roll Music and his importance to the development of rock ‘n’ roll, how he’s starting to open up that space.
“Good Time Charlie’s Got the Blues” – Elvis Presley. I love mature 1970s Elvis. Everyone covered this song. It’s obvious why. It’s beautiful. The wandering guitar is also beautiful and I don’t know who that is. James Burton? I suppose I could find out. Good work, whoever you are.
“Baby” – Tenacious D. SO STUPID. It’s a compliment. If you don’t find them hilarious, that’s fine. But this hits my sweet spot of humor. “Mow-ma’s been searchin’ for baby …” “Mow-ma”, Jack? Why? I don’t need to know why. It is so stupid and so funny.
“My Baby” – James Cotton. Boy, you can pick that Sun Records sound out of a lineup, can’t you? It’s as distinct as Muscle Shoals. Or Motown. We have lost that today, with tracks recorded all over the place and then put together somewhere else. But a good studio has its own sound. Is it magic? Was it Sam Phillips? Or the acoustics of that shitty little room? Who knows. RCA drove themselves crazy trying to re-create that sound for Elvis when he came over to them. They failed.
“Scoff” – Nirvana. From Bleach. Find this one thrilling, terrifying. It’s incredible, listening to this, that THIS BAND would find its way to the Top 40. It still blows the mind. It very well could have just stayed an indie underground scene. But the tension in the culture could not hold. It had to snap and something else had to come pouring through. I love this because this song is so MACHO. I never understood the sneering epithet of “whiny” thrown at Cobain back in the day. Whiny? So … “whiny” means … vulnerability? Expressing emotions? Admitting to pain? Calling all of that “whiny” is one of the many many cultural reasons that people commit suicide. So fuck all of you who called him whiny. Besides: this ain’t whining. This is loud, aggressive, rough, rage.
“Mean Woman Blues” – Elvis. From Loving You. Tom Petty said once that when he first heard this song (he was a kid), the line “She kissed so hard she bruised my lips” it filled his mind with such images as he had never even considered before. Like: So … it’s possible to … kiss so hard … you get bruises … on your Lips?? WHAT??
“In the Mood” – Bette Midler. Back when we were kids, my cousins Nancy and Susan and I worked for hours trying to do the harmonies on this and “Boogie Woogie Boy.” . It was Thanksgiving or Easter, and the family was hanging out downstairs, and we were holed up in Susan’s room, working our asses off. I love my family.
“Another Set of Issues” – Ok Go. I love them. I love some songs more than others, but the songs I do love, I go back to again and again. I hope they keep going. I’ve been “in” since their earliest days.
“Dark Horse” – Katy Perry (featuring Juicy J). I love her, although I think sometimes she’s been over-managed within an inch of her life. Listen: If I didn’t already love her, this would have put me right over the edge. Perry’s behavior during that duet, where she puts her focus, how she dials herself down in order to be there for someone else, look at Katy Perry’s body language … It makes tears well up every time.
“Jack’s Descent” – By Maria McKee and Jim Akin, part of the soundtrack to their gorgeous film After the Triumph of Your Birth.
“Last of the American Girls” – Green Day. J’adore j’adore.
“Hello Mary Lou” – Queen, performing Ricky Nelson’s song. This is from their Wembley Stadium album. Incredible to hear Freddie Mercury live, because you realize that his voice really was that stupendous: he didn’t need a studio to sound that way. I also love that Queen is performing Ricky Nelson. I mean, of course, why wouldn’t you. The guy rocked.
“What U See (Is What U Get)” – Britney Spears. Brit-Brit, don’t worry about what other people say about you. You do you.
“Never Been to Spain” – Elvis, live at Madison Square Garden (recently re-issued and re-mastered and cleaned up in Prince From Another Planet – the phrase used for Elvis in one of the reviews of those concerts). I LOVE his performances of “Never Been to Spain.” He GOES THERE. When he goes up the octave? Goosebumps. And the women literally go batshit insane in the audience.
“Don’t Deceive Me” – Little Richard. He is … literally? who cares … the BEST. I can’t imagine my life – the 20th century – the whole world – without him in it.
“Crater Lake” – Liz Phair. One of the most important voices of my generation. That may sound silly. But if you were a Gen-X person, coming of age in the 90s, hitting your 20s in the mid-late 90s, Liz Phair was the kind of voice that “we” had not had in mainstream 1980s life, dominated by Madonna (no disrespect). There was Chrissy Hynde, also very important to us in high school. Joan Jett. The tough iconoclastic outsider-women. Not corporatized or packaged. Joan Jett and Chrissy Hynde were older than we were though. Liz Phair was us, our age. I also was in Chicago when Liz Phair was there, and we ran in similar circles. The bar scene, the dingy music club scene, the arts scene. Exile in Guyville was a warning shot into a dude-heavy atmosphere. Even the album cover was alarming, a threat. And the album title was radical. Maybe you had to be there. Maybe you had to be a 20-something woman, single-ready-to-mingle, hanging out in a particular demographic with a certain kind of guy at that particular moment in time, to really groove on what Liz Phair meant. She didn’t show me the way, she wasn’t a role model, she didn’t provide me with an example to follow. No. She just spoke out what I was already going through, and I was like, “Wow. This is our dirty laundry. This is totally what’s going on with all of us right now.” I’ve written this before, but I listened to songs from Exile in Guyville, like the opening track “6’1″” – like “Johnny Sunshine”, like “Mesmerizing”, like “Stratford on Guy” or – okay, too late for TMI at this point, and besides: this is Liz Phair we’re talking about. TMI is out the window – like “Flower”, like “Fuck and Run” and – on a later album, “HWC” – the song with the title deemed too graphic for ANYONE to be subjected to and so it was turned into an acronym, and I thought: “Liz, please stop reading my diaries.” It was uncanny, how much she tapped into such a specific “scene.” A short-lived scene, sadly. And she didn’t “present” as a sex-pot. She wore flannel, and little skirts and boots or sneakers. She wasn’t “liberated” because she rolled around on the floor wearing stripper heels, which is now seemingly the only measure of liberation, and if you aren’t “cool” with all of that you’re a “prude” or “repressed”. No, she was liberated because she was honest, she had sex, good sex and bad sex, and she wrote about all of it. On her second album comes the line, “You fuck like a volcano and you’re everything to me” and it is such a romantic love song, one of my favorites of hers. Because isn’t that part of what love feels like, and IS like? BOTH things not only CAN be true at the same time but ARE true, and – in my experience – that combination IS love. Forget the WORD “love.” I don’t see what’s so complicated about it or what is so hard to understand. People still have such a problem with women liking sex or being that enthusiastic about it. Her songs aren’t all about happy-sex-times, and relationships are messy and this is Gen-X-era, so do we even … date? anymore? (There’s that stark section in “Fuck and Run” – “Whatever happened to a boyfriend? The kind of guy who tries to win you over? Whatever happened to a boyfriend? I want a boyfriend. I want all that stupid old shit, like letters or sodas.”) So sometimes you sleep with someone and you slink out of their apartment in the cold dawn, and think, “Holy shit, THAT was a mistake.” Being free to make a mistake like that IS liberation. This is a woman who knows how to say Yes. Our culture worry-warts women to death on how to say No. And knowing how to say No – not just the word, but saying it effectively – is important too. But Yes is true liberation. We still haven’t caught up with Liz Phair. If anything, we’ve regressed.
