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Michael Richards
(cross-posted on my blog)
I don’t think it’s completely cynical to believe that the Michael Richards incident is a humongously successful media stunt. Yet few pundits seem to be emphasizing this angle, preferring platitude (racism and lynching are wrong) and punny headlines (Kramer vs. Kramer) over analysis. Of course those platitudes all seem like part of the stunt, part of the performance initiated by Richards himself.
The New York Times hints at the performative aspect of the Richards rant and subsequent feeding frenzy in a blog post about Richards’ appearance on Jesse Jackson’s show. The title of that blog post, speaking of punny headlines, is "Keeping Michael Richards’ Career Alive." An obvious reference to Rev. Jackson’s familiar "keep hope alive" refrain. A subtle reference, also, to the ridiculous suggestion that this incident will be the end of Richards’ career. Duh…didn’t his career pretty much end with the closing credits of the Seinfeld finale? And then begin again last week?
Interesting that this dust-up comes on the heels on the success of the film Borat, a film whose brand of guerilla cultural critique relies upon over-the-top racism and anti-semitism. As Dr. B suggests on her blog, Borat’s critique may fly over the heads of white audience members. Describing the young whites in the theater where she saw Borat, Dr. B writes: "The timing of their laughter and their silence indicated that they clearly didn’t get that the joke was on them and their racist ideology." Now, I found Borat to be an often hysterical (and always original) piece of work, but the ethical issue of reproducing and rehearsing racist tropes on such a public stage is–as Dr. B. suggests– a significant concern.
The differences between the Borat film and the Richards incident are numerous, but consider the connections: Both are examples of comedians using a non-fiction genre (Borat as a "documentary" and Richards as a stand-up "routine") to provoke. Both operate in the tradition of Andy Kaufman. Kaufman’s such an icon that I’m sure the comparison will raise some neckhairs. But consider the vitriolic, hateful things that Kaufman said about women and working-class folks during his wrestling "career." There’s a twisted, twisty lineage from Kaufman’s classist (calling working-class southerners "inbred hillbillys") and sexist-misogynist rants to Richards’ racism.
Incidentally, both Kaufman and Richards have now used David Letterman’s show as a (center)stage for blurring the lines between reality and performance. And of course another moment where Richards *seems* to have lost his temper in public was in 1981 on his live sketch comedy show Fridays when the show’s guest host–Andy Kaufman–pretended to forget his lines and prompted an awkward, dead-air moment. Richards, looking out of control on live tv (sound familiar?), stormed onto the set with the cue cards and angrily threw them at Kaufman. Kaufman, in turn, dumped a pitcher of water on Richards and the two began to fight.
I don’t offer these comparisons as an excuse for Richards. Nor am I arguing some kind of intentionality. I can’t know Richards’s intentions, of course. Tellingly, though, today’s CNN updates say he’s hired a team of publicists to handle his p.r. My point is that despite how media savvy we’ve become as a society, we don’t really know how to react to these incidents. Our response leans toward empty platitude–again, the ubiquitous and absurdly obvious suggestion that lynching is wrong. In the meantime, Richards takes his place among the Mel Gibsons of the world, assuming his place in a story of career rennaisance and personal redemption. And, blithely, we watch.
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Clerks II
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Hard Lessons: Wise Up
The E.P. format suits the brand of old-fashioned, non-pretentious rock and roll of The Hard Lessons.
The band’s new five-song, "Wise Up," doesn’t waste a moment, cycling
through a pair of rave-ups, a couple ballads, and a final rave-up for
good measure. The Hard Lessons are three Detroit-area teachers and old
college chums who last year decided to leave the classroom to rock out
full-time. Their stripped-down but rich sound consists of guitar,
drums, organ, along with shared vocal duties. The trio has gained a
loyal local following by playing dance-friendly,
audience-participatory, all-ages shows at schools and VFW halls as well
as bars and clubs.
Oftentimes, bands like The Hard Lessons that become known for their
high-energy live performances put out lackluster releases that reveal
lots of showmanship but less musical prowess. Not so The Hard
Lessons. "Wise Up" boasts tight performances from all three members,
with Ko Ko Louise’s organ sounding especially vivid. The two ballads,
"It Bleeds" and "Move to California," are highlights, both spinning
heartbreak yarns–stories populated by round, real characters. The
latter is a great example of The Hard Lessons’ characteristic,
male-female duets, with vocal duties vollying between Ko Ko Louise and
Augie the guitarist. Well worth a listen, and if you’re in the Detroit
area, check them out at Flint’s Local 432 on May 27 or Ferndale’s Magic
Bag on June 10.
