Hi all.

I'm taking a couple of weeks off from The Back Row Manifesto to go and get myself married.

Back in two weeks.

Before I go, I thought I would leave you with a something personal to peruse in my absence.
Enjoy.

Portrait Of The Blogger As A Young Man: The Musical

5. Dissonance (Promo)/ Ben Hamper and Michael Moore Promo for Take No Prisoners
This was rock and roll in Flint, Michigan in the 1980's and early 90's. Take No Prisoners (do yourself a favor and follow that link for hours of Flint-y goodness) was a Saturday night radio show on WFBE (which stands for Flint Board of Education) hosted by Ben Hamper that featured punk rock, classic garage and metal music. It was all I listened to on the radio for most of my teenage years (except when I could get Brave New Waves from Canada), and it finally became a public access TV show in the late 80's. Wyatt Earp Records (R.I.P. Doug Earp) was the epicenter of the music buying scene, and I think I spent every penny I earned between the ages of 12-18 at the store. Dissonance was the best hardcore band in the city. I saw them a few times and I know I still have their cassettes around. Flint REPRESENT!

4. Hüsker Dü, Could You Be The One?
The hit that changed punk rock. One of my favorite bands.

3. Minor Threat, Live, 1983
Rock and Roll as democracy in action. The fiercest. What ever happened to kids? Sigh.

2. R.E.M., Wolves, Lower x2: Album and Demo versions
Chronic Town changed my twelve year-old life and was the bridge for me between what I was listening to as a kid and post-punk American and English music, heading finally into punk rock. It was all in the air, swirling together at the time, and never one to fit into a scene, I enjoyed it all.

1. My Bloody Valentine, I Only Said (Live).
Saw them only once. Detroit, on this tour. Best show ever.

Let me be honest with you from the get go in the hopes that a confession might be the best way to give what follows a little bit of much-needed context; I am an unabashed anglophile whose entire experience of England consists of a single 90-minute layover in Manchester airport. Which is to say, I know nothing of the place beyond what has been exported and filtered through the sieve of my own American experience. But oh, how I treasure what I have found; the punk rock music of the 1970’s, the post-punk genius of Joy Division and The Smiths, Liverpool Football Club and the whole of footballing culture and, most importantly to me, the imperial pint glass filled with a cool, refreshing beer. What this all adds up to for me is a way of life of sorts, one that, as an American (and in true American fashion), I can check into and out of like an isolated motel on a deserted road that is rarely frequented by other travelers.

It was the same for me in the early 1980’s of my youth; Growing up firmly middle-class in a working class city in the Midwest, I felt free to experience the things I liked, try on new bands, adapt my outward representation into a series of coded interpretations of what it meant to want to be, say, ‘punk rock’ (crappy jeans and a T-Shirt with Chuck Taylors on my feet) and to simultaneously be a competitive kid who wanted to be on the tennis team. While the overwhelming majority of my peers towed pop culture’s party line (watching Madonna erupt on MTV and lapping up Duran Duran records), there were others, the real working-class punk rock kids, who went whole hog down the post-punk road; safety pins, denim, Misfits, Doc Martens and all. I always envied them, not for their tastes and ideas (many of which I shared), but for the certainty of their convictions; I was alive and well in the post-punk moment and, as is my lot in life, I couldn’t give everything to the cause. While I loved the music and the attitude, I saw conflicts everywhere. My teenage heart was in a million places at once.

All of which has only enhanced my anglophilia later in life; Post-punk English culture has become a touchstone for me, a representation of class-consciousness (almost absent in America but front and center in my own experience of Regan-era Flint, MI) and an unfolding series of discoveries of things I love (The Jam, of whom I barely had a whiff as a kid, Quadrophenia which I discovered on VHS after recognizing the title from the album of the same name, and of course pies and chips!) and, not surprisingly, things I loathe. Top of the latter list? The blinkered regionalism and nationalism that can be found among those who have the least at stake in the continuation of nationalist identity. My love for all things English and working-class is tempered by my recognition of some truth in that exported image of lads gone wild; Racism, hooliganism, violent nights on the lash and all of the negative stereotypes that strike fear in the hearts of the right-thinking people everywhere.

But just as my loves are obviously exaggerated by my romantic associations (which are my own), my fears are certainly the same; I can never be certain of what post-punk Thatcherism was like for an English teen. I can only know what it felt like to be a teenager in a working class town in Ronald Regan’s American moment, and for me, there seemed enough parallel lines to cross any ocean and to keep my fascination with lad culture thriving to this day.

Which brings me, finally, to Shane Meadows’ This Is England. After an 80’s-soaked opening montage that perfectly establishes time and place, we meet Shaun (a phenomenal Thomas Turgoose), a working-class tween who recently lost his father (a solider in the Falkland Islands War) and who is living his days under the gray skies of the English midlands with his mopey mom, Cynthia (Jo Hartley). While the other kids at school seem to have already staked their place in the culture of cool (mods, Madonnawannabe’s, etc), Shaun’s bell-bottom corduroys and tight, shiny windbreaker make him the target of childhood cruelties. He is undefined and grieving, a young man looking for family and belonging without the comforts of either. After a chance encounter with Woody (Joe Gilgun), the sociable leader of a group of skinhead teens (more on this later), Shaun falls in with the lads and gets initiated into their world by being gifted all of the outward signs of the subculture; A shaved head, boots and braces, a Ben Sherman plaid shirt, etc. A single, sudden moment of kindness by Woody transforms Shaun and immediately infuses him with an identity and sense of belonging. A few strokes of the electric razor, and a new-found confidence emerges. The kid is alright.

Disorder: Thomas Turgoose as Shaun in Shane Meadows' This Is England.

Without warning, trouble arrives in the form of Combo (Stephen Graham), a 31-year-old ex-con skinhead who has been transformed by his prison experience. Crucially, Combo is no longer a young man; His world view has been corrupted by racist politics which have left him brooding and bitter. Out of the blue, Combo calls on Woody, Shaun and the other members of the group to share in his racist vision; When his diatribe alienates Milky (Andrew Shim), the only black member of the group, Woody and his friends decide to abandon Combo. But not Shaun; the lad is oblivious to politics and, after standing up to the much older man, is flattered by Combo’s fatherly attentions. Combo tries to seduce Shaun with the political ideology of the National Front (England's ultra-right wing, anti-immigrant political movement) and the climax of the film swirls around Shaun’s humanism and the inherent conflict it inspires when he witnesses an act of violence (I'll say no more here). By film’s end, his transformation is complete; Shaun is able to connect the dots between his own losses, his identity, and the problems of nationalism. But it all comes at a heavy cost.