“She’s Electric” – Oasis. I never got into Oasis. I think he’s got a great rock-anthem voice, but the songs just weren’t good enough for me. This one though? I LOVE this one. It’s very British.
“Future Lovers” – Madonna, from Confessions on the Dance Floor. I stopped really paying attention to Madonna after Ray of Light (to this day, my favorite album of hers.) But this is a good album too. I’ll always at least check out what Madonna is up to.
“Long, Long, Long” – The Beatles. From The White Album. Eerie. They sound like they’re about to slip off this mortal coil.
“Memorial Day” – Pat McCurdy. One of his crowd pleasers. It’s so silly. But it gets everyone singing.
“I’m Okay” – Pat McCurdy. Okay, it’s time for you to go now, Pat!
“Are You Afraid to Die” – The Louvin Brothers. You know what, guys? I wasn’t. But after listening to this song, I am! Mission accomplished!
“What a Woman Wants” – Billy Porter and others from Cyndi Lauper’s awesome musical Kinky Boots. My favorite song in the whole thing. Thrilling.
“Underture” – The Who. From Tommy, of course. 10 minutes. You have to be in the mood.
“Long Tall Sally” – Little Richard. When he roughs up his voice? It still sounds dangerous. Like something is about to explode, something is about to shift, crack apart, forever.
“Love Is a Stranger” – The Eurythmics. Part of the soundtrack of college. Other parts of the college-soundtrack: Yaz. Squeeze. Split Enz. Prince. Joan Armatrading. Michael Jackson.
“I Better Be Quiet Now” – Elliott Smith. Listening to him makes me too sad. I can barely get through it.
“Proud Mary” – the Glee cast. Nope. Nope. Nope.
“End Over End” – The Foo Fighters. I love it when he screams. On tune. Thrilling.
“No Surrender” – Mark Salling, from Glee, in the episode “Quarterback,” in memory of Cory Monteith. Salling does an excellent job. I have no idea how these kids could get through recording these songs. Devastating.
“Thousand Times Why” – Pat McCurdy. He always did have a way of taking over. I mean that with love.
“Why Don’t You Do Right?” – Sinéad O’Connor. Fantastic. Love this album and love this big-band-sex sound. It suits her.
“Molly’s Lips” – Nirvana covering The Vaselines. From their Live at Pine Street Theatre album. You actually feel like you’re in that club, the vibe is present in the track. I so wish I had seen them live. I thought I would have more time.
“Disconnected” – Pat McCurdy. Getting pissed now, Pat.
“Everything’s Cool” – Lit. I don’t remember where I found this. It was probably on a soundtrack. Blast from the Past, maybe? I love it.
“My Poor Brain” – Foo Fighters. Off Colour and the Shape, an album that so took over my life that there was a good YEAR where I had to listen to at least one track a day. I couldn’t get enough. The Enimen Show, a couple years later, had the same effect. Thankfully, for whatever reason, I still want to listen to these albums. I didn’t wear them out. “My Poor Brain” is great. Play it LOUD. “Sometimes I feel like getting stuck – between the handshake and the FUUUUUCK”. I hear ya, boys.
“Gort to Texas to Honolulu” – Reeltime. Some Irish pipe-type thing. I don’t know. You could definitely step-dance off to Dublin with this one.
“Let It Die” – Foo Fighters. I so associate this song with the Big Bad Crackup of 2009, so bad that it amazes me that 1. I wasn’t hospitalized (I should have been) and 2. I made it through (I don’t know how). I white-knuckled that storm. I wrote half of my script that summer. It amazes me – I mean, I was there, but my memory of that summer is truly hallucinatory – how could I have had any clarity of thought to get any creative work done. But I clearly did. This song – along with Everclear’s music – were the only things I could listen to. This song spoke to me so deeply that it seemed to me that I had actually written it. Especially the vicious and great line: “Do you ever think of me? You’re so considerate.” I’ve said before that at times I have wanted to go back to June and July of 2009 on this site and take down every post because it all sounds so crazy and fragmented. But cooler heads (my own) have prevailed. Leave that shit up because thats’s me too. Here’s the Foo Fighters performing “Let It Die.” I still love this song.
“The Lamb’s Book of Life” – Sinéad O’Connor. I love it when she is a furious Irish truth-teller, like here.
“Pick a Little Talk a Little” – Hermione Gingold, Robert Preston, the Buffalo Bills, from The Music Man. (My family says “BALLLLLLLLLLLZAC” all the time. Part of the family lexicon.)
“Mamma Mia” – Meryl Streep, from Mamma Mia. I thought this movie was a ball, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with something being silly and entertaining. Critics scoffed at it. Lighten up, nerds. What were you EXPECTING from Mamma Mia? Gravitas?
“Summertime Blues” – Joan Jett covering Eddie Cochran. Heaven.
“Trouble/Guitar Man” – Elvis – the opening to his blazing and still-radical 1968 television special (the “comeback special”). It opens with an enormous closeup of Elvis, sneering, “You lookin’ for trouble?” It’s BOLD.
“She’s No Lady” – Lyle Lovett. My first boyfriend and I were so into him. We went to see him open for Rickie Lee Jones.
“My Desert Serenade (take 7)” – Elvis Presley, singing this ridiculous song from the equally ridiculous movie Harum Scarum. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Imagine seeing Harum Scarum at a drive-in, with your high school sweetheart, sitting in your dad’s car, and you can see why the movie was a hit. Most of these movies make sense ONLY in a drive-in format. They need to be understood in that context instead of just written off. These films STILL play like gang-busters at drive-ins. (This take ends with Elvis goofing off. At least he kept things fun for himself. He had a gift for that.)
“I’m Looking Through You” – The Beatles. Listen to these lyrics. This song is pretty scary.
“Crimson and Clover” – Joan Jett. High school. Joan Jett was everywhere. Thank God. We still need her. “I’m not such a sweet thing. I want to do everything. What a beautiful feeling.”
“Tiger Man” – Elvis, jamming out in 1975 at RCA in Hollywood. Everyone’s just messing around but boy, it sounds awesome.
“Rabbit Run” – Eminem. Eminem name-checking a book by John Updike? What?
