“I’m not very popular here with those inside the system, as you might guess. I never wanted to be.” — Waylon Jennings

It’s his birthday today.

Like a lot of artists whose music I own (I still like to own music: will never give it up), Waylon Jennings is on almost constant rotation. He’s always there. In playlists, first of all, but also … he recorded so much, and I have all of it, so even on Shuffle, he’s usually present. His voice touches me for some reason I can’t quite describe in words. I’ve tried. Maybe it’s his openness: you can feel it. There’s not much bullshit there, in terms of ego or facade, although he obviously had both – in spades, at times. He was frustrated (understatement) with the conservative restrictions Nashville (i.e. the country music establishment) put on him – put on everyone – down to the kind of sound you were “allowed” to use, the kinds of instruments that were “acceptable” – not to mention your own personal lifestyle. Jennings was not down with all of that. He came from a mix of musical backgrounds. Born in Texas, and befriended by Buddy Holly when he was just a teenager … rockabilly was obviously a major influence. It was how he got his start. But the “abilly” part of “rockabilly” is the country influence, the mix of genres which all these guys created. It was a revolution and he was part of it. He did do the strict “country thing” for a bit, and he’s a wonderful country singer/songwriter, but he also had a big folk music influence on him – and he marketed himself as a folk artist – his first album was called Folk Country. It was a sign of things to come. He was about to shake things up in country music in a major way, and country music would never really be the same.

A word about that: When rockabilly started to rise in the ’50s, with Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis, Buddy Holly … the country music industry panicked. It was really Elvis who caused the panic, although it probably started with Carl Perkins’ “Blue Suede Shoes” – a MONSTER hit. Then Elvis came along, and in a matter of a couple of months he had something like 4 or 5 songs in the Top 5 on every chart – pop, r&b AND country … a sure sign that the boundaries between genres were dissolving. Country fans (i.e. white people) were buying rhythm & blues records, rhythm & blues fans (i.e. black people) were buying rockabilly records, and all these rockabilly boys were buying country music, and many had set out to be country-music singers in the first place, since “rockabilly” didn’t really exist as a “thing” and r&b was seen as for/by black people. So the mashup that began – with the dovetailing of these three styles, and throw in a little gospel too, had huge appeal, and that appeal crossed cultural and racial lines. Nashville panicked. THIS wasn’t country music!! Nashville’s response was racist in nature: some said it explicitly, some just implied it, but the message was clear: Some of this stuff just sounds too … black. (Little did they know that Ray Charles would come along down the line, and his Grand Ole Opry/Hank Williams influence was so strong, he made inroads into the country establishment, recording some stuff in Nashville. But that was in the future. In the ’50s, there was resistance to racial blending, in art, in politics, in the real world – but with music, the blending couldn’t be held back. You can’t segregate the airwaves.) Anyway, it was a confusing time for “the suits” and they ended up basically banning Elvis from their charts – and a couple others too – but it was mostly Elvis since he dominated their charts. This affected people like The Everly Brothers too – who were also “banned” even though their style has so much country in it. It wasn’t like a decree came down, but Nashville saw how Elvis was all over their charts in the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 slots and they had none of it, and so shut him out. Country music put up a wall around itself to shut out progress and change. Faron Young, a singer-songwriter, observed: “Elvis vaporized country music,” a comment I’ve never forgotten.


Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Elvis, Johnny Cash

Waylon was a teenage DJ in the mid-1950s, caught up in the rockabilly thing (he was fired from a couple of DJ gigs for playing Chuck Berry and Little Richard. So you see the landscape). He was taken under the wing of Buddy Holly, and he ended up touring with them (he was on the “Winter Dance Party Tour”, the one where Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper – including everyone else on board – was killed). But he was coming into an era – the 60s – when country music calcified, or at LEAST was not open to “the new” at all. It was their way or you didn’t get radio play.

“They wouldn’t let you do anything. You had to dress a certain way: you had to do everything a certain way…. They kept trying to destroy me…. I just went about my business and did things my way…. You start messing with my music, I get mean.”
— Waylon Jennings

Waylon made albums, had some quasi-hits, but eventually he shattered the wall by going “outlaw”, going rogue, with others, including, crucially, Willie Nelson. The two of them – who most decidedly did NOT “fit in” – took country by storm, as well as “crossed over”. They did a number of albums together. The country music industry wobbled on its foundations. This was the 70s.

Eventually, Waylon rejected the “outlaw” label -it was becoming too kitsch, too much of a “brand” – and country music in many ways retreated. The rise of Garth Brooks – whom I do like – represented a slick and polished version of the music … not much “outlaw” stuff going on there, right? He was a “good boy” as opposed to a “bad boy.” And his fan base, albeit huge, did not want to grow with the times. I mean, they all threw a bitch-fit when he wrote “We Shall Be Free” which included the lyrics “When we’re free to love anyone we choose…” Okay, fine, be a bunch of backwards bigots. Watch the world pass you by. Country is again revitalizing, although it is still mainly white (at least in the mainstream: get out of the mainstream and there’s all kinds of other stuff happening) … but people like Miranda Lambert (and the Pistol Annies), Blake Shelton – bringing in a refreshing breath of bad-boy air into the environment, and the mega-star and crossover wonder boy, Eric Church, who has a Waylon-type stature as well as Waylon-type trajectory – are kicking ass, and reaching people outside the country-music-belljar. Eric Church looked around at the country music industry and was like, “Oh fuck these goody-goodies, I’m going on the road.” And now he’s one of the biggest stars in the world. He fills stadiums in Germany, Scotland, all over.

