He Asks for Patience...

Happy Fourth Anniversary of the Iraq War, one and all. Four years ago this morning, I was arguing with trigger-happy fans on the now-defunct Kingdom/Swamp boards, furious over the war's launch. "You've got your fucking war," I posted, prompting mucho heat from those who wanted war, but didn't want to fess up to war mongering.

Everything those of us who opposed this war said would happen before it began has not only come to pass, but every reason we gave for not launching war has proven to be valid. The only lies that have been uncovered were the always-dubious reasons to go to war -- lies, lies, and more lies.

And on this anniversary,

sans irony, President Bush

asked for patience this week.

Four years since he ignored all calls for patience with the inspection process,

since he recklessly plunged our country and our allies and Iraq (and the world) into this maelstrom of violence,

since he ignored all calls, pleas, protests for patience, diplomacy, due process,

since ignoring reality to pursue his own insane agenda, heedless of the consequences (save the fantasy he and his compadres fabricated), he asks for patience.

In preparation for this momentous call for patience, White House Press Secretary Tony Snow patiently

told CCN's Ed Henry to "zip it,"

a demonstration of Snow's impeccable, Fox-News-cultivated tact you can see here for yourself.

Of course, the momentous occasion of the anniversary has resulted in this event being downplayed (CNN's own immediate followup, to Ed Henry: "Ed, if it weren’t such a solemn day we could do about five minutes on that whole zip it exchange, but because of the the anniversary, we will let it go at that..."), though it is the most succinct summary imaginable for the rampant arrogance, hubris and power abuse that led us down this bloody path.

Fuck these clowns; their arrogance is at last being challenged by the inevitable toll of reality -- not their manufactured reality, but reality -- and time.

May it all crash down around their ears without taking the rest of us out.

Happy fucking anniversary, U.S. of A.

___________

U R Invited!

I'd be remiss not to mention, after the attention I gave to Frank Miller's invite to yours truly to attend the NYC premiere of 300, the fact that Jeanine Atkins and Peter Laird invited Marge and I to this week's Massachusetts premiere/preview of the new CGI Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles feature. Alas, it's timing (late afternoon) didn't jive with Marge's or my work schedule -- especially given the additional hour the drive entails for us now, living further north up I-91 -- but the invitation is greatly appreciated!

As with 300, reckon we'll (or I'll) see it with the rest of the country.

Former Mirage Studio compadre, Cowboys of Moo Mesa and Bog creator, and all around sweet guy Ryan Brown also sent the invite, here, to a parallel TMNT event in Ohio; again, distance prevents our taking advantage of this, but such is life.

[It was great to hear from Ryan, in part because of Bog -- I'm making some plans that (if Ryan approves) will bring some new life to Bog after a number of years laying fallow, as bog-beasts do at times. More on that later, after Ryan and I can talk...]

It's been fun, too, seeing the anticipation among some of the Center for Cartoon Studies students for this new TMNT movie. I've no idea how it might be impacting on Peter, Kevin or the remaining Mirage crew, but a whole generation that grew up on the Turtles will soon get their shot at seeing this new take on the now-venerable heroes of their childhoods that played such a key role in their own lives. I hope to attend one of the opening night shows, if only to see what the audience is like, and how they react.

It's fascinating to me, personally, how little of any substance has been written about the Turtles phenomenon and Mirage Studios in particular. It's the great untold story of comics in particular and the pop culture in general, and it's one well worth someone telling one day, in all its ups, downs and compelling human dimensions.

_________________

"Frank Miller invites you to attend a screening of 300 IMAX on March 8, 2007 at 7:30 pm at Lincoln Square IMAX 1998 Broadway, NYC. Please see attached invitation..." (visible here, now that the event itself is safely past)

By now, most of you will have seen 300, so I feel it's appropriate to post my own views on the film later this week. I caught 300 opening weekend locally with some of my CCS student/compadres; though it was a 4:45 matinee, the theater was packed.

It's been somewhat amusing to see, too, the ripples, including the

expected backlash against the film's caricature of history, Persia and its implications given current strained US/Iranian relations (or non-relations) and the Bush-fomented nuclear standoff,

and this petition against (chuckle) Warner Bros. prompted by ire against the film and all its stands for in the minds of those infuriated by its existence.

In the opening volley of the Iranian outrage directed against 300 visible to us stateside,

Siamack Baniameri wrote, "300 depicts King Xerxes as a fat homosexual and Persians as deformed and stupid monsters similar to what the Orcs looked like in The Lord of the Rings. Spartans on the other hand are revealed as rocket scientists trapped in bodies of Greek gods with comic book bravery and constant worry of losing their beloved and hard-earned "freedom and democracy" to the damn Middle Easterners."

