http://blogcritics.org/ A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics, and technology - updated continuously. en Copyright 2005-2007 by the authors Sun, 19 Jun 2005 01:13:01 EDT http://backend.userland.com/rss Blogcritics.org custom software http://blogcritics.org/ Phillip WinnSunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding. Administration0@blogcritics.org Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/06/19/011301.php SobriquetMany of you reading this are no doubt quite aware of The Truth Laid Bear and the "ecosystem" it uses to rank weblogs. Essentially, the greater the number of links leading to a particular blog, the higher said blog appears in the ecosystem. Now, this method of ranking is not all that different from the one Google employs when determining which websites appear at the top of a given search result page, nor is it necessarily a bad way to organize what can only be described as an incredibly unwieldy and disjointed body of information. Certainly, the number of people linking to a given website seems like a pretty good indicator of the site's influence and popularity, so a high ranking in N. Z. Bear's not-so-little directory has understandably become one of the most prized recognitions in the blogosphere.Blogrolling, like the Truth Laid Bear, has rapidly grown in popularity, in large part because it is a really good idea. Obviously, a blogroll can facilitate the organization of links a person would like to highlight on his or her website. Understandably, a neat arrangement of favorite links effortlessly programmed into a blog's HTML appeals to the amateur webmaster who would rather spend his or her time scouring various web resources for interesting information than meticulously tweaking one's blog template. So blogrolling has justly earned its popularity.I mention these two cornerstones of the blogosphere because they figure prominantly in what I feel has become a big problem amongst bloggers. For lack of a better term, and since no one has coined a phrase for the practice, to the best of my knowledge, I will refer to gratuitous link exchanging as "link doping" and "traffic doping" throughout this essay (if I dare call this an "essay). I encourage any readers I may have to use these phrases too, since I think they adequately describe the practice.In any case, link doping seems to emerge out of the very natural tendency bloggers have to want people to read their writing. Obviously, if you choose to publish writing on the internet, you are hoping that someone reads what you have to say. This tendency becomes a problem when people realize it can be exploited for profit. There are several firms, for instance, that offer to increase the number of hits your blog receives if you agree to visit other blogs. Consider BlogClicker's enthusiastic pitch: You've taken the time and effort to put your blog online and we're here to help you get people to read it...It's simple. You view other member blogs and in return, those members will view your blog. For every 2 blogs you view, someone will see yours! We also offer upgraded memberships and credit packages which give you up to a 1:1.5 view ratio or 1 view per purchased credit!The spiel continues: Standard membership with a 2:1 view ratio is absolutely FREE. In addition, you'll also have chances to earn bonus views while viewing blogs which means your ratio gets even better! Plus there is monthly contests which offer you the change to win even more traffic and cash prizes too!Now, the obvious advantage of this sort of program is that some people will discover a blog or two they really enjoy reading and that blog will then have a new, possibly loyal reader. That's all fine and good, but the downside to the practice is that hit counters will give an inaccurate account of a site's popularity, presuming that a significant chunk of the traffic generated by participation in BlogClicking amounts to little more than a person clicking your blog with the sole intent of adding that click to the credit he or she earns towards generating traffic to his or her blog. As a result, someone whose website seems to be generating a spike in traffic may get the false impression that the quality of his or her writing alone accounts for the upswing in apparent popularity (even in the absence of feedback such as comments or tag board messages). I cite this as a problem because, in many ways, blog writing is a trial by fire for aspiring writers. Theoretically, the content of a person's blog will evolve as he or she responds to reader feedback, thus producing a better product. (Now, before I continue, I would like to acknowledge that this really matters only if you are specifically writing for a broad, anonymous audience or for an undefined demographic; if you write for yourself or a few friends, for instance, traffic feedback isn't as important). With the proliferation of empty click-throughs, this valuable gauge of one's ability to reach his or her reader is largely enfeebled. Still, this practice is relatively benign, if not moderately worthwhile for some purposes.Link doping, however, exploits the desire to be read in a much more destructive way. Whereas the empty clicks provided by the aforementioned program simply give inflated reads on traffic counters and occasionally increase genuine readership without really harming other bloggers, link doping actually does unfairly harm other bloggers.Before I move on, I would like to emphasize the fact that link doping essentially uses the generally positive conventions of blogrolling and webringing/community-building to grossly exaggerate the significance or quality of a given blog.The most blatant display of wanton link doping is The Alliance of Free Blogs, a nerdy joke that has unfortunately spawned a number of imitators ranging from genuine "blog communities" which allow blog readers to find blogs with similar political, philosophical, or religious orientations to the one he or she reads to idiotically haphazard collections of people who merely want to rank higher on The Truth Laid Bear's ecosystem. The Truth Laid Bear, unfortunately, propigates this practice by providing webspace for such communities.The Alliance of Free Blogs essentially amounts to the flogging of the vestigial detritus left long after the desiccated horse of a joke had begun stinking up the internet. According to an essay on The Alliance of Free Blogs' website entitled "The Blog War - An Introduction for the Uninitiated":Here's the back story on the Blog War, without the inside jokes.Blogging is a hobby of pure ego, whose purpose is to 1) see your words in print, and 2) have other people read them. Currently, one blogger, Glenn Reynolds (Instapundit) gets far more page views and links than any other, and deservedly so. Glen updates MANY times per day, and his links are usually well worth clicking. However, he normally offers very little of his own commentary. Sometimes just a cursory "indeed" or "hmmm".Because he has so many readers, if he links to your site you get a LOT of hits, which is very gratifying. His links are highly prized by bloggers.Frank J., of IMAO, is an up-and-coming blogger who occasionally mocks Glenn as a way to gain attention. His first method was making up outrageous lies: Glenn puts puppies in blenders and drinks them; Glenn murders hobos for fun; Glenn worships Satan; Glenn is a communist spy who does the robot dance; Glenn punched Frank J.Later, Frank attempted to get Google to bring up Glenn's site if the terms "liberal assclown" were entered. Results were mixed.His latest attempt was to "declare war" on Glenn and asking bloggers to choose sides. Frank's side is the Blogging Alliance, Glenn's supporters are the Axis of Evil Naughty. It's all in good fun, and much entertaining mockery and gratuitous linkage will ensue as a result.Enjoy the spectacle.Sadly, there is quite a bit of truth in this. For many people, blogging really is "a hobby of pure ego," as those folks hoodwinked into joining the "Blog Wars" will surely attest to if you ask them.Now the problem with this sort of thing is that some very talented bloggers with interesting things to say and lexicons versatile enough to ensure