I’m Streaming I’m Beaming Notice I Ain’t Screaming (It’s My Day Today)

"Tell me, why? Tell me, why?
Is it hard to make arrangements with yourself
When you're old enough to repay
But young enough to sell?"         

         From 'Tell Me Why' by Neil Young

On the subway to work a man was sniffling like so continuously I wanted to cry. Put on headphones instead and listened to Neil Young live from 1970. Read Kerouac. Biffed and bopped and scooted and occasionally had a thought about work and the day ahead and not about bed where I just was an hour and half before snoozing and grooving and going my way in dreamland where the dreams were nice with pretty girls and fame and fortune and no guy sniffing like crazy with a silly cold and an cherry on top -- be bop. People got on and off the train and I looked up at the stops to see them this one Asian chick got on and just stood man she stood the whole way into SF not wanting to sit her pretty little heinie down and year I’m just guessing about the pretty part part like who really knows. Most people getting on and off were magically non descript not cosmic who ha like me with my magic blonde hair and pug Finnish nose and the nice tie and all all dressed up for like work. Like work l like my work and I like working cause it pays me cash money in automatic deposit form and get all that psychic income to go with my psychotic self up on the shelf. I’m so cool when I go teach the English lingo to peeps from all over the world who want to dig on speaking better and reading better and writing better and understanding more. No chore.
Got off the mfing subway and escalatored up to the street. Market -- park it. Waited for the trolley. Too long as a matter of fact with it being chilly and all. There it came and I hopped it and sat on down and opened the book back up and read some more and didn’t look up much until I could scope out (dope doubt) that we were near the end of the line which is where I get off and in fact some day when my time comes it’ll be the end of the line for me. Whooppee! Least I got to spend some time on subways and shit and doin’ my thing and digging the ladies and the music and the words and the books and the cinema and the sports and the shorts. Soze got off and ambled over to work and worked. Boy howdy did I. Lot to do and people to say hi to and thinking and photocopying and talking and listening and nodding and being glad and drinking coffee and checking it all out baby. Had lunch too then more yakkin’ and frackin’ and correcting and talking bout things like prepositions and articles an verb tenses. Menses.
Ooooh off I went at the end of the work day ambling back to the trolley -- hey baby no wait -- and scootin on over to the subway and very short wait and packin on a super crowded train. Insane. Way it goes -- mose. To my dest-i-na-tion. Escalatoring on up to the street neat and then strolling home hello wife and here was my day how about yours and whats new and dinner is good and a little TV never hurt and then peckin’ away on this here macbook pro -- copyright infringement -- yowzah!
Nice day all told. Bold.

No Explosions No Sex No Supernatural Just Great Cinema Aki Kaurismaki's Proletariat Triology

When I taught middle school I would occasionally meet my father for lunch at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Once he brought my older brother along. All meals there started with soup. It was hot. Both my father and brother loudly slurped their soup. They weren't doing it in unison. Father slurp brother slurp father slurp brother slurp. Somehow it was more piquant than annoying. Both my father and brother are dead now and I no longer teach at the middle school. 

Who knows why we do anything. Sometimes the more we think about things before taking action the worse our decision is. This is especially true when things happen to us. The unexpected. We are often reflexive. Not always wrong. Or right. Just are. We also don't necessarily need to engage in long discussions. There's ultimately very little that needs to be picked over. It's done or being done or will be done and that should be that. Talk is cheap.

I got what is called the Aki Kaurismaki Proletariat Triology  DVD set for Christmas. I just finishing watching the three films. Two today. The set consists of Shadows in Paradise (1986) Ariel (1988) and Match Factory Girl (1990).

In these films people do a lot more smoking than talking. What's to talk about anyway?

I am Finnish so these films resonate with me in a particular way. I haven't been to the old country in many years but it is in my blood. The stoicism. Blank faces. Hidden emotions. Understatement. Silence. Irony. Even perhaps ironic silence -- that I can't say for sure.

I grew up in an extended Finnish family. We didn't hug but we loved the hell out of each other. We didn't talk about everything. Like no one discussed my mother's insanity. But we did things. We were honest.

The films that make up the proletariat set are all short. Clocking in at just under 80 minutes each. Tell the story and get out. No reason to hang around. They all involve people who make changes. Fairly sudden ones and pretty big ones. Murder spree marriage new career. This is a kind of just do it but not Nike style charge into the breach more with a shrug of the shoulders. Its the next thing in front of the character the logical move what you have to do. Or so it seems. It'll probably work out. We'll see. No need to worry about it.