Well, almost.

Xerxes is in fact presented as power-body-sculpted as the Spartans, except he's got all kinds of "shit in this face" (Tarantino Pulp Fiction speak for facial adornment) and moves and speaks with the narcissistic bisexual/homoeroticism Mel Gibson assigned to the gliding devil of his Passion (of the Christ) (which, by the way, was staged with techniques stolen from Mario Bava's '60s horror films). This is especially funny in the context of the Greek/Spartan homosexuality that history proper designates as part and parcel of their culture (and warrior classes); as Bob already pointed out in his comments to this blog, the macho elements of 300 are as homoerotic as anything mainstream American cinema has yielded since -- uh, Alexander, which was just over a year or so ago.

And the Spartans hardly come across as "rocket scientists", though those bods are clearly Greek classical in their perfect pec-and-ab (CGI-enhanced) refinements: the Spartans, in fact, come across as reckless warriors. In his graphic novel, Frank Miller made a point of adhering to the Spartan mode of warfare he made key to his narrative (the reason for the rejection of the hunchback as fit warrior material); for the film, director Zach Snyder adheres to Frank's stated reason for said hunchback's rejection -- then shows his Spartans time and time again dispensing with any reasonable strategic advantage to indulge more vain-glorious onscreen posing and mayhem, however vulnerable it might leave them. It's stupid, really, resulting at one point in a supposedly tragic death (a decapitation that looks as patently phoney as any seen in the post-CGI revolution; Snyder should have called in Tom Savini or the KNB crew) that is risible, neutering the consequences of any conviction. So, if I may be so un-PC blunt, from fag-boy Xerxes to dumbo Spartans, it's all a CGI cartoon, as so many action films are today.

Let's face it, we're in a pepla revival -- pepla being the Italian Hercules-inspired wave of muscle-man movies that flooded international movie screens and TV screens in the late '50s and the '60s [PS: see Tim Lucas's comment on this post, below -- and note his correcting my initial post misspelling of pepla, which I indeed, off the top of my head, misspelled pebla first time around; oops!]. And 300, the movie, is a fucking great peplum, and as ridiculous as any of 'em. Instead of Carlo Rambaldi rubber monsters, we get CGI orcs (and yes, they do come across as orcs in the film, and have no corresponding source in Frank Miller's graphic novel); instead of paper mache rocks and fog and Spanish beaches, we get CGI-created fake cliffs and oceans.

But "history proper" has little, if anything, to do with the kind of full-blown pepla -- a permutation of the fantastique more than historical epics per se -- imagery and kinetics 300 the movie revels in, any more than it informed Ridley Scott's Gladiator (which was and remains a much better film, but more on that later). For that matter, the ignorance most critics betrayed last week about 300's source material says a great deal: compared to director Zach Snyder's slow-mo celebration of machismo, violence and war, Frank Miller's 300 is a model of cunning storytelling economy and restraint -- and by far the more focused, successful creation.

Here's the most insightful and pragmatic analysis of the international 300 situation I've read to date,

from the online Payvand's Iran News (posted March 9th, "The Persian Empire Strikes Back"), in which Iranian author Darius Kadivar places the pre-release anger in its proper contexts.

This is essential reading; Kadivar ultimately poses the core questions, "What is more shocking: To be depicted as Villains in a film that is supposed to be anything but a history lesson about an event that took place 25 centuries ago? Or, To be associated to an entity that exists no more that is the Persian Empire itself ever since its removal by a widely popular Islamic Revolution that put an end for ever to what its supporters considered as an evil and corrupt institution?"

He continues, "What the controversy about this film reveals as in the case of Oliver Stone’s movie Alexander is that the Persian Empire, with or without its King or legitimate heir, still exists in the minds of all Iranians and probably transcends even political convictions. It probably has more to do with our own Ego ( justified or not ) or is it a Freudian sense of self preservation and of our role as a nation in the History of Mankind?"

More to the point, Kadivar asks, "Do we as viewers have [to] adopt a partisan attitude towards a film we have not even seen?"

This places the initial controversy, in Islamic terms, within the realm of the overreaction to the pro-Islamic Mohammed: Messenger of God (which, despite it's being pro-Islamic and a film by a devout Islamist, prompted violence in mere anticipation of its premiere), and in Christian terms in the arena of the pre-release outrage fomented by Monty Python's The Life of Brian, Jean-Luc Godard's Mary, and Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ.

And that, my friends, is meat for another post, later in the week.