that what is said is fun to read can suffer from the bloated rankings of blogs on the Alliance's (or a similar organization's) blogroll. As a result of the "gratuitous linkage" and the huge role links play in ranking blogs on the highly influential Truth Laid Bear, many crappy websites clutter the upper echelons of the ecosystem and appear in search engines while many weblogs deserving that level of attention languish unread because no one can find them.Essentially these websites, like some steroid-abusing athletes, have earned their success less through hard work and quality than by taking shortcuts. As a result, baseball fans and blog readers grow to distrust an entire sport or medium.What so many people forget about the blog is that it is really little more than a website. The fact that people regard blogging as a fad has erroneously caused the public to use a sort of nomenclature when regarding blogging that gives the distinct impression that a weblog is a new thing on the web, which is untrue. Even when most people couldn't figure out how to use HTML to make a webpage's background white instead of the generic grey that used to be so common on the internet, a few folks were blogging by updating their HTML every so often. (It used to be called "updating a web page," remember?) A few of those sites grew into popular stops on the web because the people behind them were creative and hard-working. Now that blogging software has made it as easy to blog as to use a word processor, many people are just throwing their ragged hats into the ring, even when they have relatively little to say. The problem is when someone says "hey, give me your hats and I'll make a big pile over here so no one will notice the hats everywhere else. Then everyone will like your hats!" Now talent and dedication must pit itself against petty attention-seeking, and its becoming increasingly more difficult for some very good bloggers to climb ladders like that of the Truth Laid Bear's ecosystem, and this sad fact threatens to ruin yet another subcultural practice with revolutionary potential. Eventually some really good blogs are going to fade away because, sooner or later, you're going to realize that in the ecosystem some very talented nice guys almost always finish last.So, my suggestion to the world is to give link doping the stigma it deserves. Even when the lure of greater traffic or more links lures you to the point of joining an empty alliance (there will always be some very good niche communities; I am not speaking about those), remember that link doping pretty much sucks. And no one wants to suck.See, I would welcome a rise in the ecosystem for my website. However, my blog is an extension of a fanzine I started in high school and I value it too much to hawk it on the blogroll of someone who has never actually read my writing. Likewise, I don't want to give the impression that I endorse something I do not. Links used to be a pretty nice way of showing that you really liked someone's work; now, thanks to link doping, a link means a lot less. Like a 30 home run season. Now, if someone actually reads my writing and enjoys it, then I would love it if they would link to my website. That would mean something.[Note: I use hyperbole and stereotypes here as a tongue-in-cheek way of making a point.] It's like the so-called "Minnesota Nice," the tendency many Midwesterners have towards being nice to everyone. I want my smile to mean something when I flash a grin to a friend or an acquaintance. I want my greeting to be genuine, to show the person I greet that they mean something to me. Minnesota Nice pretty much proscribes that you never express indifference to an acquaintance; you greet everyone the same way. This is basically dishonesty in my opinion. If someone doesn't want to say hello to me, I don't want them to. Let them reserve their friendly greetings for the people they truly care about. That way loved ones can feel loved and actually know that they are a priority in someone's life. New Jersey's pretty cool in that regard. If you hate someone, you flip them off. In Minnesota, you hug them. If you love someone in Jersey you hug them just like you do in Minnesota. Where do you think a hug means more? The same goes with links. Link to me if you love me and if I love someone, I'll link to them. Endorsements have to mean something again, don't you think?End link doping now!Originally published at Sobriquet Magazine. Culture31257@blogcritics.org Sun, 19 Jun 2005 01:13:01 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/06/18/030722.php SobriquetAccording to an article appearing in Friday's edition of the Binghamton, NY-based Press and Sun Bulletin, Nick Spano (R-Westchester) and Tom Libous (R-Binghamton) proposed a legislative measure which would punish repeat DUI offenders by forcing them to purchase and display alphabetically and/or numerically coded license plates to facilitate police surveillance. Though the New York State branch of the American Civil Liberties Union have raised questions about the constitutional ethics of such punitive activity, similar measures have successfully been implemented in Georgia, Minnesota and Ohio, where convicted drunken drivers must use color-coded license plates.The proposed legislation, according to the Press and Sun Bulletin story, would require all drivers convicted of three DUI offenses in a five year period or four offenses within a decade to use the new license plates for a period of two years. Senator Spano's website, however, reports that the legislation would require a driver to surrender his or her license plates after three DWI offenses in five years or five offenses within a ten-year span. Furthermore, Spano's website reports, a driver would also have to give up his or her plates if convicted of DWI while driving with a minor under the age of sixteen as a passenger, if he or she refuses to submit to a chemical test, or if the driver's blood-alcohol level is greater than .20.Additionally, according to Spano's press release, the proposed bill "would make it a crime for a driver to operate outside the parameters of a conditional license--currently it is only a traffic violation.This would apply to a conditional license holder on a public highway for an unauthorized purpose. Usually conditional licenses permit a driver to get to and from their place of employment.Such operation would result in a misdemeanor charge and suspension of their vehicle registration for 90 days."The bill also proposes harsher penalties for those drivers convicted of driving with a suspended or revoked license.My opinions on the matter can be found here. Culture31218@blogcritics.org Sat, 18 Jun 2005 03:07:22 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/06/06/214845.php SobriquetI read a Reuters story earlier today that might be making some headlines soon. Basically, a new study of the effects of simple genetic manipulation on fruit flies in the current issue of Cell has evidentially shown that sexual orientation can be altered in the species.What interests me about the story is the debate I anticipate emerging out of it. For as long as I can remember, people have been arguing either that homosexuality is an innate part of the homosexual's being or a choice made by the individual. Usually the latter was a religiously-based argument rooted--when not purely in some vague dogma--in a passage in Leviticus (which also prohibits eating shellfish) or in the story of Sodom and Gomorra. I suspect this little study will cause some lively debate between Biblical literalists and other individuals holding the attitude that homosexuality is a choice and those folks of a more scientifically-oriented bent.