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Category: Culture

End of want

It occurred to me this weekend, while I was contemplating buying a dozen Powers graphic novels, that we’re probably not more than five years away from solving the comics life span conundrum. (Namely, the vast mass of the history of comics is not available for reading; you can’t go back and check out Grant Morrison’s early Marvel Universe work, for example.)

But let’s say we live in a world in which all comic book pages exist in digital form, which is a world we may well live in already if that’s a useful step in the printing process. So DC puts up a web page, which allows you to select a comic book title and a range of issues within that title. Click “Buy” and the pages of those issues are assembled into a single file and sent off to the print on demand printer.

Currently I’m pretty sure that the cost of color POD is too high. But give it five years.

Bloodier than thou

So Matthew Leutwyler and the people in his production company put together this movie. Michael Mosher and Richard Redlefsen were all like “yeah, we can bring the gore” and Ever Carradine went like “I can bring my uncle” and Oz Perkins was all like “I’m related to Anthony Perkins” and Jeremy Sisto was definitely all like “I am going to hold this goofy movie together with the sheer force of my charisma” until he gets whacked, oops. But he was way successful up until then.

And then the movie kind of gets sloppy and slack but BOOM Miranda Bailey was all like “I’m executive producer and I get a cameo” and she kicks ass as the chick who guards the records and stars in the sequel, I hope anyhow, and the aforementioned gore artists Mosher and Redlefsen toss in a bunch more blood bags and Zach Selwyn plays “We’re Comin’ to Get Ya” and there’s zombie linedancing. So by the end you’re all like “Wow, I was kind of worried after Jeremy Sisto died but it worked out OK there! Phew.”

Oz was really dull and wooden until it came time for him to loosen up due to the dictates of the story. He needs to not play repressed religious types without an outlet; he’s gotta be the guy who has given every fiber of his body over to God and as a result has realized that anything he does is OK as long as it’s for God’s glory. I see him as John Ashcroft in the inevitable movie about the Bush years. David Carradine was not in the movie very much so don’t get too excited. Ever Carradine really comes into her own when she’s flipped over into full bore Dog Soldiers mode. Miranda Bailey was great and superb and enunciates but I said most of that already. Nobody else stood out in a big way.

That was the bit where I was all like “I ought to talk about the actors some.” Did you know that “Selwyn” means something like “shining ardor” or “holy passion” and it’s Welsh? Me either.

Splattercountry

“We’re not Oingo Boingo, but it’s a dead man’s party.”

This is a pain for some, because it’s Flash, but here’s what you do: go to the Dead and Breakfast official site. Click on the poster. Blah blah lengthy Flash intro which you can skip some of. Stick with it. Eventually it comes through with a menu. Select “Music”. Woo hah! Hit “comin to kill ya.” That’s what I call a country/rap splatterpunk groove, baby.

Through vinyl, darkly

There are three basic approaches one could take to a documentary about Jandek, and none of them are what one might normally attempt in a documentary about a musician: the man is nearly a complete mystery, so you can’t tell the story of his life. You could delve deeply into his music, performing an extended critical analysis that serves as an introduction for newcomers and a reaffirmation for the loyal fans. You could film the mirror, capturing how people react to him and what they read into the Jandek blank slate. Or you could try and unearth the answer to the mystery.

Jandek on Corwood goes for the trifecta, which is probably wise. I can’t imagine any single approach supporting an entire movie; indeed, the trio of approaches only barely keeps this movie going. The problem is that there’s so little to look at. Thirty-seven album covers, some with pictures of Jandek, and the people being interviewed. What else can you show? There’s nothing else known, and the director is reduced to long shots of scenes that evoke Jandek’s lyrics, patient pans over the address of Corwood Industries, and ominous footage of empty rooms and old-fashioned tape recorders which might be something like the environment in which Jandek records. Or not. Who knows?

I think the strongest element of the movie is the understated observation that everyone who listens to Jandek’s music paints their own picture of the man. The director never points this out explicitly, but he doesn’t really need to. We’ve got the magazine editor who thinks of Jandek almost as a spiritual guide, the guy who wrote the first published review of Jandek who uses Jandek as a way to affirm his own importance in the world (“it was my review that really kept him going, you know”), the music critic who reads Jandek as an atonal master who’s deliberately moving beyond representational art — it’s a cavalcade of opinions, which in sum make it eminently clear that when we are deprived of information we blithely make stuff up.

Hey, there’s a message there… nah, it’s just a movie about a guy from Texas who doesn’t want to communicate with people as a musician in much of any way except through his music.

Finale: about ten minutes of audio from a 1985 telephone interview with Jandek. That’s all the mystery uncovering that gets done, despite an awful lot of tease. (Look, it’s a shadowy live shot of a man in an amusement park. Could this be Jandek? Well, no. Look, it’s a close shot of a loaf of brown bread, partially eaten! Did Jandek eat this bread? Not so much.) It’s really interesting stuff for the Jandek fan, though, so all is forgiven.

It’s a good movie. If you aren’t into Jandek… well, consider it as an experiment; Jandek has sustained a complete absence of presence other than his music for over a quarter of a century and more than 35 albums. This is unique. As several of the interviewees point out, it’s part of the reason why we’re fascinated by his music.

Just unfair

Criminal, the remake of Nine Queens with John C. Reilly, Diego Luna, and Maggie Gyllenhaal; Ju-on, one of the best Japanese horror movies of recent years; Shaun of the Dead, zombie comedy; Bright Young Things, Stephen Fry doing Evelyn Waugh; and of course the three Boston Film Festival flicks I want to see this weekend. Kontroll is getting mixed reviews from Toronto, but who doesn’t like “a cute girl in a bear costume?”

This is what I get for, um… deliberately rekindling my enjoyment of movies.

Word to the wise

If you want to see the Sin City footage shown at Comicon, you can. It’s being filmed in digital on digital sets, and the trailer is really oriented towards demonstrating how well Robert Rodriguez is capturing the look of the comic book. (Answer: quite well.)

Coordination

OK: some people want to see Ong Bak and Dead and Breakfast. (See previous post.) They are both playing a week from today. Ong Bak starts at 7:15 and 9:45 at the Lowes Boston Common; Dead and Breakfast starts at 7:30 and 9:45 at the Copley.

Seeing Ong Bak first provides more transit time. (Walk vs. subway?) So that’s the right way to do things. Thus, here’s how it’s gonna work:

I will buy tickets for both shows this weekend, for myself and for everyone who makes the request by Saturday midnight. Post early, post often. We’ll meet up at the Lowes before the show, around 6:30. Fun will ensue.

Unorganized

The Boston Film Festival has a terrible interface. You select which movie you want info on from a pulldown menu, which is bad; the movie pages don’t have information on which dates the movies are playing, which is lame; and the pages for each individual date don’t have links to the movie description pages. Buh. The film list helps a little but not enough.

Anyhow, it all starts tonight, and I would be remiss if I did not point out a few movies.