Now, given the fact the film has been widely seen, the outrage has only escalated, as the boxoffice for the film soars. So it goes with such controversies, by and large, though 300 had its own exceptional pre-release buzz (triggered in part by those ravishing trailers, the most effective in recent memory).

I gotta run --

Have a great Tuesday!

It's My Birthday!

Yep, 'tis.

Wish me luck!
____________

Amid a busy period of completing work on programming the upcoming April WRIF (White River Indie Film festivities, which now span almost the entire final week in April), my duties have included writing the synopses for the films we've selected. These include almost all the films I've written about at length on this blog over the past month or two; boiling that blather down, I arrive at:

51 BIRCH STREET: "When it comes to your parents, maybe ignorance is bliss," filmmaker Doug Block says at one point during the multi-award winning 51 Birch Street. This is, literally, the real-life The Bridges of Madison County: Doug and his two sisters help their father clear out their suburban family home after his remarrying only three months after their mother's death (and over 50 years of marriage). In the process, they find their mother's extensive diaries, and therein a doorway to her most personal secrets and the reality of their married life.

ABSOLUTE WILSON: Filmmaker Katherine Otto-Bernstein’s exploration of renowned theater & dance director Robert Wilson's life embraces it all, from his ongoing non-verbal movement & dance therapy work (with brain-damaged children and paralyzed patients) to the theatrical work he is now renowned for. The variety of Wilson’s theatrical creations -- the stark, iconographic imagery and movement; the inventive play with sound & music; the use of color, costume and body language -- are showcased throughout, accompanied by onscreen interviews with Susan Sontag, Philip Glass, Trudy Kramer, John Rockwell, David Byrne, Jim Neu, Earl Mack, and many others.

BAMAKO: Abderrahmano Sissanko's new feature functions on many levels: African agitprop, pragmatic portrait of a world tribunal in a pauper's kingdom, meditation on 21st Century colonization, a sheathed castigation of the World Bank, G8, IMF and the malign influence of Western capitalism -- once this cinematic machete bares its blade, it cuts deep. “It is a work of cool intelligence and profound anger, a long, dense, argument that is also a haunting visual poem.” — A. O. Scott, The New York Times

BRICK: Retrofitting the milieu of Raymond Chandler and Humphrey Bogart crime thrillers to a contemporary California high school, this unique teen noir evokes dark gems like Over the Edge, The River's Edge, Heathers, Kids, and Bully, but trumps them via its complete submersion, sans irony, into its universe. The Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew were never like this: as its oner hero (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) ferrets out his ex-girlfriend’s killer, the 21st Century post-Columbine Bush-era underbelly of youth culture is explored with mesmerizing, gripping immediacy.

DECAY OF FICTION (installation): A compelling meditation on malingering cinematic spirits in Los Angeles's now-abandoned & crumbling Hotel Ambassador. An uncannily shot and edited exploration of the physical (and metaphysical) environment... and all the while, 'ghosts' of performers, diners, thugs, children, hotel staff and various denizens of 1940s movies and the hotel's past rerun their long-past interactions. A brilliant conceit, mesmerizing and completely original.


THE DEVIL AND DANIEL JOHNSTON: Welcome to the life and times of ‘fringe’ cult musician and artist Daniel Johnston! Having recorded himself from an early age (audio diaries, songs, super 8, video), this biographical documentary offers an introspective, incredibly detailed record of his thoughts -- which become even more compelling as it becomes clear that Johnston is wrestling with serious mental problems. A one-of-a-kind portrait of a fascinating and influential 21st Century creator.

THE FOREST FOR THE TREES: A stirring portrait of Earth First activist Judi Beri and the Leftist legal team which represented her (led by the filmmaker’s father, Dennis Cunningham, who also defended the Black Panthers in the ‘60s and ‘70s) in a lawsuit against the FBI launched after Beri survived a mysterious car bomb attack.

GRBAVICA: When uneasy pick-up lines like, “I’m sure I know you” leads to the commonalities of “Maybe you go to postmortem identifications?”, we aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto. Welcome to Grbavica, a modern metropolitan European city haunted by fresh memories of the Bosnian conflict, experienced via the day-to-day life of traumatized Esma Halilovic and her teenage daughter Sara. A potent, moving drama of Bosnian life in the 21st Century.

THE HAND OF GOD: A fiercely intelligent, introspective, concise and surprisingly comprehensive dissection of the notorious Massachusetts Catholic Church scandal involving priests who were habitual child molestors. Director Joe Cultrera chronicles the case history of his older brother Paul, and the impact Paul's eventual disclosure of abuse (8 years before The Boston Globe ripped the lid off the wider scope of scandal) had upon Paul's entire family and community.