These are working class people. A miner. A garbage collector. A factory worker. They don't feel trapped in their lives they are of them. If there is something better they'll take it. If adversity strikes then deal and move on. Adversity does strike. Hard. A father's suicide and then life's savings stolen then a prison sentence. Or how about a friend and partner's death or an unwanted pregnancy? Shit happens is the existential observation  about the nature of how ya never know and ya often have to deal. No one in Kaurismaki's films folds up. One character sheds a few tears but there's neither weeping nor wailing and no one throws fits. Anger is not expressed it is used to continue forward momentum. One clearly bitter character just calmly exacts revenge.

Most scenes takes place in Finland's capital Helsinki. These are not attractive depictions of what is in fact a beautiful city. Kaurismaki was not working for the tourist industry. The environs were selected and shot in such a way as to add to the mood.

If all sounds too bleak its not. Characters get what they want whether they want it or not. Whether freedom love or revenge it is served. It is all done with passion. Nothing you can see but there it is. Passion is not always a fiery speech or even any speech at all. It isn't just broad strokes or loud chords. It's just as likely keeping a head up and pushing on.

I don't recall a single character in any of the films bursting into laughter or for that matter laughing at  all. There may have been a titter but I doubt it. There's cuss words mixed into dialogue but there is no profane tirades. Sex is strongly implied but not seen. We get a kiss or two but not for very long. There are no flourishes no exclamation points no goddamned explosions.

Characters. We get characters. They drive the story. They are why all of Kaurismaki's films are so compelling. There is nothing more interesting in this world than watching what we do -- that is our fellow travelers in this life. This is what Kaurismaki understands. Shine a light -- but not a super bright one -- on a person. A person without extraordinary powers save perhaps the ability to be.

To be.

I love the hell out of these movies.

There is a Finnish parable. A man is being chased by a bear. He finally gets to a river where he can swim to safety. Half way across the river he sees a bear standing on the other side. The man laughs. What are you gonna do? Am I right?

Reflections on My Recent Cinema Binge

I saw as many films in theaters in the past two months of 2013 as I did in the first ten months of the year. This is directly attributable to Hollywood timing the release of their best films to qualify for awards season and so that the films are fresh in the minds’ of award voters. What it means is that American cinema can generate barely two month’s worth of decent films a year.

Here are some reflections following my recent binge.

One of my favorite memories comes from my most recent trip to the cinema. I was in the ticket buyer line of Berkeley’s Shattuck Cinemas. This line is in the lobby and roped off. Two women were outside the ropes checking the movie times. There was a very old man behind me (I think he worked in the Coolidge administration). With him was his equally old -- I wanna say -- wife although it could have been his partner or lover or paramour or even his sister. Anyhoo the old man suddenly barks at the two women: “get in line! get in line!” They were either oblivious to him or rightly ignored the old codger. His -- I’m going to go with -- wife scolded him saying “you can’t tell people what to do.” He insisted that he could in fact tell people what to do and she contradicted him again. This went on for a bit until they finally both ran out of steam. Was I looking into my own future?

Previews. Oh boy previews! Coming attractions! Trailers! Some theaters give you a taste of what’s coming others drown you with endless clips from endless movies and do so for -- I timed it once -- 27 minutes. Enough already. I saw the trailer -- the same exact one -- for something called August: Osage Country with an all star cast featuring Meryl Streep six times -- that I counted. I’ve got parts of the movie memorized. I didn’t want to see the damn thing after the first time I saw a preview now I hope this is the last time I ever have to think about it. Twice I saw a preview for a film called Lone Survivor. I can guarantee you this is bad cinema. Anytime you have the director talking about it and the man whose experiences the film is based on talking about it you know its not only not an art film but that its propaganda. One reviewer tweeted that it is a jingoistic snuff film.  The director most recently did Battleship which also tells you plenty. I twice watched (read: sat through) a trailer for a Jack Ryan film (he’s a spy character who’s to James Bond what Arby’s is to fine dining). Chris Pine (oh boy Chris Pine) plays a slick handsome spy. There’s a beautiful woman an evil villain a wise mentor explosions high rises and hand-to-hand combat. I bethcya it makes a bunch of assholes a lot of money.

What makes sitting through an abundance of trailers even worse is that they are often preceded by advertisements. I already paid to get into the damn theater I thought that bought me the privilege of avoiding commercials. Yeah I get it movie theaters couldn’t survive without them. Maybe if people starring in and producing films didn’t have to own five houses two yachts and a goddamned island we could be spared ads. Movies and sports are classic examples of how regular working folk are being gouged by the already rich. No wonder there’s a huge income gap in the US. Don’t get me started here....

