Above the Convenience Store

Psyched!

2010-11-09T17:56:00.000-08:00

I am thrilled about the upcoming Twin Peaks episode of Psych. I'm sure those few of you who still checking my blog have already seen the many cool photos from the episode online. If not, head on over to Dugpa.com right now!

I love that close-up shot Dana Ashbrook crying over the body; he really seems to be channeling Ray Wise there. And while many people are commenting on how good Sherilyn Fenn looks, I'm thrilled to see Catherine Coulson back as "The Woman with Wood." She's looking as good as ever!

The extended episode of Psych (complete with a Julee Cruise opening song) airs December 1.

Fire Walk With Me Event in the UK

2010-08-27T11:31:00.000-07:00

I received an email about this event and I thought I'd pass it along. Here, then, is an edited version of a press release:

To celebrate the 20th anniversary of Twin Peaks, Leeds-based arts entrepreneurs Micheale Spessa and Dave Lynch (what are the odds?) present Fire Walk With Me, an opportunity to immerse yourself in Twin Peaks madness. The event will be held on 18th September 2010, bringing together fans from across the globe.

Fire Walk With Me is being held at the appropriately atmospheric Grade 1 listed Temple Works in Leeds; the building has a history and ambience that would no doubt inspire David Lynch. Not surprisingly the organisers are remaining tight lipped as to the whereabouts of Bob, if you have spotted him recently or any other Twin Peaks characters then do let them know.

Tickets on sale now via the website http://www.firewalkwithme.co.uk/ and cost £12 online, or £15 on the door. Group concessions apply.

Sign up to the website, http://www.firewalkwithme.co.uk/ or check out Twin Peaks Freaks www.twitter.com/twinpeaksfreaks to discover more about the event.

Remember the Owls are not what they seem.

For Further information or to report sightings of Bob, please contact:

Rebekah Wadham on 07530 053 593 or email press@firewalkwithme.co.uk

Sometimes it takes the right message to get me blogging again. I've been pretty lazy lately. Sorry about that. I guess I need some good inspiration to get me writing again. I'm working on finding it . . . .

Yes, I'm Still Here

2010-07-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

For those of you who may have wondered, yes I'm still here. I'll admit, I've been quite neglectful about posting. What can I say? My mind has been elsewhere.

For now, here's a very quick update about things I've read and seen. I truly do hope to resume more significant posts in the future.

I'm currently reading The Passage, by Justin Cronin. It does live up to the hype. I'm totally engrossed, up late turning pages. This is a good thing. I've been looking for a book this absorbing for some time now. That's not to say that some of my recent reads haven't been good. In fact, I've read some superb books, including Kraken by China Mieville and The Windup Girl by Paulo Bacigalupi; both are excellent, if dense and demanding, books.

I haven't been to many movies but I did see Toy Story 3 and was tremendously impressed. This was nearly a perfect movie and one that worked on many levels. I think that the Toy Story trilogy may be one of the best film trilogies of all time -- none of the films is weak, and each sequel builds upon the past to make a satisfying whole. I hope there will never be another Toy Story film; the story is complete and very satisfying. Bravo to Pixar for another amazing film!

There have been many, many good things on TV. Too many, really, to list in any detail. Special mention, however, goes to Treme on HBO. The series started slow and seemed, at times, to wander a bit. But in the end the show proved to be one of the most sophisticated pieces of television entertainment I've ever seen. Superbly written, directed and acted, Treme was an intricate and meticulous study of people coping with the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, one of the worst disasters in United States history. Wonderful reviews have been written about the series, most better than anything I could do here. One of the best was this one by Myles McNutt. Go read it.

I wish I could write more but other commitments are pulling me away. I hope to post again soon.

Take care!

Oh so many questions . . .

2010-05-25T18:09:00.000-07:00

I was going to compile a list of unanswered LOST questions but the topic is already old. Anyway, somebody saved me the trouble. If you're a fan--especially a disappointed fan--you must watch this:

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1936291

There, no more LOST from me. Promise.

First Thoughts on the last LOST

2010-05-23T23:37:00.000-07:00

The following is pretty much right off the top of my head. These are my first reactions to the end of LOST and the totality of the series so there may be some clumsy wording (and analysis) ahead.

The LOST finale clearly worked on an emotional level. It hit all the right buttons as characters were dramatically reunited. But, hey, that's what LOST has been doing since season one: separating its characters and then reuniting them. The formula always provided an emotional punch: a tear in the eye and a lump in the throat. And so, in the end, we got that all over again. Only this time, dead characters were allowed in on the reunion. (Yes, I know, technically all the characters who reunited did so after death; but for awhile there during the finale the show played as if the dead characters were "coming back to life" in this "alternate" universe). Bottom line? The LOST finale was one big emotional reunion.

And it worked. Yes, indeed.

But did it work on an intellectual level? Well, I think here the show was clearly lacking. From the beginning, LOST has played like a mystery ("Guys, where are we?") Outside agents--external forces--were threatening our lead characters. We (and the characters) didn't know who was doing what or why. But we were promised answers. Oh, yes, we were promised. The producers promised answers. The network, with its constant barrage of promos, promised answers. Heck, even the characters regularly professed to have answers. And yet, I hardly think the answers we got were satisfying. Why? Well, they weren't answers to the mysteries that fueled the story. Sure, some might argue that those kinds of answers weren't important--that it doesn't matter if we know what the underground wheel was, or why turning it moved the island in time or provided transport off the island (to Tunisia, of all places). It doesn't matter why Walt was important, or how the giant statue came to be built on the island, or why the timer in the hatch flipped to Egyptian hieroglyphics. These questions don't matter because the story was never really about these mysteries; it was, instead, about the characters and their need to "find" themselves in one another.

Fine. I can buy that. But I would also argue that the narrative never became sophisticated enough to place those internal character struggles firmly and satisfyingly in the foreground. Time and again, LOST relied on a surface narrative--an urgent, concrete conflict--to provide momentum. Any story about character insight or revelation usually felt tagged-on.

In the end I don't think LOST lived up to its promise. There was something hollow about it, something missing.

Still, I'll miss the show. It was compelling and exciting and extremely well-made. And I have to say, I was engaged with it to the very end. But while it kept me guessing for six years, I don't believe it will keep me thinking for nearly as long.

One Thing's For Sure . . .

2010-05-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

. . . when you get out of the habit of writing on your blog, it is easy to stay out of the habit.

The TV season is winding down and the excitement about some shows is building. Honestly, I'm as psyched as you can get about Lost, right now. There are but a few hours left in what has turned out to be one of the most experimental and demanding network shows ever aired. I've got a number of thoughts and questions (among fans, who doesn't?) and figured I'd scribble three (of the many) down here:

Will the two timelines merge in any specific way? Is one more "legitimate" than the other? The "flash-sideways" or "alternate" timeline concept is the trickiest thing the show has done to date. Some think that the sideways timeline may be a "fake" world, or a "dream" experienced by the various characters. Either scenario might turn out to be the case, but I hope not. The alternate, "what if" reality is a familiar and popular SF trope. (According to the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, it dates back to 1934 and Murray Leinster's short story, "Sideways in Time." Since then it has been used in countless stories and novels, spawning a new subgenre, "Alternate History," now so prevalent in SF that it has its own annual award, the "Sideways Award.") Now that Lost has established an alternate reality, I think this alternate reality has to stay intact. It cannot dissolve at some future point. That doesn't mean the characters from one world can't become aware of the other (as, it seems, Desmond, has), it just means that both worlds are now legitimate branches in time and therefore have permanence. And so, as the events of the "island" timeline draw to a close, how cool would it be if Lost were to re-boot itself into a seventh season, one where we see the lives of the LA characters unspool themselves into new and unpredictable directions? Lost could become its own spin-off! (I know it will never happen, but still.)

Will we ever see any of the "kids" again? I'm holding out hope that the various children of the Lost universe will make a dramatic re-appearance by season's end. I can picture Penny sailing up to the island with Walt, Aaron, Charlie and Ji Yeon all on board. Clearly, these kids had something special about them, right? I still demand to know what the deal was with Walt. And there was mystery about Aaron, too. C'mon Lost writers, don't leave us hanging!

Will the Jacob/Man-In-Black backstory (airing tonight, 5/11/10) fill in enough blanks? I want to know about the bodies in the cave! About Alvar Hanso! About the big statue and the other ruins on the island! I want to know why Ben could summon the smoke monster! I want to know why the monster appeared in so many other forms (Kate's horse, anybody?) Time is running out, and it sure seems like there is a lot left to explain! Will the show come through? We'll see . . .

Twenty Years Ago

2010-04-08T07:31:00.000-07:00

“I remember I went home and my dear, dear friend, Brandon Lee was over, and I said, ‘Watch this Lynch thing with me. They want me to do this TV show. Let’s sit back and watch this.’ So we opened up a couple of beers and watched the pilot of Twin Peaks. And it was unbelievable! We didn’t say a word to each other the whole two hours! It was just incredible. It was the kind of TV I had never seen. I’ll never forget that endless shot of the telephone cord. Oh, man! It affected me as much as any movie I had ever seen. The two of us just sat there and said, ‘Let’s watch it again!’ And we did! I couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around so I could call Mark Frost and just say, ‘God bless you. It’s phenomenal.’” --Miguel Ferrer, Wrapped in Plastic #35, p. 4

“So, we had shot the pilot, and then it aired. And I remember that night as if it were yesterday. We had a big party at our house and lot of the cast members and crew were there. It was airing on television and the phone started ringing. People on the East Coast had just finished watching it. There was this wave of people across the United States calling as soon as it finished airing in their time zone. It never occurred to me that it was going to air on other people's televisions! I thought it was only on mine! Very surreal!” – Sheryl Lee, Wrapped in Plastic #16, p. 5

“When we shot [Sheryl Lee] it was cold—I mean, it was so cold. And she lay out there, and then we’d have to take her away, where they had these blankets and heaters set up behind this giant log. So she’d run fifteen and go into this warm little tent and get her body temperature back up, and then go back and shoot. She was a great sport” – David Lynch, Lynch on Lynch (ed. by Chris Rodley), p. 172.

“When they screened the pilot at the Director’s Guild everybody laughed after I did the phone thing. Then, when I came on again, everybody cheered. Nobody else in the pilot got the same boisterous response as I did. I was completely shocked. I couldn’t shut my mouth. I have witnesses; they were there with me. Afterwards, David and Mark came up and said, ‘We’ve got plans for you.’” -- Kimmy Robertson, Wrapped in Plastic #43, p. 3

“I would say that generally a lot of the scenes from the pilot were shot from the hip. There was a lot of improvisation. So we might go into one scene with expectations we had from the script, and David would change the format and change the intent of the scene. . . . And, of course, he was influenced by the powerful setting up there. [ . . .] It was a wonderful experience, shooting that.” – Everett McGill, Wrapped in Plastic #44, p. 14

“All of a sudden this hastily typed-out three or four page scene is presented to me. And David says, ‘OK, that's your scene.’ I looked at it, and it's not just a three or four page simple scene—it's mostly written in poetry. In normal film dialog, if you can get the gist of it, you can kind of paraphrase it and make it work. But if you're dealing with poetry, you have to be letter perfect. Ten minutes later, they were saying, ‘OK, we're ready!’ It was probably the thirty years of training I had before, and the kind of empathetic sense I have with David, that allowed me to be able to do all that cold.” -- Al Strobel, Wrapped in Plastic #11, p. 3

“There’s this monologue that Bob has to do. And David's going, ‘See this? We do this scene. And see these four lines here? Well, that's a song, Frank. Those are lyrics. Make up a tune. Just make something up.’ I didn't know what I was doing. I thought, ‘Here I am, I'm a crew member. If I'm horrible, everybody's going to laugh at me. I'm going to be this big joke doing this scene.’ So every ounce of energy, every ounce of everything, was drawn up. I don't know how I did it.” – Frank Silva, Wrapped in Plastic #7, p. 9

***

“I asked [David Lynch] if the Twin Peaks pilot would be get picked up [as a network series] today. ‘I kind of doubt it,’ he replied.” – Tad Friend, “Creative Differences,” The New Yorker, 9/6/99, p. 67.

(Note: Most of the above quotes were first compiled in Wrapped In Plastic #46. See that issue for more observations abou the Twin Peaks pilot from the cast and crew.)

Notes and Notions: April '10

2010-04-05T13:28:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been out of touch for some time and I apologize.

The twentieth anniversary of Twin Peaks is Thursday (4/8) and I had hoped to put together something to commemorate the occasion but it just isn't going to happen. But, you know, 2010 marks the twentieth anniversary year of TP so there is still time to write a few things about the show. (I've been asked by a few people to reprint my "Dreams of Deer Meadow" piece from Wrapped in Plastic, but the essay is too long and really won't work in this medium. Still, I have thought about rewriting the piece in condensed form to make it more appropriate as a blog post. That's my plan right now. Let me know what you think.)

OK, I've been watching and reading lots of stuff. So, a few brief comments. (Please post or email if you would like to discuss any of these things in greater detail.)

TV:

LOST is amazing. No show in history has been brave enough to depict two ongoing alternate realities. I marvel at the two parallel plots every week. Of course, there has to be some connection between the two. Now that Desmond is back maybe we will find out what that connection is. Desmond has always been a unique character (remember: "the rules do not apply" to him). Could Desmond be experiencing both realities at once? I think this might be a cool idea and one that fits nicely with his season three story, "Flashes Before Your Eyes." (Not to mention season four's "The Constant.") (Let's hope the re-appearance of Desmond also means the return of Daniel Faraday (who surely knows what's going on, right?).)

I've started watching Justified on FX. The series features smart writing, atypical storylines, and a fine lead actor, Timothy Olyphant, who is superb in the role of Raylan Givens. Justified has been a pleasant surprise.

The Pacific on HBO is also another riveting series. Clearly, a great amount of time, effort, and money has been put into the series. It shows--the production values are present in every scene. But, at the core, the fine writing and acting are what give the show its emotional resonance.

I don't watch Caprica. I stopped watching FlashForward. I was disappointed with Big Love (the last season was rushed and hectic, and far less engrossing than seasons past).

But I tell you, I can't wait for Treme from David Simon. It starts Sunday on HBO. If it is half as good as The Wire it will be the best show on TV.

Comics:

I never thought a comic with the title, Scalped, would appeal to me, but the Vertigo series from writer Jason Aaron (and illustrated, for the most part, by R.M. Guera) is one of the most complex, compelling and captivating comics I've ever read. The story is essentially a crime drama set on the modern-day Prairie Rose Indian Reservation in South Dakota. The FBI has placed an undercover agent, Dashiel Bad Horse, into the crime operation of Chief Red Crow. There are murders, drug deals and double-crosses. No one is completely innocent; no one is completely bad. I've finished the five graphic novels of Scalped (collecting issues 1-29) and I may have to buy all the subsequent issues before the next collection comes out. I'm hooked -- immersed in the wonderfully-plotted story and thoroughly-developed world Aaron has created. He is masterfully using the strengths of the comic medium: devoting time to flashbacks, overlapping simultaneous storylines from issue-to-issue, and developing his background characters into significant players. Aaron is not beholden to any formulaic story structure. He pauses his story sometimes, suspending the major narrative for five or six issues to explore a side area of his milieu. But nothing in the series is extraneous or out-of-place. The pieces all come together. Trust me, Scalped is a rewarding series.

Books:

I've been reading quite a bit. The most exciting book has been Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself by David Lipsky. This is essentially a book-length interview Lipsky did with David Foster Wallace in February of 1996, just as Infinite Jest was published. Lipsky was assigned by Rolling Stone to profile Wallace but his piece never made it to print. Lipsky, however, had taped virtually every waking moment of his five-day visit with Wallace, and those tapes are transcribed here. What an amazing book! I found myself highlighting sections and taking notes. Wallace discusses films, authors, TV and movies. Though the book is rather dated (they talk about some stuff that has virtually been forgotten by now) there are some sections that are invaluable to the Wallace scholar, particularly those sections about the writing, editing and publishing of Infinite Jest. Wallace emphasizes over and over again how hard he worked on the book and compares the end of the experience (before he knew it was to be published or well-received) to a really good physical work-out: "There's this kind of tiredness that's real pleasant, and it's real sort of placid." Wallace knew that IJ was good and clearly the book was a transformative experience for him. Lipsky's book is revelatory and no fan of David Foster Wallace should miss it.

David Foster Wallace's Papers and Notes Now at UT Austin

2010-03-08T18:37:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the extended time away from the blog. The real world has a way of intruding on my free time!

Ah, well, onto exciting news!

The Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin has acquired the papers of the late David Foster Wallace. Included in the archive are manuscripts (handwritten pages from Infinite Jest!), annotated books that Wallace read over the years (including books by Don Delillo and Cormac McCarthy!), copies of Wallace's heavily used reference books including his dictionary (containing numerous circled words), personal and professional letters, and loads of other fascinating material.

Check out the Harry Ransom Center website to see samples of the materials mentioned above. If you are Wallace fan, this is a must!

And coming soon: draft material from Wallace's unfinished novel, The Pale King. These pages will not be available to the public until after the book is published in April 2011. It is going to be a long year.

In fact, most of the archive won't be available to the public until the fall of 2010. Meanwhile, a selection of Wallace's material is on display on the Ransom Center lobby through April 9.

You know what? I think I'll try heading down to Austin next week. I can't pass up this opportunity!

A Couple of David Lynch Books . . .

2010-02-17T07:06:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to comment on a number of things but I've been busier than usual. Soon, however, I hope to talk about some recent comics, books and TV.

In the mean time . . .

I was in Half-Price Books and came across a couple of David Lynch books that I didn't have. The first was a 2007 British book, David Lynch, by Colin Odell and Michelle Le Blanc. The book appears to contain the standard Lynch overview: chapters about each significant Lynch project, from the short films all the way up through INLAND EMPIRE. The book also has a couple of potentially intriguing chapters with titles such as "There's Always Music in the Air - David Lynch and Sound in Cinema"; "Pretty as a Picture - David Lynch's Visual Style"; and "Unlock the Dream, Solve the Crime - Mysteries and Secrets." A quick check of the endnotes and bibliography reveals that the authors used Wrapped In Plastic as one of their sources. Oddly, they apparently had access to only one year of WIP, listing issues 12-18 (and no others) as source materials.

The second book is a recent release, David Lynch Interviews, edited by Richard A. Barney. It was published just a few months ago (November 2009). From a quick perusal, Interviews looks to be a valuable addition to my Lynch library. Barney has managed to collect a number of unusual and hard-to-find Lynch interviews and articles from the past 30 years. From a 1977 interview in Soho Weekly News to a 2008 unpublished interview (conducted by Barney), Interviews also features a couple of rare French interviews translated into English for the first time, the transcript of the Cannes Fire Walk With Me press conference, a transcript of Lynch's 1997 KCRW Morning Becomes Eclectic interview and many others from various magazines and websites. Interviews appears to a worthwhile and important Lynch book.

That's all for now. But check Craig Miller's blog entries over at http://www.wrappedinplastic.com/ for some interesting reading. Craig has just put up a great essay about David Foster Wallace and he informs me that he will be posting new material as often as time permits!

Batwoman and the Art of J.H. Williams III

2010-01-29T14:50:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I wrote about the new Batwoman story featured in Detective Comics and about the stunning artwork by J. H. Williams III. In Detective, Williams has been consistently creating amazing double-page spreads, finding new and unusual ways to play with the medium, to create visuals that both enhance and complement the story.

There's a wonderful essay about Williams' evolution as an artist at The Savage Critic(s). I highly recommend reading it. There, Jog, the author of the piece, nicely describes Williams' current work with Batwoman:

"Williams' art tells a story in tandem with but also independent of [Greg] Rucka's words. It's free to run ahead of the plot, giving away secrets or even undercutting the dialogue for a deeper total effect. To say that Williams' art is merely good-looking or well-designed is to deny how truly unique it is, not so much inhabiting narrative space as invading it[.]"

I couldn't agree more. I love this art and I've often wondered, while reading Detective Comics, if original pieces would ever be available for sale. Turns out, Williams sells many of pages on his blog.

So, I couldn't resist. After raising a little money through eBay, I purchased one of my favorite double page spreads, the "Yin/Yang" image of Batwoman versus her arch nemesis, Alice, from Detective Comics #857 (click to enlarge):

There's a wonderful symmetry to this piece, beyond the contrasting figures of Batwoman on top and Alice on bottom. Notice, first, how the two capes extend to create three unique panels on each side of the picture. Batwoman's cape creates jagged, sharp panels; Alice's produces soft, dreamy ones. The shapes of these panels have, throughout earlier issues of the story, reflected the natures of both women: Batwoman is a character of action and discipline; Alice is a figure of violence and insanity. Here, on one page, they are presented in direct contrast to one another.

The symmetry of the panels extends to their contents, as well. Alice dominates on the left (in Batwoman's panels). She points her gun at an alarmed Batwoman (panel 1). She shoots until her bullets are gone (panel 2). Under fire, Batwoman crouches to protect herself (panel 3). Then, as the flow of the story moves to the right, the action shifts. Now, Batwoman dominates (in Alice's panels): She prepares to attack while Alice turns to flee (panel 4). She fires her gun (here, it is not a weapon of death, but a tool to attempt capture) (panel 5). Finally, she pursues a fleeing Alice (panel 6).

Each panel on the spread is distinctly complemented by one on the opposite side. Beautiful.

I love this page: It represents a significant moment in the Batwoman/Alice arc; a critical piece of a larger whole. And yet it also manages to stand on its own. Yes, there is much that takes place before and after these two pages, but, even without the rest of the story, you can sense the larger narrative condensed here in one single sequence.

Williams and writer, Greg Rucka, have done some great work in Detective Comics. In fact, their Batwoman story has been so popular, the character will soon have a title of her own. If you're looking for a good super-hero story with superior art, I highly recommend you check it out.

Twenty Years Ago This Month . . .

2010-01-20T13:22:00.000-08:00

I first heard about Twin Peaks twenty years ago this month. It was January 11, 1990, to be exact. I had purchased a copy of the Dallas Morning News and on the front page of the Arts section was a TV column by critic, Ed Bark. The title was: "ABC aims high with Twin Peaks." Bark has just attended a mid-season screening of the Twin Peaks pilot in Los Angeles and was, to put it mildly, blown away. Here's what he had to say:

"The two hour Twin Peaks movie, populated by an ensemble cast of 16 is the first TV masterpiece of the '90s and the best drama to come our way since Hill Street [Blues] floored critics and reviewers in January 1981. Dark, deceptive, visual, and, of course, quirky, it spellbinds from the very first minute -- make that the first second."

Well, I was excited. Ed Bark was describing something magnificent and new, something startling and unique, something not-to-be-missed. I knew I had to see Twin Peaks. You see, I was always a fan of good TV and two decades ago good TV--and by that I mean something intelligent, complex and challenging--was a rarity. The best television series to date had been St. Elsewhere. There was also Hill Street Blues and the early episodes of Miami Vice. But really, there was very little that made you sit up and take notice.

Clearly something special was on the way. Ed Bark ended his column by saying, "Much more will be written about Twin Peaks before it emboldens prime time as no series since Hill Street. Circle March [the tentative broadcast month for the pilot] on your calendar and savor the prospect of further details." Well, in a figurative sense, I did "circle the month." I took Bark's column home and placed it prominently on my desk. I was not going to forget Twin Peaks.