[Of course those people on the side of science haven't always been right about sexuality, either. Many people will remember the case of David (a.k.a. Bruce a.k.a. Brenda) Reimer, the Canadian boy whose doctors convinced his parents to raise him as a girl after a botched circumcision. Basically, what these Winnipeg doctors believed was that gender behavior (and, by extension, sexual preference) was entirely a product of one's environment. They simply wanted to spare the boy the sort of humiliation one might expect living with a severly mutilated penis would cause and figured "making" him a girl physically would make him a girl internally as well. Then all would be swell.Except that, despite the hormone medicine and parental treatment, Reimer grew up to be a big lesbian tomboy.So the scientific community sort of realized that they couldn't, in fact, just alter someone's gender and call it a day. People are born with preferences. Reimer's were heterosexual. It was as simple as that.]In recent years, neuroscientists have shown that sexuality has physiological roots. Brain scans, for instance, show that homosexual men tend to have brains that differ slightly from those of their straight counterparts. Now, some people will argue that given the plasticity of the human brain, the choice to "become gay" will have altered the brains of homosexual men so that they no longer resemble those of heterosexual men. And the argument will blow up again.But, despite the fact that the Cell study only deals with fruit flies, it seems those people on the side of "they're born that way" will have some new ammunition in their arsenal. It's not much, but I think it may be the first step towards building a fact-based understanding of human sexuality. I mean, now that people understand that depression is caused by neurotransmitters as opposed to demonic intervention or a choice to become sullen, we've been better equipped to understand and accept melancholia in our society. I am certain that the Biblical literalists championing Leviticus will argue that the scientists "made the flies gay" and that, as a result, the study is bogus since God made the flies straight.I just hope people realize the important thing: sexual behavior is genetic. The flies didn't choose anything.Originally published at www.sobriquetmagazine.com. Culture30644@blogcritics.org Mon, 6 Jun 2005 21:48:45 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/06/03/022814.php SobriquetSo, MGM has finally acknowledged its deformed son and re-released Tod Browning's macabre classic Freaks (1932) on DVD. Widely banned until its popular rediscovery during 1960s and heavily cut to appease only the harshest and most influential of the film's many critics, the mutilated version of Freaks (the original "director's cut," as it were, evidentially vanished) has hobbled and waddled its way into American cinematic and cultural history. And high time, too.Freaks is a true classic, one of those rare films that seems both ahead of its time and very much a product of it. You see, Freaks has the sort of didactic and pedantic feel as, say, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress or Simone Lazaroo's The Australian Fiancée, the melodramatic cadences of a Susan Lucci soap opera, and pleas for the same socio-political egalitarianism sought by the American civil rights movement in the sixties. The film was also produced during the Great Depression, between two wars, in an intellectual climate teeming with Darwinian notions of natural selection and crackpot post-Freudian sexual theories, at the tail end of the traveling carnival's heyday, just before advances in medicine made many "normalizing" operations possible, when physical aberrations often meant death, storage in special "homes," or exploitation at the hands of the ruthless capitalists running circus sideshows. Indeed, Freaks slithers out of this mess and lets the viewer stew in the discomfort it engenders.What makes the film all the more striking is the rather ambiguous morality its very existence suggests. Is the film merely another exploitative exhibition of physically-aberrant individuals for the financial benefit of the "normals" behind the scenes? Is Freaks a political manifesto in the guise of popular entertainment? Is the film compassionate to the freaks therein? Is the plot gratuitous? Why did the Janus-faced MGM sensationalize and publicize the visual spectacle of the film's stars while simultaneously rebuking the social motivations driving such entertainment? And the list of questions goes on, ad infinitum.In any case, Freaks is a remarkable film well worth watching over and over. Firstly, it must be said, the film does make for an amazing viewing experience precisely because of the assortment of deformed, misshapen people flickering across the screen. Honestly, the limbless "Living Torso" (Prince Randian), the "Half Boy" (Johnny Eck), the microcephalic "Pinheads" (Elvira Snow, Jenny Lee Snow, and Schlitze), and the chiropodic pyrotechnics of the armless girls (Martha Morris and Frances O'Connor) are so visually stunning that viewers might not notice the conjoined twins, the human skeleton, the bearded lady, the hermaphrodite, the bird people, let alone the relatively normal-looking little people in the film.Oh yeah. There's a plot to the film, too. And not a bad one, either. Certainly a great deal of the film is devoted to (depending on your disposition) either documenting and preserving or exploiting the unique appearances and abilities of the film's cast. I mean, seriously, watching Prince Randian open a box of matches, strike a stick, light his cigarette, and extinguish the flame while holding a conversation is not something you see all that often, and the film allows you to stare. Now whether or not the staring is a life-affirming celebration of the "ability" in "disability" is up to the individual, but you better believe Freaks delights in bringing such spectacles to the unsuspecting masses. Still, there is a story, a rather compelling, though simple, plot dealing with a love quadrangle encompassing two little people engaged to be married (Hans and Frieda, played by the real-life siblings, Harry and Daisy Earles); a tall, blonde trapeze artist named Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova) who toys with Hans's heart; and her strongman boy-toy, Hercules (Henry Victor). Basically, Cleopatra notices that Hans has eyes for her and pretends to return his affection to amuse her friends and benefit from the diminutive German's generosity. When a concerned Frieda confronts Cleopatra, the former accidentally reveals that Hans has recently inherited a fortune and Cleopatra contrives to marry and subsequently poison Hans in order to obtain the fortune for herself (and possibly Hercules, who supports Clio's efforts). After embarrassing Hans at their wedding ceremony and getting caught trying to poison her husband, Cleopatra finds herself at the mercy of a vengeful mob of freaks in the film's brilliant climactic sequence. Several sub-plots interweave with the main thread, making for an all-around good movie.Tod Browning, having earned his fame during the silent film era, never really took to the talking picture form. Partly owing to the director's inexperience and partly due to the fact that Freaks cast a slew of people with little to no acting experience alongside several heavily-accented thespians, much of the dialogue seems stunted or forced, even for an era often criticized by modern viewers for awkward speech. Yet, the dialogue is at least consistently passable, and occasionally quite good. Still, Browning's reluctance to abandon the visual tactics he perfected during the silent film era during awkward forays into talking pictures yielded some truly beautiful visual sequences. For instance, as film historian and Browning biographer David J. Skal observes during his commentary on Freaks, the wedding banquet scene is so expertly choreographed that the removal of sound from the film would not prevent the viewer from understanding what occurs or from feeling the range of emotions the director strives to elicit. (The scene was, in fact, largely filmed without sound, with the soundtrack added during production). Which brings me to the DVD bonus features. Unless I missed an Easter Egg or something, I watched the alternate endings (which were, for the most part, truncated versions of the film's conclusion), the documentary "Freaks: Sideshow Cinema," the Prologue tacked onto the film for its revival in the sixties, and listened to the commentary track in its entirety and I can't say that I was elated.First of all, the Prologue is merely a preachy curio with marginal historical