Father Figure: Stephen Graham as Combo in This Is England

The movie is absolutely tremendous, falling comfortably into the grand tradition of Zéro de Conduite, The 400 Blows, The Loneliness of The Long Distance Runner, If… and Quadrophenia as a dystopian, deeply human coming-of-age story. It also does a fantastic job of reclaiming skinhead culture from the fascist history that has been the focus of films like Romper Stomper and American History X. In popular memory, particularly in America, the skinhead identity corresponds directly with the neo-Nazi subculture which, through acts of racial violence, became a tabloid sensation in the 1980’s and 90’s. But the roots of the movement are based in distinctions of class; Founded by working-class teenagers, rude boys both black and white, who bonded over reggae/ska, beer, and the familiar shaved head, skinhead culture always was more about commonality than difference. This Is England captures the transformation of that culture from a group of racially-integrated rebels without a cause to the divisive, fractured and symbolically loaded image that has been co-opted by everyone from fascists to anarchists.

I remember some of this debate in America very specifically, from the crimes of neo-Nazis to birth in the late 1980's of youth groups like S.H.A.R.P. (Skin Heads Against Racial Prejudice) and R.A.S.H. (Red And Anarchist Skinheads), which were formed in an attempt to win back the tolerant heart and soul of skinhead culture's origins. The skinhead identity is a deeply conflicted one historically, and the film goes a long way toward explaining some of its allure and romanticism. At the same time, there are many deeply problematic aspects of skinhead culture (homophobia, sexism, etc) that the film chooses not to address, but I believe that Meadows is too focused on Shaun's point-of-view to bother; The character is so kind at heart and built upon such good intentions, the politics of skinhead culture seem secondary to the idea of paralleling a national fall from grace to Shaun's own need to find himself. It is enough to show the vast gulf between Woody's generosity and acceptance and Combo's self-deluded racism. The difference is eloquently underscored.

But what is most compelling about seeing a film like This Is England at this particular moment is how much it echoes the politics of Bush’s America, where Lou Dobbs’ "chicken little" rants about immigration and the populism of racist, anti-immigrant politics is now fashionable all over again. When Combo takes Shaun and some of the lads out into the countryside to a small National Front meeting populated by farmers and everyday Britons, This Is England felt even more alive and timely. As the on-screen politician bleats on about how far mighty England has fallen, I couldn’t help but hear the echoes of our own political moment; This fantasy of preserving an abstract, exclusively white vision of an America that has never existed and never will is only trumped by the blatant refusal to see how much better we are for our diversity.

Looking For A New England: Self-Definition

As such, the film serves less as a corrective about the lad culture that I have always romanticized and more a reminder as to why now, more than ever, I feel I have so much in common with and so much to learn from our shared experience. This Is England is an uncompromising look at how we learn life’s hardest lesson; It’s up to us to take control of our own lives and show the world that what we stand for is who we are. At this moment in my own history (and in American history), it is good to know that those imagined bonds between cultures, between my own youth and who I am now, between the romance of an ideal and its manifestation in real life, can still harbor a tremendous kinship; The ocean is wide, but our ideas and experiences are made of stronger stuff.

...Wherein we take a break from regular film blogging to discuss football again.

Breaking news from Major League Soccer; David Beckham, one of the most famous sportsmen in the world and recent transfer acquisition of the Los Angeles Galaxy, may miss his projected debut tomorrow night against Chelsea FC in a friendly. Beckham injured his ankle a couple of months back while playing for Real Madrid and continued playing on it as Real pushed to win the La Liga title; While he accomplished his goal of bringing glory to the Spanish giants, his decision to keep playing on his injury may have cost MLS a golden opportunity. ESPN, ever-ready to latch onto whatever potential rating-grabber they can get their hands on, has scheduled a 19 camera shoot for the friendly (a game which has no bearing on the league or any competition), and had booked a "Beckham Cam" to follow the player around for a Zidane: 21st Century Portrait-style presentation. We've been here before; When Freddy Adu made his DC United debut, ESPN pushed the hell out of the game not realizing his manager wouldn't play him in the match. That hurt the league. With Beckham, the stakes are infinitely higher; With the world's most recognizable athlete likely missing his debut, MLS and football in this country will probably take another hit, the curious may be put off by his absence and the league will have to continue to push for the media spotlight, as "soccer-haters" in the press pile on and "anti-soccer" ramblings continue to be á la mode. Another battle lost in the on-going war to bring the game some meaning in America.

****
I am completely torn about Beckham, primarily because I have deeply felt conflicting interests regarding the man, the game of football and the growth of the game in this country. First and foremost, when I hear the name David Beckham, the image that instantly pops into my head is the player in a red #7 jersey whipping crosses and free kicks in for Manchester United. This, of course, makes my blood boil; David Beckham will always be a Manc in my mind, the most bitter of rivals to my own team (Liverpool), playing for the enemy when they were at the height of their league and European success. That feeling never goes away, and so, there is a part of me, a nonobjective, passionate and seething part of me, that will always hold Beckham in contempt for his success in making great the team I loathe.

Pure Torture: Beckham and Roy Keane In The Bad Old Days

That said, Beckham seems a genuinely decent guy and as captain of the English national team, he's been nothing short of a savior; After a controversial sending off in the 1998 World Cup, Beckham went from pariah to messiah, lifting the ever-underachieving England team to relative glory with stunning barrage of crosses and free kicks. See for yourself what he means to England:

Without You, We're Nothing: Beckham Sends England To The World Cup.

I absolutely respect him as a player and a man. Now, he is undertaking a herculean task that the greatest player in the history of the game, Pelé, was unable to accomplish in the 1970's; Make football relevant to the lives and sporting passions of Americans. His decision to walk away from Real Madrid and to take a contract with the absolutely woeful LA Galaxy is certainly not about the money; Wherever Beckham plays, he sells and earns. Period. Instead, I think the move serves a dual purpose; To engage the American people in the celebrity and storylines that accompany football everywhere else in the world in the hopes that the expansion of coverage will build the game in this country, and to allow his wife to build her career and have access to the life she longs for.