And I didn't. I watched (and videotaped) the pilot episode when it premiered on April 8, 1990. Then I watched it again the next day. Like Ed Bark, I was bowled over. It was the greatest thing I'd ever seen on TV. (Still is, actually.) And Bark was right; much more was written about Twin Peaks (albeit after it aired). In fact, much of that writing appeared in the pages of Wrapped In Plastic, produced by Craig Miller and myself.

Not surprisingly, I'm still writing about Twin Peaks today. And I hope in 2010 to write about it a little bit more. Make no mistake; this blog will still be home to reviews of all sorts of books, comics, TV, films and other assorted stuff that sparks my interest. But in this twentieth anniversary year of Twin Peaks I think I have a few fun things about Peaks to share.

Anyway, that's the story of how I first heard about Twin Peaks.

So tell me, when did you first hear about it?

Frank Silva

2010-01-06T21:00:00.000-08:00

I've had a request to see some pictures of Frank Silva, the actor who played Killer Bob in Twin Peaks and Fire Walk With Me. I took these pictures of Silva when I met him in 1993 at the annual Twin Peaks festival in Snoqualmie Falls, Issaquah and North Bend, WA. Craig Miller and I had the opportunity to interview Silva at length and we published this interview in Wrapped In Plastic 8. It was one of the few interviews Silva did and certainly the most extensive.

Silva was a gentle, friendly, soft-spoken man. He was quite approachable and seemed bemused, if not slightly overwhelmed, by all the attention he was given at the festival.

I'll never forget when I first saw him. It was Friday night and the festival banquet at the Issaquah Holiday Inn had begun. People were sitting and eating, eyes focused on a table at the front of the room where guests Al Strobel (Mike, the one-armed man) and Jan D'Arcy (Sylvia Horne) and others were seated. Rumor was that Frank was coming but that he was running late. Would he get there in time for the banquet? No one knew.

I was fortunate to be sitting at the front of the room where I could see the entrance. We had finished dinner and had listened to various speakers and it seemed like the banquet might be winding down. Then I saw Frank Silva appear. The response in the room was electric. The man who played Bob was here!

Silva took the podium and recounted us with great tales from the set of Twin Peaks and Fire Walk With Me. It was surreal. I was sitting a few feet from him and was instantly captivated by the man who played the forceful, frightening and indelible Bob. But nothing could compare to the moment when Frank gave us a live performance of Bob: He bent his head back and laughed/screamed. He went all out. It was a roar! It was piercing! It sent shivers down my spine!

The next day, Frank was due to appear at another Festival event in Snoqualmie Falls. He had missed his ride from Issaquah and my wife and I offered to give him a lift. For the next half-hour we had Frank Silva chatting away in our car, commenting on the time he spent in the area during the filming of the Twin Peaks pilot and Fire Walk With Me. He pointed out places where they shot. He told us about working with David Lynch. He seemed to be truly enjoying himself.

We said good-bye to Frank Silva later that day. We hoped he might return to future Twin Peaks festivals, but it was not be. His visit in 1993 was his first and last. Frank Silva died on September 13, 1995. While many Twin Peaks fans would never get the chance to meet Frank and see, for themselves, what a kind and caring man he was, they will always be able to look at his stupendous, visceral performance in the series and the film. Frank Silva will forever be the chilling, inexorable BOB.

My Favorite Songs of 2009

2009-12-24T07:35:00.000-08:00

A quick entry for the holidays!

I'm no music critic but I know what I like! These are my favorite songs for 2009. I'll leave it to others to write about their merits (or lack thereof . . .):

"While You Wait For The Others" – Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest

"Cannibal Resource" – Dirty Projectors, Bitte Orca

"Hey, Snow White" – New Pornographers, Dark Was The Night

"1901" – Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

"Valiant Brave" – Ganglians, Monster Head Room

"Wake" – Antlers, Hospice

"Skeletons" – Yeah Yeah Yeahs, It’s Blitz

"Middle Cyclone" – Neko Case, Middle Cyclone

"The Tenure Itch" – The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart

"Daniel" – Bat For Lashes, Two Suns

"Feel It all Around" – Washed Out, Life of Leisure EP

"Introducing Palace Players" – Mew, No More Stories

"Horchata" – Vampire Weekend, [single]

"Summertime Clothes" – Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion

Sometimes I Buy a Comic Just for the Art: First Thoughts on Avatar

2009-12-18T13:56:00.000-08:00

You hear the word "spectacular" used a lot in movie reviews these days. Usually its hyperbole. Or an empty term used by a lazy writer. But I can think of no more apt a word than "spectacular" to describe James Cameron's Avatar.

Spectacular is derived from the word, spectacle, which, according to my American Heritage College Dictionary, means, "something of a remarkable and impressive nature" and "a public performance or display, especially one on a large or lavish scale." That's Avatar. It is pure spectacle. It is beautiful and stunning and unlike anything I've ever seen on a movie screen.

That's the only way to really appreciate Avatar, by the way -- at the theater. Don't wait for Blu-Ray, or HBO, or whatever. See it on a BIG screen and in 3D. It's worth it. Really.

Yes, there are many things you can complain about in Avatar: The retread story. The (ironically) two-dimensional villain. The many weak spots in the plot. The thing is, I kinda' expected those things going in. I figured there would be simple narrative with stereotypical characters. But, you know what? The story isn't half-bad and the characters are all well-performed. And while there isn't exactly thematic subtlety in the film, it doesn't hit you over the head with a "message," either. In short, the story does everything it needs to do so that Cameron can showcase his dazzling, awesome, groundbreaking visuals.

I was thoroughly delighted by Avatar. It was worth my money and my time. So much so, in fact, that I'll be going to see it again. Because there aren't too many opportunities these days to sit in a movie theater and see something truly and unquestionably spectacular.

Best Science Fiction and Fantasy Books of the Decade (Part 2)

2009-12-13T18:40:00.000-08:00

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (2004) – Susanna Clarke. Heralded as the greatest new fantasy since Tolkien, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell was a refreshing, stand-alone epic about two feuding magicians in Victorian England. Though it was not as good as Tolkien (ha!), Clarke’s book was a lively, imaginative tale and one of the most engrossing books of the decade. There are unforgettable images in this book, from Mr. Norrell’s amazing library of magic books, to Strange’s eternal column of darkness. Vivid and inventive, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell begs for movie treatment and for a sequel.

Iron Council (2004) – China Mieville. Mieville returns to New Crobuzon to tell a tale of anarchists who seek to change the city’s political structure but are exiled into the wastelands of Bas Lag. The story in Iron Council is almost as good as the one found in Perdido Street Station. But here, Mieville’s prose has improved. It is still uniquely thick, and cluttered with the multi-syllabic, but in Iron Council it approaches poetry.

A Princess of Roumania, The Tourmaline, The White Tyger, The Hidden World (2005-2008) – Paul Park. Together, these four books comprise the Great Roumania quartet, the best example of a multi-volume fantasy in years, maybe decades. Much was made of the first book, but by the time the fourth arrived, Park’s work was being overlooked. In fact, I don’t think any of the four books won any major awards. That’s a shame because Park fashioned one of the most original and moving fantasies I’ve ever read. In it, our world is an illusion, a story in a book. Miranda Popescu has been hidden in our pages for years, but when the book is destroyed, she returns to the real world of a nineteenth-century, Roumanian-dominated Europe, where, of course, she must fulfill her destiny. Park’s story is terrific and highly imaginative: there are vampires and shape-changers, radioactive debris and time-tunnels, and one amazing gun that fires demons as bullets! This is the fantasy series I most want to re-read. Together, these are great books, featuring some of the best cover art (by John Jude Palencar) of the decade.

Counting Heads (2005) – David Marusek. Looking for strong, heady science fiction? Look no further than the books by David Marusek. His first, Counting Heads, showcases one of the most fully-realized futures in the genre. Marusek’s work is reminiscent of Bruce Sterling in its careful extrapolations, but where Sterling sometimes lose control of his plot, Marusek spins a strong and satisfying tale, even if (as of December, 2009) it has yet to fully close. In more ways than one, Counting Heads is the future of Science Fiction.

River of Gods (2005) – Ian McDonald. Some will argue that River of Gods is the best of the decade’s science fiction novels. I’ve made the case for Harrison’s Light, but River of Gods is still an amazing accomplishment. In it, McDonald has fashioned a fascinating future India in which rogue AI’s are hunted by special police, a third gender has been biologically developed, and the skirmishes for scarce supplies of water have created a delicate and vicious political scene. River of Gods is bravura storytelling and unabashedly, joyously science fiction on every page.

Galileo’s Dream (2009) – Kim Stanley Robinson. I’ve blogged about this book just recently so I won’t write much more here, other than to say Kim Stanley Robinson has integrated two of his specialties into one book: He combines alternate history with the future of the solar system. It’s as if he folded The Years of Rice and Salt into his Mars trilogy. Amazing! Galileo’s Dream is one of Robinson’s best books, which obviously makes it one of the best of the decade.

Bonus! The Best Non-Genre Books of the Decade.

(Sorry, no time for descriptions. Though I will say that The Road is the best book (of any genre) I read this past decade. In fact, it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. Some say it might be science fiction (it is post-apocalyptic). If so, consider it the best SF book of the past ten years and add it to the list above. Oh, and the Wallace title isn’t a novel (it’s a collection of essays), but, really, I’m going to make a list of best books of the 2000’s and leave Wallace off? No way!)

The Corrections – Jonathan Franzen

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay – Michael Chabon

Consider the Lobster – David Foster Wallace

The Plot Against America – Philip Roth

The Brief History of the Dead – Kevin Brockmeier

The Road – Cormac McCarthy

The Brief, Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao – Junot Diaz

The Savage Detectives – Roberto Bolaño

James Tiptree Jr.: The Double Life of Alice B. Sheldon – Julie Phillips

Best Science Fiction and Fantasy Books of the Decade (Part 1)

2009-12-09T18:20:00.000-08:00

(Holiday obligations are leaving little time for writing. Sorry for the lack of links this time around.)

Here’s part one of my list of the best science fiction and fantasy novels from the past ten years. All these books come with the highest recommendation. I’ve listed them by date of publication.

Look to Windward (2000) – Iain M. Banks. Released a year before the September 11th terrorist attacks, Look to Windward may be Banks at his most prescient. Terrorists threaten a major population center in the Culture, the utopian society that rules most of the galaxy. But the Culture is always one step ahead and hardly threatened by a band of small-time plotters, no matter how determined. (If only reality was this clean and simple.) Look to Windward is the most controlled and thoughtful of Banks’s books and easily his best Culture novel.

Perdido Street Station (2000) – China Mieville. This is the book that put China Mieville on the map. Perdido was a big, sprawling mash-up of fantasy, science fiction and horror—and arguably a masterpiece. There was, for a time, an effort by some writers (led by Mieville) to define a new sub-genre called the New Weird. It was equal parts Lovecraft, steampunk, and The Island of Dr. Moreau. It may have been a real thing for a time, just like Cyberpunk was in the Eighties; if so, Perdido Street Station was its Neuromancer. Whatever its label, though, this first tale of the fictional city, New Crobuzon, is also sui generis and one of the most important genre books of the decade.

Return to the Whorl (2001) – Gene Wolfe. Don’t read this book until you’ve read the first two books in the trilogy (On Blue’s Waters, In Green’s Jungles). Of course, the trilogy is a sequel, of sorts, to the "Long Sun Quartet" (which is a companion series to the five-book "New Sun" series). Got all that? This is a great book, but typical of Gene Wolfe. In other words, it’s dense and challenging. It’s emphatically not a casual read. I recommend it for the serious SF fan, only; someone who enjoys puzzling-out Wolfe’s hidden narratives. Is it worth the work? Absolutely. (And I can’t say that about some of Wolfe’s most recent novels.)

The Years of Rice and Salt (2002) – Kim Stanley Robinson. Another timely book, depending on your point-of-view. The Years of Rice and Salt is a grand alternate history in which the Black Death wipes out most of Christian Europe, leaving the world to be settled and advanced by Muslim nations and China. The book came out in early 2002, shortly after 9/11. The alternate time line allows Robinson to explore the strengths and weaknesses of different cultures and religions. The Years of Rice and Salt is one of Robinson’s strongest and most thought-provoking books. But he’ll surpass it before the decade ends.

Bones of the Earth (2002) – Michael Swanwick. Here is Michael Swanwick having fun in a delightful tale about time travel and dinosaurs. It’s full of old-fashioned “sense-of-wonder” and adventure but with good characters and strong plotting. I love the way Swanwick dismisses the paradox of time travel: “Step on as many butterflies as you wish!” (Rather than spend pages of explication, Swanwick efficiently establishes time travel as possible then moves on with the fun part--the story.) Still, time travel has its many dangers (and so do those dinosaurs!).

Light (2002)– M. John Harrison. Light may be the best science fiction novel of the decade. Harrison perfectly melds big ideas, SF tropes and world-building with some of the strongest characterization you’ll find in (or out) of the genre. What struck me about Light was the fact that much of the story—the struggle of the characters to discover themselves, to overcome their self-imposed obstacles—works regardless of the SF setting. There’s no science fictional crutch, here. Light is the one SF novel of the past ten years I most look forward to re-reading.

Cloud Atlas (2004) – David Mitchell. Here’s a book with SF at its core—literally. There are six nested narratives in Cloud Atlas, two taking place in the past, two in the present and two in the future. They fit perfectly into one another and my jaw dropped while I read Mitchell masterfully connect them. This is one of the most unique books of the decade.

Best TV of the Decade

2009-12-02T18:26:00.000-08:00

It's that time again. Time for lists and more lists. Best books. Best movies. Best comics. Everyone's got a list. I used to rant against lists. (It seems that Entertainment Weekly's got a "best of something" issue every few months.) But blogs are a great place for lists. Plus it is December and the last year of the so-called "aughts" . . . . So, in the best spirit of "if-you-can't-beat-'em-join-'em," here's my first list for the month:

Best TV of the Decade:
(Note: This is not a top-ten list. Why limit--or force--myself to ten entries?)

1) The Wire. Hands-down, the best show of the decade. (Any list that doesn't have The Wire in the top two or three slots is worthless. (So there, Hollywood Reporter!)) The Wire is the most accomplished and satisfying show I've ever seen. Yes, I love Twin Peaks (which I still consider the most daring, innovative and mesmerizing show of all time) and although The Wire never challenged me like Twin Peaks--wow!--did it ever engross me! Over five seasons, The Wire told a Dickensian story of drug-dealers, junkies, cops and politicians in Baltimore, Maryland. It managed all at once to be tragic and hilarious, thrilling and thought-provoking. The acting, directing and writing were pitch-perfect. And the characters! Oh man, the characters. Who can forget Omar and Bunk and McNulty and Stringer Bell and Bubbles and Freamon and Ziggy, etc. etc? No character was a stereotype. There were no heroes or villains, just realistic people trying to survive in a desperate environment. The Wire, with its intricate, finely-tuned plots remains the best example yet of what can be accomplished in the medium of television.

2) The Office (British version). The first series to skewer the "genre" of reality TV and lampoon the kind of people who seek an easy road to "fame;" the 12 episodes (and two-hour finale) of The Office told a complete and satisfying story of what happens when ordinary people are put on extraordinary display. The star of the show (and "the show") was the smarmy, self-centered, fame-seeking, David Brent, played to heartbreaking and hilarious perfection by Ricky Gervais. Brent thought he deserved to be on TV, thought fame would solve all his problems. But his bid for fame turned out to be sad and delusional (not unlike what has happened with many recent reality "stars" and wanna-be's). Like The Wire, The Office took full advantage of television's strengths, not so much with extended narrative (as in The Wire) but with the medium of television, itself. The "idea" of the documentary--the presence of the cameras in the workplace--was as much a part of the story as the characters. The Office was innovative and refreshing, and it paved the way for so much of what is on TV today.

3) The Sopranos. There is much to like in The Sopranos, but what really strikes me is how series creator, David Chase, developed such complex and flawed characters. The stories on The Sopranos delivered thrills and intrigue, certainly, but it was the characters who, for me, provided lasting entertainment. Chase found ways of making their psychological states--their internal conflicts, rationalizations, and avoidance--the stuff of high drama. He was also lucky (and savvy) to cast James Gandolfini as Tony Soprano. Together, Chase and Gandolfini shaped the most fully-realized TV character of all time. To be sure, there were other brilliant performances and memorable characters on The Sopranos, but Tony will always stand out among them. (Oh, and let's not forget that brilliant series ending. It goes on and on and on )

4) Mad Men. Intricate plotting (like The Wire) coupled with complex characters (like The Sopranos) easily makes Mad Men one of the best shows of the decade. And the series may have many more seasons to go; I don't doubt Mad Men will appear on many "Best TV " lists for the next decade. Mad Men has brilliantly explored the idea of different "identities" found in every person (the work persona, the home-life persona, the persona you only reveal to yourself). These identities compete for control in the show's main character, Don Draper (aka Dick Whitman) but are also evident in the show's other wonderful characters, particularly Peggy Olson and Pete Campbell. Mad Men is also about the sharp cultural shifts happening in the United States in the early sixties and while sometimes the show is too obvious in the way it highlights the differences between "now" and "then," it does provide a valuable look at unique moment in time: that still-point between the conformist, propagandized Fifties, and the radical, authority-defying Sixties. With season three, that still point has passed. The series has clearly reached a turning point and all signs indicate that it will redefine itself. What will Mad Men of 1964 look like? I can't wait to see.

5) LOST. Finally, network TV gets it right! A long, complicated, mind-bending mystery! From the beginning, LOST was about questions ("Guys, where are we?"). Could a show with such a strange premise and huge cast possibly keep its secrets and keep viewers satisfied? The X-Files tried and failed. So did Alias and Heroes. Somehow, though, LOST managed that most difficult of balancing acts: it simultaneously delivered satisfying answers while withholding complete narrative closure. Over LOST's five seasons, layers of mystery have been stripped away to reveal glimpses of a grander structure. There is a sense that the characters (and the audience) are getting closer to the truth. In fact, the greatest pleasure of LOST is piecing together clues from episode-to-episode and sensing the bigger picture come into view. Still, we have yet to see the whole picture and there is a chance that everything could fall apart. There's a lot at stake in the upcoming final season of LOST. Big revelations are due, but can they possibly meet viewer expectations? I think the creators of LOST know what they're doing (a rarity for ongoing network serials) so I'm expecting surprising and satisfying answers. I've got my fingers crossed, anyway.

OK, that's five shows. There are many other great series from the past ten years and I'd like to discuss them all, but time and other obligations prevent me. Still, I'd be remiss if I didn't at least mention these other noteworthy series from the 2000's. They are:

The West Wing, Deadwood, Big Love, the first two seasons of Battlestar Galactica (the last few seasons of Galactica make it one of the worst shows of the decade so let's just pretend they never happened!), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Veronica Mars, and The Office (US version).

Of course, there are many series I've failed to see. Shows like Arrested Development, The Shield and House have consistently garnered great reviews. Their absence here says nothing about their quality.

Bonus! Best Single Episodes of the Decade (in no particular order):

* "Blink;" Doctor Who
* "The Body;" Buffy the Vampire Slayer
* "17 People;" The West Wing
* "The Return of the Fellowship of the Ring to the Two Towers;" South Park
* "Out of Gas;" Firefly
* "Training;" The Office (UK)
* "The Constant;" LOST
* "Pilot, Parts 1 & 2;" LOST
* "Here Was a Man;" Deadwood
* "33;" Battlestar Galactica
* "You Can't Go Home Again;" Battlestar Galactica
* "Hush;" Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Technically, this aired in December of 1999, but I can't let such a great episode be overlooked.)

That's it for now. More lists to come!

Notes and Notions (November, Part 2)

2009-11-14T16:19:00.000-08:00

Music:

The best thing about the newly remastered release of U2's Unforgettable Fire CD (and there are many great things about it) is the clean, crisp version of track 9: "Elvis Presley in America." This is one of my favorite U2 songs, but I never enjoyed it as much as I do now. Previous versions were muddy and flat and the otherworldly effect of the song was lost. Not anymore. To me, the song is endlessly captivating. Bono's voice rides the waves of accompanying music, rising into clarity one moment then dropping into ambiguity the next. His cryptic, improvised lyrics move from the meditative to the highly emotional. The result is a hypnotic song that is simultaneously ethereal and raw. Outstanding.

Speaking of remastered disks, another great new release is The Stone Roses' self-titled CD from 1990. (Actually, now, the more precise title is The Stone Roses 20th Anniversary.) I love all the songs on the disk, but I'm especially pleased to hear the rousing, "This is The One," in crisp, remastered clarity.

Film:
I haven't seen nearly enough films lately. But all that's going to change! The holiday season is upon us and there's a slew of movies that I'm eager to see. First among them is Avatar. I know, I know: there's a lot of James Cameron backlash out there right now. Apparently the Avatar trailer doesn't live up to the hype (or the promise of the 3D technology). But talk about griping! What do movie fans want? They're disappointed with the Avatar trailer? C'mon! It's breathtaking. Plus, if I'm going to plop down ten dollars to see a movie, I know James Cameron is going to deliver. Nobody gives you a better bang for the buck. Sure, Avatar will feature the same old Cameron cliches--a simplistic romance and a heavy-handed message about corporate greed. But so what? The special effects, the action, the attention to detail--film and genre geeks everywhere should be celebrating. I think Avatar will be exhilarating. It will also be one of those rare films that must be seen on the big screen. There's no waiting for the DVD with this one! (For an in-depth profile of James Cameron and more info about Avatar, check out this New Yorker essay.)

More TV:
As long as Glee can provide episodes as great as "Wheels" this past week, I'll be eager to tune in. But while "Wheels" shows how good Glee can be, it also underscores how uneven the series is. Some episodes are cartoonish and slapstick with flat characterizations and buffoonish performances, others (like "Wheels") are captivating, well-acted, and moving. Clearly, series co-creator, Ryan Murphy, is the real talent here. He wrote "Wheels" as well as being co-writer on the season's other outstanding episode, "Preggers." I hope he gains more creative control on Glee as the series goes along. Of course, Glee will eventually face the dilemma of all "high school" shows: Do the characters graduate or stay in high school forever? The premise of the show demands the latter (it's all about high school glee club, after all). But the young actors who play the students are already looking too old for their roles and certainly by season two it will be hard to accept them as teenagers, let alone high school students. I guess we'll be seeing "community college glee" in the next few years. (Still, right now I'd rather watch Glee, with its 25-year-old high school kids, than FlashForward or the god-awful V. Ughh.)

Notes and Notions (November, Part 1)

2009-11-04T19:06:00.000-08:00

Books:
I've had my nose buried in a book. And not just any book, but the late Roberto Bolano's epic masterpiece, 2666. I wish I had blogged about my reading experience, as 2666 was one of those books that, because of its length, takes a significant amount of time to complete. It took me six weeks to make it through the five separate "books" that make up the whole of 2666 and it would have been useful to note the various connections I noticed as I read and also to comment on how I thought the various pieces the larger work were going to connect. Ah, well, a missed opportunity. Of course I recommend 2666 without reservations, but be warned, this is a demanding book. If you've read (and liked) other works by Bolano (especially The Savage Detectives) then make sure you carve out some time for 2666. (By the way, there is a major Twin Peaks reference in the book--deliberate and direct--that comes at the half-way point in the story. For days I thought Twin Peaks might have been a significant influence on 2666 and while I do think Bolano was attempting (in the third book) to emulate a Lynchian mood through his writing, I think the nod to Twin Peaks was just Bolano's way of acknowledging the genius of Lynch.)