I’ll get to Eric Church in a bit.

Waylon was a hard-living man, who drank, chain-smoked, was addicted to amphetamines in the 60s and 70s. His health was ravaged. He married four times – and the last one – to singer Jessi Colter – “stuck.” She was with him to the end. They did a number of duets together: go to YouTube and find them. As I said, there’s an openness in Waylon’s voice – a depth of tone – and this lends itself beautifully to duets. There’s so much FEELING there, and the feeling – the tenderness – is unexpected with someone who looks so WILD. Hearing him sing with a woman, his loving-ness, his openness to her … it’s tender, and pained, and human. He was a flawed man, and the best of country music is all about acknowledging your flaws. Everyone’s a fuck-up in country music. Nobody’s perfect. The songs are filled with mistakes, ruined lives, alcoholism, infidelity, bad choices, violence, regrets … You don’t feel so alone when you listen to it. We could use a little more of that today. Self-empowerment positive messages are fine, and in some cases necessary. But as a grown adult woman, with miles of bumpy road behind me, I gravitate towards flawed people, people who have made mistakes, and hopefully grown from them – but maybe not grown from them, maybe they’re just haunted (I mean, listen to George Jones) and their art is their way of dealing with being haunted. This is the stuff I love. This is where I feel, as the kids say, “seen.”

One of the first songs he recorded, I’m pretty sure he was still a teenager, was “Jole Blon”, with Buddy Holly and Tommy Allsup on guitars, and King Curtis on sax. HISTORY.

The death of Buddy Holly was a formative moment for Waylon Jennings. Buddy Holly was a big-brother figure, a mentor, an early supporter. Here they are together, in Grand Central Station, just a little over a week before the plane went down.

Waylon was on that tour, and he gave up his seat on the flight to someone who had the flu (the tour busses were freezing cold). As they parted, Buddy Holly joked, “Hope your bus freezes your ass” and Waylon said, “Yeah, well, hope your plane goes down.” All in fun, just a joke. Waylon carried guilt for the rest of his life about the whole thing. He wrote multiple songs about Buddy Holly, the first one being “The Stage”, not only for Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper, but also Eddie Cochran, killed in a car accident in early 1960.

He also would perform medleys of Buddy Holly songs in his concerts. Here’s another tribute song he wrote called “Old Friend.” It’s so sad.

One of his first real hits was “Only Daddy That’ll Walk the Line” – which holds up, as all his stuff does. It’s one of my favorite Waylons. Here he is performing it on the Johnny Cash Show. The two of them were roommates for a time. That had to be a crazy fucking apartment, let me tell you.

See how cleancut he was! There’s a rockabilly swoop to his greased-up hair, but he’s all buttoned up. The man was FINE … and has an uncanny resemblance to my Window Boy, particularly in the first photo booth picture posted above – it’s almost eerie – that’s what he looked like when I met him, a gorgeous RAKE – so there’s a visceral response there. But it’s hard to square young Waylon with the long-haired cowboy he became not long after. Then came the breakthroughs. Like he said above: being told what to do with his music made him mean. His declarations of independence came with great albums called things like Ladies Love Outlaws and Lonesome Or’nry and Mean. He was NOT “family-friendly”. His song “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way” couldn’t be more clear. It’s an indictment. It’s a callback to country’s real roots … to Hank Williams … saying “Yeahhhh, I don’t know what you all are doing with your countrypolitan sheen, but Hank didn’t do it this way.”

I love that song so much.

Now we come back to Eric Church:

34 years after Waylon called up the ghost of Hank to shame country music into remembering its roots, Eric Church came out with “Lotta Boot Left to Fill”, which refers back to Waylon’s song, and then further back to Hank, re-establishing the continuum. It’s an indictment. Eric Church has said the song criticizes the country-music big-wigs who refuse to accept the “new” – which Church, with his rock and metalhead influences – his bad-boy un-family-friendly sex-pot stoner vibe – represented. In other words, “Lotta Boot Left to Fill” is the words of country fans who reject him. Honestly, the song could go either way. When I first heard the song, I put it in line with all of the other songs Church has written criticizing Nashville. He’s an outsider. The FANS picked him, not the “suits”, and the “suits” are happy to make that money, but deep down they resent outsiders who come in and shake things up.

Regardless, here is Eric Church’s rager of a sequel to Waylon’s song about Hank Williams, where he sings:

“I don’t think Waylon done it that way
And if he was here he’d say “Hoss, neither did Hank!”

Jennings and Willie Nelson were soulmates, and the clips of them performing together are wonderful. You can feel the mutual regard, the appreciation. Their voices are so different but they blend together beautifully. Here they are performing “Good-Hearted Woman”.