“Diamonds and Pearls” – Prince. Sigh. I’ve always loved this one. Romantic. With a beautiful chorus, beautiful harmonies. I HATE THIS.
“The Wall” – Johnny Cash, at Folsom Prison. It’s amazing that he even got away with this. Singing this song in a prison to hardened criminals? The audience flips out.
“Circus” – Britney Spears. I love her and I love this one.
“Salve Regina” – The Monks of Glenstall Abbey. If you’re into eerie echoing old hymns sung in Latin, these are your boys. I have a lot of their stuff and I’m not always in the mood, especially when they come up on Shuffle, but it’s a good exercise to just stop, empty my mind (a hard thing), and listen. Just take that 2 minutes or so. It’s a deep quiet space that opens up.
“Under Pressure” – Queen, live at Wembley Stadium. Thrilling. That bass-line is one of the best hooks ever. People start screaming before anything else happens.
“Parting Gift” – Fiona Apple. I love her although I’ve not really kept up with her. My father loved her, and that thought touches me so much.
“I Got Stung (take 8)” – Elvis Presley. This RCA session lasted only a couple of days and what RICHES were the result. Elvis is on fire. Recorded while he was on leave from basic training. He would be off to Germany in a matter of months. His mother would be dead in a matter of months. I love the songs that came out of this particular session: each one special, jangly, joyous, with that innocent humor/verve that Elvis had so much of in those early days.
“All Along the Watchtower” – Jimi Hendrix. Resistance is futile.
“Ghost of Stephen Foster” – Squirrel Nut Zippers. Lord, remember them? I was into them for a hot second, when the swing-dance craze returned for a brief season. I used to curl my hair and go to swing clubs and do the lindy-hop with random people. It was so fun because dancing with someone in those environments doesn’t mean “OMG do you like me?” It means “Let’s do this dance we’ve learned!” I am sure there are still swing-dance clubs and I actually have been meaning to look into it. Or maybe take some classes.
“True Love” – Pink. I was actually wondering where she was! Great voice, one of my favorites of all the current pop divas. I love her honesty. “Sometimes I want to slap you in your whole face.”
“’39” – Queen. One of my favorite Queen songs.
“Party Girl” – U2. I admit I find Bono a bit of a bore now. Sometimes. I still love U2. My sister told me that when she lived in Dublin everyone had their “obligatory Bono sighting.” It was a ritual. You weren’t a real Dubliner until you had had it. When I was there once, I had an “obligatory Colin Farrell sighting.” He was walking in the rain, smoking, and he looked like death warmed over. It was charming. This was right after Alexander. Speaking of Colin Farrell: Will be reviewing The Lobster for Rogerebert.com. Look for it. I LOVE where Colin Farrell’s career has been going.
“Let’s Pretend We’re Married” – Prince. Okay, so this SONG, right? Purple Rain hit when I was in high school, and that – along with Thriller and Madonna – were THE things happening. I was so into Prince that I went back and bought 1999. This song, in particular, blew my MIND. And it still does. First of all: The title. THE TITLE. And then the lyrics! It’s so explicit that it’s basically multiple orgasms throughout. “Let’s ball” – with that double-triple hitch in his voice, one of the dirtiest come-ons I’ve ever heard. And he can go all night, and he can go for the next seven years … But the TITLE is what really strikes me now. Brilliant. I HATE THIS.
“How Great Thou Art” – Elvis, with The Stamps, a staple of his live show, a highlight. Talk about Prince, mixing the sacred and the profane. Not even mixing them. Showing that they were two sides of the same coin. Still too radical for our time.
“Hey Hey Hey” – Stevie Wonder. His music is a natural mood-stabilizer.
“Blue Moon” – Elvis Presley. At Sun. Dave Marsh calls it “an eerie masterpiece.” It is that. Nothing else like it in his entire 20-year repertoire. And he was, what, 19, 20, when he recorded this? Nobody told him to sing it this way. This is all him. WHERE DID IT COME FROM?
“Domino” – Roy Orbison. What is that clicking that happens? Whatever it is, I like it. And that guitar-line. Sexxxxxxxxxxy.
“The One” – Tracy Bonham, from her first album, and really the only album that got any radio play. It’s a terrific album: The Burdens of Being Upright. I’m still a fan, although nothing she’s done has quite topped that album.
“Bad Seed” – Brimstone Howl. Love their punk rock sound, and their blues guitars. Great mix. You definitely want to throw yourself into a mosh pit when you hear this, and take your chances.
“Hells Bells” – AC/DC. Epic.
“Running to Stand Still” – U2, live from Paris. This is beautiful.
“Blue Bayou” – Roy Orbison. I love how low it starts, and how high it gets. He loved the range of his voice, one of his ongoing arguments with Sam Phillips. Phillips wasn’t crazy about the ballads. Orbison was like, “Dude, I’ve got this voice, Imma use it.” I’m glad for that. Phillips wasn’t perfect. He had his blind spots. Really really recommend Peter Guralnick’s Sam Phillips: The Man Who Invented Rock ‘n’ Roll.
“Rock ‘n’ Me” – Steve Miller Band. I literally never think about them until they show up on Shuffle. What was their deal? Who are these people? It’s all slightly silly but I like the couple of songs I have.
“Lawdy Miss Clawdy (takes 11, 12)” – Elvis Presley. (From the great box set about Elvis in 1956: Young Man With the Big Beat.) One of the great things about hearing all the different takes is that these are all live: with the band in the same room as Elvis. So what that means is that through the takes you can hear the songs come together, the guitar solo develops, the drums figure out what they want to do, and Elvis figuring out his part. Usually Elvis was far ahead of the band, in terms of performance, and so he had to just “keep it up” for the band to catch up. It’s fascinating because it’s a glimpse of him in process. It shows just how good he was, how consistent, how efficient, how professional.
“Seasons of Love B” – Rent. That was the last show that was a Broadway “event” that was somewhere in the same hemisphere as what is happening with Hamilton right now, but Hamilton is even more of a game-changer. I love Rent, have seen it many times, but my cranky response is along the lines of: “Guys, paying rent does not equal Oppression. It means you’re an adult. Grow up.”
“Hot for Teacher” – Mark Salling performing the insane Van Halen song on Glee. It’s hilarious. Whoever is playing that guitar is no Eddie Van Halen, granted, but it’s still pretty awesome.
“Imagine” – Dolly Parton. She always means every word she says. I like hers better than John Lennon’s. Sometimes a cover elevates the original. Not a huge “Imagine” fan to begin with, for many reasons. But her vocalizations, and how she develops the song, how she keeps adding to it, sounds and trills, and harmonies … it’s extremely moving.
“Science Fiction” – Everclear. They got me through some really rough times. I don’t know why, what I sensed in their songs. Maybe it was hope.