Before reading 2666, I read Kim Stanley Robinson's Galileo's Dream. This is Robinson's best book since his "Mars trilogy" of the 1990's and the best science fiction book I've read this year (so far). Robinson seems to be channeling Gene Wolfe in the telling of his story as he reveals a surprise narrator well into tale. This narrator also undermines a basic assumption I (as a reader) had made about the mechanics of Robinson's well-developed time-travel tale. If it sounds like I'm being coy, I'm really trying to avoid spoiling the details. Galileo's Dream was great "hard" science fiction, an eye-opening historical account, and a poetic blending of science and spirituality. Galileo's Dream shows why Kim Stanley Robinson is one of SF's most important voices.

TV:
I am rapidly growing weary of Flashforward which has put the soap-opera aspect of its story well ahead of its mystery. I don't care about the melodrama! The most exciting thing about last week's episode was ABC's teaser for the new season of LOST. (You know what would be great? If the characters who have seen the future realize said future is immutable and so, because they have a guaranteed six months to live, lead fearless lives. Imagine jumping off a building and knowing--somehow--you'll survive? Or that you can walk through traffic and not be harmed? At the very least I'd like to see the characters get bolder with their actions, see them willing to take more chances as their certainty about an unchangeable future grows. This week's episode supposedly deals with suicides and we can only hope the writers will touch upon these ideas. But I'm not holding my breath.)

Fox will burn off the remaining episodes of Dollhouse in December and January. Say good-bye to the most challenging SF show on TV. (Whedon promises closure. So there's that.)

Cartoon Network's Clone Wars is fun to watch and more exciting than the three Star Wars prequel films (I'm not the first to say that). But the problem is, we can't forget the prequel films! We know that Anakin is doomed, that he will betray the Jedi, and that all his battles in this series are for naught. And why does the show insist on making the clone troopers unique individuals with sympathetic personalities? We know they, too, will be re-programmed and lose their individuality. I love the show but I always have a sour taste in my mouth after each episode. Does George Lucas even care that viewers might contemplate the larger narrative of Clone Wars? Probably not.

Twin Peaks:
It's pretty rare to have Twin Peaks news these days. But, as the twentieth anniversary of the show approaches, we may be seeing more. Anyway, the big news right now is the upcoming book of photos by Paula K. Shimatsu-U. According to the press release (which you can read here), the book, Northwest Passages: "contains a treasure trove of rare and unpublished photos from Paula's personal archive. It's all here, from deleted scenes, intimate portraits, photos that ended up as key props within the show to official publicity shots and cast and crew having fun on the set." I looked up Shimatsu-U on IMDB and see that she was credited as "unit publicist" on Twin Peaks as well as assistant to Mark Frost. My hopes are up for this book!

Ok, that's all I have for now. More notes and possibly a few notions to come.

Original Art

2009-10-25T10:43:00.000-07:00

I don't have much original comic art. I do have a few cherished pieces, however, that are rather unique. After writing about my Art Spiegelman sketch, I decided to open my own online gallery at the website, Comic Art Fans (http://www.comicartfans.com/). I posted a few pieces from my collection and one in particular got a lot of attention. It was my X-Men page by John Byrne. Here it is:

This piece was done for promotional purposes by Marvel Comics back in 1977. It saw publication in at least one comic: Avengers 165 (Nov, 1977). John Byrne started as artist on X-Men 108 in December, 1977, one month after the Avengers title went on sale. This makes my drawing one of Byrne's earliest official X-Men pieces. It also makes it valuable. I've already had a few people inquire about buying the drawing (and they made some very nice offers). Apparently, an original piece like this is highly sought after.

Byrne's drawing is bold and dynamic and it's a great portrait of the entire team. The X-Men are in action and ready for battle! Cyclops, a strong central figure, leads the charge. Three X-Men flank him on each side. The piece features Banshee (upper left) who left the team shortly after Byrne joined the title. It also prominently features Phoenix (bottom right) and Wolverine in his original costume. The composition is notable: Phoenix and Banshee balance the two corners, while Storm's black cape balances Nightcrawler's dark costume. Her cape also isolates and highlights the commanding presence of Cyclops.

This is a finished piece of art but it contains some obvious blemishes: There is a splotch of white-out on Nightcrawler's thumb, a place where Byrne obviously made a fix to the figure. There is also a smudge of ink just below Nightcrawler's hand. Finally, there is a cryptic note on the bottom right, written in blue pencil: "Pos 50%" along with a scribble that may be someone's initials or sign-off. (This is probably a note to the colorist or someone else involved with the printing of the piece.)

I bought the drawing from John Byrne in New York City at a comic convention in November, 1981. He had recently left X-Men to start work on The Fantastic Four. Byrne was doing sketches. He was charging $20 per figure and he had a bold, hand-written sign in front of him that read: "No X-Men." I really wanted a sketch but none of the Fantastic Four (by themselves) seemed that interesting. When I got my chance I requested a Dr. Doom sketch, which Byrne happily produced. As he was packing up to leave he pulled out a few pieces from his portfolio and asked for offers. One was a nice inked drawing of Kitty Pryde. He held it up but nobody in the packed crowd said anything. He put the drawing away and pulled out the X-Men drawing. Again, nobody offered any money. Everybody seemed afraid. Who could guess what he would want for such a piece? Byrne looked around and shrugged. He seemed kind of frustrated. Just as he was slipping it back in his bag, I yelled out, "Forty dollars!" He pulled it right back out and said, "Forty dollars. That sounds good." I handed him the money and he handed me the art. I figured I got a great deal -- seven characters, and all of them X-Men! Had he been doing X-Men sketches (and he emphatically wasn't) it would have cost me $140 to get an equivalent drawing.

I brought the art home and had it framed. It has hung on various walls in various homes for the past 28 years. Even though I lost my interest in the X-Men comic long ago, I still have a strong attachment to my original John Byrne X-Men drawing. And I'll tell you, it was the best investment of forty dollars I've ever made.

At Half-Price Books . . .

2009-10-19T07:22:00.000-07:00

So I'm looking through the graphic novels and comics at Half-Price Books. Lots of stuff I don't want or don't like. Plenty of Marvel and DC compilations, most from the last few years or so.

I see a copy of Swamp Thing volume 1. I have that already. Hmm, volume three of Y The Last Man. Have that, too. There's a copy of Fun Home. Got that last week. Oh, is that a copy of Maus? It looks different from my copy at home. Maybe it's a first edition . . . . Why, it sure is. Hey, it's signed! ("For Brett" but oh well.) And there's a sketch by Art Spiegelman!!

It's mine! (And for only eight bucks!)

I love Half-Price Books.

BFI's New Star Wars Book

2009-10-15T15:06:00.000-07:00

BFI (British Film Institute) has released Star Wars, the latest volume in its "Film Classics" series. Star Wars was announced years ago (2002 to be exact) and when it failed to appear I assumed the title had been canceled. Happily, the book (by Will Brooker) is finally available.

In case you don't know, the BFI books are compact, focused studies (usually around 100 pages) written by film scholars and accomplished critics. These reliable authorities deliver fresh insights into the thematic and aesthetic qualities of particular films and always provide convincing arguments for a film's "classic" status. For cinephiles, a BFI book is the place to go for quick (but substantive) analysis.

I haven't read Star Wars yet, but after a quick perusal it looks good. Here's a sample of what Brooker has to offer: "Star Wars reveals the clash between [George] Lucas's pleasure in the exterior, reflective surfaces of objects, and his enjoyment in taking them apart and customising them; his admiration for raw documentary and his obsession with polished high production values; his nostalgia for classical Hollywood adventure and his interest in abstract formalism." (p. 10)." If you like this kind of film analysis then this is the book for you!

There are a number of great books in the BFI library--studies on Blue Velvet, Blade Runner, Eyes Wide Shut, The Right Stuff (and my favorite, Groundhog Day). I recommend all of them. But there are still many great films that need the BFI treatment: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Picnic at Hanging Rock, Magnolia, Apocalypse Now, The Natural and Adaptation (to name but a few). We may never see them but we can hope!

Extemporaneous Comments on the new TV Season

2009-10-05T13:15:00.000-07:00

I've been watching TV.

New Shows:

Flashforward (ABC) - Two episodes in and I am intrigued but not enthused. The "flashforward" is a cool concept and there are many story ideas to mine from it. But the show is rather flat and I wonder if it can sustain its premise for very long. We all know there will be another flashforward at some point (season finale?), but, if so, it has to be something different from the last one. How will this show evolve? I can see it becoming stagnant real fast if it isn't willing to take some risks. The producers are clearly influenced by LOST and I hope they look to that show as an example of how to expand a story and keep their concept fresh. I'm staying tuned for now.

Community (NBC) - I heard good reviews and liked the first episode. But the show is trying too hard to be funny and not hard enough to be inviting. Chevy Chase is good and so is lead actor, Joel McHale, but the rest of the supporting cast looks like it could come from any sitcom from the past 30 years. And the storylines seem recycled, too. I'm on the cusp of tuning out.

Modern Family (ABC) - I watched the first episode and laughed a few times but this was another one of those shows that didn't click for me. I guess I'm growing tired of the documentary style sitcom even though I like Parks and Recreation and The Office (see my comments below). This show might be very good over the long haul but I don't have the time to commit right now. Already tuned out.

Bored to Death (HBO) OK, here's a show I like. Bored to Death is about characters. The show takes time to let its characters think and interact. In other words, it's slow. But that's why I like it. Unlike network programs that urgently rush huge casts of characters on- and off-stage in hopes that audiences will see something they like, HBO lets shows like Bored to Death find their own rhythm. Bored to Death features a dopey, likeable Jason Schwartzman whose character is at an age where he is struggling against the responsibilities of adulthood. The grown-up world isn't the one from movies and books. Schwartzman is naive and sweet and he's fun to watch as he tries to maintain these qualities while also being a hard-boiled "private eye." I don't know if Bored to Death will last more than one season, but I'll take what I can get. (In other words, I'm tuned-in for the duration.)

Glee (FOX) - I really shouldn't like Glee. It's contrived and predictable. It features some of the most tired sitcom plotting you're likely to see. (A faked pregnancy? Really?) But I find myself laughing at Jane Lynch who totally nails her competitive, tough-coach persona. And I guess I'm a sucker for musical numbers which can, when done right, add a magical quality to the otherwise mundane. Glee has enough magic to make me overlook its flaws. (For now.) I'm tuned in until I wake up and think straight.

Returning Shows:

The Simpsons (FOX) Still great. And after twenty years! The Simpsons may have lost some of the cleverness and brio of its heyday, but there's still inspired humor on the show. The opening episode featuring "Everyman" was a wonderful example.

Curb Your Enthusiasm (HBO) There's lots of hype about the Seinfeld reunion this season, but even before this plot kicked into gear (in the third episode) the show remained unconventional and unpredictable. In short: brilliant.

Parks and Recreation (NBC) Here's a show that's improving with time. The first season (of only six episodes) had some nice moments but seemed scattered. The new season is letting the characters become more grounded. I like the budding romance between Leslie (Amy Poehler) and police officer Dave (Louis C. K.). It shows how the characters on Parks and Recreation (like those on like The Office) are people and not just caricatures. That's what makes it work for me.

The Office (NBC) This is still a wonderful show. Steve Carell deserves recognition for his portrayal of office boss, Michael Scott. Maybe someday he'll get that Emmy. The show is working like a well-oiled machine but I think it's starting to show its age. The Pam/Jim storyline lost its edge a long time ago. Their hindered romance was once the driving force of the show. Without it, there's a narrative vacuum. I keep expecting some new drama to enter the lives of Pam and Jim but they keep moving happily along. (They've both been promoted, they're getting married, they're having a baby. Great! But where's the drama?) And one other thing: It is getting hard to believe that a "documentary" is still being "filmed" at Dunder Mifflin. Will this documentary ever be shown? Or do the producers hope we, the audience, have forgotten the premise of the show? (In the fictional world of the British version of The Office, the documentary we "saw" being shot on the first 12 episodes was supposedly shown. Could this ever happen on the US version?)

Dollhouse (FOX) I always thought this show had much to offer and the second season is living up to the promise of the first. There are many wonderful concepts at play in Dollhouse, among them the ideas of portable and manufactured identities and the importance of memory as a defining aspect of personality. Despite its formulaic plot structure (Mission!/Danger!/Fight!), there is a sophisticated level of storytelling going on here that makes Dollhouse one of the most rewarding science fiction shows in some time. (Though there is one flaw in the Dollhouse scenario that has become almost laughable--the constant failure of the "imprinting technology" which is used to program "actives" for their missions. Said tech fails almost as often as the Enterprise transporters on Star Trek. And just like those glitchy transporters, the buggy tech in Dollhouse is usually the root-cause for drama from episode-to-episode. It is starting to strain credibility that the Dollhouse managers aren't running a full diagnostic review of their unreliable and highly dangerous technology.) Sadly, the ratings for Dollhouse are abysmal. I hope we see the full run of 13 episodes ordered by FOX and that Dollhouse creator, Joss Whedon, plotted this arc with some resolution. I doubt Dollhouse will be on in 2010 and so, for now, I'm watching it like I would a mini-series: I know I have so many episodes and then it's over. I better enjoy it while it lasts.

Comics Reviews

2009-09-24T08:45:00.000-07:00

All-Star Superman, Volumes 1 & 2 – Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely

There’s a whole lot to like in All-Star Superman. Writer Grant Morrison essentially distills decades of Superman lore into a 12-part series (collected here in two volumes). The story begins as Superman exposes himself to a lethal dose of solar radiation and soon realizes he has only a short time to live. He decides to tie-up various loose ends in his life: We see a dramatic confession to Lois Lane, a visit to (and from) the Bizarro world, multiple encounters with Lex Luthor, a reminiscence in Smallville, and various other story bits from the Super-universe. Morrison doesn’t cheat with his “Superman is dying story” either; he provides an elegant and moving resolution that is quite effective. There are many great moments in the series—some large and super-heroic, others small and tender—all exquisitely rendered by artist Frank Quitley and colorist/inker Jamie Grant. This is a beautiful comic to read and to look at.

All-Star Superman is a self-contained tale with a satisfying over-all arc. But there is a fractured nature to Morrison’s writing style that can be disorienting. Morrison deliberately elides in his telling—skipping over or leaving out crucial parts of the plot, assuming readers will fill in the blanks. I read All-Star Superman pretty fast and will admit to getting tripped up by the story in a few places. Clearly a closer read (or re-read) is required to get everything out of the book.

All quibbles aside, Morrison has written what is probably the best Superman story ever. And his greatest accomplishment here is that he finds a perfect balance between the alien and human qualities of the character. Let’s face it: Superman’s “super-ness” can, at times, make him distant and affectless. After all, how does one relate to a character who is essentially a god? Through the impending death scenario and elegiac tone to the story, Morrison has found a way. He succeeds at making Superman sympathetic and relevant while still maintaining an alien aspect to the character. (In the end, despite all his trials and sacrifices, we never fully know who or what Superman is.) In All-Star Superman, Grant Morrison restores mystery and possibility to one of the best known characters in comics. That’s no easy feat. In fact, it sounds like job for . . . (well, you get it).

The Walking Dead, Volume 1: “Days Gone By” – Robert Kirkman & Tony Moore

I heard good things about this comic so I thought I’d give it a try. Alas, despite its zombie premise, the story was lacking. Writer Kirkman chooses to focus on his characters and their responses to disaster and tragedy rather than re-visit tired old horror tropes. That’s fine, but if Kirkman’s ambition is to transcend the zombie story he has more work to do. The story, about police officer Rick Grimes and the small band of survivors with whom he joins (after a sudden mass zombie attack) relies on interpersonal conflict and character introspection to fuel the drama. But the plot lacks urgency and Kirkman’s attempt at complex character interaction isn’t enough to make it compelling. As it is, Rick meets his fellow survivors and they discuss whether they should stay near Atlanta or move away to the less dangerous countryside. There’s a lot of talking, much of which is repetitious. A brief trip into the city for guns provides some welcome thrills but, for the most part, the story stalls as the characters spend time getting to know one another. There is personal conflict between Rick and his former partner, Shane, but the “surprise” ending (which was nicely foreshadowed) was too abrupt. I’m sure the consequences of this ending are further explored in Volume 2 of The Walking Dead but it would have been nice to have an epilogue in Volume 1. Though I am ambivalent about this series I do see a lot of promise in The Walking Dead. I’d happily read the next couple of volumes, but I’d need to see a stronger story and more sophisticated characterization to go any further.

Richard Stark’s Parker, Book One: The Hunter – Darwyn Cooke

The eponymous protagonist of Parker: The Hunter is a pretty simple character in a pretty simple story: Parker is a hard and violent man who sets out to track down the men who double-crossed and left him for dead during a heist. But simplicity doesn’t keep Parker from being a magnificent rendering of a good, old-fashioned revenge tale. Darwyn Cooke has chosen to adapt the Parker story from a 1962 pot-boiler by Richard Stark (a pseudonym for Donald Westlake). While Parker may not be sympathetic (he tramples everyone who stands between him and revenge) you still root for him because he is brash, daring, and has the odds stacked against him.

The straightforward tale is predictable, of course, but what makes Parker worthwhile is Cooke’s beautiful art. He manages to convey effortless movement from panel-to-panel with his fluid, cinematic style. His composition is bursting with energy and motion, befitting the nature of his hard-boiled tale. Cooke’s stylized character are, essentially, idealized renderings of 1960’s stereotypes—there’s the angular, chiseled looks of Parker, the curvy allure of Parker’s girls, Lynn and Rose, and the pillowy physique of Parker’s nemesis, mob middle-man Mal Resnick. Illustrated in black, white and grey on thick, creamy paper, Parker is a high-quality hardcover and a sensual delight.

Asterios Polyp – David Mazzucchelli

The real highlight of my recent comic reading is David Mazzucchelli’s Asterios Polyp – a superb and unforgettable work of art in which Mazzucchelli displays complete command of his medium. Asterios Polyp is the name of the main character, a middle-aged architect who has lived a passive, listless life—one that is haunted (psychologically) by the presence of his dead-at-birth twin brother, Ignazio. The story begins when Asterios’ home burns down. Left with nothing but the clothes on his back (and three small, but meaningful possessions) Asterios sets out to start life anew and contemplate the various ghosts of his past. His journey of self-discovery alternates with flash-backs about Asterios’ early years and his relationship with, and eventual marriage to, an artist named Hana.

As the story of Asterios and Hana unfolds, Mazzucchelli tackles big philosophical ideas like the nature of identity and the concept of duality. Asterios’ dead brother, Ignazio (the story’s narrator), informs the heart and soul of the book. Asterios cannot move forward in his life, cannot achieve anything of substance until he resolves his “relationship” with the shadow-presence of Ignazio. Doing so is no easy task. Asterios is haunted by alternatives: What if he, and not Ignazio, had died at birth? Whose life is he really living? Can he share his life with a dead doppelganger? Mazzucchelli explores these exhilarating ideas with aplomb. In fact, there’s such a richness to Asterios Polyp, such a masterful control of the material, that I’m finding it difficult to find adequate words to describe the book.

It is clear that Mazzucchelli is at the top of his form. He has harnessed the power of comic story-telling to merge words and movement and abstract concepts in such a way that no other medium could do his unique ideas justice. And it is a book to return to: Heady with ideas, superbly structured, and so delicately layered—so perfectly executed—it demands multiple readings. Asterios Polyp is a masterpiece and one of the best books I’ve read this year.

(For more about Asterios Polyp, check out Scott McCloud’s review here. The book’s deep themes and layered concepts have inspired some to begin annotating the work. This is really the tip of the iceberg; I expect to see much more writing about Asterios Polyp in the future as there are so many puzzles still to solve. Curiously, I haven’t seen anyone talking about the riddle of Asterios’ last name (which we learn was cut in half by an “exasperated Ellis Island official” when Asterios’ father immigrated to the US). What is his true full name? I’m sure I know. The clues are there in the book. Hint: There’s lots of reference to Greek mythology in the story. Follow that lead.) [Whoops! Spoke too soon! A reviewer on Amazon discusses the full name of Asterios Polyp. More clues there.]

Federer Moment

2009-09-14T07:08:00.001-07:00

David Foster Wallace called them Federer Moments:

"These are times, as you watch the young Swiss play, when the jaw drops and eyes protrude and sounds are made that bring spouses in from other rooms to see if you’re O.K."

This happened to me as I watched Roger Federer play in the U.S. Open on Sunday. I've never seen anything like it. Take a look.

Novelization of a Film Not Yet Made

2009-09-08T21:01:00.000-07:00

Next week we are going to be inundated with hype surrounding Dan Brown's new book (and follow-up to The Da Vinci Code), The Lost Symbol. This is one of those books that's going to be everywhere: the grocery store, the drug store, Blockbuster Video . . . everywhere. In fact, I suspect copies of The Lost Symbol will be especially prominent in places where you don't usually find books. Why? Because The Lost Symbol is a book written for the casual reader--someone who does not frequent bookstores, who does not read book reviews or magazine articles or any kind of non-fiction. Like The Da Vinci Code, The Lost Symbol will be a beach read, an airplane book.

Now, don't get me wrong. I like easy-to-read books from time-to-time. I find it relaxing to read a fast-moving story with simple characters. And if the book contains some puzzles and brain teasers and a dollop of historical conspiracy theory, even better. I read The Da Vinci Code and enjoyed it for its absurd "secret history" and wild theories. But for all its delights, I grew tired of the book's style. It read like a summer movie, complete with action scenes and silly dialog and contrived plot twists. There was an emptiness about it, like a flimsy set dressed with bright and shiny props.

So when I say you're going to see The Lost Symbol for sale at Blockbuster I really believe it. Like so many other bestsellers, it is written for an audience used to watching movies. It will have arch-villains and fast chases and big explosions--all easy to envision because we've seen these things hundreds of times in every formula thriller ever churned out by the big studio factories. There will be no ambiguity and little nuance. The Lost Symbol is a Hollywood book, a perfect example of how one medium has fully encompassed another.

Books and movies have always fed off of one another, or course. And big name authors from Thomas Harris to Michael Crichton have, in the past, essentially pitched films in the forms of novels. (In fact, Crichton's posthumous pirate novel is already being developed as a film.) But it always seemed that past best-sellers, be they Jaws or The Godfather or even Jurassic Park, were written for readers. Now I get the feeling that the audience for many popular books is viewers--people who want to "read a movie." Many books are certainly written that way (even the early Harry Potter books have a big-budget "CGI" feel to them--especially their finales) and so they end up being flat, forgettable, temporary entertainment.

I'm pretty sure that's what The Lost Symbol is going to be. And, yes, there will be a movie. It probably won't big a big hit. But that won't matter: The Lost Symbol will forever live as a rental movie, waiting for the masses at Blockbuster.