Victoria Beckham aside, it is the former that interests me the most, because what football and MLS need more than anything is to create a league and a game that tells a story. The NFL, MLB and NBA have succeeded in this country over the long term because the leagues have learned that sports are about storytelling and hope for the average fan; Not only do the games themselves have an inherent drama, but rivalries, player disputes, contracts and transfers are a year-round business; Who will your team draft? Who will they recruit? Will they defeat your most hated rivals? Will they upset the most unbeatable team in the game? Will they become that team themselves?

The league that has perfected this archetype is the NFL; A season lasts only 16 games, and each game matters because, in order to qualify for the post-season and a chance at a Super Bowl title, you must win enough games during the regular season. And so, the NFL regular season becomes a race to see who will qualify for the chance to compete in the playoffs where, as the saying goes, you can "toss out the regular season records because it is one loss and you go home." They also have the good sense to play one game a week; This allows the tension to build, the stories to be reported, injuries, drama, analysis, etc. Much like English football. Thus, the league, like all US sports leagues, becomes all about the playoffs. Each playoff game is fraught with peril and drama; Will we win? Will we lose? Will we be upset? Will we cause an upset? This is how a league tells a story in this country, and Americans by the millions tune in to watch how a fumbled snap, a missed field goal, a goal line tackle or a hail mary pass can change the history of the game.

There are other, less successful sporting models (MLB and the NBA), but again, these are not good models for showcasing the dramatic arc of football; Major League Baseball has 30 teams playing 162 meaningless games among themselves in order to have 8 teams (it used to be 4 teams) make the playoffs (by having the best records in baseball). That's a great season if you're Red Sox fan, a Yankees fan (will they catch Boston?), a Tigers or Indians fan (neck and neck... Go Tigers!) or say, a fan of the San Diego Padres. But for almost everyone else, the season is 162 games worth of disappointment and meaningless games followed by a LONG playoff season of seven game series until the winner is determined. Which is why most people don't give a toss until the playoffs start. The same with the NBA, which features 82 meaningless games, 16 playoff teams and TWO MONTHS of playoff basketball to determine a champion. Which is why, again, no one really cares until the playoffs. This is the story of classic American sports. We are the "crunch time" nation.

In all professional football leagues (save for our own MLS, and more on this in a minute), no such playoff system exists. There are no playoffs at all. Instead, you win a championship by winning the most points during the regular season (3 points for a win, 1 point for a tie, 0 points for a loss). You play every team in the league twice; Once at home and once away. In the football model, every regular season game REALLY counts and the league season tells a similar story to the NFL, only without the extraneous requirement of a bracketed playoff system; Will we beat our biggest rivals? Can we upset the best teams? Can we bring in new players to help us compete for the title? In the case of football, you never throw out the records and have a "lose and you're done" system whereby unworthy teams win the championship by getting "hot" at the right time; You win a league title by being the best team over the course of the entire season. A great storytelling device in and of itself.

But there is a second, and equally compelling story; The battle against relegation. In most football leagues, the worst three teams in the league are demoted in their entirety to the minor leagues while the three best minor league teams are made into major league teams. With TV contract money, league revenue sharing, etc. on the line, no one wants to be relegated and everyone wants to be promoted. It's the equivalent of say, the Kansas City Royals being sent to the minor leagues and replaced by the Toledo Mud Hens, who would be promoted to Major League Baseball. Now, talk about drama...

How could you fail, as a footballing league, to properly use the game to tell these stories? You do exactly what the MLS did; You create a league where you try to have it both ways. The MLS has a regular season not like a football league, but like the NFL, where teams are placed in "divisions" play a random number of games (playing some teams three or more times, some fewer), in the hopes of making the playoffs and winning their way to the "Super Bowl" of the MLS, The MLS Cup. The problem? With so few teams in the league, almost every team makes the playoffs. And all of the work of the regular season makes no difference because there isn't even the drama of "lose and go home" or home field advantage that you find in the usual playoff system. The league follows a traditional football cup format by playing two games for each match-up; One at home and one away, until the final which is played on a neutral site. Oh, and you eliminate the relegation battle too, so the worst teams continue on and there is no real disincentive to being at the bottom of your "division".

The way in which the MLS has structured the game in this country is a turn off to both football fans and regular sports fans; The regular season games don't lead toward a league title (angering football fans) and the playoffs follow a traditional footballing Cup competition structure, alienating a casual observer who, for example, likes the World Cup because of the "lose and go home" drama of the knock-out rounds or watches the playoffs to see the drama of the chase for a title. In each phase of the season, the MLS has a chance to tell a compelling story to sports fans; They could have both a league Cup competition and also a traditional League Championship, single table structure where teams play each other once at home and once away and the best record wins the league. Instead, the league has forsaken both options and, in my opinion, undermined the inherent storytelling ability of a football season in the process.

****
Enter David Beckham. All the glitz, all the glamor and all of the best free kick goals in the world will only serve as an exhibition of a tremendously gifted player unless the MLS builds a sound football league in this country; The quality of play and players aside, what the MLS needs more than David Beckham is a sense of meaning and purpose to the game in this country. The game has built-in rivalries (DC United vs NY Red Bulls, Chivas USA vs LA Galaxy, Houston vs Dallas, etc.), but needs a way to tell the story of those rivalries in a sports journalism environment dominated by "personalities" (LeBron, Tiger, Peyton, Bonds etc.). It needs stories not about individual players and their abilities, but about feuds and meaningful victories, heartbreaking losses and fans dislike for other teams, etc. In fact, what football in America needs more than anything else is for fans to turn out and watch their local MLS sides be tormented by David Beckham, to inspire fans to want to see him lose the game, and to support their local club with more passion than any paparazzi cameraman could ever inspire. But we have to cheer against Beckham for the right reasons; We have to cheer against Beckham because we want our own team to triumph. We have to care about club football in America.

And I want to, because I love the game and I can't take anymore of my countrymen running it down.