“I Cant Stop Loving You” – Elvis, in one of his 1972 Madison Square Gardens. It’s ferocious. Fun and boozy and burlesque too.
“The Prince” – Metallica, off Garage Inc. Kirk Hammett’s guitar is insane.
“Da Vinci” – Weezer. I forgot about these guys! Hello!
“Hungry Heart” – Bruce Springsteen. Good old epic Bruce. I get so scared now, thinking of these 70-year-old rock stars running around willy-nilly. Celebrate them while they’re still here, folks.
“Clambake” – Elvis Presley. Elvis was the ultimate professional, but Clambake nearly sunk him, emotionally. You can SEE his despair in the performance. That almost never happens. The songs are terrible. It was the mid-60s. The studios were collapsing. No one knew what to do, which end was up. I love the Elvis formula pics (Girl Happy, Blue Hawaii, Girls Girls Girls), but then the formula got old – as it does – and Clambake and Paradise Hawaiian Style are the death throes. The late 60s brought some fresh-ness to the formula, since the whole world was cracking apart and that reflected in the films. Things loosening up.
“Get Back” – The Beatles. Beatle-mania swept my grade school. My friend Betsy and I would huddle over the turntable at recess. I remember my favorites. I learned how to sing harmony from 1. my musical family and 2. The Beatles. There were some songs I was first introduced to at this time that I could sense were … beyond my understanding. Grown-up songs. This was one of them. It oozes adulthood. It was intimidating. The other one was “Eleanor Rigby” which – quite literally – haunted me.
“Fool” – Elvis Presley. Sad sad sad Elvis. One of the saddest songs he ever recorded. This was late in the game. But a track like this shows the lie that Elvis was in an unstoppable downward spiral in the 70s. That’s not how it went. Listen to this track. It’s perfect and his performance is great: personal, deep, tremendously sad, but the VOICE. The voice is not only intact, but powerful: it still does whatever he wants it to do.
“Call Off the Dogs” – Mike Viola and the Candy Butchers. I’m so grateful I was introduced to the music of Mike Viola, primarily by my sister Siobhan (who opened for him once), but my brother loves them too, my cousins … He is SUCH a good songwriter. And prolific although he seems to be in hiding right now. Or at least retreated. He’ll be back.
“I’m In It” – Kanye West. “Damn your lips very soft. As I turn my blackberry off. As I turn your bathwater on. As you turn off your iPhone.” Sounds like such a romantic evening, Kanye!
“Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” – Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn. Harmonies to die for.
“Go Your Own Way” – Fleetwood Mac. I remember seeing the Rumours album cover at a friend’s house, who had an older sister. I was 10 years old or something. And there they all were in bed. And I was amazed and confused and I didn’t know what I was looking at and I thought, “This is for grown-ups.” I remember so well so many moments like this in my life. Of course, by the time I was in high school, college, I knew the whole story of Fleetwood Mac, and the soap opera that went on in that band that then resulted in what I consider a perfect album.
Let me take this moment to recommend Jacques Audiard’s 2012 film Rust and Bone, starring Marion Cotillard and Matthias Schoenaerts. I keep meaning to write about that film. For me, it was one of the best movies of 2012. Audiard is an extremely interesting film-maker, taking on exciting topics, the latest of which is Dheepan. Lots of great stuff here, plus two wonderful performances from the two leads. The ending makes you go …”Wait … what movie am I watching again?” – but it’s worth seeing regardless. And see Audiard’s other stuff, mainly Rust and Bone. It’s a powerhouse film, primal and sexy and immediate. With the most meaningful “I love you” that I’ve maybe ever heard in film. I can’t think of another example where those words represent such a breakthrough, from darkness into light.
Criticizing Dough makes me feel like a black-hearted witch, especially since everyone involved means well. The movie should be called Combatting Prejudice for Dummies. I mean, look at that poster. This is the kind of movie that will be called “life-affirming” and “heart-warming” – thats the GOAL of the film – and anything that has that as its goal at the get-go makes me cranky.
Sin Alas is the first American film to be shot in Cuba since 1959. That alone makes it notable, but there’s a lot more to recommend it. (I’m a huge fan of the cinematographer as well.)
I recommend it. It won’t be in theatres long, so look for it.
The Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016; d. Taika Waititi)
My favorite thing I saw at Tribeca. It hasn’t opened yet but this is one you want to see. My review here.
Midsummer in Newtown (2016; d. Lloyd Kramer)
I was afraid that my quiet sobbing was disturbing other audience members at the press screening. Tears POURED off of my face. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com, and you can get the gist on what the documentary is all about. Devastating, heart-explodingly moving.
The Last Laugh (2016; d. Ferne Pearlstein)
Is the Holocaust off-limits as joke material? Where do you draw the line? A fascinating documentary featuring interviews with Mel Brooks (Uhm, “Springtime for Hitler” anyone?), Sarah Silverman, Gilbert Gottfried, and many many others. It’s an interesting conversation about art, whether or not artists are responsible for the connotations/misinterpretations of whatever it is they put out there, as well as the PURPOSE of comedy. I enjoyed it. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.
My Scientology Movie (2016; d. John Dower)
I honestly do not know how to describe this because it really isn’t like anything else. The closest thing I can think of is Sacha Baron Cohen’s out-in-the-world performance-art stuff. But it’s different than that. Anyone who has read me for longer than a couple of years, knows my obsession with the topic at hand, and my attempts (with my sidekick Alex) to get as far into that organization as we could, without putting money down. Anyway, it’s a fascinating movie. I thought, “What else does one have to say after Going Clear?” But this is totally different. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.
Mother (2016; d. Kadri Kousaar)
Really loved this deadpan “whodunit” housewife-malaise film from Estonia. One of my favorites in Tribeca this year. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com. I hope this one has legs. It’s terrific. And helmed by three women. And starring a middle-aged woman.
The Fixer (2016; d. Ian Olds)
Saw at Tribeca but chose not to review. I didn’t really care for it. Good performances from Melissa Leo and James Franco and Dominic Rains, but the plot was so complicated and hackneyed and obvious. Kind of a waste, because the topic is fascinating.
The People vs. O.J. Simpson, “Manna From Heaven” Season 1, Episode 9 (2016; d. Anthony Hemingway)
This whole series astonished me with its depth and complexity. Like I said before, I practically had PTSD flashbacks watching it, that horrible year where one could not escape that story even once you were exhausted by it… and the fact that two people had been murdered so viciously somehow got lost in the narrative, the biggest crime of all. The acting in this series was magnificent, across the board.
I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang (1932; d. Mervyn LeRoy)
As hard-hitting and devastating today as it was in 1932. It still shocks. It does not pull its punches. The final moment … It’s both realistic and intensely surreal. The horror of the permanent underclass. Must-see.
Supernatural, Season 11, Episode 8 “Just My Imagination”(2015; d. Richard Speight Jr.)