Out of the Dark and Dusted Off: Japanese Twin Peaks Board Game

2009-09-02T21:33:00.000-07:00

(I wanted to write a proper entry this week but my schedule has been quite busy. Time for some pictures!)

This week I have pics of a stunning Twin Peaks board game.

Back in the day (the early 90's), the Japanese sure loved Twin Peaks. They produced a couple of nice laserdisc box-sets, some beautiful posters, a slick press book for Fire Walk With Me, and scores of other unique items. They also produced a couple of games based on the series. One was an Uno-like card game and the other was this sprawling board game: "The Game of Twin Peaks." Here's the box, measuring 12" x 19":

This box contains many game elements: plastic and cardboard pieces, two decks of cards, a spinner, and three (!) playing boards. I never did figure out how all this stuff worked together but I'm sure it was a damn fine game! Here is a display of all the various game parts:

This is the "map" playing board (it apparently shows a street grid of the town, overlaying a map of the the larger Twin Peaks territory). At 24" x 19" this thing is huge!

Next up is the character-chart board:

Here's the "rock throw" playing board and "mystery" log cardboard pieces (whatever they are):

A nice shot of the saw-blade spinner (which probably told you how many spaces to move), along with donut playing pieces and a bag containing plastic bottle pieces, pawn pieces and other items:

Here are all the cards laid out. The larger, character-profile and location cards are on the left. The smaller, suspect(?) cards are on the right:

The Cooper profile card:

The suspect cards:

One side of the instructions:

Whew! Some game! I'm thinking it's a cross between Clue, Chutes-and-Ladders and Monopoly! Do you think anyone ever played it?

Note: I had originally planned to post these pictures on the Twin Peaks discussion board at Dugpa.com but for whatever reason I never got around to it. If you don't already know, Dugpa.com is an indispensible site for Twin Peaks fans. Equally valuable is "Jerry Horne's" superb Twin Peaks archive site. Give that one a look, too!

Notes and Notions

2009-08-24T14:47:00.001-07:00

(I used to call this type of post "Bits and Pieces." I like the new name better.)

Let's start with TV. Mad Men has returned for the third season. Set in the tumultuous year of 1963, this season has started slow. The various storylines (both new and old) have a deliberate pace and succeed at setting mood and tone as they slow ratchet the tension. At this rate it may be season's end before all this tension comes to a head. And speaking of tension, one can't really watch the new season without thinking about the world-shaking events that are soon to occur. The question is: When in the season arc will the Kennedy assassination happen? Will the writers wait for the end or place the tragedy in the middle of the story? Which is the best dramatic choice? Personally, I hope they deal with it sooner rather than later. Right now, watching Mad Men is like watching the first act of any Pearl Harbor story. We're just waiting for the bombs to fall.

I realize I've reduced the subtle and complex drama of Mad Men to rather simplistic terms. The show has never been a historical drama. It's a period piece and good one. The characters and setting are rich and the themes of identity and artifice are wholly integrated into the drama. But the atmosphere of the show has always had a fin de siecle quality. A way of life is ending. Big changes are coming. A modern audience can't help but think of 1963 in this way. I'm sure, then, that the writers will work hard to either make us forget the imminent changes about to befall the characters or satisfactorily make those changes part of the drama. Either way I'll be watching.

(One last note about Mad Men. The show has certainly made me less interested in HBO's True Blood, a series that has all the subtlety of a travelling circus. Compared to Mad Men, True Blood is nothing but melodrama and loud, horny characters. Let's face it: Where Mad Men is delicate, True Blood is gaudy; where Mad Men is nuanced, True Blood is coarse. What's more, True Blood has become increasingly superficial; there's just nothing to care about in the show. (Probably because it's not "about" anything.) I watch it now from a distance and with some impatience. Mad Men, however, fully involves me, emotionally and intellectually.)

Books: I recommend Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente -- a beautifully written fantasy about a magical city accessed through dreams. This one was wholly captivating. I also liked Positively Fifth Street by James McManus--an exciting, real world look at high stakes poker. Less interesting was World War Z by Max Brooks, The Magicians by Lev Grossman, and The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness. All these books have gotten rave reviews and there is much to like in them. But World War Z lacked any narrative drive (you have to really be into zombie fiction to appreciate it); The Magicians featured a highly unlikeable protagonist who failed (in my opinion) to grow up by the end; and The Knife of Never Letting Go was aimed at a young audience and lacked any kind of subtlety (which is OK, really, but the first-person urgency of the narrative became wearing after a while).

Comics: I've read some great illustrated work over the past two months and I'm saving my reviews for a separate post. Look for it soon.

More on David Foster Wallace: We are approaching the first anniversary of Wallace's death. No doubt we'll be hearing more about Wallace's life and his last, unfinished novel (The Pale King) in the weeks to come. Wisconsin Public Radio has already put together a wonderful tribute which can be found here. Go give it a listen. I cannot recommend this program highly enough (the excerpt of Wallace's Kenyon commencement address alone is worth your time).

A few months ago I clumsily attempted to express what Wallace's loss meant to me. Recently, I found the perfect remembrance of Wallace by Sven Birkerts in Agni. I'm ending this post with his words. Where I stumbled, Birkerts dances:

"We are fortified by the work of our writers, by their specific books, but no less important is the sense we have, so long as they are alive, that they are with us, in our midst, engaged, taken up with seeing and thinking and processing--with writing. They make up an important part of the invisible but pervasive and perceptible sum-total that we recognize as our culture. When they die, we feel a terrible diminution, a suction of available energies withdrawn. As if suddenly we all have that much less purchase on reality. The air feels thinner and our gestures of thought feel heavier, more cumbersome, less part of a common purpose."

Overlooked Books

2009-08-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a trip to Armadillocon in Austin and I realized I've been heading down for that con (off and on) for over 20 years! Armadillocon has always been a fun little SF convention with an emphasis on books and reading (which is why I like it so much).

I got to thinking about all the great books I've read in the past few decades and decided to put together a list of genre books that have been either overlooked or forgotten over the years. These are books that I consider top-quality science fiction. Most of them are out of print (but can readily be found online or at local used bookstores--I think I've seen most of these titles at my local Half-Price Books within the last year).

I have a few comments about each book but, to be honest, it's been so long since I read some of them that I can't remember a lot of plot specifics. I do know that each of these books was vastly entertaining. I know also that each provided a thorough sense of wonder, either by introducing me to some new concept or by providing such a well-built plot or setting that I couldn't help but react with awe. So, with further ado . . . .

Memoirs of an Invisible Man by H. F. Saint (1987). Forget the movie and check out the best invisibility story ever written. Nick Halloway is made invisible after a science experiment goes wrong. Even though he can't be seen, Nick learns that when the government is after you, it's pretty hard to stay hidden. This one is a real page-turner. I've always wondered why Saint never wrote another book. Was the name H. F. Saint really a pseudonym for another, better-known writer? I mean, the name seems awfully suspicious. (Does anyone else think of H. G. Wells when they see it?) Oh well. H. F. Saint--whoever you are, wherever you are--I love your one and only book.

Terraplane by Jack Womack (1988). This came out after the big "cyberpunk" boom when fans of that subgenre were looking for something new and original. Along comes Womack with a book that featured savvy tech agents from a corporate-dominant future travelling back in time to an alternate past where FDR was assassinated and slavery didn't end until the beginning of the 20th century. Add to that a wonderful jargon that demands a careful reading and you've got the first "post-cyberpunk" cyberpunk novel. Excellent.

Voyage to The Red Planet by Terry Bisson (1990). There's a heck of a lot of good Mars books out there but few critics mention this minor classic from Bisson. The book is a lighthearted look at a corporate sponsored trip to Mars. (Actually Disney has bought NASA and now wants to make a film on Mars. So of course they send cast and crew on location!) The book has great humor but also really good SF. And it has a wonderful ending. This one really belongs next to Robinson, Bear and Benford in the SF Mars library.

Evolution's Darling by Scott Westerfeld (2000). The closest thing to an Iain M. Banks "Culture" book not written by Iain M. Banks! Evolution's Darling is a sweeping space opera about an AI ("Darling," of the title) that gains sentience and becomes involved (in more ways than one) with Mira, an assassin whose job it is to kill an artist who works (possibly illegally) with AI's. Westerfeld has made quite a name for himself as an author of teen and young adult books (the Uglies and Midnighters series) but this book is explicitly "adult" (emphasis on explicit). But it is also a mature book, one that deals deftly with the themes of sentience and identity. This is high-quality SF.

On by Adam Roberts (2001). This is a book that has really stayed with me. The premise of the story is that, once-upon-a-time, gravity on Earth turned sideways. (I know, sounds weird, but Roberts includes a whole appendix that spells out the possible science behind the idea.) Anyway, the flat ground suddenly became a world-size vertical plane. (The book's opening line perfectly establishes this dangerous setting: "On Tighe's eighth birthday one of the family goats fell off the world.") The story echoes the books of Gene Wolfe in that it features a young male protagonist who finds himself on a journey of discovery, soon learning that the world is far more interesting, dangerous, and technological than he ever expected. The book's concept is quite unsettling. What if the world did turn sideways? Friends and family who live but a few miles from you would suddenly become inaccessible (if they even survived the initial disaster). This is one of those books you keep thinking about long after you've finished it.

OK, so that's five books. I see I have ten-year gap in my list. Not to worry, I've got more overlooked books to talk about. But they'll have to wait for another post.

2009 Hugo Awards

2009-08-09T18:13:00.001-07:00

The results for the 2009 Hugo awards can be found here. Here are some comments on a few of the winners:

Best Novel went to The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. (I guess when you win the Newberry Medal, you better win the Hugo!) I can't offer much comment on the winning novel since I didn't read it or any of the other nominees. (Which is unusual since I typically have read 2-3 of them.) Much has been made of this year's list of mediocre nominees. Again, I can't comment specifically; but I can say that the best genre books of 2008 that I read were: The Dragons of Babel by Michael Swanwick, The Hidden World by Paul Park, Pump Six and Other Stories by Paulo Bacigalupi, Implied Spaces by Walter Jon Williams, Matter by Iain M. Banks and Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan. Surely one of these books at least deserved nomination! (Tender Morsels has been nominated for World Fantasy Award, though. So good news there.)

Best Short Story went to "Exhalation" by Ted Chiang. The best choice, absolutely. A stunning story.

Best Novelette went to "Shoggoths in Bloom" by Elizabeth Bear. A good story but this award should have gone to “The Gambler” by Paolo Bacigalupi.

Best Novella went to "The Erdmann Nexus", Nancy Kress. I haven't read it. I thought "The Tear” by Ian McDonald would have grabbed this award.

Wall-E won for best dramatic presentation, long form. I think this easily the best choice. The Dark Knight was also nominated. Another classic, yes. The best super-hero film of all time, yes. But Wall-E was superb science fiction. And that's where the Hugo should go.

Dramatic Presentation: Short Form went to Dr Horrible's Singalong Blog by Joss Whedon. A fine choice and an excellent DVD (the audio commentary, alone, is worth it). But I would have given the Hugo to "The Constant" from LOST-- the first great science fiction episode from the series.

Best Professional Artist went to Donato Giancola. Wow, I would have given this to Shaun Tan in a heartbeat.

Best Editor: Short Form went to Ellen Datlow. I would have given the Hugo to Jonathan Strahan for all the great work he did last year. I'll be rooting for him next year.

Best Semiprozine went to Weird Tales. Really? No Locus? Or Interzone? Or how about New York Review of Science Fiction? Hmmm.

So that's it. Not that exciting, really.

Review: The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year Vol. 3

2009-08-03T14:04:00.000-07:00

I've got to say that I'm pretty pleased with Jonathan Strahan's Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year Volume 3. At least two-thirds of the book contains excellent short fiction. And the rest of the stories are very good, too. In fact, there are really only one or two entries that might qualify as clunkers. That's an amazing percentage, one you don't often see in "Best of the Year" anthologies.

I usually pick up Gardner Dozois' hefty Year's Best Science Fiction and dutifully make my way through it. In the end I'm amazed at how many stories strike me as mediocre. I always think, "If Dozois eliminated half the stories in the collection he'd really have the 'best of the year.'" Sure, the book would be smaller, but it would also be stronger. As it is, the mediocre (and downright bad) stories detract from the good ones.

Strahan gets it, though. And he's hit upon a great formula. Combine the year's best Science Fiction stories with the best Fantasy stories. Put it all under one cover you get a doubly strong book.

I think fans of good writing appreciate the rewards of both Fantasy and Science Fiction, especially as the line between the genres has been blurring of late. The effects of both SF and Fantasy are the same: a sense of wonder, the thrill of fully-realized worlds, the insightful perspectives on our own, everyday life. It really doesn't matter if a story fits some rigid genre definition as long as it's told well and has fully realized characters.

So Strahan's latest anthology is a good--no, a great--one. I won't review every single story here (I'm satisfied with commenting on the book as a whole). But I will point out a few stories that I think are particularly good: The best story in the book is "Exhalation" by Ted Chiang, a story of impending environmental doom in a closed universe. It is wonderfully written, from its science-fictional "problem-solving" approach, to its moving contemplation on the meaning of life. Bravo! Other outstanding stories include: “The Dust Assassin” by Ian McDonald, “The Gambler” by Paulo Bacigalupi, “Machine Maid” by Margo Lanagan, and “26 Monkeys, Also the Abyss" by Kij Johnson. But there are so many other good stories here, including contributions by Robert Reed, Ted Kosmatka, Peter S. Beagle, Garth Nix, Michael Swanwick, John Kessel, and Kelly Link. (And, really, I could go on and list just about every author included but I'll stop here and let you to look at the table of contents for yourself.) This is very strong book.

Whether your taste tends toward one genre or the other you will find plenty to satisfy in The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year Volume 3. And if you're a genre purist and only want to read SF or Fantasy (but not both), well, I still doubt you'll find a better collection anywhere else. Plus, who knows? You might discover good stories aren't limited to only one genre. Go ahead! Get the book and then select something different from the menu! You'll thank me later.

Out of the Dark and Dusted Off: Codex Seraphinianus

2009-07-29T11:36:00.000-07:00

I've collected lots of stuff over the years. Books, comics, toys, movie memorabilia . . . stuff. Much of it is buried in boxes, deep inside dark closets. Most of it I see only when I stumble across it by accident.

So what's the point of having all this stuff? I like to look at it, sure. But I also like to share it.

Used to be, you shared your cool stuff with friends when they dropped by to visit. You'd say, "Hey, look at this amazing thing!" Or, "Do you remember this?" And you'd pull a book off a shelf or a toy out of a box and let your conversation cascade into nostalgia and shared passions.

So time to do some sharing. I think I'll pull a few things off the shelves and out of the boxes and show them to you.

Today I've got one of the most fascinating books I've ever seen. It's called the Codex Seraphinianus by Italian artist Luigi Serafini and it is really hard to describe with just words. You have to see it to appreciate it. Yes, it's an art book; but it is so much more. It appears to be an encyclopedia from an alien/alternate world, a book--an artifact--that landed on earth through some transdimensional rift. It seems complete, hermetic, and yet it teases with glimpses into something vast and strange and taunts with the promise of decipherability. The jacket copy on the Abbeville Press edition describes it as: "the accumulated wisdom of an imaginary, parallel world that is at once bizarre and at the same time strangely familiar and recognizable." I like to think of it as the kind of book Dr. Seuss would write if he lived in China Mieville's New Crobuzon.

Whatever. It's weird, compelling and unforgettable.

Here are some interior pages:

(These pictures really don't do the book justice--check out the links below for great images from the book and pictures of its various covers.)

You can find out more about this strange book on its Wikipedia page.

Also, check out this great article from The Believer Magazine.

Beautiful Dark: Chapters 9-12

2009-07-19T13:16:00.001-07:00

I'm ending my review of Greg Olson's Beautiful Dark the way I began, by reviewing four chapters at once. Nice symmetry that.

To be honest I felt I was becoming a bit dependent on Olson's work to provide content for my blog. And I was afraid of becoming repetitive (if you've read my earlier reviews of Olson, you sort of know what to expect). So it's time to finish it up.

Here's a brief summary of the last four chapters:

Chapter 9: LOST HIGHWAY

Olson begins with a look at the long five years between Fire Walk With Me and Lost Highway. He discusses Lynch's often overlooked television work on On The Air and Hotel Room. And he digs deeper to talk about a few rare Lynch projects—the four Twin Peaks-themed Georgia Coffee commercials which aired in Japan, the Log Lady introductions Lynch shot for the Bravo TV re-airing of Twin Peaks, Lynch's superb book of photography, Images, and the short film, Premonitions Following and Evil Deed (which Lynch shot for Lumiere and Company, a compilation of short films by famous directors using the original hand-cranked film camera of film pioneers, Auguste and Louis Lumiere). These projects deserve discussion and Olson makes sure to give each project its due.

Olson moves on to an excellent, albeit too-short, analysis of Lost Highway. Olson's take is straightforward: Fred Madison, in despair over killing his wife and being sentenced to death, creates the imaginary persona of Pete Dayton in order to escape from his (Fred's) real world hell. Olson does a great job of taking the seemingly perplexing and contradictory Lost Highway, with its multiple personas and interlocking worlds, and clarifying it into one simple tale about a man whose fractured mind cannot provide enough escape from his torment. "The reading of Lost Highway that answers most of its mysteries locates the film's base reality with Fred lying on his prison bed, living in mental worlds of desire and anger, love and revenge" (p. 450). The idea of escape into a mental world is a concept that has always been a feature of Lynch's work. One finds the idea as early as Eraserhead and as late as Mulholland Drive. (I also believe that the idea of mental landscapes—or living inside dreams—is the key aspect of the first thirty minutes of Fire Walk With Me.) In Lost Highway, Lynch explores the mental escape (or retreat) of his main character and how such escape is temporary at best. You can't trick your own mind for very long. Olson's keen analysis provides satisfying answers to the many puzzles of Lost Highway.

Chapter 10: THE STRAIGHT STORY

Olson's discussion of The Straight Story focuses on Lynch's interest in family and small-town values (Olson notes that these ideas have been present in other Lynch works, but often overlooked or misunderstood by critics). He discusses much of the film's story and well-drawn characters but rarely ventures into any deeper analysis, content to let the surface narrative of The Straight Story stand for itself. This is a fair and fine reading of the film. But I suspect that there may be much more to The Straight Story for the diligent analyst to uncover. I've always been fascinated with Lynch's aerial shots in the film (particularly the one which shows Alvin Straight crossing the Mississippi River); they imply a watching, perhaps angelic, presence. There is also the prevalent theme of death in the film (one could argue that Alvin dies in the first few minutes of the film; the rest of his story is a post-death journey in search of his brother "in heaven"). I'm very interested in Alvin as an unreliable narrator (he claims to have given up drinking but orders a single beer late in the film). And I'm most interested in Alvin's encounter with the kindly farmer on the big tractor who guides Alvin to Lyle's home at the end of the film. This farmer (seen only in a long shot) acts almost like a supernatural being whose presence somehow reignites Alvin's stalled tractor (hence, the farmer potentially functions as another "angelic presence"). I find The Straight Story a fascinating and rich film and was perhaps unfairly expecting more from Olson. I accept that not every film requires a deep reading but because Olson succeeded so well at unwrapping Lost Highway I thought he might apply similar analytical focus to The Straight Story.

Chapter 11: MULHOLLAND DRIVE

There is just so much to say about Mulholland Drive. Perhaps this is why (rightly) Olson devotes a large portion of his book to discuss the film. Mulholland Drive has plenty to offer—superb performances, a complex and challenging narrative, rich and unsettling thematic content, and valuable commentary on the nature of Hollywood filmmaking. But on top of all this, Mulholland Drive also has a long and startling production history. Originally created by Lynch as a pilot for a weekly hour-long drama for ABC television, Mulholland Drive was rejected by the network and left abandoned for over a year before Lynch found the funding to continue filming and turn the TV pilot into a stand-alone theatrical film.

Olson bravely discusses the 88-minute TV pilot as he compares it to the final theatrical version. (I say bravely because David Lynch was furious that copies of the pilot were illegally produced and covertly distributed to anyone curious enough to obtain one.) But Olson forgets (or is unaware) that there were two versions of the TV pilot, the short version (at 88-minutes) and the long version (at 125 minutes). Lynch has called the short pilot the "butchered version" for it was a cut he was forced to make in order to appease executives at ABC television: "I whacked away to make this fat man fit in a real little phone booth, trying to answer their concerns about pace," Lynch told reporter Tad Friend ("Creative Differences," The New Yorker, 9/6/99, p. 67.)

It is the long version, with minor edits, that Lynch expanded to make the theatrical cut of Mulholland Drive. When Olson compares the short pilot with the film "to see how Lynch solved the creative problem of melding the year-and-a-half old pilot with the news scenes," (p 524) he is looking at what Lynch called "a garbage compactor thing . . . a nightmare." (Lynch On Lynch, revised edition, p. 280) Lynch's short version was never intended as a final product and was certainly not the version he "extended from pilot to feature." There is little value, then, in comparing the two; but Olson does so anyway. This seems like a significant misstep. Surely Olson must have known that the 88-minute pilot was produced under protest and never reflected Lynch's true vision. What could be learned from comparing it to the theatrical cut? Doing so provides little or no insight into Lynch's creative process. Olson's readers would have been better served had he compared the full pilot with the theatrical version. There, at least, we would have seen how Lynch took his complete, but open-ended, pilot and found ways to close the narrative into a satisfactory whole.

Despite this blunder, Olson provides an in-depth, thorough analysis of the Mulholland Drive feature. He expertly unpacks the various narratives of Betty, Rita and Adam Kesher, and clearly and precisely explains how these storylines are, in fact, strands of a single dream being experienced by despairing actress Diane Selwyn. "The narrative seems to be happening to a number of people, but . . . is actually the interior psychodrama of the Naomi Watts character's consciousness." (p. 527). Olson is clearly a great admirer of the film and he provides thought-provoking analysis. For example, he gives compelling evidence that the film's "narrator" is, in fact, the dead Diane. Despite my criticisms, this is still a highly rewarding chapter.

Chapter 12: INLAND EMPIRE

The last chapter of Beautiful Dark is a long and mixed one. Olson spends a great number of pages discussing various works that may have influenced David Lynch. He also includes a curious interview with Julee Cruise in which she recounts her artistic conflicts with Lynch. Cruise's remarks are sometimes bitter and read like gossip. Why did Olson include these comments so late in the book? Did he see a need to balance his glowing praise of Lynch with some differing views? If so, Cruise's opinions don't add much to our understanding of Lynch's collaborative processes and function as surrogate criticism. Olson moves on to discuss Lynch's online work at www.davidlynch.com and the chapter drags as he provides tedious descriptions of Lynch's visit to France (did we really need to read a transcript of Lynch and Mary Sweeney conversing in French?). It is not until the last few pages that Olson provides a brief review of INLAND EMPIRE. Though short, what Olson gives us is quite good. He suggests (and I am liberally paraphrasing here) that Laura Dern's "Battered Woman" character has fractured into various selves who seek to be reunited. What's more, there is a "reincarnation-karmic justice" (p. 673) element to the film. All of this analysis is teasingly brief but Olson has opened some interesting interpretive possibilities. One hopes that he will soon return to writing about INLAND EMPIRE to flesh out his ideas.