****

My rationale for the growth of the game, to use Beckham's arrival as an impetus to restructure the league and inspire passion through rancor in fans around the country, is not the same as that of the ignoramus American sportswriter. You know the type; Jaded know-it-all bastard xenophobe at a newspaper who was raised on baseball but was never good enough to play it and who takes pleasure in ripping apart soccer as feminine, "less democratic" (because you can't use your hands) and "unAmerican". Let's take a look at some of these dunderheaded quotes to see what the mainstream media is saying and what football is up against in this country, shall we?

"There's really a lack of proficiency in the game. God didn't intend for us to use our feet and our heads. Though what soccer players do with their feet and their heads is extraordinary, it is in the same way that spinning plates is extraordinary. That's simply un-American. We're all about forward, forward, forward, in sports and in our society. From the 19th century onward, we have not taken to soccer. It's almost as if it's not in our DNA to like it. Ultimately, the reason that we don't care about soccer is that it is un-American. It's somebody else's way of life. So most American kids abandon interest in the game when they realize it's not consistent with what they are finding out about Americanism. The same with immigrants and their children--as soon as they discover more appealing games that reflect American spirit, American values. It's really very simple why most of us non-socialistic Americans will forever reject soccer."
-- Frank DeFord, Sports Illustrated and NPR commentator

"We have our own football, you see. And it is not spelled futbol. 'He will make the sport popular and vibrant in this country,' MLS commissioner Don Garber said. Please. America is America, Europe is Europe, and it's senseless to pound Becks and his sport into our consciousness when similar attempts to pound Peyton Manning and the NFL or Roger Clemens and baseball into the Eurosphere also would be met with lukewarm skepticism. I might be more curious about Beckham's arrival if they weren't insulting our intelligence with absurdly extravagant comparisons. When asked if he is on the magnitude level of Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods in this land, Alexi Lalas, general manager of a Los Angeles Galaxy team that will facilitate Beckham's metrosexual tour, responded with an answer that suggests he needs a lobotomy. 'He's as big as all of them -- and many of them put together,' Lalas said. As big as MJ? Yeah, right... At least he'll have our attention until Lindsay Lohan's next rehab visit. After that, I'm making no promises."
--Jay Mariotti Huge Twat erm, Chicago-Sun Times, ESPN

The haters will use his celebrity to undermine his athletic prowess, and it is Beckham's quality as a player that is the key to reshaping the game in this country. Sure, Beckham has been a camera's best friend for years but he has the game to back up the good looks. By running down the man and his abilities without understanding the game, without allowing him to kick a ball before passing judgment, the American sports media has latched on to the sport like a pitbull and intend to sacrifice Beckham on the mantle of their own ignorance.

Serious Business: Beckham The Brand Is Built Upon Beckham The Player

Herein lies the true heart of the Beckham dilemma; We need Beckham to be great. We need to love him for being in America and cheer against him because we have to. And we need to build off of his greatness and revolutionize the league and the game around his personality, but not as a star we love and embrace necessarily, but instead as a player with whom we go to see our own teams do battle. I have my tickets for the Red Bulls vs LA Galaxy game on August 18 for this very reason; I want to see LA and Beckham lose to my team, not because I want it proven Beckham is overrated, but because I support my team. I want the league to grow, to develop the drama of a true football league, and the only way to have that happen to get players of Beckham's quality in here and make the matches matter. He is one of the best, and I can't wait until he leaves New York a loser, but I wouldn't want it any other way; To be the best, you need to beat the best. The only way to build the game is to build the passion and David Beckham is the perfect man for the job.

The über-talented rock star of a movie blogger Karina Longworth has graciously tagged me in the Eight Things blog meme, and I am more than willing to participate (and deeply flattered at her invitation). I don't usually write about personal things on my blog, but this seemed like a good opportunity for me to do a little "get to know your blogger" work, so I will play along. I think these web-based chain letter meme thingies are fun; besides, it's always so serious on here. Let's do this!

Rules:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.

2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.

4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged and that they should read your blog.

Let's get personal...

ONE
I grew up playing the saxophone. I began in third grade, and when I was 14 I was awarded a scholarship to tour Europe with the Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp touring concert band. The summer I won the scholarship, I was named 'Saxophone Player of the Year' at the camp but I knew it was a farce, because there was a 15 year old who was playing in the faculty jazz band: James Carter, who remains one of the most amazing saxophone players I have ever seen in my life. Oh, and he plays flute and clarinet, too. After touring Europe on the scholarship the following summer, I continued to play through high school (more on that in number TWO) and even played some jazz in college (including a few times with the awesome Craig Taborn) before drifting away from the instrument. I just never was good enough to be great and didn't have the discipline to get good enough.

TWO
When I attended Flint Central High School, my high school band was one of the best in the Midwest (even recording an album on vinyl) before a scandal broke out; Our band director, George Crear, was accused of sexually molesting girls in the band. This was devastating, because the man had been such an inspiration to us all and under his direction, we produced such great music; he had built up a cult of personality around himself and we all believed in his infallibility. He was allowed to leave town by the Board of Education and he got a job in Miami, FL, where he was accused of the same crimes. Although he was acquitted there, he was extradited to Flint and was convicted on molestation charges. He is serving life in prison in Michigan.

THREE
When I attended the University of Michigan, I designed my own degree in the University's Bachelor of General Studies program. It is an interdisciplinary degree program that allowed me to study film, philosophy, literature, etc. and focus on my own interests. My major was titled: 20th Century American Thought Across Media. Try explaining that one to your grandma at Thanksgiving. My advisor, Richard Cándida Smith, now teaches at UC Berkeley and I haven't spoken to him in years... A great teacher.

FOUR
While in college, I was featured in a full-page photograph in DETAILS magazine (with Michael Stipe on the cover) for participating in an anti-Gulf War march. If you can find it, I'm the one in the glasses.

FIVE
In 1989, I taught myself how to play guitar. In 1992, I started/was in a band called Marmite. Late in the year, we opened for The Verve Pipe at a fraternity party. They were a big regional band from East Lansing with a record deal on the way (remember The Freshman?) and we were, quite possibly, the worst band ever, but the cloud had a silver lining; one of our singers ended up marrying the bass player (an old friend of mine from high school). I still futz around on guitar and have always wanted to busk for just one day in NYC. You know, just to see.