significance. The alternate endings, even with Skal's commentary, are not terribly interesting since the film's real "deleted scenes" were so deleted that they no longer exist in any form. The hour-long documentary, however, has its merits. Despite its occasionally fluffy content, the program does seek to answer many of the questions viewers of the film have. In addition to the decent case made for the film's significance as a cultural and historical artifact and the occasionally interesting information about the predictably varied public reception of the film, Sideshow Cinema unearths the biographies of many of the cast members before, during, and after the filming of Freaks. Additionally, the documentary reveals the ways in which the film was marketed, recounts the script's genesis, and gives a good introduction to Hollywood's milieu in the time preceding the implementation of the censorious Production Code.Likewise, Skal's commentary provides a wealth of interesting information about the cast of the film and highlights some of Browning's best directorial decisions. You know, standard fare for DVD commentary. The commentary track's greatest virtue, however, is Skal's occasional explication of some of the more baffling parts of Freaks. Since nearly one-third of the film was lopped off Freaks in order to appease nervous studio executives, several key scenes contain peculiar, unexplained dialogue or footage. Skal does his best to fill in the blanks, which is a considerable task given the fact that so much of the film was swept off of the cutting room floor and into cinematic oblivion. That said, the commentary is difficult to listen to at times. Whereas the best DVD commentaries tend to be the extemporaneous musings and anecdotal remembrances of cast and crew members, Skal's commentary was clearly written on paper and read aloud. On several occasions, Skal misreads or awkwardly emphasizes his speech. In other words, the pitfalls of high school oratory abound in Skal's commentary. What irks me most is how forced and unnatural the commentary sounds as a result. Rather than resemble a conversation or a good lecture, Skal's commentary reminds me of the sort of person who reads aloud from a tourist guidebook when his or her companions are trying to look at something and resent the distraction. Still, the information is often quite helpful in building a better appreciation of the film. It would just work better as liner notes. After all, if you can't read your own words to make them sound natural, you should stick to good-old black-and-white print. That way, at least, you won't ruin anything for anyone. To Skal's credit, though, he does mention the Ramones, whose "Pinhead" brought the film to my attention in the first place.All-in-all, Freaks is an excellent, thought-provoking film well worth owning. Given the quality of the digital transfer, the MGM DVD is worth picking up for the fifteen dollars or so I've seen it selling for. As long as you view the special features as a bonus and not a big reason for picking up the film on DVD instead of VHS, you shouldn't be disappointed.(Originally published at Sobriquet Magazine). Video30501@blogcritics.org Fri, 3 Jun 2005 02:28:14 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/23/222507.php SobriquetLet the debating begin. Suggested first comment: "How did Finding Nemo make the list while ______ did not?" I say, where's Jules Dassin's brilliant Night and the City? Also, more Bergman please!Here's the list, in alphabetical order:Aguirre: the Wrath of God (1972)The Apu Trilogy (1955, 1956, 1959)The Awful Truth (1937)Baby Face (1933)Bande à part (1964)Barry Lyndon (1975)Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980)Blade Runner (1982)Bonnie and Clyde (1967)Brazil (1985)Bride of Frankenstein (1935)Camille (1936)Casablanca (1942)Charade (1963)Children of Paradise (1945)Chinatown (1974)Chungking Express (1994)Citizen Kane (1941)City Lights (1931)City of God (2002)Closely Watched Trains (1966)The Crime of Monsieur Lange (1936)The Crowd (1928)Day for Night (1973)The Decalogue (1989)Detour (1945)The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972)Dodsworth (1936)Double Indemnity (1944)Dr. Strangelove: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)Drunken Master II (1994)E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)8 1/2 (1963)The 400 Blows (1959)Farewell My Concubine (1993)Finding Nemo (2003)The Fly (1986)The Godfather, Parts I and II (1972, 1974)The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (1966)Goodfellas (1990)A Hard Day's Night (1964)His Girl Friday (1940)Ikiru (1952)In A Lonely Place (1950)Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)It's A Gift (1934)It's A Wonderful Life (1946)Kandahar (2001)Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)King Kong (1933)The Lady Eve (1941)The Last Command (1928)Lawrence of Arabia (1962)Léolo (1992)The Lord of the Rings (2001-03)The Man With a Camera (1929)The Manchurian Candidate (1962)Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)Metropolis (1927)Miller's Crossing (1990)Mon oncle d'Amérique (1980)Mouchette (1967)Nayakan (1987)Ninotchka (1939)Notorious (1946)Olympia, Parts 1 and 2 (1938)On the Waterfront (1954)Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)Out of the Past (1947)Persona (1966)Pinocchio (1940)Psycho (1960)Pulp Fiction (1994)The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)Pyaasa (1957)Raging Bull (1980)Schindler's List (1993)The Searchers (1956)Sherlock, Jr. (1924)The Shop Around the Corner (1940)Singin' in the Rain (1952)The Singing Detective (1986)Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)Some Like It Hot (1959)Star Wars (1977)A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)Sunrise (1927)Sweet Smell of Success (1957)Swing Time (1936)Talk to Her (2002)Taxi Driver (1976)Tokyo Story (1953)A Touch of Zen (1971)Ugetsu (1953)Ulysses' Gaze (1995)Umberto D (1952)Unforgiven (1992)White Heat (1949)Wings of Desire (1987)Yojimbo (1961) Video30030@blogcritics.org Mon, 23 May 2005 22:25:07 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/23/135427.php SobriquetI finished listening to Norman Dietz's excellent recording of Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer on Saturday. Ironically the novel's closing words faded just as I passed the huge Huck Finn's Warehouse billboard looming over the commercially- and industrial-dense outskirts of Albany. It was a sign. Literally. I will have to re-read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn as soon as I can.In any case, I'm pretty fond of audiobooks, both in terms of their practical application as well as aesthetically. However, most audio recordings are rather uninspired and ultimately forgettable. I mean, ninety percent of the recorded books I've listened to remind me, in some way, of the famous Seinfeld episode where George Costanza becomes so addicted to audiobooks that he cannot read any longer and must resort to feigning a disability in order to get someone to record the book for him. Not surprisingly for a Seinfeld episode, the voice of the book's narrator bears an unpleasant resemblance to that of a pre-pubescent Gilbert Godfried and George cannot bear to listen to the recording. I find I have the same problem with many audiobooks. Either the narrator's reading of certain scenes and characters are simply ridiculous or the narrator's voice is totally wrong for the recording.While Norman Dietz does occasionally hit a few such snags, I find his reading of Twain to be one of the best audiobooks I've heard. Truth be told, the only instance in which Mr. Dietz's reading seems a bit lacking is in his rendition of Huckleberry Finn, who comes across as more than mildly cartoonish and sounds awkwardly aged for a young boy. Plus, as often occurs in audio recordings by males, Dietz's female voices seem a trifle hyperbolic at times. Yet these are relatively minor flaws in what is really one of the better recordings out there.Dietz manages to evoke a huge cast of believable characters with his impressively versatile voice and, perhaps most importantly, seamlessly embeds them in the fabric of Twain's narrative, which he reads magnificently. Treading