As I've mentioned many times, Beautiful Dark is a significant and rewarding book and I think Greg Olson has done a magnificent job analyzing and interpreting David Lynch's many unique works. No Lynch library should be without it. But Greg Olson's esteem for Lynch may have occasionally handicapped him. Yes, I agree that David Lynch is a great director; perhaps one of the greatest in the history of film. But if one is going to explore the personal life of David Lynch one must be as objective as possible. For example, recently Lynch has been quite open about his view of Transcendental Meditation. Arguably, his public endorsement of the ideology invites debate. But here Olson seems hesitant to engage. (To be fair, Olson asks Lynch some pointed questions about his New Age worldview but never pursues these inquiries directly with Lynch or in his analysis of the man and his work.) This, and the fact that Olson never penetrates Lynch's emotional core to discover his views on love, marriage, and other life issues makes the biographical aspect of Beautiful Dark wanting. (Too often, Olson relies on the opinions of others—Isabella Rosselini, Mary Sweeney, Jennifer Lynch, etc., to round out his emotional profile of Lynch.)

Reading Beautiful Dark made me wonder about the ways we view artists and their work. Art inspires, provokes, and stimulates our minds. It can pump us up, make us want to share our passions with anyone who will listen. But should that passion extend to the artist? Can we—or should we—separate the work from the creator? And if their works have moved us—shaped our lives and careers—can we ever view the artist with objectivity?

I don't claim to have answers to these questions. But I do know that Greg Olson has written a passionate book about David Lynch's films. I also know that he has written with passion about David Lynch, the man. In the end he seems to have gotten half of it exactly right. As good as Beautiful Dark is, I feel I it gave me more insight about the art than it did about the artist.

Seriously Batman

2009-07-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

I've had a fascination with Batman all my life. As a little kid Batman was my favorite superhero, due mainly to the syndicated re-runs of the campy Adam West TV series. Once I started reading comics, however, my tastes moved toward the Marvel universe. I rarely bought a Batman comic (the Batman comics of the time seemed dull compared to the exciting world of Marvel). Still, I had an interest in Batman. The "idea" of Batman--the ultimate detective and perfect vigilante--always seemed bigger and more promising than anything the comics or movies could offer.

Batman may be the most serious comic book "hero" of all time (a fact searingly proven to the masses by Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight). He is a character with a complex and troubled psyche. He is brilliant and he is driven. He embraces both the technological and the mystical. He is distinctly not "super." He is perhaps the one comicbook character who I--as an adult--still find compelling.

And, as an adult, I have been drawn to the occasional Batman comic. Such was the case a few months ago when I walked into my local comic shop and saw that Neil Gaiman had scripted a two-part Batman story, "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?" Ignorant of the current state of the Batman universe I quickly learned that Batman (i.e., Bruce Wayne) had died and this was Gaiman's brief contribution in a plethora of new story concepts surrounding the death. (Batman/Bruce Wayne will not stay dead, of course. He is as dead as Superman was. As dead as Captain America. Registered trademarks do not die. . . . At least not for very long.)

A fan of Gaiman's comic work, I picked up his two issues of Batman (Batman 686 and Detective Comics 853, both drawn by Andy Kubert). Then I noticed the new Batman and Robin series by writer Grant Morrison and artist Frank Quitely. And who could miss the new Batwoman story in Detective Comics by writer Greg Rucka and artist Stephen Williams III? Before I knew it I was home eagerly reading five new Bat-comics.

The Gaiman story was excellent. A disembodied Batman watches his own funeral as each person who eulogizes him claims to have killed Batman or been the cause of his death. In effect, we are seeing a number of alternate possibilities as to what Batman means to people. Perhaps the most fascinating "possibility" is Alfred's story in which the loyal butler claims to be the Joker (he dressed up as the arch villain to provide an adversary for Batman and thereby mitigate Bruce Wayne's mental instability). Gaiman two-issue story was a very nice, self contained tale. Highly recommended.

The new Batman and Robin was also quite good. I love Frank Quitely's art and his work on this series is gorgeous. Morrison tells a good tale and manages to create a genuinely disturbing character in Pyg. I can't remember the last time I encountered such a gruesome and unsettling villain in a "mainstream" comic. This certainly isn't kid stuff. The other characters are also handled well though the Batman and Robin dynamic seems uninspired (Robin is rather boring as a compulsive brat whom Batman has to keep "teaching lessons"). Still, it's too soon to pass judgment; the book has just started and there are plenty of directions this relationship could go.

The Batwoman story in Detective Comics 854 is also just getting started but from what I've seen so far this may be something special. The art by J.H. Williams III is stunning. His sharp, forceful panels are mesmerizing (to say the least) and the way Batwoman is rendered in black, white and red by colorist Dave Stewart is beautiful. Usually I don't find the female versions of established characters that interesting; Batgirl, Supergirl, She-Hulk, Spiderwoman--they always seem like afterthoughts, just another way to take advantage of the Bat-, Super-, Spider- prefixes. (Or -Hulk suffix--you couldn't have a Hulkwoman, could you?) I'll admit I know next-to-nothing about the new Batwoman's backstory (she's been kicking around the DC universe for some time) but Rucka and Williams have obviously put some effort into making the character intriguing and unique. Her brief interaction with Batman provided an effective contrast between newcomer and legendary counterpart, a point further emphasized by the issue's memorable final panel. Batwoman has a lot of potential and I eagerly await the next issue.

So I'm reading Bat- stories again. I'm seriously psyched. Enough to dig out Frank Miller's first Dark Knight series (please, let's forget the second one) and Batman: Year One and Alan Moore's The Killing Joke and some Matt Wagner stories. Oh, and I just bought Batman: The Long Halloween. I feel like a kid again. It's great!

The Subject of Laura Palmer

2009-06-30T10:19:00.001-07:00

(Note: the following post is a revised excerpt from a much longer essay that was originally published in Wrapped In Plastic #71)

In Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, the depiction of Laura Palmer as a dramatic subject is crucial for the success of the film. Fire Walk With Me works only if the audience believes Laura's behavior and perceives her as actively charting the arc of her own story. To be a fully complex character, she must be able to change and to experience revelation. Perhaps more importantly, she must be different by story's end than she was at the beginning.

To make Laura a dramatic subject, director David Lynch needed to take the "idea" of Laura Palmer from the series and bring her to life as a complex, autonomous character. But, because Fire Walk With Me was a prequel, Lynch ran up against the barriers of the already-existing story from the TV series and was therefore committed to following Laura's story to its pre-defined end—the one in which Laura is killed. How could Lynch make Laura an active character in this scenario? How could she become a person who journeys through an experience and is changed by it? Lynch knew that in a successful story Laura had to discover something about herself. Her discovery had to lead to action, and her action had to transform Laura. It was not enough for her to be simply a self-destructive teenager whose poor behavior and bad luck results in a grisly death. Laura had to be more than a victim. She had to take part in her own inevitable murder.

David Lynch knew all this but the circumstances of Laura pre-existing story gave him little room to maneuver.

Making Laura a Complex Character

Lynch and co-writer Robert Engels originally conceived the story of Fire Walk With Me to be one in which Laura Palmer sought escape from the oppressive and pervasive presence of Bob. There were few, if any, choices for Laura to make, no real change for Laura to undergo. Bob was the antagonist and Laura had to find a way to elude his growing power. This story was more in keeping with the facts and backstory established in the series.

At some point between completing the script and shooting the film Lynch realized that he and Engels had failed to make Laura Palmer a fully-realized character. She had no flaws—there was nothing for her to learn, no personal burden for her to overcome. The script still depicted Laura as a helpless victim whose despairing behavior and tragic death resulted from outside forces.

Clearly, the film needed a dramatic ingredient that would strengthen her character.

Lynch found that in the angels—a story element that does not appear anywhere in the shooting script for the film. (In the script, Laura does not mention angels to Donna; she does not see one disappear from her bedroom painting; Ronette Pulaski does not see one in the train car; and Laura does not see one in the Red Room at the end of the film.) But in Lynch's filmed version, Laura introduces the topic of angels, telling Donna that the angels will not help her, that they've "all gone away." This crucial line (the most important one in the film) establishes Laura's state of mind and shows that she has imposed boundaries on herself.

The added angel line shows that Laura has resigned herself to (and, in fact, expects) a tragic fate. She has given up on herself, asserting that the angels have gone because she cannot—will not—believe she has any value. She is unworthy of salvation.

But Laura is wrong, and Lynch cleverly constructs the Laura-Donna scene to signal her mistake. Lynch shoots the scene using a dramatic camera angle to show that angels do, indeed, watch over Laura. The girls are viewed from high above as they talk--a shot that reflects "an angelic presence," according to Fire Walk With Me cinematographer, Ron Garcia ("Laura Palmer's Phantasmagoric Fall from Grace" by Stephen Pizzello, American Cinematographer, Vol. 73 #9, p. 60). Cinematically, Lynch informs us that the angels have not left. Laura may believe the angels are gone, but it is she who is "gone . . . long gone" (as she explained to James in an earlier scene). Like most Lynch protagonists, Laura has "trapped" herself.

The introduction of the angels in Fire Walk With Me (and Laura's belief they have abandoned her) makes Laura a far more interesting person. She becomes someone with her own flaws and misperceptions. She is someone who must has much to learn and who must come to recognize her own mistakes before she can grow and change—before she can escape the trap in which she has placed herself.

During the murder scene in the train car Laura sees Ronette Pulaski's angel and suddenly she realizes she has been wrong about herself all along. Laura knows that salvation is possible. Having blamed herself for her horrific misfortunes Laura felt she didn't deserve angels. She turned away from them, convincing herself that is was they who had abandoned her. But Ronette's angel proves to Laura that she, too, is a good person and the angels have never left. In this moment her strength returns and her ability to resist Bob is assured. It is also at this moment that Laura undergoes believable and meaningful change.

Laura Takes Action

But—again—once Laura undergoes change she must take some sort of definitive action. The original script to Fire Walk With Me provided no such action. There, Laura is brought to the train car, realizes Bob is about to possess her and accepts that the only escape is death. (This harks back to the series where Laura explicitly states she "had to die because it was the only way to keep Bob away from me.") She takes her only option: She turns to Leland and says, "You have to kill me." She looks at Bob in the mirror and says, "No! You can't have me." Then, again, to Leland she commands, "Kill me." And Leland does.

Lynch probably shot the scene the way it was scripted, assuming that Laura's explicit decision to end her life was a sufficient conclusion to her story. Once it was shot, however, Lynch recognized that such an ending was weak and ultimately unsatisfactory.

As scripted, Laura Palmer—despite her strength of character and her conviction to die—is still incapable of effecting her own fate. Arms bound, she can only order Leland to kill her. The decision may be hers but the crucial act is Leland's. She is dependent on what he does. Leland takes center stage as he performs the ugly but necessary act of murder to free Laura from Bob's possession. Scripted, the scene (and story) is essentially about Leland, not Laura. This was unacceptable to Lynch. The story could only succeed with Laura taking action. He was now faced with a hard reality—he had to re-edit the murder scene and find some way to restore Laura as an active protagonist.

Lynch looked closely at what the existing material allowed: The One Armed Man was outside the train car. His character was connected to the Owl Cave ring. The ring could therefore make its way to Laura and she could put it on. This would allow Laura to perform a decisive action.

The problem was Lynch and Engels had carefully established the ring as a dangerous object earlier in the film. The Little Man boasts of its power to Bob. Teresa Banks once owned the ring and suffered a gruesome death. And Dale Cooper, a clever, intuitive, and above all, reliable character explicitly warns Laura not to take the ring when the Little Man offers it. All this prior evidence clearly points to a dangerous, evil Owl Cave ring.

The ring, however, offered the only possible option for Lynch when he sought to re-work the murder scene.

Remarkably, Lynch saw beyond the narrative constraints imposed by wearing the ring and envisioned a scene of liberation rather than doom. He realized the ring could be viewed as an object of power rather than an object solely of evil. In fact, Laura could be perceived to be stealing the ring from the malevolent beings who wielded it. To accomplish this revision, Lynch would need some new, minor footage to insert into the train car murder scene. Three shots were required: 1) a shot of the ring rolling across a straw-strewn floor; 2) a shot of a woman's hand placing the ring on her other hand; 3) a shot of the hand with the ring held up before a bright white light. These three simple inserts were likely produced after the initial filming of the train car scene. (It is significant that we do not see Al Strobel [who played the one-armed man] throw the ring, nor do we see Sheryl Lee [who played Laura Palmer] put the ring on.) Lynch did not have the luxury or opportunity to reassemble his cast and shoot new material with the actors. So Lynch dramatically altered the murder scene in the editing room.

The final scene was powerful and effective:

Laura sees Ronette's angel sever Ronette's bonds. The ring appears soon after the appearance of the angel and Laura's hands, too, are suddenly free. Laura must know that the ring and angels are connected and that if the ring, itself, is not an angel it serves as a conduit to angels. Realizing all this with sudden clarity Laura embraces the potential of the ring and puts it on. The result is a Lynchian moment of power unleashed, a moment akin to when Henry stabs the baby in Eraserhead, which (according to Lynch scholar Martha Nochimson) sets "in motion a flow of forces." Leland screams, the Little Man shudders, static electricity floods the screen.

Importantly, Laura has taken the ring of her own choice; it has not been imposed upon her. This is why the Little Man is suddenly so afraid; Laura has turned the tables—she has wrested power away from him and Bob. What's more, Laura's choice does more than save her; it gives her victory over Bob and his associates. Laura has stolen their greatest weapon.

A Stronger Film

Despite the restraints of the Fire Walk With Me narrative, David Lynch opened himself to those "valuable opportunities and ideas" that come to him during filming. The "idea" of angels and the "opportunity" of the ring presented themselves and Lynch intuitively knew they were right for Fire Walk With Me and that they made the film "as free and experimental as it could be within the dictates it had to follow." (Lynch on Lynch, edited by Chris Rodley, Faber and Faber, 1997, p. 190.)

Yes, it’s true that Lynch’s new edits introduce ambiguity to the film, and yes, it appears as if Fire Walk With Me abandoned narrative continuity, and yes—multiple valid readings of the film were suddenly made possible. But the new version of the murder scene—the one after Lynch’s edits—becomes more complex, more daring, and more rewarding. The Laura Palmer of the film suddenly becomes different that the Laura Palmer of the series. On the show, Laura reportedly “allowed herself to die;” she submitted to death because it offered the only possible escape from Bob. In the film, however, Laura escapes from Bob before she dies. Her realization of her own goodness—her acceptance of the angels—makes her untouchable. In Fire Walk With Me death is not the means of escape—the means of escape comes from within Laura, herself. And once it does, Laura is decisively and explicitly transformed from dramatic object to dramatic subject. She at last succeeds at becoming what the late, great David Foster Wallace called, a “living and integrated whole.”

A Few Thoughts on True Blood

2009-06-15T20:26:00.000-07:00

I'm back from vacation and just in time to catch the season premiere of HBO's True Blood, a series based on the Sookie Stackhouse books by Charlaine Harris. I read the first book in the series, Dead Until Dark, and thought it was OK (the book slumped mightily in the middle, where, chapter after chapter, Sookie pined for Bill and constantly thought about how much she loved him . . . *yawn*) The first season of the series was an improvement over the book but still flawed. I have a hard time buying the premise: Artificial blood (a substance known as True Blood) allows vampires to "come out of the closet" so that they can live openly with humans. And yet throughout the series only Bill seems to have any desire to live peacefully with mankind. All other vampires are portrayed as bloodthirsty monsters that flaunt their superiority and treat humans as playthings. And still the premise of the show hinges on the idea that vampires want to be accepted into society.

Clearly the show is trying to have their vampires both friendly and malevolent. Most vampires are an obvious threat--a dark force holding their power in check, perhaps only temporarily. (This way, Bill is a sympathetic outcast from his own kind and both he and his mortal friends have much to fear from Bill's kin.) But at the same time there is an apparent vampire movement regularly depicted on TV debate shows (with a heavy dose of satire) actively trying to secure vampire rights in society. Their opponents, of course, are stereotypical Christian fundamentalists who see the vampires as the spawn of Satan. Here, then, is one of my main disappointments with True Blood. It is easy to make religious zealots villains. And it's equally easy to draw an analogy between vampires "coming out" and gay rights. It so easy, in fact, that the show takes a potentially serious subtext and makes it rather silly. (I know, I know--True Blood plays for dark laughs much of the time; the humor is part its charm and leavens the violence and brutality on the show. Still, I have a hard time caring about vampire rights when said vampires are killing innocent people left and right.)

It seems to me that the show is ignoring a far more interesting and rich conflict: the probable internal debate inside the vampire community. Surely (if the premise of the show is to be believed) the vampires must fall into opposing camps--those who want live with humans (like Bill) and those who prefer their traditional role as predator (like Eric and the other vampire "officials" we've seen). I'd like to see more of the struggle between these two groups.

Unfortunately the focus of the show is on the somewhat-boring character of Sookie and her love affair with Bill. Like the novel, the show is clearly a mix of genres, most notably horror and mystery but with an equal part romance in there as well. And that's where I lose interest. The Sookie/Bill relationship seems like it's already played itself out and I don't know how much more drama can be found in it. The producers of True Blood seem to know this and have smartly altered and expanded the universe of the Harris books; but as long as the Sookie/Bill relationship is the core of the show I'm afraid True Blood will never be more than a middling HBO series.

True Blood is something of a hit for HBO. I'm happy to see genre TV on the cable network and True Blood is better (so far) than Carnivale (which had the potential to be great before it wandered off into the dreaded wasteland of "make-it-up-as-you-go-along") and I'm glad HBO is looking at genre books for series ideas (they just showed the wonderful No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency based on the mysteries by Alexander McCall Smith and are planning a series based on the high fantasy Song of Ice and Fire books by George R. R. Martin). This is a good thing. But I also want to see some new original programming back on the network. As good as the shows based on books are, nothing so far has been as good as The Sopranos or The Wire or Deadwood.

True Blood will get me through the summer. But I can hardly wait for Mad Men to return to AMC.

My LOST Questions (6 Questions for Season 6)

2009-05-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

LOST has an abundance of unresolved questions in its complex and widely scattered narrative and with only one season left fans have to wonder if the show's writers can possibly answer them all. I don't expect them to; in fact, I don't really care about a number of LOST mysteries (i.e., "What are 'the numbers'?") but there a few questions I really want to see resolved: They include:

1) Who are the bodies in the cave? In season one Jack discovers two bodies--essentially skeletons--that may have been there for fifty years. Many people believe these are the bodies of Rose and Bernard, who stayed in 1977 and who may have died about the time of "The Incident." (The two stones--one black and one white--serve as a clue to their identity.) This is the best guess I've seen, but I'd like confirmation from the show.

2) What was the whole deal with Walt? The Others wanted him. He was supposed to be special (Michael's flashback and the Lost "mobisode" show he had some effect on birds). He appeared to Locke at the end of season 3 to help Locke regain his faith in the island. I must know more about why this kid was important.

3) Why/How did Ben get captured? In season 2, Ben is captured in one of Rousseau's traps. Did he get captured by accident or was it deliberate? What about the real Henry Gale and the balloon accident? I want to see this in flashback, please.

4) Where is Claire? Some say she is dead (she died in the explosion at her cabin). This sounds likely. I'm certain we'll get resolution to this question; it's too big to ignore.

5) The smoke monster--what the heck? We know a lot more about it, but not enough to explain why/how it scans people and kills some but not others. It spared Mr. Ecko (once) and Locke. There is evidence that it can take difference shapes/appearances. Certainly it was Ecko's brother, Yemi. Was it also Kate's horse? Or Walt when he appeared to Shannon?

6) What was Libby's real role in the story? Libby was with Hurley in the asylum. She gave Desmond the boat for his race. How or why did she become involved with these characters before the crash of Oceanic 815? I imagine she worked for Widmore, who had plenty of info about the island. Was Widmore employing Libby as his agent? We may never know. Cynthia Watros, who played Libby, has reportedly shown little interest in returning to the show and producer Damon Lindelof has indicated that he may abandon the Libby story if they can't get Watros back. That's too bad. Libby's role seemed significant and I would like this loose end to be tied up.

OK, six questions/topics. I have dozens more, but these will do for now. I hope season six of LOST can live up to the challenge of wrapping up the story!

(Tiny) Bits and Pieces

2009-05-18T14:43:00.001-07:00

It's just one of those months. Life is very busy at the moment and when that happens blogging really falls by the wayside.

While I like to provide posts of at least some substance, I'm afraid that for now I'm limiting myself to some comments and some links. Wish I could do more, but personal commitments will have me busy until mid-June. (I'll try to post a few things in the next few weeks, but everything is going to be pretty abridged for now.)

So . . .

Television

Lost had a good season but there seemed to be something missing. I loved the beginning and really liked the time-shifting episodes; but once things settled down in 1977 at the Dharma village the show started to drag a bit. I liked the final episode (and like it better the more I think about it) but we probably can't fully judge it until we see the sixth-season premiere. (I will say the ending was the biggest letdown since season one, though!)

Dollhouse, however, was the biggest surprise of the season. It started so slow I almost tuned out. But then the show found direction and became one of the best science fiction series in years. I look forward to season 2!

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles was always solid and worthwhile. And Summer Glau's performance was spectacular. The show had great potential but sadly has been canceled.

Reaper has been playing for laughs. The show is good but it has room for heavier storylines. I doubt we'll see more of this series.

Books

For sophisticated, breath-taking science fiction, I highly recommend Mind Over Ship by David Marusek. (But first you need to read Marusek's Counting Heads.) Also, don't miss the classic mystery/thriller The Big Clock by Kenneth Fearing.

David Lynch

I loved this! What if David Lynch had directed Dirty Dancing? Perfect!

Also: Imagine Lynch films (and other great movies) given the Criterion box art treatment! (I love the Fire Walk With Me and Mulholland Drive. And check out Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Eyes Wide Shut. Beautiful.)

Oh, I found the above links at The House Next Door -- a great blog. Speaking of which . . .

David Foster Wallace

The House Next Door has a wonderful interview with Glenn Kenny, the editor of David Foster Wallace's essays for Premiere magazine (including the David Lynch piece). There's also some great behind-the-scenes info about Wallace and Kenny's visit to the Adult Video News Awards (the basis for the essay, "Big Red Son," aka "Neither Adult Nor Entertainment.")

Well, that's all for now. I'll try to post the occasional entry as time permits. (Still reading Beautiful Dark.) I will have more time to write by the middle of June!

Star Trek Thoughts (Briefly)

2009-05-11T08:16:00.000-07:00

I've seen Star Trek and liked it immensely. It was fast, funny, and moving. It had all the perfect ingredients to become the most crowd-pleasing of all the Star Trek films. It has also set the bar extremely high for the rest of this year's summer films.

Of course, by that standard, one could argue that Star Trek has now been reduced to nothing more than a summer action film. I think that is something we need to get used to. Star Trek, in the slick and nimble hands of J.J. Abrams, will likely always be about thrills and fun before it is about ideas or concepts.

Make no mistake; the original Star Trek could be thrilling and fun. It often was. But, as I've mentioned before, the driving theme behind Star Trek was always exploration and discovery. Now, much of that crucial aspect of Star Trek is probably gone. As a hard-core Science Fiction and Star Trek fan I must come to terms with this.