IRAQ IN FRAGMENTS: James Longley's intimate, three-part portrait of the current situation in Iraq as experienced by Sunni, Shiite and Kurd individuals, each in their own corner of their war-torn country, sans polemics other than those manifest on the streets, in garages, in the city centers and mosques. Longley's meditative, poetic exploration of Iraq through the faces, plight and eyes of its people was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Documentary Feature.

JESUS CAMP: Fascinating, compulsive viewing, whatever one's orientation to the subject. Directors Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady capture the lives of those involved with an evangelical camp (ironically based in Devil's Lake, North Dakota), from the organizers to the parents and attending children, focusing on three of the attendees, Levi, Tory and Rachael. A truly exceptional and timely documentary.

MANHATTAN, KANSAS: NYC-based filmmaker Tara Wray returns to her childhood home in Kansas to reconnect with her mother, seeking some resolution for her difficult childhood and teenage years, and their co-dependent relationship. Unexpectedly, this process proves to have a cumulative, positive impact on both Tara and her mother; a most unusual, provocative autobiographical documentary.

...and so on and so forth. We'll be showing all this, and much more, end of April.

Alas, some of our choices have been, despite the provision to the group of screeners, yanked by their respective distributors, including the excellent Ralph Nader documentary An Unreasonable Man. How unreasonable of them. As one committee member noted, "how Nader-like!" Too bad, but it's still shaping up to be a great festival.

The April event is still coming together, as is the website announcement, but anyone living in the area should keep an eye on

WRIF's website for upcoming news, scheduling and announcements --

-- hope to see some of you there!

_________________

"I acknowledge that mistakes were made here... I accept that responsibility."

We've heard variations on that from the President and members of his Administration since the (ongoing) Hurricane Katrina debacle, but "I accept that responsibility" apparently never, ever means really assuming any responsibility in this Administration, unless you're part of the current Walter Reed Hospital scandal, which has military leaders falling on their swords right and left (the better to ensure no blame arrives at the Commander-in-Chief).

The latest declaration of "I accept that responsibility" followed the revelations from recently-released documents revealing a two-year campaign by the Justice Department and White House to purge federal prosecutors has prompted a fresh call for Gonzales's head.

but Attorney General Alberto Gonzales rejected the yowls for his resignation --

-- no surprise there.

The mistakes made he might be referring to most likely be the release of said documents, since "don't get caught" seems to be the only meaningful context for the ongoing Bush Administration troubles. Gonzales added, "I believe very strongly in our obligation to ensure that when I provide information to the Congress that it's accurate and that it's complete," which is disingenuous at best from the man who has so firmly stonewalled Congress every step of the way since his confirmation hearings -- which is, after all, when Congress should have shut this former Bush attorney out. But that would have taken a backbone, and a majority willing to do more than rubber-stamp that process.

In the meantime, in the face of the South American-touring President's call for more troops, we find out, via

homophobic statements from the Pentagon's top general, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs General Peter Pace,

that the military's policy against any gays serving their country has so far resulted in the discharge of "more than 10,000 troops, including more than 50 specialists in Arabic," since President Clinton instituted the "don't ask, don't tell" policy in 1994.

Hmmmmm, the Pentagon could sure use just about 10,000 troops, especially those 50 specialists in Arabic, just about now -- if they could pull their homophobic heads out of their homophobic asses long enough to think straight (with something other than their little heads).

The most astounding statement amid the flurry that followed General Pace's mini-screed was no doubt White House spokesman Tony Snow's claim that President Bush "has always said that the most important thing is that we ought not to prejudge one another."

Huh. When was that? From the man who prejudges everything, to all of us. A love button.

But let's keep this all in perspective. I mean, it ain't so bad -- I heard last night on German radio news that thanks to Zimbabwe's governing ZANU-PF party's two-year extension (back in December) of President Robert Mugabe's reign and the subsequent atrocities, the life expectancy of the average Zimbabwe woman is now 34 years of age.

By comparison, we've all got it sweet.

________________

And in that context, we're all lucky folks. I certainly am.

I'm 52 as of today -- I've outlived some dear friends, I've got a great job, CCS has reawakened my creative life, I'm happily married, live in a new home, I have friends and family and two incredible now-adult kids I love, and to my mind any day over the half-century mark of life is a day worth celebrating.

And hey, I've got you, don't I?

I'm outta here!
Gotta teach!
Gotta draw!
Gotta move!

[Reminder: I won't be posting regularly again until Monday, most likely. See you here as time permits...]