I have the privilege of living walking distance from the Pacific Film Archives in Berkeley where I can see reasonably priced films with no ads or trailers and no one eating popcorn or candy or sandwiches or three course meals at their seats. Do you see what people spend half their paycheck on at movie theaters? Huge tubs of artery clogging buttered pop corn and barrels of diet coke a substance which is just this side of battery acid. Small wonder we have an obesity epidemic in this country. No food or drinks allowed in the PFA which means patrons are spared the sound of loud pop corn chewers or people rummaging through a grocery bag to find a sandwich the wrapper of which they have to rip off. Sometimes other people are the worst.

I saw The Wolf of Wall Street the day after Christmas in the middle of the afternoon in a multiplex and the theater was packed. Within my line of vision four different people got our their cell phones at one point or another during the film. It’s not as bad as talking but it still detracts from the movie going experience. But then being aware and considerate of others is so passé.

Fortunately amidst all this nonsense I saw some really good films. I am so particular about what I see that I rarely end up sitting through a film that I don’t end up liking. (The same can not be said of what I rent where the stakes aren't as high.) If I’m going to I shell out $8 or more for a movie I want to be damn sure I’ll like it. As noted in my annual top ten I especially enjoyed Nebraska Inside Llewyn David and Frances Ha (which I saw via Netflix instant). This was a very good year for very good films but not a great year for great films. Few are. Frankly there are already enough great films out there for me to discover or re-watch that I don’t desperately need more. That said I’m more than happy to see something to add to the pantheon of greats. Also it is often upon the second viewing of a very good film that I elevate to a loftier status. One can’t always know which film will really resonate after a second viewing. We spend so much of a first viewing dealing with what happens that we don’t always notice how its told or the subtler messages of the film. There are several from this year that I look forward to re-visiting.

The movie-going experience has changed significantly since I was a lad. You used to get a double feature in a theater with one huge screen. Ushers might help you find seats especially if the film was playing and it often was when you entered. People would come in during the middle of one feature -- you got two movies -- and watch the rest of it the other offerings (there were a few trailers cartoons and a short often in the form of a travelogue) the next film and when they reached the point in the film that was playing when they walked in they'd utter those oft repeated words:  "this is where we came in" or the variant in question form: "is this where we came in?" Looking back coming in the middle was not an ideal way to watch a film so I'm glad that died out. Everything has gone up so movies cost more but the increase is not out of line with inflation (the same can't be said for sports tickets which are ridiculously expensive).

Of course a lot of movie watching is done from the comfort of one's own home. When I was growing up and even into college if you wanted to watch The Maltese Falcon (1941) you had to wait until it showed up on TV and then watch it interrupted by commercials. Today you might own your own copy or rent it from Netflix or record it from TCM or watch it on your computer. But then you miss the experience of some centenarian barking commands. The guy was a hoot I tell ya....

My Top Ten Films for 2013

1. Nebraska (Payne)
2. Inside Llewyn Davis (Coens)
3. Frances Ha (Baumbach)
4. Blue Jasmine (Allen)
5. Kill Your Darlings (Krokidas)
6. La Grande Belleza (Sorrentino)
7. Her (Jonze)
8. 12 Years a Slave (McQueen)
9. Blue is the Warmest Color (Kechiche)
10. Reality (Garrone)

Honorable Mention: Gravity (Cuaron); American Hustle (Russell); The Way Way Back (Faxon/Rash); Blancanieves (Berger); Dallas Buyers Club (Vallee); The Wolf of Wall Street. (Scorsese).

Best Actress: Cate Blanchett (Blue Jasmine) With Nods to Adèle Exarchopoulos (Blue is the Warmest Color) and Amy Adams (American Hustle).
Best Actor: Matthew McConaughey (Dallas Buyers Club) With nods to Oscar Isaac (Inside Llewyn Davis) and Joaquin Phoenix (Her).
Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Lawrence (American Hustle) With a nod to June Squibb (Nebraska).
Best Supporting Actor: Ben Foster (Kill Your Darlings) With a nod to Jonah Hill (Wolf of Wall Street).

My Doctor's Appointment Yields Expected Non News and So I Write About it and Life

Yours truly...not recently.