SIX
In 2002, I directed several video shorts for Bob Mould's Carnival of Light And Sound Tour. A friend and I wanted to work with Bob on a Hüsker Dü documentary, but I truly don't believe that we will ever see anyone make that movie (a million reasons). Instead, we shot some live and rehearsal footage in the hopes of one day making a DVD; It never happened. Bob, however, did make a DVD called Circle of Friends and it is coming out this fall. I'm interested to see it, as I know it will be far superior to what we were equipped to make five years ago.

SEVEN
I have taken two levels of improvisation classes at the Upright Citizens Brigade with a prominent member of the NY independent film industry who I will not name. We may take another class soon.

EIGHT
I once sat next to James Cromwell on an airplane from LA to Salt Lake City. I didn't notice him at first, only his book (the name of which I cannot remember), which featured a bloody photograph of meat carcasses and caged animals. "An animal activist," I thought. He lowered the book and I immediately recognized him and we talked for a good hour about all sorts of things... He mentioned to me that he would be in New York in a couple of weeks. Two weeks later, I went on a date to Blue Water Grill and while we were waiting at bar, in walks... James Cromwell and his wife. Complete coincidence. I greeted him, he greeted me back, completely remembered the flight, introduced me and the date to his wife and we chatted again for 5 minutes or so. Of course, my date had no idea who he was. *Sigh* Anyway, a very nice guy.

Ok, those are little stories about me. On behalf of this meme, I now tag...

Mark Rabinowitz
James Israel
David Lowery
Holly Herrick
Girish
AJ Schnack
Eugene Hernandez
and anyone from ReverseBlog who's got the guts.

As fate would have it, I spent my Thursday night in cool confines of Film Forum, still my favorite place in New York City taking in Jennifer Fox's passionate, engaging Flying: Confessions Of A Free Woman, a six-hour (two admission) exploration of the state of the modern woman. I was a little hesitant to attend the film; Some very nasty reviews of the film took Fox to task for her first-person take on this wide-ranging subject. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I know I've spent many hours in movie theaters being bombarded by earnest, undeserving narcissism posing as documentary film making, so I was prepared for the worst. But all the petty, name-calling nastiness was completely unwarranted; Flying is an engrossingly powerful story about one woman's attempt to connect her own life to the world around her in an age of isolation and rootlessness.

A bit of a summary will help the discussion; Jennifer Fox, a documentary filmmaker and non-fiction consultant, is constantly, obsessively filming her own life. She has two lovers (one a married man in South Africa and the other a Swiss film technician) and she spends a great deal of her time worrying about her relationships, be they familial, platonic or romantic. Fox's inability to see the patterns of behavior that repeat themselves in her life are the source of a great deal of pain and analysis for Fox, and she takes every opportunity to put her issues on camera by discussing her life and experience openly and honestly with everyone she meets. Of course, being a globe trotting non-fiction activist, Fox meets a lot of people, and her desire to connect with the people she meets is at once amusing (as in the case of her attempt to broach the subject of sexual pleasure with woman steeped in sexually repressive social norms) and also moving; Fox has no one in her own life with whom she can find closure for the pain that is clearly keeping her from facing some truths about herself.

The Examined Life: Jennifer Fox in Flying: Confessions Of A Free Woman

I have to admit, at the mid-way point of Flying, I was growing a bit concerned; With each passing encounter, Fox's own issues with her family and her sexual choices were starting to grow a little tiresome. She was slowly becoming the cinematic equivalent of the needy friend who asks you a single question about yourself so that she could launch into a monologue about her own needs and problems before diving back into the same choices and behaviors that lead her to her unhappiness in the first place. There were two frustrating and complimentary urges that seemed to be at the root of Fox's problems; A deeply Freudian relationship to her parents and their authority coupled with a refusal to make a single choice or demand upon the relationships that defined her life. Fox, it seemed, was transposing the idea of liberation and freedom with a sense that while she was entitled to sexual pleasure, she had no need for a deep relationship beyond the bedroom. Instead of freedom, she found longing and dissatisfaction to be the sources of a cyclical inability to see the forest for the trees.

Which is why, when the second half of Flying kicked off, the movie began to soar. After a slow, rhythmic build-up (kudos to the editing team for assembling the wonderfully rhyming look and feel of the film), Fox uses her fascinating experiences with oppressed women from around the world to finally draw some clear, immensely satisfying conclusions about her own life, her own needs, and most importantly, the ways in which those conclusions echo the need for universal female empowerment across societies. There are encounters with Cambodian prostitutes, Pakistani women in a village that practices the "honor killing" of sexually abused daughters, there are Indian widows, Somali women fighting against female genital mutilation, South African survivors of sexual abuse; Through each of these encounters, Fox never gets overwhelmed by the urge toward awe or hushed empathy and instead dives right in and applies her own experiences and thoughts to these overwhelmingly tragic situations in the hopes of making a deep, personal connection.

Survivors: Amina (right) and her sister-in-law Kaltouma discuss their experiences with Female Genital Mutilation in Flying: Confessions Of a Free Woman

I can understand how this crucial interaction, repeated several times in the film, can be misread as narcissism; It's a bit difficult to compare the life of an affluent, privileged American woman with that of an uneducated impoverished prostitute who endures violence and suffering on a daily basis. Fox avoids the issue of class to a fault; There is little mention of the Nantucket home ("We went to the beach" she says) or her enormous TriBeCa loft (documentary consulting looks like good business!), and the affluence of her youth is only hinted at by archival footage of her jumping show horses and practicing archery as a child. Class is subtext in the film, and maybe its better for it, but I think Fox's own deeply troubled relationship with her own desires and past only enhance the frailty of class as a barrier to female identity; A woman is a woman. That said, the movie changed for me when I realized that the women Fox was talking with universally appreciated her personal revelations because they understood the empathetic urge that Fox was expressing; Each encounter with between these very different women lead to a long conversation, full of revelation and, it seemed, relief. By sharing herself, Fox got her subjects talking and trusting, instantly building a rapport and her own openness and honesty seemed a model upon which a quick relationship between filmmaker and subject could be built. Of course, the need to discuss feelings and sexuality (and men in particular) seems a universal enough impulse among women, and Fox capitalizes on this desire for expression and understanding to tie together a vast array of human experience.