Oh, and wait, detour to duet with his wife, Jessi Colter.

Then the outlaw thing started to lose its appeal. Once everyone jumped on the bandwagon … once country music was transformed, with Waylon, Willie and others injecting some wildness into it, opening up the sound … Waylon got sick of it. He wrote a song called …

“Don’t You Think This Outlaw Bit’s Done Got Out of Hand?”

LOL.

You know that I couldn’t let this post end without mentioning this song …

“Nobody Knows I’m Elvis”

You can practically hear the smile in his voice.

And who can forget his cameo in Follow That Bird, where he sings a duet with Big Bird, and he’s so easy and focused, you never for once remember Carroll Spinney is inside that suit.

Plus he also appeared on Sesame Street, which I find so touching.

In the mid-80s, he and Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson created a “supergroup” called The Highwaymen (another term for “outlaw”). They put out a couple of albums, and I remember watching them play at Farm Aid in 1993.

I’ll close this up but hopefully you’ve had fun watching and listening to these clips.

One of my favorite genre of song is what I call the “Bad Sport” breakup song. Songs about breakups that are not sad and regretful, mournful and longing, but pissed, and a little bit petty. Being a bad sport is just as honest as saying, “I miss so-and-so, my heart hurts.” I love the songs that are like, “I’m better off without you anyway.” (Kelly Clarkson is a master at this kind of song.)

I love Jennings’ hilarious cover of “You Can Have Her.” Every time the huge angelic chorus comes in, it makes me laugh.

He’s not just singing the song alone. He’s so over this broad who did him wrong he calls in in the big guns, the gigantic chorus is there to back him up in his Kiss Off.

Happy birthday, Waylon. I haven’t even scratched the surface here. Even your name is slightly epic, since it evokes so much. There’s only one of you. To this day, if you say the name “Waylon” everyone knows who you mean.

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Review: Prime Minister (2025)

I reviewed Prime Minister, a very interesting documentary about Jacinda Ardern’s tumultuous time as the 40th Prime Minister of New Zealand. It has a somewhat unique format – at least compared to other similar documentaries.

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“That is no country for old men.” — William Butler Yeats

“I thought we might bring the halves together if we had a national literature that made Ireland beautiful in the memory, and yet had been freed of provincialism by an exacting criticism, a European pose.” — W.B. Yeats

William Butler Yeats was born today in 1865. Yeats is a great poet and all that, but I grew up pretty much “over” him because he was omnipresent in our household. We were made to memorize his epitaph in order to receive 25 cents for our allowance:

Cast a cold eye
On life on death
Horseman pass by.

There was a framed copy of the epitaph on our dining room wall. You feel me? That’s the level we’re talking about. He seemed like a revered ancestor.

More below the jump.

Continue reading

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“Superfluous people in the service of brute power….” — Ryszard Kapuściński

“It is an interesting subject: superfluous people in the service of brute power … these people to whom no one pays attention, whom no one needs, can form into a crowd, a throng, a mob, which has an opinion about everything, has time for everything and would like to participate in something, mean something. All dictatorships take advantage of this idle magma. …It suffices to reach out to these people searching for some significance in life. Give them the sense that they can be of use, that someone is counting on them for something, that they have been noticed, that they have a purpose. .. The dictatorial powers, meantime, have in him an inexpensive — free, actually — yet zealous and omnipresent agent-tentacle. Sometimes it is difficult even to call this man an agent; he is merely someone who wants to be recognized, who strives to be visible, seeking to remind the authorities of his existence, who remains always eager to render a service.”

— from Travels with Herodotus by one of my favorite writers, Ryszard Kapuściński

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Supernatural re-watch, Season 1

I watched Season 1 in reverse order, last to pilot. I am sorry to have come to the end. I don’t know that I’ll watch Seasons 12-15 again but the rest I will revisit again and again.

If you’re following along:
Season 2
Season 3
Season 4
Season 5
Season 6
Season 7
Season 8
Season 9
Season 10
Season 11
Season 12-15

Plus: my season recaps from back in the day:
Season 1
Season 2
Season 3

Plus: my season recaps from back in the day:
Season 1
Season 2
Season 3

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 22 “Devil’s Trap”
Written by Eric Kripke
Directed by Kim Manners

“This family? They don’t need you. Not like you need them.” It’s season 1. LOOK at the mileage they got out of one damn line. Ten seasons. It could have gone on longer if the show hadn’t stopped exploring the brother dynamic. Still though. 10 seasons is pretty damn good.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 21 “Salvation”
Written by Sera Gamble and Raelle Tucker
Directed by Robert Singer

