by notesfromachair

Aretha, Charlie, and Doll Sex?

Watching Charlie Kaufman’s new film Anomalisa this weekend I couldn’t help flashing back to Aretha Franklin’s diva-perfect performance of Carole King’s “Natural Woman” on this year’s Kennedy Center Honors. Ms. Franklin so astounded me that I alternately shouted at the TV and sat slack-jawed speechless for what seemed like a full 10 minutes of her just over four minute performance. And before you chalk it up to my over-the-top gay reaction (Note: That moment when she dropped the floor length mink coat, I know) understand that Ms. King herself stood, shouted, pointed and cheered almost the entire time while the usually too-cool-for-school Pres. Obama, seated a mere five feet away, wiped tears away from his eyes over what he was seeing, fist-pumping the air in glee.

How in the world does this at all relate to a stop-motion animated film like Anomalisa and to Mr. Kaufman, who for several decades has been my favorite voice in the Hollywood screenwriting game? I’m still trying to process that.

Though I think it has something to do with another one of Ms. Franklin’s iconic hits – “Respect.”

I can tell were going to need a dictionary definition on this one.

Re·spect

noun 1.  a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.”the director had a lot of respect for Douglas as an actor”

verb 2.  to admire (someone or something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements.” “she was respected by everyone she worked with”

This is all to say that at any moment someone or something you greatly admire, adore – nee respect – can leave you reduced to a puddle of joy or wallowing in a sea of confusion and resentment.

Oh, Anomalisa. If I wanted to see stop-motion puppets having real life sex I would…seriously, there is no chance of that. Except in this case I found myself viewing it voluntarily. Suffice it to say animated/doll sex is far better in one of my friend Don Mancini’s Child’s Play/Chucky movies or on random episodes of Archer and/or South Park.

Made for each other

Are we all that isolated these days that the new frontier is that we have to see our romantic lives played out as if we were in a 2015 virtual version of a neo-Realist Italian film? Have “live” people gotten too scary or, dare I say it, cliché? Cause I swear, if Kaufman is turning into the more ironic alternative to 21^st century Terrence Malick I’m gonna scream.

Of course, have to implies this was involuntarily. I suppose I could have left at any moment. But c’mon, it’s Charlie. So much as I find the bizarre pseudo humanness of stop-motion incredibly creepy and strange to so little personal effect (that is to say, on me) I stayed.

Probably the worst review

And I found myself wondering, is the skeevy factor just another Kaufman-esque meta element? Like, we as a society have reached a sort of nadir of solitary creepiness that can only be truly represented by something less (or more?) than human? Or am I just overthinking all of this and have been tricked into taking an experimental ride with my favorite screenwriter that is making me nauseous and unsatisfied yet determined to complete. Well, maybe a little bit of both.

Which is probably as it should be. At least that’s what I try to teach my students. And tell myself.

Certainly, there is a lot more to Anomalisa than watching less than human yet quite human images engage in what is passing for new millennial coitus. But I was far more comfortable and satisfied with Spike Jonze’s Her because even I could imagine myself falling for my computer in my most lonely, neurotic moments if it were voiced by Scarlett Johansson. And yes, you read that correctly. She is pan-sexually appealing – vocally, that is. And far more interesting than any cartoon visualization.

This just works

Still, is comfort really the point these days? Is that what it’s come to? Lulling yourself into your cocoon where you only feel protected within a world of, if not your own ideas, an absence of all those that on first thought bore or offend or, plain and simply, just annoy you?

I don’t have to think about the last question because it’s haunted me since I left the movies, p.o.’d at Charlie.

This brings to mind that time I went to see Aretha Franklin in concert once in the late 1990s. (Note: See how I did that?) To say that she seemed to have little or no desire to even be on that Wilshire Blvd. stage would be an understatement. In fact, I doubt if she spent more than 45-50 minutes in total singing to us all night. Not to mention that in almost all of that time she could only be heard in tandem with backup singers. All told I’d say, erring on the side of generosity, a total of 8 bars was probably sung on her own – and that’s on every song combined.