"Actually we're going to use this room." The very short stout nurse directed me to one of the examining rooms in the urologist's office. I "actually" entered the room and sat down. Upon greeting me she'd asked "how are you today?" Now that she'd successfully  directed me to a room and seen that I "had a seat" she posed the question a second time "how are you today?" I gave the same response both times: "Fine." I wanted to be consistent lest she thinks that perhaps I was trying to deceive her. One supposes it's a clever way to trip a spy.

The very short stout nurse then took my blood pressure. No matter what you see a doctor for even if its just to settle a bill a nurse will take your blood pressure. I was then informed that the doctor would be in to see me in a moment. I settled in for the long wait that is customary when sitting in an examination room. The doctor (a urologist) broke with custom and entered within a minute.

The urologist greeted me warmly commenting on how nice it was to see me again after so long a time. I'd only been in his office once before and that four or five year ago so I had my doubts that he really remembered me. I didn't remember him.

I'd been referred because during my annual physical something seemed a little off during my prostrate exam. It was better safe than sorry and I shouldn't worry but let's have an expert check it out. I was 98% sure that my prostate was just fine. The urologist quickly informed me that the blood work taken after the physical had shown no signs of anything. Now I was 99% sure. We also went over the symptoms list and found that I had none. I knew that going in. This was all waste of a copay.

Despite the total lack of concern on anyone's part -- least of all mine -- I was to be probed. Down went my trousers and in went the doctor's finger. Into my own personal rectum. Let me say this with absolute certainty -- I received a thorough exam. That finger was twisting and turning and digging and poking. I think it made it half way up my stomach. If there was anything to find he'd have found it.

He found nothing. 100%. But wait let's check the urine too. Pee in the cup time. I remember the first time I peed in a cup for a doctor was when I was a young lad. Unclear on the concept and needing to wizz anyway I filled said cup to the brim. I forget the nurse's subsequent comment but do recall she commented. This time I gave them just a wee bit -- pun not originally intended but having been observed approved of.

Nothing in my urine. I was already at 100%. Doc wanted me to come back in six months for another probing. I said sure thing though may just give it a miss. I'm the first to call a doctor when something is amiss and never miss my annual but I don't go in for doctor appointments because well maybe even though now there's nothing better be sure who knows what can happen.

I have enjoyed remarkable health all my life (physical that is my mental and emotional states have been rather a mess as anyone who reads this blog is no doubt aware). This is a matter of good genes good habits and most importantly extraordinary luck. My poor brother  -- who was twice the man I'll ever be -- had absolutely rotten luck and suffered mightily for years before dying too young.

My 27 odd years as a teacher (some have been very odd indeed) have caused me to suffer innumerable colds and occasional bouts of the flu but that's been about the size of it. Teaching has in the past caused some stress but that has manifested not in physical ailments but in long periods of stark raving lunacy. Okay I exaggerate....A little.

So anyway I'm a lucky bastard but one learns in life that luck can turn against you rather quickly. So far so good. I really got a sense of how lucky I am on Christmas Eve as I held at various times two baby boys each a grand nephew courtesy of my nieces. I also got to chase and be chased by my four year old grand niece. I was surrounded by my two daughters the wife the two aforementioned nieces and two nephews my sister-in-law and three significant others one of whom is a full fledged husband. And a really cool dog. We had a visit from a jolly fat man from northern Finland too. There was much good food laughter song story telling and general joviality. Gifts were exchanged the best of which was the company. This is how it should be.

I hear people complain constantly about their families and their dread of family gatherings. I honestly do not know what this is like. That is not to suggest that the family experience has been entirely smooth. To the contrary. As I've mentioned here before my dear old mom went off her rocker and abused alcohol in the bargain. It took decades of therapy but I'm over it. Not really but I'm about as square with the whole deal as a person can expect to be. I've actually forgiven the old dame and can think fondly of her.

So I've had some knocks and at this stage in my life I'm grateful for each one. I have a friend who claims to have had no crisis no major health problems no bad times. He is highly successful man with a wonderful family and I've little doubt that he has lived an idyllic life. How boring. He is a fine fellow but I can't but wonder how a person grows and comes to understand life without experiencing some powerful adversity. It's like a high school sports team that never loses. Kind of nice but at some point you need to experience the sting of defeat as part of your learning process. Dealing with defeat is essential to developing character (god I hope that didn't sound too hokey). After all it is not what life does to you but how you handle it -- good bad or ambiguous -- that is important.

So I don't have prostate cancer and never seriously thought I did. Maybe some day. Maybe something worse like the pancreatic cancer that felled a good friend. Maybe an accident. By definition they can happen to anyone. Maybe not. Maybe I'll grow really really old. I think I'll stick around and find out.