Air-guitar guy sobbing, “SHE WAS MY GIRL.” Not over it yet.
Forensic Files Collection 1, Season 14, Episode 11, “Water Logged” (2011; d. Michael Jordan)
A horrible story. But you go out on a stranger’s boat having just met him? Ladies, come on. You must take at least SOME responsibility for your safety in the world – to the best of your ability, that is – and you have to do as much as you can to … not be murdered. There are actually things you can do to lessen your chances of being murdered. You’re not supposed to say that, for some reason, but I think not saying it puts people even more at risk. (Or no, Here’s an essay that should win me tons of friends.) Still: imagining how they died is horrific.
Supernatural, Season 11, Episode 17 “Red Meat” (2016; d. Nina Lopez-Conrado)
An excellent episode. You honestly wouldn’t think that the death of either one of these guys would have any impact anymore at all. But here it is: THE thing that keeps the show running. Lopez-Conrado did an excellent job at resurrecting that fear in a very real way.
Supernatural, Season 11, Episode 18 “Hell’s Angel” (2016; d. Philip Sgriccia)
It’s been such a good season. You gotta forgive the couple of clinkers along the way.
Men & Chicken (2016; d. Anders Thomas Jensen)
I just … what? You have to see this movie to believe it. I reviewed for Rogerebert.com.
The Last of the Mohicans (1992; d. Michael Mann)
A re-watch in my preparation for my talk with Wes Studi in Albuquerque.
Dances with Wolves (1990; d. Kevin Costner)
This movie has suffered a little bit in critical acclaim since the time it first came out and I certainly never thought I’d want to see it again. I got it the first time. I re-watched in preparation for the Wes Studi talk, and – interestingly – his plot-line is one of the main things that has stayed with me since its original release. Plus his death-scene.
Heat (1995; d. Michael Mann)
Another re-watch for the Wes Studi talk. I love Michael Mann, and I love the ensemble of this film, but this one is not my favorite Mann, sacrilege though it may be. It’s absolutely gorgeous-looking, for sure, and I love all of the actors involved. However: I think Al Pacino’s over-acting is embarrassing, and and Michael Mann either loved it or couldn’t rein Pacino in. “Don’t waste my MOTHERFUCKIN TIME” is a particularly show-boat-y moment that would be clocked as phony in an Acting 101 class. (I feel the same way, by the way, about the beloved – except by me – “I drink the milk-shake” moment in There Will Be Blood, a movie I LOVE, except for that moment which I think is terrible. Reminder: Louder does not necessarily mean “good” or “committed” or “intense.” Don’t be fooled. Keep your wits about you. I look at that moment and think, PTA was either intimidated by Daniel Day-Lewis, or maybe it looked great “in the room” at the time, or maybe he was so in love with Day-Lewis as an actor that he lost perspective. It happens. DDL’s performance is a great one. That moment is embarrassing.) BUT. Back to basics. The film has a dreamy and blue mood, and every shot is practically a masterpiece, in that very Michael Mann way. I love it, don’t get me wrong but there are other Manns I like better. PLUS: I am so happy I saw this one on the big screen in its original release. Mann’s stuff should always be seen HUGE. Blackhat, Miami Vice. His images fill the frame. You could clock his “look” in a line-up.
Geronimo: An American Legend (1993; d. Walter Hill)
I highly recommend seeking this one out. I remember seeing it on TV at the time and being devastated by it, and that impression remains. Gene Hackman. Robert Duvall. Matt Damon, pre Good Will Hunting. Jason Patric. Wes Studi as Geronimo. Unfortunately – as per usual – we get the story of Geronimo told through a white man’s eyes. I wish this would stop happening, and perhaps it will someday. Jason Patric is our white man, and he’s wonderful in it, and you do see – an important element of the story – how the white allies of the tribes, those trying to work shit out in a fair way – were betrayed by how things went down. Wes Studi is incredible and has some stand-out scenes with Patric, as well as one with Gene Hackman, one of my favorite actors.
Mystery Men (1999; d. Kinka Usher)
So ridiculous! Wes Studi as The Sphinx is the standout. He “teaches” everyone how to be a better superhero, but his language is so circular (“The biggest hero is the man who has the courage to run away.” What??) that Ben Stiller finally is like, “WHAT the hell are you TALKING about?” It was really fun to see Wes Studi in a comedy!
Supernatural, Season 11, Episode 15 “Beyond the Mat” (2016; d. Jerry Wanek)
A great example of how the Supernatural crew creates little mini-worlds with each episode. They don’t always do that anymore, or at least not to the level that they used to do – but this one really does exist in that seedy Knights-of-Columbus wrestling circuit world. You can feel the chilly damp-ness of those rooms.
Air Force (1943; d. Howard Hawks)
Such a strong film. One of his most gorgeous LOOKING as well with show-stopping aerial footage.
The Tenth Man (2016; d. Daniel Burman)
Saw at Tribeca and really enjoyed it. My review here.
Magnus (2016; d. Benjamin Ree)
I saw at Tribeca and wanted to cover it but I ran out of time before Ebertfest. This is a wonderful documentary about the chess-prodigy-phenom Magnus Carlsen. Highly recommended.
Crimson Peak (2015; d. Guillermo del Toro)
Ebertfest feels like a million years ago because I went right from there to Albuquerque for my own film. How can one month contain so many events? I was doing the QA with Guillermo after the screening of Crimson Peak, and we had flown down to Champagne together from O’Hare, talking the whole way. (He made me sit in the seat across the aisle from him even though it wasn’t my seat. I hesitated and he said, like a conjurer or snake-charmer, “No, that’s your seat. Isn’t it?” The plane was so small anyway it didn’t matter.) Guillermo del Toro is voluminous in his commentary and enthusiasm. All you have to do is say, “So Notorious …” and you are off to the races. What a pleasure it was to talk about my favorite Hitchcock film with him! (There are so many nods to Notorious in Crimson Peak!) Here’s Brian Tallerico’s dispatch from Day 1 of Ebertfest, talking about Crimson Peak and my talk with Guillermo.
Grandma(2015; d. Paul Weitz)
I love Paul Weitz, I love Lily Tomlin, I love Sam Elliott, but I had missed this on its first release. It is incredible. Please see it. For many reasons:
1. It is very good.
2. It’s a film starring an elderly woman. SUPPORT THIS.
3. Lily Tomlin is a national treasure and here she is not playing a sidekick or a cameo but the LEAD, a role she was born to play. MORE OF THIS PLEASE. Do not throw our elderly actresses out with the trash.