In the final act, life grows ever-more complicated so that, when the movie ends, you're left with the feeling that you could watch much, much more. Will Fox find happiness? Will she reconcile her feelings about her family with her desire to begin her own family? What of these women, all over the world, that to whom Fox has introduced us? Are they finding happiness? Don't be discouraged by the run time; Get down to Film Forum and give the movie a chance by watching both halves. As a complete experience, it is a lovely example of someone (like you, like me) uncertain about how to live an uncharted life and looking for answers in the global community of human experience. You can't help but be moved by a life lived with such scrutiny and integrity. Jennifer, if you're out there, may you find happiness.

Pardon my enthusiasm, but my favorite film maker is working on a new project and I just can't help myself; I wrote a few weeks ago with news of the new Arnaud Desplechin film Un Conte De Noël... Well, there are a ton of new images (see below) and a long summary of the film posted on the Why Not Productions website. Again, the film looks brilliant and I can't wait to see it. My (very) rough translation, followed by images, are below.

"In the beginning, Abel and Junon had two children, Joseph and Elizabeth. Born an extremely rare genetic disease, baby Joseph was condemned to undergo a bone-marrow transplant. His sister being incompatible, his parents had another child, Henri, in the hope to save Joseph. But Henri could not do anything for his brother - and Joseph died at seven years age.

In spite of the birth of another son, Ivan, the Vuillard family does not recover from the consequences of this trauma. Several years passed, and the relations more than are ever strained between its various members, in particular between Elizabeth, head of household authoritative and responsible, and Henri, marginal cynic who shares his life between the women and alcohol. An argument between the pair causes the final bursting of the family unit. Crushed by the debts, Henri "is banished" by his sister, which thus deprives him of the company of his nephew Paul- a tortured teenager who suffers from serious psychological problems. Henri keeps nevertheless contact with Ivan and his wife Sylvia, and her cousin Simon.

Soon, Junon learns that he is corroded by a cancer and that only a bone-marrow graft can save him. It is necessary for him consequently to find a donor potential among the members of its family. Children and grandchildren put each one to carry out the tests but, with final, only two people appear compatible: Paul and Henri.

Christmas approaches. The entire family meets for three days in the large parental house in Roubaix..."

Late in Michael Moore’s tremendous new documentary Sicko, the ever-controversial filmmaker charters three boats in Miami in order to take a few of his film's subjects to the US military prison in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The reason? That they might receive the same free health care that the prisoners on the base (reportedly members of Al Qaeda) receive from the US government. It’s a classic Michael Moore tactic; A fixed target, symbol of hypocrisy, and no one has any idea that the troublemaking filmmaker is en route to raise some hell. The result is also a telling sign; Moore never makes it to the base. Michael Moore is no longer the anonymous everyman that raised indignant eyebrows over the abandonment of Flint, MI in Roger & Me. We're all hip to the game now; When you see Michael Moore coming, you'd better fold up the tents, zip your lips, and head for the hills.

It is a testament to Moore’s effectiveness as a storyteller and filmmaker that over the course of only six feature films he has been able to practically re-invent the political documentary as a new brand of political theater that resembles Upton Sinclair more closely than Al Maysles. That said, as an artist, he has become such a polarizing figure, so detested by his opponents and able to embitter even his ideological allies, that his work balances precariously between his decision to place himself in his films and the polarizing impact of his presence on the perceived legitimacy of his subject matter. Not surprisingly, no decision Moore makes is seen as the right one; if he speaks up, he is told to shut up and get out of the way. If he doesn’t stand front and center and promote direct action surrounding his subject matter (be it gun control, health care or NAFTA), he’s a profiteering asshole who doesn’t really care about his subjects. Damned if you do, I guess.

Of course, with Moore’s celebrity persona (did we ever think we’d be saying that about a documentary filmmaker?) standing outré on the big screen, his film making skill tends to get lost in the shadow of the debate about everything from his physique to his work habits. In the past, I have openly defended Michael Moore on this blog because I never have doubted his intentions, his tactics or his film making as anything more than absolutely legitimate contributions to the art of documentary film. His new film has done nothing to shake my faith in the man; Sicko is probably Michael Moore’s best movie, if not his most urgent.

Michael Moore In Sicko

I also wanted address the "issue" of Moore's tactics as a film maker; I just don't get what all the fuss is about. I wrote it in 2004 and I'll repeat it again here:

"The truth is that all film is storytelling, and in the case of documentary, even more so. Whereas a fictional films can utilize invented scenarios and dramatic events in order to illustrate greater human truths (see The Last Temptation of Christ for a clear illustration of how this can be as divisive as non-fiction), documentary films must generate drama from the stuff of real life, and then only what is captured by the camera. In addition to its dramatic charge, a great documentary, like all great films, must have singular and powerful point of view; it must make an argument. Some documentaries, like the classic Salesman or Grey Gardens by the Maysles Brothers, or Titticut Follies by the incomparable Frederick Wiseman, use the technique of removing the filmmaker from the proceedings on the screen, allowing the documentarian to make his point of view clearly known in the editing suite, through the selection and ordering of scenes and materials. Moore had great success in Roger & Me by establishing himself as an onscreen character, a piece of the story integral to his subjective style of narrative. But don't be fooled. All documentary film is predicated on a subjective narrative. There is a subject, but the artist behind the camera records and selects how the film looks, what footage will be used, in what order, and to what end. Documentary film is not news reportage; it has more in common with fictional cinema, simply deriving its dramatic content from real life events. In order to make great art, the documentarian is charged only with telling the truth.

Of course, this calls into question the fundamental notion of truth in film. Is the truth of a situation or event only to be told chronologically, through as many subjective viewpoints as possible, and presented as broadly as possible so the audience can glean the so-called objective reality? That may be the goal of scholarship, but it has never been the domain of great art. What art is and should always be about is a filtering of events and ideas through the artist's sensibilities, to be presented back to an audience through the artist's point of view."