Say Hey Have a Merry Christmas

Not only is Santa black, he's Willie Mays.

Portrait of an Artist as An Angry Man - Inside Llewyn Davis

I grew up with an image of folk singers as kind hearted people wise and noble singing of peace this land being made for you and me and the eternal hope of love. Folk singers were Pete Seeger Peter Paul and Mary and Joan Baez. They were sweetie pies who strummed guitars and slept under huge comforters with wild flowers on them. They weren't rich but they weren't poor and performed for charity and stood for equal rights and an end to war (where have all the flowers gone?). None of em were a wit like the titular character of the Coen Brothers' latest film Inside Lleywn Davis. So thank you Joel and Ethan Coen for shattering another one dimensional stereotype.

Oscar Isaac with a Jewish sounding name plays the half Italian half Welsh Davis and so of course Isaac is half Cuban and half Guatemalan. Welcome to the United Nations of Coen. Isaac had a few roles of little or no note until channeling the fictional 1961 folk singer struggling to....To what? Be famous? Rich? Pay the bills? Practice his art? Make it from one day to the next? What does he want anyway and what exactly will he do with it when he gets it? Anyone's guess. He really doesn't really think of the future a point made to him in no uncertain terms by a "friend" Jean (Carey Mulligan). This is a friend he may or may not have impregnated but certainly boinked. It's odd to think that they were intimate because the foul mouthed Jean does little else then tear him up one side and down another. Maybe he deserves it. Jean lives and sings with Jim (Justin Timberlake) who plays it perfectly bland. Hats off and waving to Mulligan for taking such an unglamorous role and doing so well with it she may be a star but she's an actress first.

So this Davis fellow is --  as they say -- down on his luck. Way down. He's got no home no winter coat no money and no partner. His former partner having taken a swan dive off a bridge. Demise met. Oh yeah and he's stuck with a cat. Or cats. There is an issue with one and its scrotum or the lack thereof (hey no spoilers here). The cat(s) is no superfluous character(s). We have a scene on a moving subway train from the subjective point of view of the feline (thanks to Germano for reminding me) that few others besides the Coens would attempt let alone pull off.

This is the Coen brothers and there are no throw away characters including those that are fur bearing creatures. Minor characters are fully realized individuals vivid and interesting or grotesque or amusing or wonderful but never just attached to the furniture. Certainly not Roland Turner (John Goodman) a rotund...what the hell is he anyway? The beauty of a lot of Coen brothers films is that there are so many characters that defy easy description. You can't just stick a word to them. Like Turner and his driver and oh by the way their drive to Chicago with Llewyn -- whatta trip man! Not to mention Llewyn's trip right the hell back to New York and what a short strange trip it was. But the point started out being characters that have well characters and that my friends is part of the richness of this film.

But when it comes to characters Llewyn Davis is in every scene. He carries his despondency and bitterness and anger and hopefulness with him. He's always moving forward maybe from crashing in this pad or the other but he's not idle. He is the quintessential struggling young artist. One without a day job. They are all over the world and have been for decades. Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of them. They have dreams of success and for many success is requisite because it will allow them to practice their art. The true artist wants room and space and time to create. To sing to write to direct to paint to act to joke to play. Making a living at it is not an end to itself but the vehicle to allow that creativity to bloom over and over again. Alas it's a cruel world the competition fierce and that fire that keeps you going can burn out so easily. Perseverance baby it's the key ingredient in talent. So watch Llewyn struggle with life and art simultaneously. (Maybe they're the same thing. I dunno.)

Of course he's dealing with anger. Why shouldn't he? Why not heckle and berate and be surly and cuss like a sailor which come to think of it a sort of day job for him. How do people deal with rejection and subterfuge and disappointment without getting unholy pissed off? Plus in a narrative structure it makes him more interesting than the scrubbed public images of folk singers.

The Coens are nothing if not meticulous. They created the early '60s here just as they create the '80s in No Country For Old Men (2007) the 70's in A Serious Man (2009) the 50's in The Man Who Wasn't There (2001) the Old West in True Grit (2010) and so yeah they're versatile too no two films alike. But by god they're good. Inside Llewyn Davis is a case in point. You remember that tired ole review cliche: "I laughed I cried it became a part of me." Yeah I do too....

I won't spoil the ending of Llewyn Davis because then I'd be spoiling the beginning and I don't know what that means but it all comes out to something and if you ever figure it out let me know.

Anyway I enjoyed the hell out of the movie.