4. The 11-minute long scene with Sam Elliott could be an entire full-length play. It’s breath-taking, that scene.
5. Sam Elliott has a moment that will BURN out of the screen into your blood-stream. Wait for it. You can’t miss it. If the movie had made more money, Elliott would have gotten an Oscar nomination and it would have been well-deserved. Oscar Shmoscar, he gives a great performance. Here is Glenn Kenny’s review for Rogerebert.com. Paul Weitz was there for the screening and it was a pleasure to listen to him talk, as well as meet him. He’s just as intelligent and funny and humble as you would imagine.
Northfork (2003; d. Michael Polish)
What a strange and haunting and gorgeous-looking film. Reminiscent of Days of Heaven or Badlands, or anything featuring wide-open spaces. Michael Polish and his twin Mark produce, act, direct – and Roger Ebert raved about it, but still, somehow I had missed it. The acting is terrific (Nick Nolte, Darryl Hannah, James Woods), but it’s really the atmosphere, mood, production design, the color palette that is the show-stopper. Highly recommended. Michael Polish, director, was in attendance to talk about the film and Matt Seitz did the QA. Here’s Brian Tallerico’s report on Day 2 of Ebertfest.
The Third Man (1949; d. Carol Reed)
I’ve seen this one many times, of course. It is one of the great accomplishments in cinema, period. There’s a reason it usually has a spot in any Top 10 Greatest Movies Ever Made list. BUT and this is crucial: I had never seen it on the big screen, and the screen at The Virginia is gigantic. It’s how it should be seen. It was one of Roger Ebert’s favorite movies: Check out his Great Movies essay on it. Most exciting of all, Angela Allen, 91 years old now, was the script supervisor on The Third Man when she was 19 years old, and she attended the festival! The stories this woman has! A real highlight.
Disturbing the Peace (2016; d. Stephen Apron, Andrew Young)
Premiere of a documentary about the protest-organization “Combatants for Peace” in Israel/Palestine. The two directors were in attendance as well as two of the main participants, one Israeli and one Palestinian. The film was given the first Ebertfest Humanitarian Award. It hasn’t been screened anywhere else yet and they had to race to finish it for Ebertfest. It’s an extraordinary film. Here’s Nick Allen’s report on the screening of the film.
L’Inhumaine (1924; d. Marcel L’Herbier)
Every year, a silent film plays at Ebertfest, with live accompaniment by the terrific Alloy Orchestra (you can’t even believe it’s only three guys, considering the sheer amount of sounds coming from them in the pit). This year it was the almost indescribable surreal masterpiece L’Inhumane. Seek this film out just to see how “out there” it was – and still is. You KNOW that David Lynch has studied this film with a fine-toothed comb. Here’s Nick Allen’s report on the screening.
Eve’s Bayou (1997; d. Kaci Lemmons)
I saw this in the theatre when it was released, mainly because of Roger Ebert’s review. Director Kaci Lemmons said in the QA afterwards: “Roger MADE my career.” Interestingly enough, one of the producers – financing the film – made her cut a certain character, and they went back and forth on it, and she finally conceded because she’s a practical woman and sometimes these decisions have to be made. This dude was putting up the money and he really cared about the film. So he wasn’t some mustache-twirling villain. (It’s like the war Elia Kazan and Tennessee Williams had about the character of Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Kazan won the battle, but Williams won the war by having both endings included in the published edition of the script.) Anyway, the film we saw at Ebertfest had that “element” restored, and it’s so essential to the story that honestly I didn’t even remember it NOT being there originally. In other words: I can’t picture Eve’s Bayou without it. Kaci Lemmons was so happy to be there (artists, in general, are: it’s a different kind of festival. You aren’t pitching yourself, or trying for distribution, or hoping for a prize. It’s much more relaxed and celebratory.) I was on a panel about “women in film” with Kaci Lemmons (and Angela Allen and NANCY Allen) and it was great to hear their stories of hacking out a place for themselves as women in the industry.
Radical Grace (2015; d. Rebecca Parrish)
An excellent documentary about Catholic nuns, the now-famous “nuns on the bus.” There are a couple of nuns in my family, so I was very happy to write about the screening of Radical Grace. The film gave me hope, as a Catholic.
Love & Mercy (2015; d. Bill Pohlad)
Glenn Kenny’s review of Love & Mercy is the one to read. This was on my Top 10 for 2015. If you haven’t seen it … please rectify that. Mitchell had never seen it. We sat in the balcony. Within 5 minutes, he looked at me, gulping, almost like, “Oh my God, I’m already crying.” What touched me in the film was what touched him. Or wrecked him. The beauty of Banks’ performance. I thought she should have been nominated. YOU try to play a part that is 90% listening and make that ACTIVE. My GOD. Also the studio musicians thing. Mitchell sobbed through the entire sequence where they were recording “Good Vibrations.” It was thrilling to get to sit there and “show” something to Mitchell, because basically he’s seen everything. A real highlight of Ebertfest, and Mitchell’s favorite film of the bunch.
Blow Out (1981; d. Brian De Palma)
A favorite movie of mine – and another one I hadn’t seen on the big screen. It’s absolutely brutal, even more brutal than I remembered it. That final scene … you could feel the entire audience almost moan and cringe from its black-hearted cynicism. Audiences are way more protected/naive now than they were back then, coming out of the 70s, the decade of ambiguous cynical satirical films with nary a positive outlook in sight. Current audiences may think they’re way more “knowledgeable” now, but the audience at Blow Out (many of whom had never seen the film) cringed away from it like it was the plague. Good. It’s never a good thing to get too complacent. Nancy Allen was there!! It was so exciting to meet her!
In the Dark (2015; d. David Spaltro)
This was a three-state month for me. Or, actually, four. New Jersey, New York, Illinois, and New Mexico! Now we begin the New Mexico portion of our programming. I interviewed David Spaltro about his beautiful film Things I Don’t Understand (highly recommended). He’s a New York indie film-maker and we have a lot of friends in common. Back in 2012, I was looking for an actor to play Jack, the lead in my script, having its first New York reading at The Vineyard. We threw around a million names, and then Aaron Mathias, the romantic lead in Things I Don’t Understand came to mind. I reached out to Spaltro again, who introduced us, Aaron loved the script (his first comment after reading it: “Thanks for ruining my afternoon”), and was available, and the rest is history. He was so incredible as Jack! So now, 4 years later (ack, everything takes so long), one scene from my longer script is premiering at Albuquerque, and what do you know, David Spaltro also has a film at the same festival, a horror film called In the Dark – and Aaron was in one scene! So it was just too cool. It was playing at 9 pm on Friday night at The Guild, the same theatre where my short would play the following day. David Spaltro is an artist. It’s a film about demon possession (with four – not one, not two, not three, but FOUR – strong and complex female leads.) Filmed on a shoestring, as always, his film LOOKS expensive, like a studio production. It was truly eerie, the acting was top-notch, and I was very happy to see it. David, unfortunately, was not there. But it was fun!