I find watching John, Sam and Dean together so uncomfortable. The “family system” is trauma-driven, not to mention authoritarian. Feeling discomfort drives home the beautiful structured of season 1. Dad being missing brings Sam and Dean back together, and he takes on mythic proportions due to his absence. The brothers talk about him all the time and fight about him, so he takes shape in our heads. And then … here he is in the flesh. And it’s so destabilizing because we’ve gotten to know Sam and Dean on their own, we respect them, we see how smart and capable they are, we see their emotions. All of this is then bottled up the second John arrives. John is the only one who gets to have all these BIG feelings. He’s just feeling all over the place, and Sam and Dean retreat, watching him closely, trying to read the signs, hiding their own feelings. Or, not even hiding them. It’s like their own feelings plunge into hibernation, because there’s only room for John to have feelings. Watching Sam and Dean just accept these “rules” is painful. I think this is why I love the moment when Dean literally swoons at the sight of the friendly pretty nurse. It could have been played as Dean-as-Horndog, and a lesser actor would have gone that route, like “things may be tense but you can’t stop this guy from flirting!” But in context, what goes on there is not exactly that. Yes, she’s pretty, but it’s more that she represents a space where Dean gets to be soft and receptive. This is why Dean and Sex is important, and why pleasure is a big deal and has meaning beyond the momentary, particularly for Dean. This is not AS true for Sam, maybe because Sam has boundaries.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 20 “Dead Man’s Blood”
Written by Cathryn Humphris and John Shiban
Directed by Tony Wharmby

Our first vampire episode. (“I thought there was no such thing,” says Dean.) It establishes the way these eps will go, generally, the parallels drawn between vampires and the Winchesters. It’s twisted and upsetting. Dean dangled as bait. Dean being groped. John’s self-centered emotions, and Sam and Dean just riding the waves of it … The final shots of first Sam, then Dean, looking at their Dad … honestly it turns my stomach. They both look so inspired and pumped, but what I’m seeing is two very capable people who have subordinated themselves, unwillingly, often, and are ceding their power, happily, to the stronger. It’s interesting. Look for those close-ups. Sam and Dean NEVER look like that. I don’t think Dean ever had that look on his face again in the rest of the whole entire series.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 19 “Provenance”
Written by David Ehrman
Directed by Phil Sgriccia

“That’s my boy.” Stop it. When seeing the gag reel, it is, honestly, amazing that they ever got a clean take of the date scene.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 18 “Something Wicked This Way Comes”
Written by Daniel Knauf
Directed by Whitney Ransick

This is such a crucial episode. The first glimpse into the childhood, particularly Dean’s role, and how it continues to play out in current day. And how John just sends coordinates and has Dean figure it out, a passive-aggressive reminder: “You fucked this one up. Make it right.” Jensen’s behavior is so fascinating: he’s avoiding avoiding avoiding, he wants Sam to stop asking, he’s so filled with shame. The final exchange is so heartbreaking:
Sam: “I wish I could have that kind of innocence.”
Dean: [after a long LONG pause] “If it means anything sometimes I wish you could too.”
The End.
But look at what’s not said. It’s such a great example of what’s NOT said being more important than what’s SAID. What’s not said is Sam (or Dean, but more likely Sam) saying, “Dean, you deserved to have innocence too.” But nobody says that. Nobody even seems to be thinking it. Dean is disposable. Dean’s innocence was never gonna be a “thing”. Only Sammy had a chance. At least this is how it’s viewed in the Belljar. Even after what they just went through in this episode, what Dean remembered, what Sam learns about the past event … even after all that, still nobody says, “Dean, it was unfair what was put on you. You deserved to have a childhood too.” I LOVE it when things AREN’T said.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 17 “Hell House”
Written by Trey Callaway
Directed by Chris Long

The only thing that matters here is that Sam is a centaur.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 16 “Shadow”
Written by Eric Kripke
Directed by Kim Manners

I had forgotten how upsetting it was, seeing Sam and Dean suddenly turn submissive when John shows up, and say “Yes, sir” in unison. Such subtle (yet obvious) story-telling. It’s before episode 18, where we finally get the full picture.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 15 “The Benders”
Written by John Shiban
Directed by Peter Ellis

I fully admitted in my re-cap that the power of this one escaped me almost totally on my first frenzied binge. When I revisited, it blew my hair back (particularly in light of the episode that will follow, where the patriarch returns). The parallels between the Benders and the Winchesters are everywhere – even though Sam and Dean, of course, can’t see it, and make parallels with the monster foes. But the sick family system – no outsiders – a family of killers, who trap and kill “outsiders” – the dead mother – etc. Even down to the camera angle of the stairs up into the house, with Dean tiptoeing up there: it’s the exact same angle (with shafts of light) of the staircase in the Winchester home, which Mary is seen descending. It was all there, right in front of me. I just couldn’t see it.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 14 “Nightmare”
Written by Sera Gamble and Raelle Tucker
Directed by Phil Sgriccia

In my opinion, this is when Jared found his sea legs. There’s nothing wrong with what he was doing before this, and we have to factor in that the characters were written a little broad at first. Jared’s instincts as an actor are excellent (his audition tape for Sam is eloquent: it’s all there, already. He’s not trying or pushing or even giving a performance.) But here is where I feel Jared really settled into Sam. I spent a lot of my re-cap talking about that, and how it’s immediately apparent here what an incredible listener Jared is: a crucial part of Sam but – I have to say, to be fair – difficult to write. Or to convey in writing. It takes an actor – like Jared – to listen as powerfully as he does, so that what he doesn’t say is as important as what he does say. This is Jared’s ace in the hole as an actor – and up until this episode he wasn’t given much of a chance to show it off. But I also think Sam challenged Jared: the whole thing challenged him. He was more than ready and there are glimpses of the complexities of Sam before this – him in “Faith”, definitely what he was doing in “Asylum” – however, what he was doing THERE is not what he does HERE. Here it’s about how he listens. It totally got my attention.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 13 “Route 666
Written by Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming
Directed by Phil Sgriccia