Or more to the point, who gives a fuck what gets left on the editing room floor? Does leaving out footage of Moore interviewing Roger Smith at some point early in the production of Roger & Me have any fundamental impact on the truth of the film, that corporations have abandoned working communities for profiteering abroad?* What John Pierson and Agnes Varnum ** get wrong in their separate pieces on Moore and his work is this earnest belief that documentary is reportage, that the ultimate goal of making a film and telling a story by way of documentary is somehow beholden to a literal presentation of events as they happened. Is Moore really an asshole for not setting up a direct action campaign against the Managed Care industry? Why isn't the film enough? Should Eugene Jarecki have set up an action campaign against the Military Industrial Complex when he made Why We Fight? How should Alex Gibney have empowered Enron stockholders to fight for their money after seeing Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room? While we're at it, let's ask Gibney the next steps for dismantling the US policy for torture and detention after seeing Taxi To The Dark Side. The answer is always the same; the people of America need to learn to recognize their interests and vote to preserve them. Take political action. Filmmakers like Moore, Jarecki and Gibney are using their money and position to illustrate these problems and educate the public. That's far more than 99% of the rest of us. The world is full of great films about important topics that stand alone and raise more questions than they answer; For me that is a part of what makes them great. The film is enough.

What grounds Sicko and puts it at or near the top of Moore’s body of work is his return to his role as a voice of the people; unlike Bowling For Columbine and Fahrenheit 911, which dealt directly with the paralyzing disbelief of the left at the deceptions and political corruption causing havoc in our culture, Sicko takes an almost incontrovertible, universally held belief and presents evidence for why we cherish this belief. I have spent hours reading about the film, about Moore’s decision to do this and his fact-checking on that, and I haven’t read a single word of argument against the film's fundamental premise that people, regardless of their income and status in society, have the right to receive medical treatment when they are in need of it.

At least, everyone else seems to think so. In an enlightening and admittedly simplified middle section, Moore goes traipsing across Canada and various European capitals to uncover the secrets of universal health care. These segments are enlightening if only because of the consistent smile that registers on the faces of interviewees when they espouse the benefits of free care. Of course, there are citizens dissatisfied with nationalized health care who remain conspicuously off-screen, but that is beside the point; The ups and downs of quality of care are a shadow of concern compared to the horrors that unfold in the lives of American patients. Denial of service leading to death, denial of claims leading to bankruptcy; In the face of the overwhelming evidence that the current American health and insurance system was established as a disincentive to actually delivering health care you can keep your petty squabbles about wait times and 'choice'; There is no choice at all. It is irrefutable which system has the interests of the people at heart.

Newborn Baby? Priceless. Literally: Brits take advantage of the free National Health in Michael Moore's Sicko

Moore implicitly understands that the best way to illustrate this reality is to let the patients do the talking, let them show their emotion and unveil the truth about their situations. Who else is giving voice to working people in this country about this issue? These aren't talking head experts for the most part; These are people like you and me. That said, Moore's voice-over, ranging from indignant outrage to the trademarked sotto voce that Moore uses to underline his most emotional moments, is still one of his creative weaknesses: I find his readings too 'on the nose' to contribute any subtlety to these moments. Yet Moore’s storytelling shines in Sicko because, while the overall premise and argument are his, the anecdotal and irrefutable evidence of the victims (yes, victims) of the Managed Care industry makes up the heart and soul of the film. Structurally, Moore seems to have learned several creative lessons, tweaking his approach to maximize Sicko’s message; Whereas in the past, Moore might score political points by marching his subjects into the offices of the insurance companies and demanding coverage, in Sicko, he finds a more practical (after all, who in the industry would talk to him?) and enlightened solution; He takes his subjects to Cuba and has them receive free treatment in a state-run Cuban medical facility.

Any American who watches a woman who has lost her home to health care related debt break down in tears of disbelief as she receives free health care from what is essentially a Third World hospital will feel deeply ashamed. How can it be that a nation like Cuba, relatively poor, can provide free health care to its people while we, the richest nation in the world, drive our people into debt and despair for the sake of medical profiteering? Sicko is built on moments like this, and succeeds because it recognizes the fundamental humanity of its subjects.

But is it agitprop? Let’s ask CNN what they think about it;

“Our team investigated some of the claims put forth in his film. We found that his numbers were mostly right, but his arguments could use a little more context. As we dug deep to uncover the numbers, we found surprisingly few inaccuracies in the film. In fact, most pundits or health-care experts we spoke to spent more time on errors of omission rather than disputing the actual claims in the film.”— A. Chris Gajilan, CNN.com, June 28, 2007

Doesn't seem 'fair and balanced' to you? How about this quote…

“Filmmaker Michael Moore's brilliant and uplifting new documentary, ‘Sicko,’ deals with the failings of the U.S. healthcare system, both real and perceived. But this time around, the controversial documentarian seems to be letting the subject matter do the talking, and in the process shows a new maturity.”—Roger Friedman, FOX News, May 20, 2007.

Not that anyone needs FOX News to justify what has been obvious in Moore’s work from the beginning; He is a master of political theater at its most potent, and with Sicko, he's provided the kind of dramatic storytelling that used to inspire marches in the streets, newspaper exposés, and bipartisan legislation aimed at righting an overwhelming injustice. And in these infuriating, heartbreaking times in which we live, what is our government’s response? The federal government has opened an investigation into Moore’s trip to Cuba, which officials say was in violation of the trade and commerce embargo against the Communist country. Talk about shooting the messenger; It’s time to re-build, America, and there’s no better place to start than at the top.

*By the way, I also disagree with John's assessment that multi-billion dollar losses at GM were in any way related to paying a living wage to manual labor; How about bloated management who took the company in the absolute wrong direction by arrogantly misunderstanding their customers? The pension program and the union cost GM its competitiveness? How about the greedy GMAC financing program that was terribly mismanaged? The company has ALWAYS put share price and executive salaries ahead of its employees best interests. Having grown up in Flint and followed this issue closely for decades, I don't buy John's argument here for a minute.

**I should say, I respect John and Agnes both very much and it's nothing personal; We happen to disagree on this one. Both are invaluable voices in the industry and passionate defenders of their beliefs. I try to do the same in my own work. Nothing wrong with that.

Fernando Torres is a Red.

Ask the boys down at Nevada Smith's and they'll tell you; I called this a few weeks ago. I am sad to see Luis Garcia head in the other direction (called that too), but it seems that the timing as right for the 29-year-old to head back home to Spain to recover from his knee injury. That said, Fernando Torres is the striker I have coveted for two seasons now, and I think I speak for most Liverpool supporters when I say I am thrilled to have the young striker join the club for what is reportedly £20 million. Torres is far and away our most expensive signing ever, and with the new American owners George Gillett and Tom Hicks splashing the cash (and with a reportedly space-age new Anfield on the way), it's time for Liverpool to challenge for honors in all competitions; Most important? The Premiership. It's been 17 years since we won it (1989-90 was the last time we won the league) and the signing of Torres signals our intent to challenge for the title. We still have some work to do (a world class winger must now be at the top of the shopping list), but a young, talented striker like Torres is certainly a tremendous start.