Uh… we came to hear YOU sing, Ms. Franklin.

Did this mean the voice of my and everyone else’s generation at that time was a phony and not worthy of our admiration (Note: Not to mention the small fortune most of us had spent up to that point on all of her albums, eight tracks and then CDs)? Hardly. Merely that we caught her on the wrong night or at the wrong time in her life.

This, of course, didn’t stop me from holding a grudge. I don’t think I listened to a note from anything of hers for at least two years. Yeah, that showed her. And perhaps there are even a handful of a few stubborn others who still refuse to listen. Their loss.

One off moment, concert, year or even decade doesn’t mean much at all no matter what the reason. Only that in that moment, it – or they – didn’t work for you. I learned that this week from Ms. Franklin. And I truly learned it once again from Anomalisa, which I still find myself thinking about despite my better judgment.

Don’t take that as a recommendation. Merely an admission.

12.27.15

by notesfromachair

The Art of Art

As the year closes, many of us serial commenters feel compelled to do a 10 Best (or Worst) list. They both have their charms, depending on your mood. Certainly the latter is more fun to write even if it cuts into all the good karma you’ve accrued in the world thus far.

Still, at this point in my life and on this particular year I’m feeling a bit more benevolent and quite a bit more appreciative. For what? Well, a lot of things. (Note: I will not be listing them all, don’t worry). But certainly being alive is one.

There are lots of bullets one dodges as time marches on and at no time does this become more crystal clear than when you look in the mirror or view the lives of others around you. The former is a particularly sobering fact. No matter how fabulous you look it eventually becomes apparent to even the least introspective person in the universe at odd moments that you will not withstand the test of time. And even more sobering is the undeniable reality that this can all change faster than the actual announced winner of Miss Universe 2015 if the karmic gods deem it so.

The mere fact that you are still living, breathing and thriving – even in all your imagined or real misery? Well, that also puts you ahead of a large group of others on the planet once you average it all out and divide it by the appropriate number. Watch the news or realistically consider each and every one of your friends and acquaintances, if you don’t believe me. You can even throw in a few of the sworn enemies you are perpetually jealous of – though not The Republican Apprentice. He deserves neither your jealousy nor even one moment of your consideration – for anything.

Your damn right Chairy!

This being the case, I wanted to close 2015 by saying thanks and honoring one very large group. And that is all of the artists out there. The great ones, the good ones, the average ones, the not so good ones and… well, as I’ve said, I’m not doing a worst list but if I were and you were – well, you can even count in those too.

It’s the artists that have kept me – all of us – going up to this point in time and I suspect they will continue to do so for the rest of my (our) future(s).

Films, television, music, books, newspapers, paintings, home furnishings – in your hands or virtually – there are actual real people out there who do all of that. At some point it’s all a blank. Until someone sits down or stands up somewhere and has the courage, or anger, or bravado to say to us – here, this is what I think. Take it or leave it. Whether you like it or not.

Preach

It’s not an easy thing to do and it’s a really difficult feat to do well. It may even be a necessary thing to do for many of us, you or them who do it – a way of survival, a type of selfish coping that has its own side benefits – but that doesn’t make it any more simple or less hard. It takes time, energy, determination, study and at the end of the day, a fair amount of bravery – especially if you’re planning to be honest and thus risk the wrath and mass condemnation of others. Remember, at the point of origin the screen is empty. Like –- there is nothing there. At. All. Try staring into the night sky and take away the stars and all traces of weather –- then pour black paint on it –- and you might have some approximation. Or do it in the daytime and make it all white. Depending on your mood/s.