Oh God. Teapots. I cannot even watch this episode now without remembering the hilarity of the thread about it here. My first time watching this episode I was riveted, because I hadn’t factored in the possibility that Dean might have fallen for someone. I liked that they floated it out there, although some of the soap opera qualities make Dean seem not like Dean. “Maybe this goodbye won’t be permanent.” What?
Takeaways:
The lighting in the newspaper office.
Sam and Dean tying their ties in the mirror, side by side. There’s no other scene like it in the history of Supernatural and I treasure it.
The fact that Sam was able to date Jessica for years without divulging the secret and Dean could barely make it a week. This is important. I know we’re supposed to forget that Cassie ever existed but sorry you put her in the show. (I realize I am inconsistent because i refuse to incorporate Chuck-as-God into my Supernatural worldview. Listen. A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.) But I love how revealing this little nugget is, even though it’s never mentioned again because we’re supposed to ignore the existence of Cassie. The fact remains: Sam somehow internalized “the rule” more than Dean did. Even when Sam was “free”, he followed the family rule. Dean was still full-on indoctrinated and he broke the rule.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 12 “Faith”
Written by Sera Gamble and Raelle Tucker
Directed by Allan Kroeker

One of my favorite episodes in the whole entire series. Kroeker didn’t direct again I don’t think? It’s hard to attribute style to anyone other than Kim Manners, who is a damn auteur, but the style here is not Supernatural’s regular style. I compared some of it to Robert Altman. It takes a lot of work to shoot something like this because you have to care about the whole world, not just the main characters. The faith healer tent vibe was distinct: the shots of the audience, glimpses of hands in the air, the camera floating through the room almost, capturing fragments of behavior, moving on: it’s collage-style. In this re-watch I fell in love with the isolation of Sam and Dean: John isn’t present yet, neither is Bobby, they literally have no one. They have to figure it out on their own. Or, Sam does, because Dean has given up hope. Look at how quickly Dean gives up hope! So there are lots of conversations about what might be going on. It could be boring. It’s not at all! These conversations show their BRAINS at work. I think it was Steven Spielberg who said the movie camera was made to capture people thinking, that nothing is more interesting than watching a person think. This is also a unique episode, showing what Sam is willing to do to save Dean, when normally it’s the opposite.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 11 “Scarecrow”
Written by John Shiban and Patrick Sean Smith
Directed by Kim Manners

Just noticed the echo of Dean’s “yes, sir” in the first scene with Meg’s “Yes, Father” in the last scene. So good. I think this is one of the best episodes of the series. Cigarette Smoking Man from X-Files appearance. The second he showed up you knew he was bad. RIP Nicky Aycox.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 10 “Asylum”
Written by John Shiban and Patrick Sean Smith
Directed by Kim Manners

We are really getting back to the roots now. Dean is still basically brainwashed, and Sam is “rebellious”, and there’s a lot of conflict, which will then explode in “Scarecrow”. But it really continues through the rest of this season: Dean the “good son”, Sam the rebel, the clash of that. Going back to this first season drives home my underlying feeling that the family reunion in the last season was just a bunch of missed opportunities. The writing team seemed to become conflict-averse, somehow: they chose easy solutions, everyone said whatever was on their mind, John bursts into sobs and says, “I’m sorry …” Like, only a fan who never really liked the show in the first place and wished it was something else – would find this satisfying. There’s all this COMPLEXITY early on. Even though Sam and Dean talk about things all the time, they are unaccustomed to sharing. Much of this is Dean’s fault. He won’t allow it. At this point in the game, Jensen is a subtler actor. Jared was still finding his way, and sometimes pushed the emotions. This vanished by season 2, although “Nightmare” was the real breakthrough. Something happened to Jared in “Nightmare”, there was his mix of openness and firmness – a very unusual combination, which is so very HIM. Up until then, Jared was playing all his moments, and committing to them, and there was nothing “off” or false, but sometimes his foot pressed down on the gas when it was not needed. We are only ten episodes in. No one had any idea this thing would go for as long as it did. It’s a weird situation. But at this VERY early stage, Jensen is already playing the subtext louder than the text. (This is what stranded both actors a decade and a half later: there was no subtext to play). At this early stage, Jensen basically made UP his subtext, because there was so much we – and they – didn’t know. Whatever it was he made up, he played it. His pauses were full of WORLDS. He added all of these intriguing shades, glimpses of damage and survival, and he was very careful about when he showed Dean losing control. He’s also very good at playing a person who refuses to look at or deal with certain things. Dean avoids like nobody’s business. So Jensen actively plays someone who really isn’t aware of how fucked up his relationship with his dad is. Dean truly doesn’t see it. Yet. Sam pushing back on Dean here is a thrilling glimpse of what’s to come: I remember being really excited by it, in the same way I was excited by “Dead in the Water”, when I realized the show wasn’t REALLY about killing monsters, it was primarily about exploring Sam and Dean’s relationship.
Takeaways:
The set is phenomenal.
I love the young girl cocking the rifle.
Jensen climbing over the fence.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 9 “Home”
Written by Eric Kripke
Directed by Ken Girotti