Meanwhile, there are lots of good and interesting things to say about this new film. I'm really not unhappy at all. I think this new Star Trek franchise is bound to be great entertainment. The reboot was handled well and the "future" looks bright!

(And here I'll say that the Star Trek universe kinda' got what it deserved. After a persistent reliance on gimmicky and shaky time-travel stories in which the "present" was constantly threatened by alterations to the past--alterations which had to be corrected in order to restore the proper "time line"--the Star Trek milieu has at last been permanently altered by time travel. Hasn't the future of the Federation been irrevocably erased given all the "rules" so diligently set down in the countless time travel stories of the series and films? Let's just say it has. Now: Please! Please! No more time travel stories!)

Oh and one last unusual and highly dubious observation for those Twin Peaks fans who might still be reading: Star Trek was a prequel, but one that relied on events from a series set chronologically "later." In some ways the film closed a circle. It showed us what happened "before," but it was inextricably linked to what had "already happened" in the future. Sounds like another TV-series-prequel-film, doesn't it?

Beautiful Dark Chapter 8: Twin Peaks:S2 and Fire Walk With Me

2009-05-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

When I bought Greg Olson's Beautiful Dark last October, Chapter 8 was what I was most looking forward to. This is the chapter where Olson discusses the one David Lynch film I have truly studied in-depth: Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. I was tempted, back then, to read the chapter first, before I read any other part of the book. But my sense of duty to Olson's work compelled me to wait, to read the book in order. So now here I am, half-way through the book with the most fascinating chapter Olson has written yet.

Olson begins the book with a concluding look at the critical reaction to Wild At Heart. (It is here that Olson defends the film against complaints of excessiveness. I won't get into a lengthy rebuttal to Olson, other than to say that I think Wild At Heart is excessive and that much of the criticism leveled at the film is quite justified.)

Olson then looks closely at the second season of Twin Peaks with a focus on Lynch's contributions to the series. Olson's summaries and analyses are all very good but there is nothing terribly surprising about his account of the second season. The rise and fall of Twin Peaks is well known even to casual fans. The show lost its way in the second season and there all sorts of reasons why: Lynch was not as involved in production; Kyle MacLachlan objected to the proposed Cooper/Audrey romance; ABC pre-empted the show too often. What was new, were some candid observations from Mark Frost who, as Olson notes, takes much of the responsibility for the show's loss of direction: "I regret my decision to not be there [during the latter part of the show's second season]. And that's where we dropped the ball." (p. 364)

Olson provides a brief examination of Twin Peaks' stunning final episode, describing how Lynch returned to the series and was "determined to give Twin Peaks a final jolt of magic and poetry" (p. 360.). This part of the chapter is crucial and much-appreciated. Too often the final episode of Twin Peaks is overlooked by critics who forget there is a gem deep in the wastelands of the second season. The final episode is one of series' major achievements and, by itself, is arguably one of Lynch's great short-films. Luckily, Olson is well aware of the power of the final episode and devotes a number of pages of description and analysis.

Olson then moves on to his examination of Fire Walk With Me. It is here, at the heart of the chapter--and the heart of the book--that Olson supplies a valuable contribution to the study of FWWM. Olson had access to location shooting for FWWM in Washington State in 1991. As a result, he had the unique experience of watching Lynch and the actors (such as Sheryl Lee, Dana Ashbrook, Kyle MacLachlan and Ray Wise) shoot some of the film's critical scenes. Olson observed the process Lynch uses with actors to rehearse lines, to develop a scene, and to find that perfect "Lynchian" moment that makes it to the screen. Olson's reporting from the location of FWWM is new, exciting and informative.

Personally, I relish any new writing about FWWM. This is why I so appreciated Olson's first-person account of his days and nights on location with the production. But this may also be why I was somewhat disappointed by Olson's analysis of the film. While he does provide abundant detail about the plot and themes of FWWM, Olson ultimately falls back to the most common interpretation of the movie: that Laura Palmer chooses death to stop BOB from tormenting her: "Her primal need is to save herself from BOB, and to do so she must die" (p. 390). Olson briefly considers--and just as quickly dismisses--the idea that Laura may be doing more than merely saving herself, that she might be trying to defeat Bob: "Laura [is] in a position that . . . echoes the position of ancient Tibetan Buddhist nuns who . . . personally engaged and grappled with devouring demons in order to keep the world safe from harm. However, Laura is not a sacrificial lamb with a martyr complex." (p. 390) Well, of course not, but isn't Laura something more than a teenager who has been abused? Isn't BOB more than a mere figment of her imagination? Isn't their conflict far more complex than it appears?

There is a lot going on in FWWM and in order to make sense of the Owl Cave ring and the angels and the Red Room and the garmonbozia, one has to look past the surface story of Laura Palmer to see a bigger story at play. At some point Laura Palmer did just that--she saw something happening that was larger than herself. And while she may not have become a "sacrificial lamb" who martyred herself, she became more than a mere victim of BOB--she became his opponent. This (to me) is why she takes the ring. She denies him the kind of power he has gained through his alliance with Arm (the Little Man from Another Place). This also helps explain the presence of the angels and Laura's misunderstanding (until the end) of her own goodness as a force against evil.

Few critics (even those who are pre-disposed to Lynch) give much thought to Fire Walk With Me. Many dismiss it as a weak epilog to a failed TV series. But FWWM is a rich and powerful film that requires a lot of critical thinking to decode, a lot of serious study to access its secrets. The difficulty of FWWM prompted Lynch-critic Michel Chion to write about the film: "[It] operates on an impenetrable, unreadable surface . . . . It is seamless; there is no way in." (Michel Chion, David Lynch, (BFI Publishing, 1995), p. 157)

But FWWM is not impenetrable. Daunting, perhaps, and, like the final episode of Twin Peaks, easy to dismiss--but not impenetrable. Olson has proven to be a perceptive and adept Lynch critic (he may be one of the best Lynch analysts out there) but he seems to glide over FWWM without the deep consideration he has given to Lynch's other works. Surprisingly, he has chosen to make FWWM one part of one chapter in a book about David Lynch. But maybe the film needed a little more discussion, a little more time devoted to it. Perhaps it would have been more fitting to give Fire Walk With Me a chapter of its own.

I Guess I Need to Talk about Star Trek

2009-04-24T06:58:00.000-07:00

No doubt you've heard the news.

I mean, the early reviews are everywhere!

Star Trek - the franchise-reboot film from director J.J. Abrams - is good. Real good.

OK, my hopes are now definitely up. My expectations are very high. And when that happens there isn't usually a good pay-off.

I'm a big fan of classic Star Trek--the original Enterprise, Kirk, Spock, etc. I love the original series and the films (Star Trek V, excepted). But I have always been leery of a prequel film, one that goes back to show us the early years of the characters we know so well. I have no doubt that Abrams' new movie is slick and exciting and contains edge-of-your seat thrills. I have no doubt that we will have two hours of great fun, that we will get our money's worth. I just hope we also get Star Trek.

What do we need?

A good science fiction story. There has to be some high-concept idea at play--not just a plot featuring a villain who attacks the Federation and tries to kill Kirk. Good Star Trek always has a sense-of-wonder. Even the much-maligned Star Trek: The Motion Picture had a solid SF tale at its core.
A depth of character. The early promotions feature a hot-headed Kirk and a stuck-up Spock. OK, fine, these characters need to start somewhere and we want to see them grow and change. But Kirk has to be smart and Spock has to feel. And they have to become true friends--characters who come to understand the strengths and weaknesses of each other. (Alright, that may be too much for one short film, but there has to be some element of this at play.)
A mission statement. That's right, a mission statement! Right from the start, Star Trek told us what is was about: "To explore strange new worlds . . . to boldly go where no man has gone before!" That is the essence of Star Trek--to see what is beyond the horizon, to embark on a journey of discovery in a galaxy full of wonder and risk. I fear that the new film may forget this critical aspect of Star Trek, that it may be too concerned with a good-versus-evil plot and therefore become too . . . earthbound. It appears that the threat in the film comes at Kirk as he is thrust into events beyond his control. This is typically the way Star Trek films work. Even the great Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan followed this pattern: Kirk was pulled into a conflict he did not go looking for. In fact, after the first film (which closely followed the promise of the original series) the Star Trek movies became more about heroics than about exploration. The crew was always "saving the day" rather than seeking out new worlds. OK, films are different from television. The Star Trek mission statement described the series as a whole, not necessarily each individual episode. Still, I long for a return to the promise of Star Trek: the wonder of exploration and the thrills that came with it.

I'm sure I will like the new film. After all, I've never seen so many rave reviews, even from die-hard fans of Star Trek. But I am worried that a really good, fast-paced action film will be mistaken for good Star Trek.

I will be expecting a lot from the movie. And I will bring with me my checklist of "What makes Star Trek, Star Trek."

Expect to hear back from me.

Judy, Judy, Judy

2009-04-16T22:09:00.001-07:00

(NOTE: This is a revised version of an article that first appeared in Wrapped In Plastic 75)

In Fire Walk With Me, long lost FBI agent, Phillip Jeffries, says, "Well now, I'm not gonna talk about Judy. In fact, we're not gonna talk about Judy at all. We're gonna keep her out of it."

Who is this mysterious person that Jeffries mentions? Is Judy important or is she some piece of nonsensical fluff thrown into the film by David Lynch and co-writer Robert Engels? Can her identity be gleaned from clues in the film, script, or series?

The answer to the last question is: Yes. But here's the catch; Judy has a different identity depending on which version of FWWM you examine. Judy is a character (or an idea) that changed as FWWM evolved through scripting, shooting and editing.

The Judy of Twin Peaks

The most popular theory about Judy is that she represents another missing or murdered victim like Teresa Banks or Laura Palmer. She fits into a cyclical pattern suggested by the film and series – a girl (Laura, Teresa, Judy) is killed; an FBI agent (Cooper, Chet Desmond, Phillip Jeffries) is assigned to find the killer. The case is never completely solved because the agent ends up missing (or in Cooper's case, severely compromised).

Fire Walk With Me describes Phillip Jeffries as "long lost," suggesting Jeffries "disappeared" while on some assignment. The film also features the disappearance of FBI agent Chet Desmond who has been investigating the murder of Teresa Banks. We know from the series that at least part of Cooper will disappear after he solves the Laura Palmer case. (Cooper's "good self" will be trapped in the Black Lodge.) So the pattern is compelling: three agents disappear while on assignment; two obviously investigating the death of a young woman. Connect the dots and surely one can assume that the third missing agent (Jeffries) was also investigating the death of a young woman, in this case, Judy.

It's a great theory. It fits nicely with the facts established in the series and (apparently) in the film. It's a clean and precise way of tidying up an annoying loose end. And it provides more relevance for the presence of Phillip Jeffries in the story. What it does not do, however, is explain why—at two hours, eight minutes and 21 seconds into the film—an image of a monkey appears on screen and clearly says the word, "Judy." This very deliberate scene suggests something else entirely about Judy. But what?

The Judy of the Scripts

The monkey does not appear in either the pre-release or final draft of the FWWM script. However, the name, "Judy" does. In fact, the various scripts provide some tantalizing clues about who Judy could be.

In an early draft (dated July 3^rd, 1991) Phillip Jeffries first appears in a Buenos Aires hotel where the head clerk hands him a note from a "young lady." Soon after, Jeffries appears in Cole's office in Philadelphia where he tells the assembled agents he's "not gonna talk about Judy." Jeffries says, "I want to tell you everything, but I don't have a lot to go on. But I'll tell you one thing: Judy is positive about this." Then Jeffries drops a fascinating detail: "Her sister's there, too. At least part of her."

This early draft of the script provides strong evidence that Judy was a living person whose note to Jeffries compelled him to go to Philadelphia to tell Cole, "everything." (After all, "Judy is positive about this.") This script also introduces a second mysterious person to identify – Judy's sister. It is possible that this sister may be Josie Packard who "died" in the TV series but whose spirit seemed to live on in the walls (and drawers) of the Great Northern hotel. Robert Engels attempted to clarify some of these early draft mysteries in an interview that appeared in Wrapped In Plastic 58: "The thing behind Judy has to do with where David Bowie [Phillip Jeffries] came from …. He was down there [Buenos Aires], and that's where Judy is. I think Joan Chen [Josie] is there, and I think Windom Earle is there. It's this idea that there are these portals around the world, and Phillip Jeffries had one hell of a trip to Buenos Aires and back! He really doesn't want to talk about Judy because that reminds him of whatever happened to him." When asked if Josie, therefore, could be Judy's sister, Engels replied, "Yes. Yes, I think that is true."

But when Lynch and Engels revised the script for the shooting draft (dated August 8^th 1991), they altered aspects of Judy's identity. In the later draft Jeffries still receives a note from the head clerk (who says a young lady left it) and Jeffries also tells Cole that "Judy is positive about this." But he makes no reference to Judy's sister. Instead, he says he "found something in Seattle at Judy's." This line now links Judy to Teresa Banks and Laura Palmer—all three women lived in Washington State. It also suggests that Judy could have had some interaction with the Lodge residents (particularly Bob) who exist in the Pacific Northwest (where they physically manifest themselves).

So we know that Judy could be related to Josie. She could be alive and in Buenos Aires—or she could be dead and from Seattle. But none of this matters because all evidence about Buenos Aires and Seattle and Josie was deleted from the final version of FWWM. All we know for certain is that Phillip Jeffries mentions Judy and 100 minutes later so does the monkey.

So we are back to the question: Who is Judy and why does the monkey say her name?

The Judy of Fire Walk With Me

David Lynch and Robert Engels originally envisioned "a whole other set of mythology" to include in FWWM. Judy and her sister were products of that mythology. But this mythology had to be abandoned when Lynch realized that the additional backstory was too burdensome for one film. As a result, he likely deleted most references to Judy during editing. But Lynch may have been stuck with one reference to Judy he could not easily remove.

Jeffries makes a dramatic entrance into Cole's office and his very first line is the one about Judy ("I'm not gonna talk about Judy"). It's a great line, wonderfully delivered by David Bowie. What's more, it establishes a detached and incoherent feel to Jeffries and it reinforces his other-worldly nature. The line is also a part of one long continuous take in which Jeffries enters the office and confronts the agents. As such, there was no way for Lynch to remove the line without disrupting Jeffries' introduction to the scene. In other words, given the construction of the scene it would have been impossible for Lynch to bring Jeffries into the office, establish his physical position in relation to the other characters, and also delete the line. To do so, Lynch would have had to re-shoot the scene, an unlikely endeavor given the time and money it would to take to re-assemble the actors and re-establish the set.

So Lynch was stuck with a line about Judy. But because the original and complex identity of Judy (Josie's sister or first murder victim) was now abandoned, Lynch had to provide a new identity for the mysterious Judy, especially since he was trying to make FWWM a stand-alone film.

And that's just what David Lynch did; he found another persona to attach to the name. That persona was Laura Palmer.

Lynch reintroduces "Judy" to the film after Laura Palmer has been killed. He deliberately places a close-up shot of a monkey uttering the word, "Judy," just before he cuts to another close-up of the dead Laura. This simple edit obviously establishes a connection between the name and the character: "Judy" is said/Laura is shown.

So, OK, if Judy is Laura, what's it all mean? I admit there is no easy – or exclusive – answer to this question. Any interpretation is subjective, any "solution" dependent upon the predilections and analytic approaches of the observer. The short and simple answer is that Laura Palmer was a convenient candidate to become "Judy." Lynch needed to provide some identity and who better than Laura?

Of course, we expect that, in Lynch's mind, there is some deeper meaning – some substantive connection – between Laura and Judy. Perhaps in a self-contained, "stand-alone" FWWM the mysterious Judy simply becomes a "code word" for Laura, a symbolic representation of the idea of Laura Palmer.

Names and identities have always been fluid concepts in Lynch's work; any study of Lost Highway or Mulholland Drive shows this to be the case. Perhaps Judy functions as a "secret name" for Laura, one that empowers her or someone else. David Lynch's lyrics to the song, "Floating," from Julee Cruise's 1990 album, Floating Into the Night, contains the intriguing lines: "When you told your secret name/ I burst in flame and burn." This line echoes Laura's comments to Donna about falling in space: "For a long time you wouldn't feel anything. Then you would burst into fire … forever." Are secret names words of power? Do they tap into an energy that is unfathomable in "reality?" Lynch's investigation into the slippery nature of names and identity hints at these provocative themes.

But let's be careful. Assigning meaning to Lynch films is always a tricky proposition and nowhere is that more true than with FWWM. The film was continually evolving through scripting, shooting and editing. The purpose of characters, scenes and dialogue changed as Lynch sought to create a consistent, cohesive work that transcended the trappings of the televised series. Lynch resisted committing to any specific backstory and was open to changing and redirecting the story material as the process continued. Robert Engels explained that the story behind FWWM was never concrete: "It was free-form – David would start to look at something and say, 'I think it is more interesting to go this way.'"

So with that in mind, Judy could be anything or anybody: A living being, an unknown victim—or Laura Palmer. Or maybe she is nothing more than the original inspiration to Robert Engels when he wrote the script: "Judy – the name is from my sister-in-law. I think that's where it came from."

Just Wondering: When is Cult Art?

2009-04-12T17:58:00.000-07:00

I was paging through the short movie reviews in The New Yorker and decided to read their brief comments about Watchmen. I already knew they hated the film but I read it anyway. A line in the review caught my attention: "Alan Moore's graphic novel [is] something of a cult among devotees, which means that, like all cults, . . . it has escaped critical rigor."

That line got me wondering about all sorts of things.

First, what does "cult among devotees" mean? Doesn't a cult imply a loyal following (i.e., devotees)? I suppose you can be a devotee of something that does not have cult status: A devotee of ER or 60 Minutes or Superman or Walt Disney animation. Do these things transcend cult? Are they big enough and so well-known that the terms of "cult" do not apply?

Some things inspire cult followings and, in turn, become "cult objects." But if something is cult has it really escaped critical rigor? Does such a designation provide immunity from critical study? Or have cult shows (and comics and movies) been overlooked or ignored by the critical community?

The implication in The New Yorker piece is that a cult object won't hold up to a thorough vetting, won't last under the exacting scrutiny of academic analysis. But just because something has escaped critical rigor does not mean it can't withstand it.

Just wait and see if Watchmen doesn't generate its own body of critical study. It has happened before. I would argue that Moby Dick was once a cult object. So were movies like The Wizard of Oz and Citizen Kane. More recently, we have David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest or Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian or Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey or David Lynch's Eraserhead. These are now revered works of art. They are also cult objects that have thrived under critical examination.

And if a work can go from cult to art, how about from art to cult? Could there be classic works that have achieved a new kind of cult status because they are so revered? Tell me there aren't Hamlet geeks (err, devotees) out there. Or people who are way over-the-top for Joyce's Ulysess or Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow.

Hmm, feels like a circle is closing. Too much critical rigor and you're a cult all over again. Nice!

Beautiful Dark Chapter 7: Wild At Heart

2009-04-02T06:53:00.001-07:00

I didn't expect to like Greg Olson's chapter on David Lynch's Wild At Heart. I didn't expect to like it because I do not like Wild At Heart. It is my least favorite David Lynch film (for reasons I will discuss below). So I was dreading reading this chapter, expecting to find myself at odds with Olson, forced to explain why I think the film is unsatisfying while he praises it as an artistic success. But now, after reading this latest chapter from Beautiful Dark, I do not find myself in this position. Olson does praise the film. He finds much merit in Wild At Heart. He casts a perceptive eye on the work and provides a valuable discussion of the film's themes and Lynch's over-all approach to his material. I cannot argue with such a lucid and respectful approach to any work, especially one by David Lynch. In short, Olson has written another fascinating and valuable analysis of a Lynch film.

Like any good film criticism (and like all of Beautiful Dark's chapters so far), Olson analysis made me want to go back and watch parts of Wild At Heart. I re-watched much of the film and found that, despite Olson's keen observations, I still don't like it. Though Olson shows that there is a psychological complexity to Lula and Sailor, the film's protagonists, they are, to me, less compelling than most Lynch characters. Wild At Heart is about two people reacting to the insanity and excesses of the world around them. Through Lula and Sailor Lynch wants to show that the world is, indeed, "wild at heart and weird on top." It is full of violence and unfairness and uncertainty. In order to stay grounded and safe in such a crazy, brutal world, Sailor and Lula seek comfort and security from each other. It is their relationship and their connectedness—rather than their individual relationship to the world—that is central to Wild At Heart. This is what makes the movie different from other Lynch works where conflict is typically found inside a main character who must cope with psychological imbalance or emotional insecurity.

These individual conflicts are not absent from Wild At Heart; Lula in particular struggles with her own denials and perceptions of self. As Lynch told David Breskin in the book, Inner Views, "Lula plays tricks on herself, like we all do. She blocks out many parts of reality so she can still continue to be Lula" (p. 86). (I've written in Wrapped In Plastic that Lula is very much like Laura Palmer in that she creates mental barriers against difficult truths in order to stay sane.) But these internal struggles do not occupy the foreground of Wild At Heart. The relationship between Lula and Sailor takes that spot. As Greg Olson points out, it is through this relationship that Lynch explores a violent and crazy world: "Lynch felt an out of control craziness in the American air . . . ." (p. 307.) and "saw Wild At Heart as a chance to express his concern for the health of his cherished country and his belief in the saving grace of human connection" (p. 309).

And so Wild At Heart is about two people who together encounter an extreme, bizarre and seedy American landscape. Lynch's desire to explore the craziness in America gives him license to fully depict the grotesque, the repulsive and the ultra-violent. It is this aspect of Wild At Heart that turns me off. Lynch goes to great lengths to show extremity everywhere and in everyone. Wild At Heart features out-of-control fires, car wrecks, brutal murders, rape, torture, sadism and insanity. Lynch turns an unflinching eye on all of this (in fact, as Olson points out, Lynch's original cut was so extreme that the director knew he had to make edits for fear of making his film too repulsive). All of the insanity in Wild At Heart is happening outside of Sailor and Lula's control. The only way to cope with it is for the couple to stay true to one another, to let their love give them shelter. I find this a rather simplistic theme. What's more, a viewer has to go through a lot of messy excess just to get this easy message. In the end, Wild At Heart turns out to be less relevant and less thought-provoking than what we expect from David Lynch. As Craig Miller wrote in Wrapped In Plastic 74:

There is an unusual distance between the viewer and the main characters [and so] we do not feel their passion for each other. Neither [do] we feel the violence. These elements just lie on the screen, shiny and pretty . . . . If we're not supposed to feel the passion and the violence how are we supposed to respond? The film is not an analytical dissection of violence--say, the problems Lynch saw in America at the time--or a treatise on finding love in a crazy world. In short, there's nothing much to think about in Wild At Heart. (WIP 74, p. 10)

Fortunately, Greg Olson gave me more to think about than I expected. He provides and important look at Lynch's motivations for making the film and his examination of Lula shows that there may be more at work in Wild At Heart than first appears. I ended up enjoying Olson's chapter on Wild At Heart far more than I did the movie, itself. It was a far more cerebral experience and certainly more comfortable. Despite Olson's good analysis I still maintain that the film has less to offer than any other Lynch film. I do not feel challenged by Wild At Heart and I certainly don't feel moved by it. And that seems an odd reaction to a David Lynch film, don't you think?