the delicate line between the genuine appreciation of youth and the sensitive parody of youthful antics, the narrative voice of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer is not easy to convey. Yet Dietz does so, and sounds utterly enthusiastic about it all the while.Save for Ethan Hawke's wonderful reading of Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five, this is the best audiobook I own, hands-down.Originally produced in 1986 by Recorded Books, LLC, Dietz's reading of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer has been reissued in an inexpensive edition ($19.95 for four cassettes) by State Street Press.Originally published at www.sobriquetmagazine.com. Books29990@blogcritics.org Mon, 23 May 2005 13:54:27 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/16/222132.php SobriquetCOPENHAGEN - According to Monday's edition of the Danish newspaper Ekstra Bladet, "completely normal Danes without criminal backgrounds" have begun "buying and selling foreign women into prostitution." As a result, the Chinese and Albanian mafias have made significant inroads into the Northern European nation.Troels Oerting Joergensen, Denmark's Chief Criminal Inspector, reportedly told the newspaper that "over this past year we are beginning to see completely normal Danes involved in the trafficking of women. They are people that belong to the more respectable part of society, and haven't otherwise any contact with the criminal milieu, but who have also discovered that, in a short time, one can make a comfortable living dealing in women."According to Ekstra Bladet, several so-called "normal Danes" offered to sell East European and African women to undercover reporters; the price for two black women was purportedly six thousand Danish crowns ($1017 US).Trine Lund-Jensen, the leader of Stop Kvindehandel, a Danish crisis center which combats the practice, as reported by the Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten, says that involvement in such sex trade is "in fact very easy. When you drive across the German border in your Volvo, you can buy a gypsy for fifty euros ($63 US) or a bit more. Then you drive home with her and three, four others. If you drug them a little, they're easy to take home. And if you have a good cellar where they can stay and a good internet site, yes, people will come sure enough and you're in business."On The Web: Aftenposten Ekstra Bladet*Note: I have translated the Danish and Norwegian to the best of my ability so that I might share this story with English-speaking readers. Any flaws are entirely my own. All the information in this article (in its original context) may be found in the links above this note (for those readers able to read Norwegian and Danish).(From www.sobriquetmagazine.com) Culture29593@blogcritics.org Mon, 16 May 2005 22:21:32 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/05/02/224722.php SobriquetThere are times when I look back at my childhood and wish I'd watched much less television. I mean, I'm pretty sure I could have found something more enriching to do than watch reruns of Rerun visiting "Roge" on What's Happinin'? or, sadly enough, on the spinoffed sequel, What's Happinin' Now? N'ertheless, I did spend those long hours, chin in folded hands, lying flat on my stomach, watching Who's The Boss and Small Wonder and Diff'rent Strokes, and Mr. Belv...you get the picture. In any case, I sit around sometimes and wish I'd used some of that time for other, more worthwhile pursuits. Yet today I remember something I doubt I would have recalled had I not watched as many hours of the telly:There was this commercial for Tootsie Rolls, those lollipops with unchewably hardened chocolate chews at the center. Remember those? In any case, there was this owl and a child. The owl, of course, was assumed to be wise while the boy, young and innocent as children are often believed to be, was naive. The boy, not surprisingly, had a Tootsie Pop in his hand and wondered how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, a very valid question, though presumably a conundrum one cannot answer conclusively. That's the cuteness of it, I suppose. No child, or very few children, will look at the piece of confectionery and consider how tongue length, saliva acidity and volume, or lick pressure might effect the outcome, nor, presumably, would many folks ponder the possibility that not every Tootsie Roll has the same amount of hard candy encasing the (ideally) gooey center. Yet viewers would have a vague sense that the child's question was lacking in some more advanced consideration which could only result from years of exercising deductive reasoning and abstract thought. So, the child approached the wise, bespectacled owl with his question. The owl decides that he will uncover the answer using the empirical method: he begins lapping away at the candy, counting each lick aloud. One, he counts,...Two......Three...The the unthinkable occurs: the owl's beak slams down upon the barely-licked Tootsie Roll and c-r-r-r-r-un-n-nch! the bird's vice-like jaws crush the candy. Thr-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e, he proclaims calmly, much to the boy's chagrin and presumably appealing to our sense of humor. Then a stuffy man's voiceover concludes that we may never know the answer, presumably because Tootsie Rolls are so good that we can never wait the time it takes for a lollipop shell to dissolve before we go for that delicious, corn syrup and God knows what else marrow.And this was a pretty memorable commercial for me. I actually remember trying to figure out (like many other children, I imagine) just how many licks it would take. If I recall it correctly, it was something live forty-seven eight-year-old Erik licks. Then again, I may well have constructed that memory. No matter, though, as my point isn't really about the commercial (since all I could say about it should be glaringly obvious to any reader). Rather, it occurred to me as I lay sprawled out atop my futon, that I have a similar question for the world as I contemplate working at a pointlessly draining job this evening:How many shifts does it take before an individual begins trying to find ways to evade his or her work?Because, man, I do not want to work. I hate anything with hourly pay rates. I mean, when we sign up to do something for X dollars an hour, we're tacitly engaging in some Sartrean mauvais foi. Think about it for a moment. Should an individual sign on to work in, say, a corporate chain bookstore for $6.75 an hour, he or she is, in a very real sense, saying that his or her life can be sold, like shares in a company, for a certain price, in this case, a quarter less than what I once paid for Boomer Esiason's Topps rookie card. See, unlike salary, hourly wage positions literally commodify one's existence. A given portion of one's pitifully limited time atop the soil he or she will one day dissolve into, as per the wage agreement, is given a set value. Whereas a salary implies that the task you do, no matter how much of your life it takes to complete (though retail management jobs do still carry a sizable minimum hourly commitment, for instance), is worth X amount of dollars, wage positions make no such claim. Mowing a lawn is worth twenty dollars no matter how long it takes. You could slave over an acre of grass for many, many hours with a rusting hulk of an aging push-reel mower or you can speed over it with a riding mower. Nevertheless, the job is worth twenty dollars. Now, on an hourly scale, say $7.00/hour, the push-reel mower may yield a seventy dollar profit while the riding mower (after the cost of gas is deducted from the pay) will barely earn the worker ten dollars, if that. I imagine a lot of people would balk at paying seventy or one hundred dollars for as small a task as mowing a relatively averaged-sized rural-suburban lawn. The job simply isn't worth the money. Not to me it isn't, at least.Now applying this logic to our lives, does it not imply that if I agree to perform a task for a set amount of dollars that I agree, tacitly, on the value of the task? Generally speaking, of course. Now, does it not also imply that agreeing to work at