Such a powerful important episode, establishing so many things the show will rely on in the years to come. I still remember watching this one for the first time, and just being FLOORED by that final scene. Because Samantha Smith can’t act the “You get out of my house” line sounds like it’s being said by a mildly irritated suburban soccer mom. It doesn’t land at all the way it should. These types of things – her limitations – are obvious in retrospect, but it wasn’t until Mary came topside in season 12 that it became obvious the problem. The LOOK on Jensen’s face when he sees her, and every moment afterwards – he’s blasted open, he looks like he’s 4 years old again. There’s a real mood of strangeness in this episode, so many questions, not many answers. And the final shot … !! Loretta Devine makes everything better just by showing up.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 8 “Bugs”
Written by Rachel Nave and Bill Coakley
Directed by Kim Manners

It took TWO writers to write “Bugs”. For sooo long this was generally considered the worst episode of Supernatural. In the Paley center panel, Kim Manners pretended to shoot himself when it came up. ! And that panel took place in the hiatus between season 1 and season 2. He didn’t need retrospect! Sadly, there are so many more contenders for worse episode in seasons 12-15, “Bugs” wouldn’t even crack the top 10. Besides, “Bugs” gives me one of my favorite shots of Dean in the whole entire series.


“Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio …”

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 7 “Hook Man”
Written by John Shiban
Directed by David Jackson

We are firmly back in the land of public libraries. I think there are THREE library scenes in this one. They go BACK to the library in the THIRD ACT. This is from the era when Supernatural was basically an unofficial PSA about the importance of public libraries AND the librarians who work there. Not everything can be found on your little laptop, powered up in the bunker as you drink a latte. It’s not a great episode, and the parallels between rebellious child / controlling dad are pretty obvious, and will be obvious again in Bugs. Sam is introduced to the concept of rock-salt bullets. What the hell were they doing before that? We’re really in ancient history now. There’s a lot of dialogue in early episodes that sounds like the dialogue in the fake movie in Hollywood Babylon, where they explain to each other what’s happening. “so the spirit latches on to her …” “and if we do THIS then that should put the spirit at rest because of such and such”… “Faith” has a lot of that too.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 6 “Skin”
Written by John Shiban
Directed by Robert Duncan McNeill

Jensen does some really excellent work, blanking himself out into predatory beauty as the shifter. It’s subtle. He doesn’t push it or pressure himself to “show” us the difference explicitly. He COULD still be Dean, but it feels “off”, something’s not quite right. Dean doesn’t have to be self-pitying to get a girl into bed. A pity fuck would be abhorrent to him. But here … he tells his sob story to soften her up. It’s gross. I love the continuity too: what goes on here in St. Louis will be dogging Sam and Dean for seasons to come. It won’t ever go away. Side note: I don’t believe Sam was friends with these nondescript people. Is this the first real big fight scene between Sam and Dean? Well, besides the pilot. Because it’s a great one. And it’s such a weird cramped furniture-y place to have a fight which makes it feel real. There’s pool table, couches, some cabinet thing – they really use the space in the choreography. In this first shifter episode, they really explore the shifter not just as a slimy monster but as an actual doppelganger – or at least that the shifter isn’t just taking on the face/body, but the memory/brain of the one they’ve taken over. So there’s some good exploration of Dean’s real feelings, Dean being “occupied” without his consent … this is all PRE-demon possession, the show doesn’t really start playing around with that until season 2. So this is the first time someone is “occupied” like this. We finally get to see Dean’s naked body. Unfortunately, he is NOT a centaur.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 5 “Bloody Mary”
Written by Ron Milbauer and Terri Hughes Burton with Eric Kripke
Directed by Peter Ellis

Netflix has some generic song playing in the crucial final scene, not the haunting Rolling Stones song. I know this happens because of licensing rights – there’s a key scene in season 2 of Quantum Leap where Ray Charles’ Georgia is played – and you’ll just never hear that episode the way it was supposed to be heard because of the damn music rights. It makes me want to pull out the DVD and watch this scene the way it’s supposed to be seen, because that needle-drop CRUSHES it.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 4 “Phantom Traveler”
Written by Richard Hatem
Directed by Robert Singer

The episode begins with a long lingering slightly skeevy and yet totally welcome pan up Dean’s sleeping body. He’s wearing SHORTS, too. WHAT is this camera move!!