Comfort Me With Absinthe (2014; d. Michelle Prebich, animation by Justine Prebich) In the Dark played with three other “horror”-esque shorts. This one is actually a music video, created for the band Mr. Moonshine. It was terrific: humorous and bizarre, with really cool animation. Both director and animator were there, and it was really fun to talk to them. I love how they use sand in the animation. You can see the whole thing on Youtube already.
We All Go the Same (2015; d. Morgana McKenzie)
Morgana McKenzie is 15 years old. That fact alone is astonishing, especially considering the elegant and planned-out LOOK of this short. Many films at the festival were interesting, in terms of their topics, but not all that well-thought-out in terms of visuals. McKenzie’s visuals are beautiful. Like Comfort Me with Absinthe, it’s an unofficial (but authorized) music video for the song of the same name by Radical Fire. You can watch the whole thing here and remember: 15 years old. It makes you think, “Jeez, I’ve been a slacker my entire life.”
Sleep Now in the Fire (2012; d. Sean Pollaro & Elliot Pollaro)
I wish the film-makers had been there because I had a lot of questions especially about the locations and how they used them. This short was extremely effective: it plays like a horror movie, and it is a horror movie, but what it really is is a portrayal of combat-PTSD from the inside. A US soldier returns home from WWII, to be reunited with his wife and his child. What then follows is a nightmare. Gorgeously filmed and BEAUTIFULLY acted. Upsetting and nightmarish.
East of Hollywood (2015; d. Chris Caccioppoli)
Another short that’s a spoof/critique of the challenges facing Asian actors in Hollywood. It’s smart and hilarious (there’s a fictional acting class called “Orientification” where Asian-American actors learn how to talk with stereotypical “Asian” accents and do kung fu and other stuff). This short is about 20 minutes long but it makes its points. With humor, which is almost better than serious, because it points out the absurdity.
Mi Casa Su Casa (2016;d. Sara Verhagen)
What a bizarre and entertaining little short. A French woman returns from her vacation to find a bunch of lunatics holed up in her apartment. None of whom she has met before. Comedy and absurdity ensues.
Total Awesome Viking Power (2015; d. Morten Forland)
Didn’t really care for this one about a bunch of LARP-ers pretending to be Vikings.
Twinsburg (2016; d. Joe Garrity)
This narrative short – taking place in the annual “twins” festival in Twinsburg, Ohio – was one of the highlights of Albuquerque for me. Twins, along with Wes Studi’s short Ronnie BoDean, felt like a Feature in Embryo. Like, it’s DYING to be a feature. Twinsburg tells the story of identical twin brothers (adults), meeting up in Twinsburg for the Twins Festival, as they have done since they were kids. There’s a ritualistic aspect to it: they wear costumes, they participate in the talent show, they’ve been doing this forever. One is gung-ho, the other one is drawing away from it, wondering why they still keep coming and don’t they want to develop their own identities now? Garrity filmed it DURING the actual Twins festival: the footage is amazing, but definitely not hand-held cheap-looking docudrama style. This is a beautiful-looking film, with a romantic dreamy aesthetic: it’s also very funny and also features something we haven’t seen before. The screen is filled with real twins. Very pleasurable experience.
Ronnie BoDean (2015; d. Steven Paul Judd)
This short, starring Wes Studi, was just so great, and again, just made me think, “Oh God, I need the full-length version.” I wrote more about it here.
Frontman (2015; d. Matthew Gentile)
There were four shorts in the shorts-program where my film was featured, and this was one of them. I found it devastating, and so did my mother. It’s about a rock star who gets the bad news that he’s going deaf. The rock star is played by Kristoffer Polaha, and it’s a terrific performance. The film is shot in a dreamy surreal way, so that the encroaching deafness is felt viscerally by an audience: with buzzing, and low voices and terrifying shots of Polaha diving deep down into a pool of water, leaving the surface behind. It was beautiful and very sad.
The Room Rental (2015; d. Bettina Bilger)
Another short, this about a city woman who rents out a room in her apartment through Air BnB and a gorgeous man comes to stay. Not quite sure what was happening with this one.
One Smart Fellow (2015; d. Timothy Busfield)
Oh my God, this film! It played right before “mine” played and it was the longest short in the program – almost 45 minutes. Timothy Busfield is one of my favorite character actors, dating back to thirtysomethibng, where – as Elliott – he gives basically a tour de force. Because who doesn’t want to hate Elliott? Or scorn him? Timothy Busfield is unique in his willingness to play weak, contemptuous, flawed, and never once plead for sympathy from the audience. There are four people in this film: Busfield, real-life wife Melissa Gilbert, Laura Innes (whom I mainly remember from E.R. – and she plays a totally different kind of character here), and Belle Shouse. The final credit says the film was shot in one day. Each of the four is listed in the writing credits. So I wonder if it was an impromptu improvisation, like “Okay, we’re all here in this beautiful beach house, let’s make a film!” It’s FANTASTIC. I haven’t checked to see if it’s anywhere in its entirety, but keep your eyes peeled for it. Hilarious ensemble drama, kick-ass performances, total Cassavetes-ish chaos, and plays like a bat out of hell for an audience.
July and Half of August (2015; d. Brandeaux Tourville)
I am having a moment, as they say, listing my own film in this viewing diary. Can’t even believe it. It was a high water-mark experience and I knew it as it was happening. I put up some screen-grabs here. I am very proud of it and I look forward to more festivals.
Nathan East: For the Record (2014; d. Chris Gero)
Final night in Albuquerque. Wrote about that extraordinary night here.
Hail the Conquering Hero (1944; d. Preston Sturges)
I love this film. It’s pretty brutal about the political process. And hilarious. That homecoming scene, with the warring marching bands waiting at the train station. Preston Sturges, man.
Dough (2016; d. John Goldschmidt)
Criticizing this well-meaning movie makes me feel like a cynical Bitch. Oh well. If the shoe fits. I reviewed Dough for Rogerebert.com.
A Double Tour (1961; d. Claude Chabrol)
One of my favorite film-makers of The French New Wave, and he worked up until the end (he died in 2010.) His film, La Ceremonie, is one of the most terrifying films I’ve ever seen. Also one of the best portrayals of folie a deux in cinema. I love crime stories anyway, and have a soft spot for any movie that features a French detective. (A leftover from seeing the Pink Panther movies as a kid.) Chabrol’s style is so BOLD. Those camera moves, especially in this film. The camera is rarely stationary and the moves keep you totally off-balanced. They tell you where to look but they don’t tell you how to feel. Jean-Paul Belmondo plays a great PIG. All of the acting is superb. It’s a “whodunit” of course, drenched in color and an incestuous mood.