Bits And Pieces (2)

2009-03-29T07:17:00.001-07:00

A few notes of interest from the past month:

Yes, Watchmen seems to have come and gone but I have few items to share and then I'll put it behind me (at least until the DVD comes out). This is one of the best reviews of the film I've seen. It is quite negative but you can't argue with points the reviewer makes and I especially like how he uses the original comic to support his argument. Now, I liked the Watchmen movie and I still do even after reading the review. So why did the film still work for me despite such valid criticisms? Esteemed author Michael Swanwick nicely encapsulates an answer. (One final note about Watchmen: I started watching the Complete Motion Comic on Blu-Ray DVD and am thoroughly enjoying it. Seeing Dave Gibbons panels in such clear close-up shows me things I've missed before. The animation is done with great care and understanding of the material. I highly recommend it.)

*****

I've read three books in the past month and all have been outstanding. Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan is one of the best fantasies published last year. It is marketed as "young adult" but don't let that arbitrary categorization fool you. This is a book for sophisticated readers of any age.

I read an advanced copy of The City and The City by China Mieville and was quite impressed. This is a book that will generate a lot of talk in the coming months. The book reads like a fantasy but most assuredly is not. Mieville posits two fictional European cities that occupy the exact same geography--the exact same spot on the globe. The only thing that keeps the cities separate is the mental effort of citizens to recognize only elements of their respective cities--their fashions, buildings, foods, etc.--even if they are standing next to a citizen from the other city (whom they must "unsee"). Mieville uses so many recognizable fantasy tropes (words like alterity and breach and cross-hatching and unsee) that you aren't sure what he is doing until well into the story (that is if you haven't been warned by someone who's read it already!). The book is very good but I suspect some will wonder why Mieville created such an outlandish scenario and yet refused to make it fantasy. I think the book is a success however and that Mieville has done something unique and relevant. I will have to write more about this book soon.

I read Rogue Male by Geoffrey Household, a classic chase story written in 1939. It still holds up extremely well today (I guess that's why they call it a classic).

*****

Finally, I was quite impressed with the Where The Wild Things Are trailer. I look forward to seeing this movie in October. Dave Eggers is supposedly writing a novel adaptation of the film called The Wild Things. I am both worried and excited.

"Full of Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing"

2009-03-21T16:16:00.000-07:00

Doubtless many will opine on the series finale of Battlestar Galactica. Here's my measly two cents:

The two-hour series ending episode of Galactica was, to say the least, underwhelming. It was noise and bombast and then emotion and irony and it fell far short of being in any way satisfying. Long ago it became painfully obvious that the series writers were making things up as they went. As a viewer of much television over many years I have developed a certain tolerance for this modus operandi. It is common practice for most TV writers to plot for the short term. But worse than "making things up as you go" is unmaking things up as you go. When you establish some fact about a character or create a new situation in your universe we expect those new facts and situations to have some permanence. This didn't happen on Galactica. Characters constantly underwent personality changes or found themselves in new and unlikely situations only to change again at the whim of the plot a few episodes later.

It happened so much it became tiresome to watch Battlestar Galactica. Remember how Lee Adama became commander of Pegasus, then a lawyer, then inexplicably the president of the Colonies? This was after Baltar went from eccentric scientist to vice-president to, you guessed it, president. And let's not forget the most painful and obvious "unmaking" of all: In season 3, Starbuck finds Earth--a planet that exists in our exact solar system and looks exactly like our Earth. The refugees reach Earth only to find it a radioactive ruin. Earth, it seems, is a lost cause. But in the finale, Starbuck guides the fleet to another Earth. Again, it looks exactly like our Earth (same continents, single large moon, etc.). We're supposed to believe (now) that the first Earth was false, despite the painstaking detail that earlier established it as the one and only Earth. This final "plot twist" of a second Earth is unforgivable. It is shameful and insulting and damning evidence that the writers had little faith in themselves and no regard for their audience.

Few shows have started out so well and ended up so poorly. The first season-and-a-half of Galactica was superb. It invited repeat viewings if only for the sheer power and excitement of the battle sequences. But the show was so much more than fancy effects. The characters were complex and flawed and the mythology held such promise.

The Cylons had a plan! The colonists had clues to find Earth! But we soon learned that there was no plan (or too many). And the clues to finding Earth were arbitrary.

Many will debate exactly when Battlestar Galactica went awry. For me, it was one specific moment: When Commander Cain is eulogized by Starbuck. Suddenly Cain, who behaved like a tyrant, was depicted as a hero. Why did Starbuck praise Cain? No normal character (especially Starbuck) would ever think well of such a dictator. It was here, at this moment, that character development was sacrificed for the arbitrariness of plot. No longer would characters act according to the events around them. No longer would they develop in way that made sense. From this point forward they would behave as the plot demanded. As a result they became cardboard cutouts or worse, puppets whose actions were completely at the whim of writers who did not know where the show should (or could) go.

I loved Galactica for a time. And though there were some good and great episodes in the seasons that followed the Pegasus arc it became impossible to overlook the slipshod way in which the show was handled. The last episode encapsulated this disregard for plotting. Everything felt contrived. Throw-away scenes from earlier episodes were shoe-horned into an increasingly nonsensical plot and for awhile you wanted to turn away in embarrassment for everyone who was involved. In the end the writers could only rely in the ultimate deus ex machina ending (God's grand plan) to establish any kind of lasting closure for their seasons-long storyline. It was sloppy, amateurish writing and a sad end to a once great series with wonderful potential.

R.I.P. Battlestar Galactica. Yours was a long and painful death.

Beautiful Dark Chapter 6: Twin Peaks Season 1

2009-03-11T11:44:00.001-07:00

There was a period of about four years after David Lynch's work on Blue Velvet that was, as Greg Olson explains, abundantly productive for Lynch. He continued to paint and then, with a lucky break and growing confidence, showed his work in galleries in New York and Los Angeles. He co-starred with Isabella Rossellini in the feature film, Zelly and Me. He directed the short film, The Cowboy and the Frenchman, for French magazine, Figaro. And then he began a fruitful partnership with Mark Frost that had him deeply involved in three projects which never came to fruition but which planted the seeds for one of the most striking television series ever—Twin Peaks.

Olson provides some good background on how Frost and Lynch teamed up. Most Peaks fans know that they were brought together by Lynch's agent, Tony Krantz. Soon the duo was producing scripts. First up was Venus Descending, a biography-drama about the life and death of Marilyn Monroe. Then they pitched the idea of a of science fiction TV series, The Lemurians, in which detectives would probe the possible presence of aliens on earth. Finally, they produced a script for a comedy film entitled, One Saliva Bubble. (The story tells the tale of a freak accident that causes people to switch identities.) None of these projects ever came to be (One Saliva Bubble may have come closest to production) but each contributed a significant piece to the eventual Twin Peaks universe: From Venus Descending, the mysterious death of a beautiful and much-admired young blonde woman (and the name Norma Jennings); from One Saliva Bubble, the idea of variable identity; and from The Lemurians, the scenario of the FBI investigating the supernatural.

Stymied by the collapse of these early productions, Lynch and Frost huddled together to produce the script for the Twin Peaks pilot. They pitched it to ABC and got the go-ahead to shoot. The rest is history, although for this chapter Olson is only interested in examining the early days of Twin Peaks (presumably there will be much more to come in Chapter 8 of Beautiful Dark; there, Olson will look at Peaks season 2 and the film, Fire Walk With Me).

Olson delves into the pilot, describing the themes and mood of the film. He painstakingly analyzes the opening few minutes explaining how they set the tone for the rest of the episode and the series. He examines the dynamic of the Palmer family and notes Sarah and Leland Palmer's intense emotional reactions to the news of their daughter's death. Olson provides a specific, perhaps overly-analytical examination of Sarah Palmer's phone scene early in the pilot. He looks at objects positioned on the window behind Sarah and argues they represent the roles of each member of the family. I won't reveal Olson's analysis here (check page 274) but suffice to say he places a lot of symbolism on objects which appear for but a few seconds on screen. I've been accused of over-analyzing Twin Peaks (an upcoming post on the identity of Judy in Fire Walk With Me will show you why) but this may be scrutiny to the extreme. Still, Olson's sharp examination of Dale Cooper is rewarding. He reminds us that Cooper is a sort of hybrid detective—one who embodies the strict forensic approach of Sherlock Holmes with an intuitive, feminine sensibility. Cooper "knows that his calculating brain alone can't take him where he needs to go." (p. 281)

After a thorough look at the pilot, Olson turns his attention to the second full hour of the series—the only other episode of the season directed by Lynch. Of course, most of his analysis centers on one of Twin Peaks' most riveting sequences: Dale Cooper's dream. Here, Olson shows how the dream allowed Laura Palmer to become an active and enduring presence in the narrative. Cooper did not merely dream about Laura, he became explicitly connected to her: "She is [. . .] his truly significant Other." (p. 292) This is a crucial observation because even though Laura Palmer is dead in the series she is still a vital presence in the story. The dream sequence underscores how—almost from the beginning—Lynch was interested in bringing Laura "back to life" and transforming her from a simple plot object (dead victim) to an autonomous subject (story protagonist). Lynch will make a far more valiant effort at such a transformation in Fire Walk With Me.

Olson acknowledges the critical function of Cooper's Dream ("it will become the extraordinary common ground of Twin Peaks' narrative," p. 291) but he forgets to note the origin of the sequence. Most fans know that the dream comes from footage Lynch shot for the "European ending" to the pilot—an extra fifteen minutes of story added by Lynch and Frost to make the pilot a stand-alone work. Although the extended ending does little to tie things up, it does provide a form of closure to the initial Twin Peaks story. Incorporating this sequence into the on-going series, however, may have introduced a few problems. As we wrote in Wrapped In Plastic 59:

The dream is positioned as a crucial piece of the narrative—a puzzle whose solution will lead to the murderer's identity. But the dream sequence is arguably just visual poetry by Lynch, an almost ad-libbed sequence developed to provide an ending to the pilot for its overseas release as a stand-alone movie. This "European ending" originally had little connection with the Twin Peaks story; it was something Lynch had created at the last minute of filming. In describing the creation of the alternate ending, Lynch said he was "just winging stuff for the ending we had to do," and that "nothing was really that thought out" (Lynch on Lynch, edited by Chris Rodley, p. 165). The rest of the Twin Peaks narrative will be driven by this short, whimsical piece of film. The result will be an astonishing and revolutionary (but sometimes convoluted) television series. (p. 10)

The lack of discussion about the origin of the dream and how it's placement into the narrative would affect the trajectory of the series seems like a significant oversight. Still, Olson gives the dream its due, exploring its unusual format and showing how it fits perfectly with Lynch's filmic sensibility. Olson completes the chapter with discussion of the rest of the first season and looks at the phenomenal public reaction the series garnered. He also looks at the critical role Mark Frost played in the production and how collaboration was both a boon and burden for Lynch.

Twin Peaks remains one of David Lynch's greatest accomplishments and Olson does justice to the first season in this mesmerizing chapter. And there is still so much more Twin Peaks to come.

Watchmen: First Thoughts

2009-03-06T06:22:00.000-08:00

Well, I've seen Watchmen. Rather than bore your with a long review, I'll just make a few brief remarks. (Whether or not you're a Watchmen fan you undoubtedly know there are thousands of reviews of the film all over the web. My review is but a drop in the blogosphere ocean, so I'll make it short.)

I really liked it. I mean a lot. I won't say I loved it; there are parts that I think are too extreme (the graphic, gory violence was in the comic but never to the degree seen here). But there are other parts that were mesmerizing: the wonderful opening credits, the origin of Dr. Manhattan, Dan and Laurie eating dinner as seen through a window reflecting the lights of the city. Rorschach.

And the ending. I posted a month ago that might prefer the new ending to the flawed ending of the comic--and I do. I actually think that new ending (which I won't spoil) thematically fits with the rest of the story (particularly that of Dr. Manhattan). I think the ending respects the work. I think it was thought through by the director and screenwriters. I think it makes sense. And I think I am likely in a very small minority. But so be it.

I will likely write more about Watchmen in the future. But for now I am quite satisfied. It was a great movie experience.

Watch Reaper (It has Ray Wise as the Devil!)

2009-03-03T08:16:00.001-08:00

A very quick note to remind anyone who might be interested in some fun television: Reaper returns to TV tonight after almost a year (it's on the CW, check your DVR schedules). Last year, the show became an unexpected delight for me primarily because of the fine chemistry between the actors. It doesn't hurt, of course, to have Ray Wise playing the devil. It is perfect casting! (And when he makes that serious scowl . . . well, Twin Peaks fan should get a shiver.)

I never expected the series to get renewed but someone at the network liked it enough to give it another half season. I think we may get another 12 episodes or so. And then I bet it's gone for good. Still, if you're looking for a fun diversion and some genre TV that's a bit more light-hearted than most of what's on right now, look no further than Reaper.

Bits And Pieces (1)

2009-02-27T14:32:00.001-08:00

No time for a full post right now. Here's some odds and ends. Err . . . bits and pieces. (Whatever.)

WATCHMEN: I'm not impressed with any of the Watchmen clips I've seen so far. The early reviews are all good so I'm quite hopeful. But these scenes I've looked at seem to lack balance. Some are extended action, drawn out in slow motion but lacking any tension. Others are dull conversations also lacking tension. The drama seems to be falling flat! I know these are very short snippets so it is impossible to judge the film right now. (And I remember the early scenes from the Fellowship of the Ring that had me quite worried, and, well, everything turned out just fine). Is it just me? Do I need to scale my expectations down?

BOOKS: The last three books I read were all very good. They all happen to be short story collections. First was Dangerous Laughter by Steven Millhauser. The highlight here was "Cat 'n Mouse" (a story in which cartoon characters like Tom and Jerry ponder philosophically about their prescribed roles in a predestined life). Second was Eclipse 2, a solid collection of new science fiction stories edited by Jonathan Strahan. (The stand-out story is "Exhalation" by Ted Chiang, which is as good as anything he's written and provides further proof that Chiang may be one of the genre's greatest short-story writers). Finally there was Cyberabad Days by Ian McDonald, a collection of all the author's future India stories in one volume. McDonald's India stories are superb pieces of science fiction and possibly the best work he has ever done. Highly recommended.

TELEVISION: I'm totally engrossed with LOST. I count the days until the next episode. Big Love is superb television and last week's episode was the best of the season so far. I've said it before, you won't find a better ensemble of actors on TV right now. Battlestar Galactica has improved this season with some thrilling episodes (the mutiny arc was great). I still think the series would have been stronger had it been shorter. Finally, I'm intrigued with Dollhouse. The second episode was a better than the first and there seems to be is a solid backstory to explore. I'll be sticking with it.

WRAPPED IN PLASTIC: Craig Miller has finally updated the WIP website. Read his thoughts about the twentieth anniversary of Laura Palmer's death and his overview of Lynch's post-Peaks work. You can see it all here.

DAVID FOSTER WALLACE: I haven't written about Wallace yet. His death is still hard to think about. Ever since I started reading David Foster Wallace in 1997 he was a near constant presence in my mind. Really. For eleven years, I knew that David Foster Wallace was out there somewhere thinking about things, processing and clarifying the world. His thoughts and observations were always precise and enlightening. His tragic death was a major loss for the world. There have been a number of superb tributes to Wallace online. Amherst College has the latest.

Digging Star Wars

2009-02-22T07:24:00.001-08:00

The new issue of Harper's (March, 2009) contains a fascinating essay entitled, "Raiders of the Lost R2" by Jon Mooallem. It's about the obsession of some Star Wars fans to seek out the actual shooting locations of the films and scavenge those sites for props and set pieces that may have been left behind. Some fans have gone to great lengths to locate sites in Tunisia that doubled for Tatooine, or find Mayan ruins that were used for some establishing shots on Yavin's fourth moon, or visit sites in Finse, Norway that were used for the ice planet of Hoth.

The article recounts a visit Mooallem made with a trio of Star Wars fans to Imperial Sand Dunes National Monument in California where, in the inaptly named Buttercup Valley, scenes from Return of the Jedi were filmed in 1982. These scenes depicted action around the Sarlacc Pit and Jabba the Hutt's sail barge. Apparently, remnants of the barge and pit film sets—broken bits of weathered foam and painted plywood—still exist, buried under the hot California sand. Many fans hope to salvage these fragments, carry them out of the desert, and add them to their Star Wars memorabilia as prized collector's items. This is what the group with Mooallem was hoping to do.

Now, I know what it's like to be fascinated by a fictional world. There was a time when I lived and breathed Twin Peaks. I have my prized props and I've been to film sites of the pilot and Fire Walk With Me in Washington state. I understand how important it is to connect with that "other" world; how fascinated one can become with those fixed points on earth where a fictional world intersects with the real. But I wonder at the import of finding the flotsam and jetsam of long-abandoned film sites. What does finding these artifacts (which are indistinguishable from any construction site debris) really mean to a fan?

Mooellam wonders the same thing. He argues that Star Wars (and other imagined worlds) "takes on a specificity and a grit" of a real world. It is a world that demands to be defined and in so doing might require "adults [to] journey great distances to stand inside that universe and handle it for real" (p. 67). But what do you get when you stand inside that other world? What does "handling it for real" mean? To me, seeing Jabba's barge as nothing more than plywood and latex paint diminishes the whole experience. The faraway idea of Star Wars instantly becomes grounded and mundane. Hand-crafted props are one thing, junk from a movie set is something else.

Still, I can reluctantly relate to the whole endeavor. The notion that some piece of treasure (an actual blaster prop or a Gamorrean helmet) might await under the California sand is compelling. But the compulsion to find such treasure is also worrisome. How simple is it to step over the line that demarcates diversion from obsession? How easy is it to develop the "tic" in fanatic? I don't know, but it seems like something to guard against.

If you want to know more about the Buttercup Valley "excavation," check out this blog for pictures and behind-the-scenes notes (including images of the rather dull pieces the group found). Mooallen's Harper's essay is not online, however (unless you are a Harper's subscriber), so you'll probably have to obtain a copy of the magazine to read it.

Beautiful Dark Chapter 5: Blue Velvet

2009-02-18T11:12:00.000-08:00

In many ways Blue Velvet is an easy David Lynch film. Maybe not easy to watch, but easy to study, easy to decipher. Compared to the director's other works, Blue Velvet wears its themes on its sleeve: We see the idyllic small-town setting but also the darkness hidden underneath (the bugs). The ideas of dreams are overt, especially when Sandy tells Jeffrey about her dream and then later the dream comes true (the robin). (And let's not forget the use of the song, "In Dreams.") There is an obvious Oedipal drama as Frank Booth and Dorothy Vallens play surrogate parents to Jeffrey (using terms like "baby" and "daddy"). Finally, it is rather obvious that Frank represents a dark version of Jeffrey ("You're like me") whom Jeffrey must overcome to be free.

What's more, Blue Velvet is told is a straightforward manner (it is, without doubt, a straight story) and there are few, if any, narrative tricks at play. Blue Velvet does not confuse reality with dream; everything happens in Jeffrey's "real" world. And there are no loose ends; the film ends happily, all plotlines sewed up neat and tidy.

Greg Olson's chapter on Blue Velvet in his book, Beautiful Dark, is, like the film, short and simple. There is not a lot of revelatory analysis here because the film does not require a lot of digging to get to its secrets. Still, Olson looks carefully at the work, situating it in pop-cultural history (he shows how it fits into the changing notion of what "small-town America" means) and providing a strong and thorough critique of the themes discussed above. Olson details some great background about the casting of the film, particularly how the role of Frank Booth went to Dennis Hopper. (Hopper's reputation in Hollywood was so notorious at the time that Lynch was nervous about meeting the actor.) Olson also looks at the "timeless" setting of Blue Velvet--how it seems to defy being part of any particular era: "In Blue Velvet Lynch is pioneering a subtle stylistic motif that other filmmakers will try to copy; he's giving us an evocative dream time, an ambiguous mix of various decade signifiers in which we float around, subtly disconnected from the waking realities of our own time-bound lives" (p. 230).

There is also a good discussion of Lynch's fascination with concepts of "floating" and "falling." To Lynch, according to Olson, "floating" is positive, "falling" is negative. I hope Olson looks at this concept further in the Twin Peaks chapter: The classic opening theme music for the show, also known as "Falling," is about falling in love (and not being "hurt this time"). In the Twin Peaks universe, apparently, falling in love can be positive or negative--or both. Which leads me to think that maybe the concepts of floating and falling should be assigned more complex meanings. Floating may have to do with a sense of control, that is, one has control of his or her emotions and is therefore at peace. Falling has to do with lack of control, the idea that you can't stop a flood of emotions--positive or negative. When you fall in love you are out of control. But once in love, you can regain control, stop falling and begin to float. These ideas probably aren't much different than Olson's, but I like to think there may be more to Lynch's falling/floating dichotomy.

Olson ends the chapter before he fully discusses critical reaction to Blue Velvet. It looks like he will talk about that part in the next chapter (perhaps to show how some of the themes in Blue Velvet--and audience responses to them--propelled Lynch toward Twin Peaks). I can't wait to read it.

Studies on Mulholland Drive: A Book I’d Love to See

2009-02-12T08:01:00.001-08:00

With sites like this and this it might seem redundant or meaningless to dream of a book of critical studies about David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, but I'm old-fashioned and I would love to have just such a book.

What would I put in it? Well, here's a list of insightful pieces about Mulholland Drive that I've read over the years. Each one would be a great chapter in a comprehensive examination of this stunning film:

"Creative Differences" by Tad Friend; The New Yorker, 9/6/99, pp. 56-67

This article is absolutely essential reading for anyone who wants to study Mulholland Drive. Tad Friend has access to Lynch immediately after ABC decided to pass on making Mulholland Drive a weekly TV series. (In fact, Friend is in the room when Lynch gets an early call with the news that ABC may not be interested in the pilot.) Friend describes both the uncut and edited versions of the Mulholland Drive pilot and he reveals some of the proposed plot lines for the series: "[I]n the course of the first year Betty and Rita would 'cross': Betty would sink into the city's underbelly and Rita would be redeemed. Lynch promised that when Rita's identity was finally revealed it would only open up other mysteries" (p.62). In addition to detailed descriptions of the early stages of making Mulholland Drive, Friend also recounts lengthy and unprecedented conversations with Lynch about the pilot. Since these early days, Lynch has talked little about the Mulholland Drive pilot preferring to think of the project exclusively in terms of the film. (As he told Chris Rodley in the revised edition of Lynch on Lynch, "The pilot was just a stage this thing went through.") Friend was in the right place at the right time and his essay is not only important for what it tells us about Mulholland Drive, but it is also essential reading for anyone who interested in how David Lynch makes movies.

"Silencio! David Lynch's Mulholland Drive" by Jonathan Valin; Perfect Vision, May/June 2002, pp. 84-89

This is a surprisingly good review of the film as a whole. I say surprising because the piece appears in a high-end audio/video magazine but reads like it could come from any top film journal. Valin concludes that Mulholland Drive is a "breakthrough" for Lynch who "finally manages to evoke a pity to match the terror he has always excelled at creating." I share the same thoughts. For me, Mulholland Drive represents a major step forward in Lynch's handling of character. The audience comes to understand and pity Diane despite the horrible things she does. Lynch tried to evoke similar sympathy for Laura Palmer in Fire Walk With Me and while he came real close, the TV series put too many constraints (about Laura) in his way. Mulholland Drive, however, is Lynch's triumph.