And El Niño is already talking the talk. In an interview with Liverpoolfc.tv, the club's official website, Torres pushes all the right buttons in the hearts of Liverpool fans everywhere:

Q: How much do you know about Liverpool Football Club?

A: "Obviously growing up in Spain you are aware of all the big clubs there, but you also keep an eye on Europe, and Liverpool always catches the eye. It always did for me. I had older brothers who'd tell me about the likes of Keegan and Rush, but the first players I remember seeing as a fan are players like Robbie Fowler. My main memory is seeing Liverpool's incredible record in Europe, and I certainly followed that closely."

A mention of Keegan, Rush and Folwer in one sentence? The kid is smart, too.

I've been hearing lost of shit-stirrers who once coveted Torres blather on enviously about his unproven record in England (which is the same unproven record for anyone who has never played in the league) and how he averaged 15 goals a year at Atlético Madrid. Well, guess what? The kid was carrying that mediocre team on his shoulders since he was named captain at age 19; He is a tremendously talented player who will thrive with service from Steven Gerrard, a finally fit Harry Kewell, Xabi Alonso and in partnership with Dirk Kuyt and Peter Crouch.

People point to another Fernando, Fernando Morientes, and his inability to adapt to English football (despite thriving in Spain) as an example of how Liverpool have overpaid for a risky prospect, but Torres has twice the pace of Morientes and is much younger. He is a completely differnt type of player than Morientes, and maybe it will take time, but I see a legend in the making.

Have a look... (the music is crap, but the goals are quality)...

I am fucking psyched... Bring home #19 and #6 son! Roll the '07 season!

Welcome The Matinee Idol: El Niño and Rafa talk strategy at today's Press Conference

After a long week of wedding planning with an extra splash of wedding planning on top, I was finally able to get away from the house this weekend and go on a good old fashioned date with the Mrs.-To-Be. The plan; An early movie, a trip to the grocery and a home cooked dinner, before cuddling up on the couch and relaxing. Nights like these are the reason we're getting married in the first place, right? All that was left to decide was which film to see. I was very excited to see Brad Bird's Ratatouille; I had really enjoyed The Iron Giant and taking my niece and nephew to see The Incredibles was equally rewarding for all three of us (something I can't usually say about a children's film). Once the reviews were in, I knew we had to go. The Mrs.-To-Be took some convincing, but since we both love good food and our honeymoon plans involve a trip to Paris, I think she got into the idea. Off to The Pavilion, a theater we rarely ever attend (with good reason; Its usually full of obnoxious patrons on cell phones, rowdy teenagers and a hundred other living examples of why the theatrical chain business is in the toilet), but after a lovely walk through Park Slope, we found ourselves in our seats for the start of the show.

First, the projection; It was an HD projection on a Christie projector (or so the pre-show titles said) and it looked absolutely flawless. The colors were vibrant, the sound was moving all around the theater at perfect volume; I was blown away to see this level of theatrical presentation at my local chain. The best part? The movie itself prospered under the precision of the image and sound presentation; Every frame of Ratatouille was meticulously crafted in such detail (from the texture of the rat's fur to the glittering plastic patina of a motorcycle helmet to the stunning 'reveal' of Paris at night) that it was impossible not to get lost in the emotional and physical 'reality' of the story. This was a fully constructed animated environment, and Brad Bird deserves credit for not hitting a single false note; I have seen 'serious' films that feel less believable than this fairy tale. Ratatouille is a tremendous accomplishment; An animated fable that feels more painstakingly true to life than most movies dare attempt.

Say Cheese! Remy (Patton Oswalt) takes a bite in Brad Bird's Ratatouille

The story is classic and timeless; Remy (voiced by Patton Oswalt) is forced to flee his comfortable, rural lifestyle, landing in the big city of Paris and given the opportunity to live his dream of becoming a great chef. It's not easy for a rat to get a job in the kitchen, and so Remy befriends Linguini (Lou Romano), a bumbling, unemployed dishwasher who rises to culinary fame by allowing Remy to literally pull the strings of his career. Like any chef, Linguini's (and therefore Remy's) reputation relies on critical praise, and a showdown with a vampyric food critic named Anton Ego (deliciously voiced by a Peter O'Toole) looms on the horizon; Will Remy earn the appreciation his talents deserve (despite the fact that he is a rat)? Can Linguini learn to master the business of a restaurateur? Will Ego enjoy his meal? Thrown in a terrific subplot featuring a crisis of conscious regarding the responsibility of an artist to his poorer relations and Ratatouille delivers a magnificent, charming portrait of the ups and downs of being a creative soul in a world that seems less and less appreciative of the creative process.

Not that the people can't recognize greatness when they taste it; Remy's food is a hit. And yet, there is a not-so-subtle message in Bird's film, one with which I found myself in full sympathy; Appreciation of creativity and the artistic touch is more and more becoming a masquerade, an act of detached consumption instead of an act of full participation. Those who take things seriously, in this case Remy and Ego, can attach high emotional stakes to the outcomes of the creative process; despite being a great deal of fun, Ratatouille also honors seriousness in a very profound way. This seriousness manifests itself not only in the emotional triumphs of the film's plot, but in Bird and Pixar's flawless execution of the crafts of storytelling, animation and film making. Remy's own flawless nose and ability to create a perfect soup is mirrored in Bird's animated Paris; the structure and texture of the kitchen and cooking implements, the universe of detail in each and every object on screen, it's all as fine as anything I've seen in a movie theater. A wonderful surprise.

Ooooh, That Fur! Remy flashes his smile in Brad Bird's Ratatouille

On the slow walk home, basking in the wonderful, upbeat feeling the film inspired, we indeed stopped at the grocery store and picked up some fresh herbs and veggies before whipping up a humble dinner at home and enjoying the rest of the night together. Sometimes, things just work in concert; you don't want to spend too much of your time planning and thinking. You enjoy life. You're moved by something lovely. You can't beat it. Why try?