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violence on film
What do A History of Violence and Hostel have in common? First and foremost, my impression of both films was shaped by the fact that I had just attended this past weekend Michigan Pax Christi’s (a Catholic organization devoted to peace education and activism) statewide conference.
This was my
personal context for viewing these two very, very different films and
probably had everything to do with how I responded to them. History
of Violence tells the story of a small-town diner owner who defends his
café from two brutal thugs intent on robbing and brutalizing his
customers. The protagonist, played by Viggo
Mortensen, becomes a local hero and gains attention from the press and
also from shadowy figures who may or may not be from his past. Mortensen offers a disturbing embodiment of how violence changes him—and how violence may or may not have shaped him. His
performance is amazing, moving in and out of his shifting identities:
small-town good guy, justified vigilante, ruthless tough guy. Ashton
Holmes gives an equally multi-faceted turn as the protagonist’s
teen-aged son, bullied at school until his father’s actions inspire him
to fight back. David Cronenberg (Dead Ringers,
Dead Zone, Scanners) directs, so black humor provides something other
than levity or comic relief—the jokes instead offer wry commentary on
American attitudes toward justice, community, and crime.
I’ve written before
about my life-long love affair with horror movies, so I won’t go into
any apologies for dropping two bucks on a piece of pulp like Hostel. Let’s just say the movie takes its aesthetic cues from ultra-violent Asian horror films. Two college kids backpack through Europe, engaging in raucous behavior that goes beyond teen-slasher-film sex and moves headlong into the realm of the exploitative. They end up in Slovakia,
for example, because they hear that many of the men there died in “the
war” (don’t ask—nobody claimed the film was a history lesson) and that
the women are poor. That equoation adds up to "great place to score." Charming guys. The NYTimes review accurately pointed out that, once the carnage begins, it’s hard to feel sorry for these dudes. Anyway,
they end up at a horrific dungeon-of-sorts where rich men from the
western world can pay to commit murder in any way they see fit. Part “Most Dangerous Game,” part Dateline NBC special on atrocities that go on every day in Eastern Europe and southeast Asia. As an Asia-ultraviolent-wannabe, Hostel suffers the limits of its own genre: weak acting and predictable plot trajectory. But,
on another level, the film meditates on what happens when capitalism
comes to town overnight—not to mention what happens when the violent,
the depraved, are given a playground.
Two meditations on violence. One, a great film (the 5 stars refers to History…). One, a poor film (I’d give Hostel two stars). But both in their own way confront the culture in which we find ourselves living.
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Gossip: “Standing in the Way of Control”
Been reading lots of student papers this week and the newly released album from dance-punk trio Gossip has provided the soundtrack. Led by the soulful, sometimes-angry, always-hopeful Beth Ditto, Gossip churn out noisy gospel with a beat. The band has roots in the south and it shows, as they begborrowsteal readily from every homegrown genre one might associate with that region. Gossip has no bass player and have a raw aesthetic that begs comparisons with garage rock revivalists, but here’s the difference: Beth Ditto’s voice. The guitar and drums avoid extra flourish, preferring down-and-dirty blues, but Ditto’s vocals stand in sharp contrast. All flourish, flash, and show. And she’s got the chops to back up her performative flair. More Big Mama Thorton than Patti Smith, Ditto could be a fine gospel singer. She could hold her own with the purveyors of what passes for soul these days. She has a vocal range beyond the singers of most punk bands (exception: Poly Styrene of X-Ray Spex, whose influence drips from every Gossip track).
Thematically, "Standing in the Way of Control" tackles familiar riot grrrl themes. At times there’s too much angst, too much bemoaning one’s "outsider" status, but Gossip balances the anger with an eternal optimism. Not only in Ditto’s lyrics, but also in the pervasive rhythms and upbeat tempos. Nine out of ten tracks on the album are uptempo and would fit on a club dj’s playlist. Refreshing, this juxtaposition of critique and revelry. LeTigre, also one of Gossip’s cited influences, come to mind. "Keeping You Alive," the title track, and most especially "Yr Mangled Heart" are standouts. Occasionally the lyrics move too wildly from statements of angst to abstractions of hope, but mostly Ditto gets it just right, with ambiguous and provocative lines like "If everything you do has got a hold on me/Than everything I do has got a hole in it." Recommended.
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