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 3 “Dead in the Water”
Written by Sera Gamble and Raelle Tucker
Directed by Kim Manners

The episode where I gave up the idea of writing about the fandom and just started watching for myself, knowing I was “in” until the end. It happened early. I don’t care about monsters. I care about aesthetics – and the aesthetics of early Supernatural are bananas – and I care about characters. Here, we got the first glimpse of Dean’s sensitivity and – more important – we got to see Sam see it. It was Sam’s quizzical “I never knew Dean felt like that” which drove the points home. Catnip. Plus Amy Acker. Imagine if she had been cast as Mary. Never mind. That way madness lies. And finally: Jensen and Jared running and Jensen and Jared diving into the water. Too much.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 2 “Wendigo”
Written by Eric Kripke with Ron Milbauer and Terri Hughes Burton
Directed by David Nutter

One can see why Eric Kripke was like “What even is this episode”. But there are a couple of things here which I leaned on later in my writing about Dean.
1. The way he shouted sexual come-ons at the monster.
2. The sexualized moment with Roy. That’s alllll Jensen. I’ve gone on and on about this before. Dean was established a certain way. We’re only on episode 2, so it wasn’t apparent yet to them what they had in Jensen. Dean was still the stereotype. The way he grins rakishly at whatshername in the final scene, suggesting she thank him by … fucking him? Really? Watch how Jensen does it though. He’s magic. “This is the most honest I’ve ever been with a woman.” Oh, please. Jensen just would not be contained by the cliche. It’s an example of an actor having an insight into the character beyond its conception. But the most obvious and wildest example of this is how Dean (but it’s really Jensen at this point) goes all soft submissive and sexual when Roy gets aggressive and alpha. It’s absolutely fascinating. The moment is gone in a flash but I have to reiterate: this is all Jensen. Jensen weirded Dean up almost immediately.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 1 “Pilot”
Written by Eric Kripke
Directed by David Nutter

Curious to hear from people who actually sat down and watched the pilot – in real time – in 2005 – and what were your thoughts? Were you hooked instantly? Did you think “oh, this is definitely going to go the distance?” I can only relate my response. There is an eerieness in mood, from moment one, which I think is the real hook. There’s just a strange can’t-put-my-finger-on-it other-ness which makes me want to keep watching, even with some of the ham-fisted ways exposition is handled, etc. Much of this has to do with how it’s filmed, the lighting, the darkness, evident in every scene: the meeting with the goth girls in the cafe, the damn-near-Caravaggio-style shot of Dean hiding in the police station … I was like, “Oh, these people are committed to the LOOK of this thing.” And let me be bitchy for a minute: the tapes in Dean’s little cigar box are Motorhead, Metallica. A long long way from freakin’ Kansas and Bob Seger, with not a lot of crossover in audience. But John is a much different kind of character if he’s listening to MOTORHEAD, instead of Bob Seger. Same with Dean, who snuck out to CBGB’s as a teenage kid. The land of punk rock. Listen, they established in the pilot the kinds of music Dean listened to. Maybe it’s better, ultimately, to have Dean – a Gen X guy – listening to boomer Dad Rock. I am assuming the music rights were prohibitive – Metallica never and I mean never licenses the rights. You NEVER hear a Metallica song on a soundtrack (the Paradise Lost trilogy is an exception and that was because they were a part of the story). So I am imagining Bob Seger and freakin’ Kansas are CHEAP and Motorhead/Metallica are NOT. Even Dean’s ringtone … it’s a Metallica knockoff not a Bob Seger knockoff. Again, I won’t make a big deal out of it because I understand financial problems with music but it still bugs me a little bit, especially since it’s a character thing.

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“I am the most famous unknown of the century.” — Djuna Barnes

When Barnes called herself a “famous unknown” she may have been being elliptical or ironic, or she may have been just telling it like it is. Her writing didn’t have literal chronological through-lines and some readers found it challenging. So SHE was more famous than her WORK. Her fame came from her love affairs with women, and her immortalization in all the memoirs written by members of the vibrant bohemian lesbian ex-pat community in Paris, particularly its main scribe, the Amazon (her actual nickname) Natalie Clifford Barney. Djuna Barnes was a huge “player” in that scene, and in the ex-pat writer “scene” in general. She knew everyone. She was pals with James Joyce, Hemingway, Sylvia Beach. She was a writer and illustrator, and is most remembered for Nightwood (1936), a lesbian cult classic, written in a curlicue almost Gothic style but flavored with ironic Modernist detachment. Djuna Barnes shows up briefly in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris (played by Emmanuelle Uzan) – an event gratifying to any Barnes fan. She dances with Owen Wilson, and he comments afterwards: “That was Djuna Barnes? No wonder she wanted to lead.” Ba-dum-ching.

Barnes worked on Nightwood for a number of years, giving public readings, editing, passing the manuscript around for feedback. Nobody wanted to publish. It is a difficult book. Nightwood eventually landed on T.S. Eliot’s desk. It was just ten years after his Wasteland cracked apart the certainties of the literary tradition. He was not afraid of difficult. He edited Nightwood, and eventually published it in 1936, with Faber and Faber. (He also said, famously, of Barnes: “Never has so much genius been combined with so little talent.” He wasn’t the only one who felt this contradictory way.) Nightwood is a roman a clef, with barely-disguised portraits of Barnes, her lovers, all of the women in that fascinating crowd.