a bookstore for $6.75 an hour, regardless of the day's task load, that I agree my time, and by extension, my very existence, is worth the pitiful sum aforementioned? If I do something twice the speed of a coworker and half the speed of another (say, shelving Sociology books or self-help manuals) for the same amount of time, we each receive the same recompense. And something about it does not seem right. For, as I've already said, we are quantifying that most precious, invaluable of human assets as we would a length or rope or means of conveyance. And most people, I hope, don't like that idea.The fact that we disagree with that which we agree to do amounts to Orwellian doublethink or, as I've already asserted, mauvais foi, bad faith. We know on a very real, very fundamental level that our lives are not, cannot be worth so little, yet we agree to prostitute ourselves for the alleged promise of benefits derived from services rendered. Yet we all know full well that if someone gets paid $8.00 for every hour he or she spends reading a book or watching a movie or chatting with a friend while manning the front desk of an unpopular hotel and someone else gets paid $6.00 to stand up all day over a hot, greasy fast-food griddle, slaving and sweating over food he or she will not taste, something is amiss. And we're told, the world's not fair and stop complaining, be grateful for what you have and the like, which are, in their way, very valid approaches towards this life we call home, temporary as it may be. Ultimately, though, we dislike the idea that are life is only worth X dollars an hour. We know, to ourselves at least, we are worth so, so much more than that. We would pay many times what we earn for additional hours on earth, I imagine.What hourly wage forces the individual to understand is the vast indifference of the world to the individual. Most anyone can shelve books or flip burgers, so if you wont do it for six dollars, someone else will. Otherwise the pay wouldn't be as low. People do not particularly enjoy the understanding that they aren't worth anything extraordinary because the individual knows, positively and completely knows and feels that he or she is too precious to be quantified, divided, appraised, and packaged. We are not, to borrow John Lydon's lyric, "a crap in a cling-wrap," or, at the very least, we don't want to admit it.If we agree to place a price on our time, we are essentially assenting to allow others to objectify us as they would a piece of tile or an automobile headlight. Allowing ourselves to become objects while still alive is a flat denial, though rarely identified as such, of our tenuous humanity. I do realize that I am simplifying certain things and hyperbolizing others to make a point, but I do so with the hope of making a point I feel passionate about. We aren't as worthless as we are. Not to ourselves. And this is why retail jobs and similarly-structured fiscal situations often wound our self-esteem and result in bitterness. We know we're worth more than these people say we are, but we agree to be treated as if we are only so much, only a few dollars an hour. And the indignation that arises is not the anger we feel towards annoying customers or mundane tasks, but a subtle form of self-loathing, an anger tinged with the unneameable shame we feel at what we know we allow ourselves to become. It is, all too frequently, a recognition of our own weakness, our own failures and shortcomings, often things we know we coula, shoulda changed. We know we've accepted something we've rejected and, in so doing, we realize we've rejected a fundamental piece of our selves in the process. We can come up with thousands of excuses, only a handful of which are truly acceptable. And for those lucky few whose reasons are valid and noble (I accept this wage-job because I am building something, etc.), these critiques are irrelevant. I speak to those of us who settle for too little and know it, those of us who fail in achieving what we know we can and want to do. I speak to those of us who drop the frightening responsibility we have for our own existences to hand control over our lives to someone or something else. And we know it if our excuses are excuses and not reasons. If it is a valid reason, we're not dissatisfied with ourselves. If it is an excuse, no amount of disguise will hide the truth from ourselves. We'll feel it every time we get annoyed by "dumb" circumstance, each instant of ennui, each recognition of a second lopped off irrevocably from our ever-shortening breath on this earth.And this is also the problem of adjunct professors, on salary as it may be. You know you are worth as much, are as qualified as much as full tenured professors, but agree to a system of exploitation in order to not deal with naked reality.No one really wants to admit we really wasted something as precious as ourselves, but we do, are doing it, will likely continue to do it, because we are afraid of the consequences of unfamiliarity and the lack of security, illusory as that can be. We must, to borrow from Dylan Thomas's homage to his dying father, rage, rage against the dying of the light of Reason. We need to acclimate our eyes to the painfully bright truth of our existence and realize that we have allowed ourselves to fall into the same mechanized patterns as the gadgets pumping away at night, making sheepskin condoms and novelty pens for tourists. If after all the reflection neccesary for that sort of self-evaluation, one can honestly agree with all the little social contracts he or she has signed in lifeblood, the individual can still, truthfully say to oneself, I do not regret this, a measure of contentment should not be too elusive.Because, really, an hour of one's life should not be worth a Big Mac meal and bus fare to another part of a city. We know it and our feelings will tell us all our minds refuse to do.Postscript: I do realize, as I glance back over this thing, that I should emphasize that I am aware of my rather privledged position as an American. Certainly, the conditions in other regions of the world are unthinkably, unspeakably horrific in terms of living wages. I mean, even in economically-depressed areas where items we pay exorbant prices to obtain cost a fraction of what we would shell out, people earn pennies and live in hovels, unable to afford basic necessities. And this, too, is a byproduct of the heinous attitudes I allude to. And we all have heard this tune before, but it bears repeating. If Nike exploits child labor and pays workers a couple of cents to assemble insipidly aerodynamic Air Jordans, it only testifies to the same problem as I've sought to approach with this blog entry. The fact that our beloved companies can so brazenly say "the lives of generic Indonesians are worth 42 cents/hour" and the fact that so many of us accept it, joke about it, forget it is all too poignant a measure of our own complicity in such a system and our unwillingness to recognize the problem as it effects us, daily, in our homes, relationships, and minds. It's a nice way of ignoring what we're doing to and allowing to be done to ourselves.Furthermore, I want to say that this entry is little more than a gesture towards something. I am not, as any reader can clearly see, a professional philosopher or sociologist, political scientist or serious essayist, but I nevertheless wish to say these things. Please forgive the obvious shortcomings, lapses in reason, unfulfilled lines of thought, and the incomplete nature of this writing. There is much more to be said, but I must be off to slave at my retail job, hypocritically...