"Babes in Babylon" by Graham Fuller; Sight and Sound, December 2001, pp. 14-17
"In Dreams" by Amy Taubin; Film Comment, Sept/Oct 2001, pp. 51-54

These two essays by Fuller and Taubin represent early efforts by the scholarly community to get a handle on Mulholland Drive. Both make important observations about dreams and dreamers in effort to unlock the mechanism of the film's narrative. Fuller: "Where Lynch makes most effective use of dreaming in Mulholland Drive is in exploiting, whether consciously or not, its capacity for over determination and the notion that the dreamer is all the characters in his or her dream" (p. 17). And Taubin: "Mulholland Drive is constructed entirely on the language of dreams. [O]n a narrative level, the temporal collapses, the shifting identities, and the displaced objects are all aspects of what Freud describes as 'dreamwork'"(p.54).

"Auditioning Betty" by George Toles, Film Quarterly, Fall 2004 (Volume 58, number 1), pp 2-13

This is perhaps my favorite Mulholland Drive essay. Toles meticulously examines Betty's audition scene to reveal a number of fascinating possibilities, not least of which is the idea that Betty is a false persona. Toles argues that it is in the audition scene where the real, driving personality behind Betty (Diane) is first revealed: "We gradually catch on to the fact that 'Betty' has been slipped off like the gray jacket and another, far more formidable presence stands in her place" (p. 9). (I might argue that Diane dreams Betty as a better actor than she (Diane) was in real life because she wants to change what was probably a failed audition into a stunning success. My take on the scene may merely be a distinction without a difference, however.) This is a superb piece, well-written and informative.

"Navigating Mulholland Drive, David Lynch's Panegyric to Hollywood" by Todd McGowan in The Impossible David Lynch, 2007, pp. 194-219

I'll admit that I've only skimmed this piece by McGowan. But his writing is crisp and clear and some of his observations about Lynch's film technique and the conveyance of fantasy and "reality" are valuable: "As we contrast the first part of the film with the second, it quickly becomes evident that the first seems more real, more in keeping with our expectations concerning reality" (p.196) and, "After seeing the body Betty and Rita quickly flee the apartment . . . . We see several images of them on each frame and consequently it looks as if Betty and Rita exist outside of themselves, as if the encounter with the real has disrupted their existence relative to time" (p. 211).

"'All I Need is the Girl': the Life and Death of Creativity in Mulholland Drive" by Martha P. Nochimson in The Cinema of David Lynch: American Dreams, Nightmare Visions edited by Erica Sheen and Annette Davison, 2004, pp 165-181

This piece is more accessible than an earlier essay Nochimson wrote for Film Quarterly. Here, she provides an interesting discussion about Lynch and the happy ending and how Mulholland Drive may signal a new direction for Lynch, one that Nochimson describes as "protagonists who miss their moment." I think this is a fascinating point. How close was Diane Selwyn to the typical Lynchian "happy ending" – one in which she finds happiness somewhere outside of reality? She almost achieved happiness in her dream. But the guilt of her actions was too much for such an "escape" to last. Does Mulholland Drive represent a contrasting position to Eraserhead? Henry kills his baby but finds peace; Diane kills Camilla and finds despair. Clearly, there is more to be examined on this topic.

Finally, I'll bet that Greg Olson's Chapter on Mulholland Drive would be a great chapter in my mythical book. (I will be reading and reviewing it the next few months.)

So there you have it. My "dream" Mulholland Drive book. Each essay provides some unique insight into the film and there is little repetition in content. I think that, collected, these essays would provide a comprehensive look at the history, themes, and creative techniques of the film. Are there any good essays I'm missing? Should something else be included in a definitive study of Mulholland Drive? Let me know.

Very Cool Analysis of LOST

2009-02-09T06:29:00.000-08:00

I spent years writing about Twin Peaks, digging deep into the show, trying to find connections between it and literature, exploring the show's narrative techniques and its treatment of character. It was the kind of thing I loved to do because it was (and is) the kind of thing I love to read.

Well if you like that kind of stuff, too, and you like the show, LOST, then you must read this blog by J. Wood. This week's post, "Lost: Draw Me a Hexadecimal," is stunning. Wood's latest may be the most in-depth, insightful, well-written criticism of LOST (ar any television) I've ever read.

If you watch LOST, read Wood. If you don't watch LOST, start with season one now.

Rewinding Watchmen

2009-02-03T18:12:00.001-08:00

I recently reread Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. It was my third time reading it and I was struck again by the complexity of the story and the attention to detail in the art. I was still slightly unhappy with the ending (more on that below) but I still find the work to be tremendously rewarding. As with any great work of such detail and depth there are new things to be discovered with each new reading.

This time around I was particularly interested in the notion of Watchmen as a deconstruction of the superhero genre. The problem was I didn't completely understand what deconstruction meant. I thought it had to do with exposing the inherent flaws in a genre. That by deconstructing something you lay bare its inner workings and thereby prove the falseness of it. As I read Watchmen I expected the very idea of superheroes and masked adventurers to be implicitly (if not explicitly) destroyed. But that didn't happen. Instead, Watchmen asks the reader to accept cliché and believe in formula. One has to "buy in" to the idea of superheroes in order for Watchmen to work. I realized, then, that I had been confusing deconstruction with destruction. Watchmen is not designed to destroy the superhero. It is doing something else entirely. But even after my third reading I didn't know what that was.

I started casting about for some analytical writing about Watchmen that might offer some clarity. I looked at Watchmen and Philosophy but (on an admittedly brief perusal) it didn't seem to have the depth I wanted. Then I found "Deconstructing the Hero" by Iain Thomson (a chapter in Comics as Philosophy edited by Jeff McLaughlin) and was pleasantly surprised. Thomson provides a keen and penetrating critique of Watchmen that put the book in a better perspective for me. Here's what Thomson says about deconstruction:

"[Alan] Moore seems instinctively to know . . . that one of the most powerful deconstructive strategies involves provisionally accepting an idea, thesis, position, or world-view, then working from inside it to extend it beyond its limits until it eventually is made to collapse under its own weight. Watchmen deconstructs the hero by developing its heroes . . . to the point where the reader comes to understand that these fantasies, realized, become nightmares." (p.106)

What Thomson shows is that Alan Moore was up to much more than simply debunking the trappings of the superhero genre (the secret identities, costumes, gadgets, and fortresses of solitude). In Watchmen Moore is not interested in merely saying, "superheroes are impossible;" he and the reader already know that. What Moore does is tackle the fantasy of superheroes. He attempts to prove false the idea of "hero as savior."

Moore takes the reality of costumed vigilantes and superbeings to its logical conclusion. What would a world be like where civilians anonymously fought crime? What would happen if a "superman" could sway the course of geopolitical events? Would this be a better world than our own? Watchmen explicitly answers, "No."

It is clear from reading Watchmen that the world has become a dystopia, a place of despair and dismay. Rather than solve problems, heroes (and superhero) have made matters worse. People fear vigilantes and look to the police for order. When the police go on strike, the government outlaws masked crime-fighters. Any costumed hero that the government does allow is co-opted and ultimately used against the population (the Comedian). A right-wing state emerges. The United States' dependence on the superhero (Dr. Manhattan) for protection escalates international tension and increases the likelihood of all-out war between the superpowers. Another "hero" (Ozymandias) attempts to resolve these problems by launching a scheme that, though it kills millions of people, succeeds at (temporarily) relieving the aggressive tensions between the nuclear powers.

Watchmen posits that this "nightmare" world emerges from the "fantasy" of the superhero. It is a world where conflicts become magnified rather than removed, where safety is even more tenuous than it was before the advent of heroes. And this, Thomson so clearly shows, is how Watchmen deconstructs the superhero genre.

Now I get it. Maybe I was just dense or ill-informed before, but my appreciation of Watchmen has grown appreciably since reading Thomson's superb essay. I highly recommend it.

Still, the essay did little to help me feel better about the ending of Watchmen. If anything it called into further contrast the inherent weakness of Watchmen's conclusion.

**Major Spoilers Ahead! Warning!**

Ever since my first reading of Watchmen (back in 1987) I was disappointed by the ending. I remember the anticipation for that final issue. It was the climax of something significant. (Most readers knew at the time, before the series had concluded, that Watchmen was a major work.) And then there was the last issue, number twelve. Everything had been leading up to this.

And the ending was a letdown.

It was not a major disappointment. The issue still delivered plenty of surprises and satisfying (and logical) denouements for all of the characters. There was just something about that giant alien squid that didn't sit right.

If you are still reading this then you probably know how Watchmen ends. Ozymandias launches his master plan by simulating an alien invasion of earth. He teleports what appears to be a giant alien being (a horrific, Lovecraftian "squid") into the heart of Manhattan thereby causing the death of millions of people. The "squid" has also died, apparently due to its botched inter-dimensional manifestation. Still, the "invasion" causes the world's super powers (re: the USSR and the USA) to cease hostilities and to unite against a perceived common enemy.

This plan recalls a similar plot point in Ursula K. LeGuin's The Lathe of Heaven. There, George Orr—whose dreams can alter reality—is made to dream an end to war on Earth. He dreams of an alien invasion, thereby providing a common enemy for all warring nations. Unlike the aliens in The Lathe of Heaven, however, the alien in Watchmen is fake—and dead. Yet somehow it still has a profound effect on the world's nuclear foes. The USSR (which until now has been aggressively at war in Afghanistan) announces an immediate end to hostilities. A summit in Geneva is called. The world is unified. And it only took a few hours.

The ending of Watchmen seems too simple for such a complex work. I have always wondered why the Soviet Union would so quickly accept the premise of an alien invasion. It seems more likely that a hostile USSR, suspicious of an angry, belligerent West (this is the USA under Nixon, recall) and frightened for so long by Dr. Manhattan, would take advantage of the confusion in the USA (which is obviously vulnerable) to further its aggressions. But they don't. They accept the alien as real and seek peace with the USA. Ozymandias has succeeded and Earth is saved.

It's all too easy and too quick. In so many ways Ozymandias' plan could have backfired. He was depending on the belief in—and fear of—an alien monster to bring peace to Earth. This is unfortunate because for all that Watchmen is, for all the clever and deft ways it "deconstructs" the genre, it still relies on a gimmick in its final act. If Watchmen posits that the extraordinary and unworldly (the superhero) inevitably leads to dystopia, how can it expect us to believe that something equally extraordinary (alien invasion) could bring unity and peace? It is an unfortunate contradiction.

Of course, Watchmen does not have a definitive and tidy ending. Tellingly, Dr. Manhattan's last words are, "Nothing ever ends," leaving Ozymandias to question the success of his plan. Rorschach's journal, which contains Ozymandias' secret, is on the verge of publication. The story, therefore, remains open. Given the nature of the Watchmen universe the "happy ending" may be fleeting. There is a looming potential for darker times to come.

So, while the ending to Watchmen is weak, it remains only a minor flaw in a major work. There is just enough ambiguity ("Nothing ever ends") to argue that Watchmen succeeds despite its flaws. To me, it remains a great work of art. Each reading proves that it is one of the most important and profound comic series of all time.

Allow Me One More Childish Thing

2009-01-30T11:39:00.001-08:00

I was just at my local comic shop where I took nice long look at the three new Watchmen tie-in books. (You can order them from Amazon but apparently their official release date isn't for another 12 days.)

I love these books. Especially Watchmen: The Art of the Film. They reminded me of so many great movie tie-in books of the past. You know--the ones with lots of photos of sets, costumes and props.

I've gotta get one of these books.

Of course, I didn't walk out empty handed. I could not pass up buying a Rorsach action figure. He looks too cool. He now takes a proud spot next to my Simpsons Lard Lad, my Doctor Who Tardis, my Lost in Space Robot, and my Buzz Lightyear. He's right at home!

Review: Acacia: The War with the Mein by David Anthony Durham

2009-01-29T07:29:00.001-08:00

I have a love-hate relationship with novels of high-fantasy. Yes, there's something about swords and sorcery, kings and wizards, empires and forbidden territories that provides perfect escapist reading. But too often fantasy books are juvenile and superficial. Characters are motivated by basic emotions of hate, revenge, love and honor. Imagined worlds usually lack any believable socio-economic dynamic. And use of magic is an easy narrative crutch for those writers who emphasize action over character development. I don't know how many times I've started reading a fantasy novel only to abandon it after a few chapters.

I'm happy to report that Acacia: The War with the Mein by David Anthony Durham is a book I did not abandon. In fact, I became totally engrossed in its richly imagined world and complex, believable characters. What made the book work for me was Durham's attention to the fundamental mechanisms of his society: the religious beliefs of the people, the political forces that balance and counter-balance governments, the economic infrastructure that makes the society work. All of these elements are in play in Acacia and inform the actions of the various characters.

I hesitate to summarize the plot because I cannot do justice to the world and history Durham has created and my summary will sound trite. Still, I'll give it a try: Acacia is the preeminent realm of the land. King Leodan Akaran is the descendant of long line of kings who, for twenty-two generations, have kept stability in the land through a series of complex political deals with various forces in the known world. Long ago, Acacia's first king struck an unholy deal with the Lothan Aklun, a mysterious people from a land on the other side of the world. In exchange for a regular shipment of slaves, the Lothan Aklun supply the Mist, a drug that keeps the population of Acacia peaceful and content. In that long ago time, Acacia's rulers drove their enemies, the Mein, from the land and banished them to icy wastes of the northern lands. As the book begins, the Mein launch a complex sneak attack on Acacia, murdering King Leodan and unleashing a plague upon the land that allows easy conquest. But three of Leodan's four children escape before the Mein can capture them. The fourth, the eldest daughter, Corinn, is taken captive. The book jumps ahead nine years where we find that the three exiled Akaran children have grown and become warriors of their own making. Corinn, meanwhile, has managed to become intimately involved with, Hanish, the leader of the Mein. The final (and most predictable) part of the book recounts how each of the Akaran siblings marshals their forces to defeat the Mein and retake Acacia. The book ends with a satisfying conclusion but leaves enough mystery for the next book of the series. (Acacia is the first book of a trilogy.)

Lest you think the fundamental trappings of fantasy such as magic and magical beings are missing from Acacia, rest assured that these aspects of the genre are firmly in place, even though Durham de-emphasizes magic for the most part. In Acacia, magic stems from the time of creation; it is a relic of the Giver, the prime being who made the world. Long ago, followers of the Giver attempted to copy his language, going as far as to write much of what they knew into a secret book. Use of this language can unleash magic into the world. But at the time of King Leodan, no one remembers how to correctly speak or read the words of the Giver. So magic stays pretty much in the background. Until the third act, when magic plays a prominent—and startling—part in the story.

Acacia, then, has all the prerequisite elements of high fantasy: warriors, magic, and imaginary lands. But what makes the book stand out is what Durham does with these elements. He always makes the story about the characters and their relationships to each other and the world they live in. The Akarans and the Mein carry with them the history of their people. Politics, history and economics are ever present in their minds—forces which both propel them forward and stand in their way. As the characters struggle with the reality of their world, their hopes, fears, loves and desires clash with the boundaries of their society. This is where Durham finds such rich drama. Characters face difficult choices between what they want to do and their proscribed political or economic roles.

But perhaps the most remarkable thing about Acacia is how Durham intertwines magic and faith. By making magic an artifact of his creation myth, Durham inextricably ties this improbable concept to religion, thereby instilling it with relevance rarely seen in high fantasy. When Durham's characters are confronted with the possibility of magic they must test their own faiths. The concept of magic requires one to believe in something far beyond his or her natural senses. If magic is a leap-of-faith, should a person take a chance on it? Can it deliver salvation? Conversely, can a perversion of magic—an abuse of God's ideas—lead to damnation? Durham does not answer all of these questions but at least he poses them. (And further exploration of these ideas may yet come in books two and three of Acacia.)

Of course, bold ideas would not be enough to make Acacia work. Luckily, Durham tells an exciting story and he tells it well. The plot is hardly new (many have compared it to George R. R. Martin's, Song of Ice and Fire series) but that, of course, is how it achieves so much of its comfort. As I said at the top, high fantasy implicitly promises certain tropes. A successful novel depends on how an author handles those tropes. Acacia proves that Durham has the chops. It is a highly satisfying book—an immersive fantasy with heft.

Thoughts on David Lynch: Beautiful Dark (Chaps. 1-4)

2009-01-26T06:15:00.000-08:00

I’m doing a very slow read of Greg Olson’s fantastic new book, David Lynch: Beautiful Dark. But here’s the thing: I’ve got a huge reading list in front of me—I mean a bunch of books I’m eager to get to. And I’m also sometimes impatient. Beautiful Dark is big book and I don’t want to carve out the solid couple of weeks it would take (me) to read it. So I’m reading it in chunks, one chapter at a time, each between the other books on my list. So far I’ve read four chapters (through Dune) and I thought I’d comment here on each chapter as I finish it (expect comments on the Blue Velvet chapter in a couple of weeks).

In the meantime, I thought I’d give some brief thoughts on what I’ve read so far:

Chapter 4 - Dune: Too often I’ve dismissed Dune when examining Lynch’s oeuvre, probably because Lynch didn’t get final cut on the film. To me, Dune had little to offer the serious Lynch student. Well I was wrong. Olson does a great job showing how Lynch made the movie his. Of particular note was Olson’s examination of the line, “The sleeper shall awaken!” which was not part of Frank Herbert’s novel but rather a distinct Lynch addition. Obviously this idea—one in which a sleeper awakens to face the true reality of his or her situation—is a prominent Lynch theme. Sleeping characters and their dreams are critical elements of Twin Peaks, Eraserhead, Mulholland Drive, Blue Velvet and other Lynch works. Olson reminds us that Lynch introduces this concept to Dune and I wanted to slap myself on the forehead for having missed it in my past writings.
Chapter 3 – The Elephant Man: This is a great chapter in that it shows how Lynch navigated the delicate path from being an obscure, somewhat inexperienced director to taking charge of a big Hollywood production. There are interesting bits about Anthony Hopkins’ and Sir John Gielgud’s reactions to Lynch and a fascinating description of Lynch’s failed effort to personally design the Elephant Man make-up: “the young director understood that his design just wasn’t good enough, and he manfully turned the project over to makeup technician Christopher Tucker.” (p. 109) Good stuff!
Chapter 2 – Eraserhead: A masterful examination of one of Lynch’s best works. I found myself re-watching parts of the film as I read through the chapter. Olson provides a keen analysis of Henry’s journey and in particular the film’s denouement. Despite a thorough and convincing argument, however, I found myself disagreeing with some of his conclusions. Olson maintains that by killing his baby, Henry finds transcendence and an ultimately happy existence with the Lady in the Radiator:

The circle of Henry’s journey has closed. His tortuous quest for a home that will shelter and inspire his emotions and spirit has been fulfilled. His love for the Lady in the Radiator has stirred him from benumbed confusion and despair to action. In terms of Lynch’s all-time favorite film, The Wizard of Oz, Henry has made it ‘over the rainbow.’ He only had to kill his child to get there. (p. 83)

Olson backs up his argument with some fine research and, I admit, his conclusion about Henry’s happy fate might be right-on. Still, I see the film differently. We wrote in Wrapped In Plastic that, yes, Henry seeks to escape his despair but that killing his baby leads to an insulated retreat into his own mind and possibly even to death:

Some might argue that the end presents Henry as having achieved some sort of transcendent existence. Interestingly, the final shot in the film is a close-up of his face, and his eyes are closed. […] The scene is reminiscent of the conclusion of Fire Walk With Me, in which Laura Palmer, having just died, meets her angel, and white light floods the screen. Cooper is by her side, and she is smiling. Clearly she is in some sort of heaven.
Yet notice that her eyes are open, whereas Henry's are not. Is he sleeping, or do the closed eyes represent his death? […] Unlike Laura, whose eyes are open because she finally sees the big picture about life and her purpose in it, Henry has fled from his responsibilities, preferring the company of the Lady in the Radiator. As such, although he is not experiencing fear at the moment, he is still trapped by it. Henry does not see the "whole thing," so he has not truly escaped from his fear. (WIP 65)

Despite my disagreement, Olson’s arguments are persuasive and meticulously researched. He proves that there is no one “right” interpretation of Lynch’s films. This is film criticism at its finest.
Chapter 1 – The Alphabet and The Grandmother: A wonderful introductory chapter that sheds much light on the early years of Lynch’s life. Olson provides what most other Lynch writers have missed—a strong biographical background of David Lynch. In the chapter we learn much about Lynch’s youth and how he became interested in painting and ultimately film. Olson delivers in-depth analysis of Lynch’s early works, particularly The Alphabet and The Grandmother. Again, I found myself going back to watch these films after I read Olson’s analysis.

After reading the first four chapters of Beautiful Dark it is clear that Olson has set his sights extremely high. The book is not simply a biography, or a behind-the-scenes look at movie-making, or a critical study—it’s all three at once! I look forward to the next chapter!

Don't Miss Big Love on HBO Tonight

2009-01-25T07:12:00.000-08:00

Fans of quality TV should be tuning in to HBO's Big Love on Sunday nights. The show has turned out to be one of the better series on the cable network. The writing is top-notch and the acting is superb. Look for stand-out performances from Grace Zabriskie (yay!), Chloe Sevigny, Harry Dean Stanton and Amanda Seyfried. The show is totally engrossing and the best thing on TV now that Mad Men is over until its third season.

If you think the polygamy angle is a gimmick you're missing the show's rich drama, deep backstory and fine character interaction. Really, all the best elements of serial story-telling are on display here.

HBO will probably never have another show as good as The Wire or The Sopranos. Many of their recent series have been uneven. (I like True Blood but the whole concept of that milieu falls apart if you think about it too much. Rome was good but rushed. John from Cincinnati had promise but no momentum. Carnivale always felt like a "make-it-up-as-you-go" network series.) But Big Love has been one of the cable network's most satisfying shows. The third season just began but it is not too late to start watching.

Really, do yourself a treat.

Welcome to the Blog Above the Convenience Store

2009-01-24T12:14:00.000-08:00

So this is my first blog posting. Welcome to those few who stumble upon it.

If anybody is interested, I used to be the co-editor (with Craig Miller) of the David Lynch/Twin Peaks magazine, Wrapped in Plastic. That magazine ended a few years ago (with issue 75) and I've been just floating around ever since. Back in the days of WIP I had a regular forum to express my views and to write critical pieces on TV, film, books and comics. (Yes, most of my writing had to do with Twin Peaks and David Lynch but I managed to fit in observations about all sorts of other things.) Since WIP ended I lost my regular writing outlet. I hope this blog will be a satisfactory substitute.

Clearly, a blog is far less structured than a magazine. That's good. I want to write about what's on my mind. What I like and don't like. Any maybe post a few pieces of my early work (from WIP) for those of who you are interested. Here, I wont be restricted to talking only about Twin Peaks. After writing about it for 13 years I really don't have much left to say. (Well, maybe a few things!). So expect short reviews (comments, really) of books, TV, films and comics. I hope to be here on a regular basis.

Thanks for listening.

Oh, and the title of this blog is a Twin Peaks reference. If you're a TP fan, I'm sure you get it.