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“It’s innately in me to want to yell and love at the same time.” — Jessie Reyez

“I haven’t been compromising this whole time as an artist. Why would I start with my album?” — Jessie Reyez

It’s her birthday today.

Jessie Reyez first came on my radar, as I’m sure is true for a lot of people, because of her 2017 song “Gatekeeper.” Once you’ve heard it, you never forget it. And you also never forget the first time you heard it. The sound of her voice, first of all, goes right through you, it pins you to the wall and demands: “LISTEN TO ME. I DON’T SOUND LIKE ANYONE ELSE.” And she doesn’t. All comparisons fall flat. There’s some Amy Winehouse in there (Reyez clocks her as an influence), but there’s Billie Holliday too. There’s a raspy quality to her belting low voice, but she can also go up the octave, into a fragile crystal-clear soprano, vibrating with vulnerability. Her voice is astonishing. It’s what they call in the serious singing business as a real INSTRUMENT. Some people are singers, but their voices aren’t instruments.

Her music is difficult to categorize. It’s a hybrid-style, a little jazz, some R&B, hip hop elements, folk music – simple guitar accompaniment (she accompanies herself), and also, intriguingly, 50s-era doo wop. It’s a romantic style, nothing too huge or orchestrated or over-produced – nothing that detracts from her voice and what she’s saying. I want to call it “dreamy”. Dreamy as in she draws you into her world, she draws you into her experience, and she provides details – specific unforgettable details – that weaves a spell, like you’re entering a dream. And not necessarily a good dream.

So let’s listen to “Gatekeeper.”

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“People always think of me as Maria and I think of me as Maria all the time.” –Sonia Manzano

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“I realized that I was going to end up being my own role model. I became what I myself needed to see growing up as a kid, and I think I succeeded as Maria by never forgetting that there was some kid out there, in the outer boroughs, stressed out maybe, feeling invisible, looking to me the same way that I looked at television, trying to find someone like me.”
–Sonia Manzano on getting the role of Maria on Sesame Street

Sonia Manzano played “Maria” on Sesame Street for 45 years before retiring in 2015. In 2016, she received a Lifetime Achievement Daytime Emmy. She is also a very successful author of children’s books. I am a child of the 1970s. I was a first-generation Sesame Street fan. Maria was part of the family.

Of all of the memories I have of “Maria”, her moment in Christmas Eve on Sesame Street is the one I want to talk about today.

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“I really genuinely look forward to coming to work every day.” — Treat Williams

It’s his birthday today. His death is such a loss!

In Sydney Lumet’s Making Movies, he talked about the choice to cast Treat Williams in Prince of the City:

I wasn’t sure whether we were in drama or tragedy territory [with Prince of the City]. knew I wanted to wind up somewhere between the two, leaning towards the tragic. Tragedy, when it works, leaves no room for tears. Tears would have been too easy in that movie. The classic definition of tragedy still works: pity and terror or awe, arriving at catharsis. That sense of awe requires a certain distance.

It’s hard to be in awe of someone you know well. The first thing affected was casting. If the leading role of Danny Ciello was played by DeNiro or Pacino, all ambivalence would disappear. By their nature, stars invite your faculty of identification. You empathize with them immediately, even if they’re playing monsters. A major star would defeat the picture with just the advertising.

I chose a superb but not very well known actor, Treat Williams. This may have defeated the commerciality of the movie, but it was the right choice dramatically.

Then I went further. I cast as many new faces as possible. If the actor had done lots of movies, I didn’t use him. In fact, for the first time in one of my pictures, out of 125 speaking parts, I cast 52 of them from “civilians” — people who had never acted before. This helped enormously in two areas: first, in distancing the audience by not giving them actors with whom they had associations; and second, in giving the picture a disguised “naturalism”, which would be slowly eroded as the picture went on.

If you’ve seen Prince of the City, and for a long time it was very hard to see – which is why I held on to my battered VHS tape – then you know the intelligence of Lumet’s choice. Williams owns that movie.

Williams said in a 2011 interview, “It’s a big film. It’s big emotionally. It’s operatic. It’s a great, great film, I think. I wish I’d had more experience and been a little older when I did it, but it’s the best I could do at the time, and I’m very proud of it.”

More after the jump!

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Happy Birthday, Chips Moman

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Elvis Presley and producer Chips Moman, American Sound Studio, Memphis, 1969

Great music producer, songwriter, and American Sound studio owner Chips Moman was an essential part of the thrilling warp-and-weft of the Memphis music scene from the 1960s on. His work at Stax resulted in hits. He could be a visionary. He was very tough, very dedicated to what he saw, and how to bring it about. He did not want to coast on an artist’s established reputation. He wanted to move into uncharted waters. He encouraged risk-taking. One of his specialties was providing an injection of new energy for an artist whose career was coasting or flat-lining. He created a space where artists took risks, moving in new and bold directions. Dusty Springfield’s legendary album Dusty in Memphis, produced by Jerry Wexler, Arif Mardin and Tom Dowd, was recorded at Moman’s American Sound. Not a coincidence. Moman created an electric atmosphere of possibility and risk.

More after the jump.

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