(Originally posted at sobriquetmagazine.com) Culture28967@blogcritics.org Mon, 2 May 2005 22:47:22 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/04/30/123241.php SobriquetBERLIN-Armin Meiwes, the German computer technician convicted of murdering and consuming a man he met over the internet, will be retried, since many consider his conviction too lenient. The 41-year old man, who claims to have fantasized about cannibalism since early childhood, was convicted of manslaughter in January 2003 and sentenced to eight and one-half years behind bars.What continues to fascinate the German public about the Meiwes case is that his murder and subsequent consumption of 43 year-old Bernd-Jurgen Brandes was entirely consentual. Indeed, the pair met after Brandes replied to an internet personal ad which explicitly solicited "young, well-built men aged 18 to 30 to slaughter" in March, 2001.Though Brandes's former girlfriend claims never to have heard him express an interest in being eaten and insists that "Bernd would never have allowed himself to be killed... it was murder," a videotape recorded by Meiwes and Brandes in the former's Rotenburg home seems to indicate otherwise. In the two-hour film, Brandes allows Meiwes to sever his penis from his body, cook the appendage, and consume it together. After the "meal," if one can call it that, Brandes prepares for his slaughter by drinking a large quantity of alcohol, imbibing cold medicine, and swallowing some twenty sleeping pills. Following the killing, Meiwes prepared the corpse, froze pieces of it, and continued eating Brandes for several months.Meiwes was only arrested after an Austrian student noticed another ad the man had placed online seeking an arrangement similar to the Brandes situation.Now, obviously, people have been drawn to the case's shocking nature and Meiwes's calm demeanor (he has granted several interviews, expressed a desire to write his memoirs while in prison, and has warned people to curb their cannibalistic desires lest they end up like him). Of course, the fact that Meiwes informed the German newspaper, Die Welt am Sonntag that he has "intense and positive memories of Bernd" and that "I have his face permanently before me. That's the sign of a friendly relationship," only disturbs people all the more.One need not be a genius to know that the more extreme the behavior, the farther into the fringes of human behavior a person may plumb, the greater the media interest, but Meiwes's case is particularly fascinating because of its legal implications.In some ways, Meiwes behavior has been compared to that of Jack Kevorkian. Basically, if you kill a person with their consent, some folks would argue, you aren't behaving as badly as if you kill a person aginst their will. (In Horace McCoy's excellent They Shoot Horses, Don't They? the reader sympathizes with the protagonist because he faces the gallows for having killed a depressed woman in accordance with her wishes, showing that such an argument has, at the very least, been advanced before).The event has been further complicated by the fact that Brandes's death came, apparently, while he was in good health, both mentally and physically. In other words, Brandes's death was not that of a suicidal man or of a person suffering from a physical ailment. It was, it would seem, motivated purely by an extreme form of sexual fetishization. And this is what disturbs the hell out of people. I would suggest that more people are probably frightened of what the case may reveal about human nature than by any fear of the smiling man behind bars. Indeed, this is the problem people face when confronting forces ranging from psychopathy to rage. The fact that these things do exist implies that no matter what our rules and regulations do, they will continue to exist, somewhere and in some form.Let's look at a psychopath or sociopath for a moment. Little could be more frightening than the realization that it is entirely possible that a person might not have any qualms about killing for fun (Meiwes, Dahmer, etc.) or profit (those fellows Rae Carruth hired), that they might not even care if they are caught or killed in response to their actions. Really, all this does it remind us that rules and laws are limited. They only protect people insofar as most people are willing to follow the legal restrictions placed upon the world. Basically, some people will not care about the rules we have put into place to make living a familiar and comfortable state of being. We are reminded that, though most people may share certain values or beliefs, the rules that emerge out of these shared values are, essentially, arbitrary. In other words, for a person with no regard for these regulatory measures, nothing prevents them from killing or otherwise harming others.It is a deeply existential realization. The world is not as kind and nice as it may seem; that is simply a veneer we choose to see and believe in. Sadly, we only begin discussing these things when we see something as unsettling as the Meiwes-Brandes affair. We can't blame a cold-blooded killer motivated by greed; we can only observe that lust, the warped, bastard cousin of love, precipitated an unimaginable (to the mainstream) act.As Meiwes estimates, there are upwards of 800 cannibals in Germany, though only a very few ever act on the urge. Whether or not this is true, it does remind us, again, that what we do not want to exist, does. See, the problem with laws is that, for the most part, they are made for the people that will follow them. They do little to prevent their being ignored by those people indifferent to them.Once in a while something comes along that scares the shit out of us, not simply because of its brutality or pathos, but owing much to its screaming reminder that we can dress Relativism up in any way we'd like, but still remain, in the end, helpless in its face.We're just luck most of us agree to be nice and law-abiding. I mean, we're all snug underneath the legal-moral-ethical blanket we drape over the world and assume everyone likes, but there are a few heads peeping out of the corner recognizing, as Paul Bowles would have it, it is only a sheltering sky blocking out what Nietzsche would call the sun of nihilism.Originally published at www.sobriquetmagazine.com. Politics28857@blogcritics.org Sat, 30 Apr 2005 12:32:41 EDT http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/04/30/122031.php SobriquetSo, there's a big deal being made over this Norwegian rap group, Gatas Parliament.Basically, IFILM has posted what claims to be a music video the Norwegian government has banned for advocating direct violent action against the George Bush. Evidentially these fellows have been trying to raise money to hire a hitman to assassinate the president. They've had a bunch of Web sites devoted to the project and have been rather outspoken in the Scandinavian press regarding their disdain for Bush.In any case, I checked out the video, which I will get to later. First, a bit about the band.The following is my own poor (it's been nearly a decade since I've been around det norske spraaket) English translation of Gatas Parlament's biography, as posted on their Web site (I have added parenthetical translations for several names):Gatas Parlament (or Street Parliament) is a revolutionary Norwegian-language rap group from Oslo's Eastside consisting of Elling Batman Zedong, Aslak and Don Martin. But it wasn't always so.Well, to be precise, it began in about the same way.Once, in 1993, Elling had rapped a bit for himself, but grew tired of not having anybody to perform for so he got his brother Aslak to join in. After they grew tired of listening to each other, they decided to start a band. The band was called Kveldens Hoedepunkt (or The Evening's High Point). In about ten minutes.Then Elling and Aslak realized that they also needed a DJ. Don Martin was the natural choice. Don Martin didn't actually want to, but said yes when they promised to get rid of the idiotic name Kveldens Høydepunkt.The next day the three young gentlemen got together in a plaza in Oslo's east side to throw eggs and rotten tomatoes at Carl I. Hagen, who was trying to hold a speech. After having taken in enough rotten vegetables, Hagan said that it was the Street Parliament that controlled the country. With that, the name was set. The first Gatas Parlament release was called Autobahn til Union and lamented the fact that Norway refused to join the E.U.Things went smoothly after that. Autobahn til Union was initially slated to be produced by a longhaired, though nice, gentleman named Dr. Akbar. But after the disk was finished, the Gatas-gentlemen learned that Akbar had a couple of reservations, both aesthetic and religious in nature, so collaboration was