This holiday week I was watching Green Day’s Billie Joe Armstrong (co-creator of the brilliant, massively successful American Idiot album and Broadway musical) on a rerun from earlier this year of the 2015 Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame ceremonies. He was accepting his honor after being inducted into this rare group and recounting his love affair with music. The Beatles, Elvis – even Kool and the Gang as a kid– he heard them all and a lot more growing up thanks to his siblings and extended family. And he loved it all and it soon became apparent to him that this was his world. That would be music – not creating one of the premiere breakthrough crossover punk bands and album/cds in history – that would come later.

Just a couple of (legendary) punks

And – he worked at it from the time he met one of his bandmates in the fifth grade. Yeah, he did the drugs, engaged in all the requisite, cliché misbehaviors (including many stints in rehab and numerous other episodes of self-indulgence) and has had more than his share of hits and misses. But after he played his 15 minute set with his group one had to marvel at just how edgily perfect they remain more than 25 years later. How do they/does he do it? Aside from the obvious talent, the answer lied in the rest of his speech. As he looked out in the audience at a sea of still alive musical icons and got almost teary-eyed as he gave a shout out to Patti Smith for her seminal LP Horses that he listened to as a kid. Right after his drummer, Trey Cool (yeah, that’s his name), met the gaze of Ringo Starr and thanked him profusely for being one of his true inspirations.

And so it goes, for all of us. Whether we’re inducted into the rock ‘n roll Hall of Fame or not. Whether we’re even any good or not. We get there on the shoulders and backs and through the minds of others.

No matter how big you get, fangirling is forever

Last night I re-watched That’s Entertainment – a brilliant 1974 movie that is essentially a clip collection of classic MGM musicals introduced by classic movie stars of the time including Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor, Fred Astaire, Mickey Rooney and, as a surrogate for her mother Judy Garland – Liza Minnelli. It’s an era that will never return again: movies from the 1930s – early 1960s – a timeless American era that will forever define a certain kind of cinema that will certainly live on hundreds of centuries after all of our worried looks into the mirror or at the news on television are long gone. I love musicals and I suppose they’re not for everyone – except those movies, on some level, truly are. Even if it’s not your thing, how do you not admire and remain fascinated by Astaire dancing, Eleanor Powell tapping, Judy Garland singing? Or the optics of Busby Berkeley directing?

Berkeley keeps us hypnotized

What you learn watching That’s Entertainment are the endless hours, days, weeks and months these artists labored at their craft. (Note: Needless to say, this was mostly a time before strict union rules – or overly enforced ones either for stars or mere contract players). The repetition, the trial and error, the dedication and yes, sheer push, drive and obsession of the studios and artists to do beyond their best created the kinds of big screen results that will endure long beyond what I’m writing and you’re reading here – or from anyone, anywhere else today.

I fear we’re losing a bit of that these days. It’s not that we all don’t work hard but that kind of intense single-mindedness – shutting out the rest of the world to be immersed in your craft – is it all even possible anymore? How do you shut it all out? The stimulation? The endless bombardment of information? Can you? Will it ever be the case again? I somehow feel as if I doubt it. Perhaps the answer is to simply include it and come up with something else. Or a newer form altogether. Perhaps that is happening already. In fact, I’m sure it already has. Even as we write or speak.

Andy knew what was up

So yeah, Spotlight, Trumbo and Room were terrific for me – and I have high hopes for Hateful Eight and the new Star Wars. I love that Homeland regained its footing and thrilled me with one of the best villains on TV this season while this 22 year old overweight nerdy kid named Jordan Smith on The Voice made my mouth drop wide open when he reinvented Freddie Mercury’s Somebody to Love and bounced Adele off the #1 spot on ITunes. Plus, we haven’t even gotten to Adele. Hello.

Oh and don’t forget to buy the world a coke!

Yes, all of them did truly inspire . But there’s a much bigger group out there that includes many of us – as fellow creators, listeners, fans or passersby. We might disagree about the best and the worst but getting to experience all of it – even the misfires we dish – it is what ultimately unites – rather than divides us.

The Republican Apprentice notwithstanding. Always.

Happy 2016.