Supernatural Season 11, Episode 19, “The Chitters” (2016; d. Eduardo Sánchez)
I liked this one. I’m liking this season in general. Like Season 10, it is all over the damn place, and I actually prefer that to having one arc that is too much focused on. There’s lots of wiggle-room in Season 11, and so things can get fucked-up, go off course, lose the track, and it’s okay. I don’t care about Castiel or Crowley anymore, and the show barely seems to either. Sam said, “We’ll get Cas back” and I thought, “No, you know what? Just let him go, kthxbai.” I continue to be intrigued by Amara. But this was a good monster of the week that focused more on relationships than on the actual case itself. The image of monsters fucking in public out in the woods is truly disturbing. That town has been hiding lots of secrets. I love Cesar very much and (SPOILER) was amazed and gratified that he didn’t die. The second he showed up I thought, “Well, he’s a goner. Get ready for it.” But the episode didn’t go there. Now, of course, I see why, because it’s about relationships, and end-game, and “settling down” (Dean? Saying those words? It was like he was speaking a Druid dialect, I barely could register it). For me, the takeaway was: “Sinner.” “Rebel.” The two distinct looks on JA’s face in those close-ups have been seen in out-takes and bloopers from the get-go, but as far as I can remember, never in the show itself. It’s so funny and so STUPID I want to eat it up with a spoon.
Nathan East, one of the best bass players in the world. Recipient of the 2016 AFME Music Award.
I have been wanting to write about this but I have been afraid that writing it will lessen the profundity/power. That the moment was the ultimate in “you had to be there.” But I’ll give it a shot. I almost ceased breathing as it was unfolding: it was a moment that truly was “sublime”, in the most elementary sense of that word.
The focus on music at the Albuquerque festival was special. Music brings people together, of course, but Prince’s death, which happened on my first day at the festival, really brought that fact home. People would get in the elevator with me and none of us knew each other but we all would just say to each other, “My God. Prince.” I talked about Prince with my various Uber drivers. With the woman putting out breakfast at the Holiday Inn. With everyone.
On Saturday night, we went to the gorgeous and historic Kimo Theatre to go see Nathan East: For the Record, a documentary about the brilliant and legendary bassist Nathan East.
Nathan East was the recipient of the 2016 AFME Music Award, and attended the festival for a couple of days, participating and leading many of the events, including leading a bass guitar clinic. (By the time Saturday night rolled around, Nathan East had basically lost his voice. “You people in Albuquerque know how to party,” he croaked into the microphone, and the audience of Albuquerque-ans, mainly, erupted into proud applause.) Nathan East has played with everyone. Artists say, “Get me Nathan East.” They’ll re-arrange their own recording schedules so that he can play on their records. He is one of the busiest men in the music industry. A genius. Like Love & Mercy (fresh in my mind from the screening at Ebertfest), Nathan East is a reminder of how essential studio musicians are. They make the well-known stars shine even brighter. (It’s similar to 20 Feet From Stardom, the wonderful documentary about back-up singers.)
At AFME, Nathan East’s vibe was almost otherworldly in its positivity. And it’s genuine! What on earth is he tapped into? He has many brothers and sisters, all of whom are musicians as well, and the entire East family was there as well (plus his wife, his nieces and nephews). Their background is fascinating. Their father (now dead) hailed from South Africa, and was a track star who actually beat Jesse Owen’s record, but the Olympics that year were canceled because of the war. The entire East family, then, is first-generation Americans (something brought home in piercing clarity at the closing moments of the concert later that night, when Nathan East, alone on stage, played one of the most beautiful versions of “America the Beautiful” that I have ever heard. It was like the entire audience in that whole huge theatre was afraid to move.)
After the documentary, there was a Tribute Concert for Nathan East, with an incredible group of musicians and singers, singing songs on which Nathan East played the bass: “Easy Lover”, (my God, the flashbacks to high school), “I’m So Excited”, “Saving All My Love”, “Footloose”, “Tears in Heaven” … (And Steve Ferrone, drummer for Tom Petty, whose awesome quote about Prince is lower on this page, played!) At one point, Larry Wright, an awesome local musician who seemed to be everywhere at the same time (he showed up at my screening because he had met Annika somewhere during the festival), played the opening strains to “Purple Rain” as the backdrop of the stage went to purple. They didn’t play the whole song, just those opening guitar strains, and you could feel the whole theatre catch its breath.
Larry Wright is the dude in the cowboy hat. He was awesome. The man standing on Larry’s left is Ivan Wiener, the founder and executive director of the festival, responsible for choosing our film – and all films – for inclusion in the festival.
The tribute concert was a celebration of Nathan East’s essential contribution to not only these hit artists but to the music industry in general. Ivan Wiener, executive director of AFME, started out by reading a letter sent to the festival by Eric Clapton (interviewed extensively in the documentary). The letter was gorgeous, Clapton saying he was sorry he couldn’t be there, but paying lavish tribute to Nathan, who he is as an artist and a person.
Mum and I sat up in the balcony. The place was packed. There had been a line down the block to get in. The first two rows down below were made up of the entire East clan.
Now for the moment I want to write about:
After the tribute concert, Nathan East and his brothers and sisters, plus his talented young pianist son for a couple of songs, took the stage to play some songs together, Nathan clearly the leader, but all of them amazing.
Before they started playing, Nathan’s brother Ray, who is a pastor, came out to offer up a prayer for the concert that was about to happen. (Mum had gone to a party the night before, while I was at a horror movie screening, and had had a nice long conversation with Ray. Mum can fit in anywhere.) Ray is an elderly man and is clearly comfortable stepping in front of a packed house and speaking off the cuff. Tributes and celebrations and working an audience are in his blood. He has a beautiful sincere voice. He thanked all of us for being there. He asked God to bless all of the musician.
Then he said to us, “Please remember all of those who have passed on before us.” He started listing some names: the East parents, Ricky Lawson (who played on Nathan East’s solo album and died in the middle of making the documentary), and a couple of other friends and family members.
Then he said, looking up into the wings at God, “And please remember Prince … and anyone else who has passed on.”
Mum reached out her hand to me and whispered, “Bill O’Malley.” Echoing my own prayer. We both were in tears.
And then – from all over the theatre – people started calling out names.
Nobody had microphones. This was a spontaneous event. The voices came from everywhere. Nobody spoke over each other. There were no repeats. Name after name after name. Called out by individuals from every corner of the theatre.
“David Bowie.”
“Merle Haggard.”
“Natalie Cole.”
“Glenn Frey.”
“Maurice White.”
It went on and on and on and on….
Until finally it stopped. On its own.
I didn’t want to hear that Prince had died. But if I HAD to hear it, being surrounded by a group of people like THAT is the way to go.
, and, in collaboration with photographer Jim Lommasson, 
, which won the 2004 Dorothea Lange–Paul Taylor Prize. There were other novels too: 
, 
. Plus the fascinating 
. 
and his importance to the development of rock ‘n’ roll, how he’s starting to open up that space. 
.