impossible.As a wounded and depressed man with a rejection in hand, Dr. Akbar saw no other way out than to begin making films about the evil in the world. At this point, he started the film club Spis De Rike (or Eat the Rich) (the observant reader will discover here that fate called again a little later, but out of consideration for the rest of our story, we'll have to cool it with that).Thus, the record was on the free agent market again. Don Martin wanted to produce a bit, but out of fear of becoming a monopoly, they had to find someone else. One beautiful autumn evening in Kongsvinger, while Olympic trial runs went on outside (it's a fact!), they found Jester. He was rather wack, as he rapped with an American accent instead of in English, which was unheard of at the time. But anyway. He showed that he could both produce and rap and, furthermore, could do sound and drink cocoa, so he had to join.Jester's first contribution in gatas-history was on the EP, Slaa Tilbake (or Fight Back), which was released in 1996. He produced a bit while getting contacts that could get the band into a very religious studio which wasn't a place unknown to the brothers Elling and Aslak. Harald not only resembled Jesus, he could also do sound like a god. In fact, Slaa Tilbake is a damn good disk that everyone with respect for Norwegian hip-hop history should listen to all day while they send us money. All this time, Gatas Parlament used to play insane gigs around Norway. SOS Racisme's many local chapters, especially, got the honor of our regular visits and for no money, but Roed Ungdom (Red Youth), Natur og Ungdom (Nature and Youth) and a bunch of recreation clubs and the like had hundreds of shows. Natur og Ungdom proved to be so fond of Gatas that they wanted to release our stuff. A single called Naturkraft (Naturepower) was released and quickly slashed (our first TV news coverage, yo). Everyone was happy, especially because of the B-side of the single, namely the classic Nesevise.After that, everyone began making Norwegian rap. Ayayay.So, that's more or less the tone the band chooses to present itself in. It is a flawed translation, but it should serve its purpose for non-Norwegian speakers reading up on the band.Anyway, it would seem to me that the band has a tongue or two firmly planted in a cheek or two. Secondly, they say absolutely nothing new. I mean it's a really dumbed-down version of Michael Moore, who is himself a dumbed-down version of Jello Biafra who is, in turn, something of a dumbed down version of Noam Chomsky.Honestly, just how much influence can a Norwegian-language rap band have? I mean, even if we include all of Scandinavia and several million foreigners with knowledge of the languages spoken there, we barely have, what, 20 million or so people who could possibly understand the lyrics, let alone care about them.Furthermore, who hasn't heard complaints about American cultural and political imperialism? Seriously, most Americans hate it too. It's not like Fahrenheit 9/11 didn't say the same stuff.So, what's disturbing about the video, in the end, is that its music that could theoretically influence young, impressionable Norwegians to rise up against Americans, right? That it advocates shooting a political leader? That it says people should dance when the U.S. flag burns? I mean, really, if you watch CNN long enough you'll see a U.S. flag on fire with a cabal of anti-Americans dancing around the flaming Stars and Stripes. Does it make it okay?Well, I don't know. But here's the thing: anybody who takes Gatas Parlament seriously probably wouldn't have the brains to actually do anything even remotely threatening to Bush. If anything, the controversy banning the video has sparked is more damaging than a bunch of buffoons prancing about Old Kristiania as if it were Compton.Now, did anyone try to kill the Swedish royal family after listening to Ebba Gron's "Bevapna Er"? No. Why not? Because anyone who would do such a thing wouldn't need music to tell them to do so.Seriously, bands have been saying shit like this for years. From "Cop Killer" to MDC and on and on.Regardless, I think what Gatas says is pretty damn stupid. I also think that's why they say what they do - it's an attention-getting deal.Really, pop-anti-Americanism is so ubiquitous right now that anyone liable to agree with Gatas, in all likelihood, already thinks what they do. I mean, seriously, all they really say in the video is "America invades lots of countries. We hate them for that. Stupid old men run the country." Basically the sort of thing Mother Jones says.Now, the obvious sticking point is the whole crosshairs on the president thing. Okay. I see why that would piss people off. I mean, advocating the murder of anyone is horrible, but, as I have already said, consider the source. I mean, you can't make rappers any less relevant than Gatas Parlament. They speak to an exceptionally small population, the vast majority of whom live thousands of miles away from the U.S.And here's the thing. Is a Norwegian rap group advocating the assasination of a world leader truly scarier than Ike backing the murder of Patrice Lumumba in the Congo? Really, which do you think had more clout?Basically, the video isn't pleasant. I totally understand why people would be bothered by it, but I think people should also recognize that giving the band the publicity it has been getting is a bigger problem. Stale anti-Americanism will do nothing; if left alone Gatas Parlament will fade into oblivion, played once in a while and promptly forgotten. However, giving them the attention they're receiving as a result of a vapid music video does highlight their disturbing image, giving the band a currency it never would have had otherwise. Honestly, if we stop paying attention, Paris Hilton, the Olson Twins, Gatas Parlament, and other such crap will fade away. Think, what happened to Andrew Dice Clay when people stopped blushing at dick jokes?Gatas Parlament isn't the problem. They're self-important people with a very, very old message. Nothing they say, including the murder-for-hire bit, hasn't been said a thousand times before by considerably more eloquent people. They're little more than an annoying curio.If anyone is moved to action by something as petty and immature as the Gatas video, they were well on the path already. If someone is angry or unbalanced enough to do anything remotely like what Gatas (supposedly) advocates, a music video won't set them over the edge.Now, one big issue this raises is this: U.S. foreign policy has fucked some things up pretty badly and people are pissed. Gatas Parlament, then, does little more than translate into rythmic Norwegian what many people around the world have been saying for years: Iraq is a war of aggression. The Americans overstepped boundaries and W. spearheaded a lot of it.It comes down to free speech again. Does Gatas's message really pose a threat? No. There's certainly more threat from certain religious and political groups saying the same thing. If there's anything history has taught us, though, it is that the repression of an artist often backfires, even if the artist happens to be completely unoriginal and devoid of taste.Gatas Parlament advocates an ugly thing. I think most people would see what they say as extreme, silly, or both and leave it at that. Certainly, many people will agree, on some level, that U.S. government and foreign policy has been pretty bad and many will feel that the president has a lot to do with the direction things have gone. These people will nod or smirk at the video and leave it at that.The video is annoying. It promotes prejudicial hatred towards an entire nation, but this, too, is nothing new. And I think most people will understand that.I think it's more a matter of better-left-unsaid. Gatas Parlament should have had the good sense to keep their mouths shut; catchy though the song may be, they reveal that they are little more than boogie boarders on the wave of anti-Americanism. Before we worry about the doggie-paddling Gatas boys, let's worry about the cause of that tsunami.Duh.Originally published at www.sobriquetmagazine.com. Music28856@blogcritics.org Sat, 30 Apr 2005 12:20:31 EDT