October 2008 Archives

Gerard Damiano, the director of Deep Throat the 1972 phenomenon, died on the 25th of October 2008 of a stroke. He will be forever infamous as the writer and director of the most well known porn film ever. Not that I'm qualified to be a critic of pornographic cinema but I can still say with confidence that though it is in all likelihood not the best work of adult entertainment, it is without doubt the most significant. It was the first hardcore porn movie to break out to the mainstream audience (certain European art movies not withstanding) and into the mainstream consciousness.

I won't go into details as the documentary Inside Deep Throat will tell you everything you'd need to know, and Linda Lovelace's own account, Ordeal: The Truth Behind Deep Throat, elaborates even further on the darker side. And if you have never seen Deep Throat, even the readily available cut version, by all means see it as a historical curiosity and to be in awe of the moustaches. However, if you want entertainment I'd suggest watching Boogie Nights.

So I'm not really wanting to celebrate the works of Gerard Damiano, which include his other classic The Devil in Miss Jones (and a favourite title of mine, Splendor in the Ass), I cannot ignore his notorious place in history and how it intimately relates to that strange creature we refer to as popular culture.

The film is honoured as a time capsule of cheesy erotica that launched an armada of cheesy erotica and it stayed around long enough for its porno kitsch to become sub-culture trendy. The title itself went on to have a life of its own by becoming well understood as a term for a sexual act and an equally recognised reference to anonymous whistleblowers in high places, the latter thanks to All the President's Men, a major work of investigative journalism that also became a hit movie while Deep Throat was still playing in theatres.

So though I'm not exactly raising a glass of fine scotch whiskey and saluting the memory of Gerard Damiano as a contributor to the arts, although I'm sure there are some who will, I think his permanent place in the sub-culture of the late Twentieth Century should not go unrecognised.

"Splendor in the Ass", you got to love it.

Hi-Fructose is an "Under the Counter Culture" quarterly magazine presenting subversive art or what we like to call lowbrow. Hi-Fructose Vol. 9 is out and, as you would expect, is brimming with glorious works "alternative to the norm".

At first it looks very similar to the also cool Juxtapoz Art & Culture Magazine, but Hi-Fructose has less emphasis on commercial style design and more on individualistic art. Indeed, they are different enough that they compliment each other and both are equally recommended. But it feels a bit more of an event when a new issue of Hi-Fructose arrives.

It seems to celebrate the artists more richly and push the envelope of pop-surrealism and individualistic arts a little bit further. It feels almost a little more pure. It also uses high quality paper and printing. Hi-Fructose tries to be the magazine as work of visual art in itself.

A minor frustration about Hi-Fructose as apposed to Juxtapoz is that back issue become rare very quickly. I   guess that adds to the excitement of a new issue, but means newcomers cannot go back and see what new and exciting art has been presented. And I'm sure that's the very reason for the forthcoming Hi-Fructose Collected, a selection from the first four volumes.

Getting back to Juxtapoz, though dedicated to the more lowbrow end of art it tries to have broader appeal by including design, street arts and cultural aspects. In its earlier days it was more like Hi-Fructose in content and attitude.

I think they like where they've gone, but I think they can miss the old days just a little. Perhaps in response to this they just published Juxtapoz Illustration, a showcase of the current crop of quality pop surrealists with galleries of their works.

As an art book of lowbrow it's as good as they come. It's also an excellent guide to who's doing what's hot in contemporary graphic arts. They've also published Juxtapoz Tattoo, but I'll talk about that another time.

We've had the Booker, won by Aravind Adiga for The White Tiger, and the now we move onto the next big literary prize, the inaugural Australia-Asia Literary Award. I value this award, not for the AUD $110,000 prize involved, but it has been a long time coming for such a literary award to cover this cultural region. I think it cool that this award acknowledges electronic publications. And I'm certainly happy that my favourite writer, Haruki Murakami, is finally eligible for an award I hope becomes internationally renown as much as any other.

Murakami did make it to the long list with After Dark, but he didn't get into the short list only recently announced.

The shortlisted works are:

The Lost Dog by Australian author Michelle de Kretser

Blood Kin by Australian and South African citizen Ceridwen Dovey

The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Pakistani and UK citizen Mohsin Hamid

Orpheus Lost by US-based Australian author Janette Turner Hospital

Complete Stories by Australian David Malouf.

Guy Maddin is a Canadian filmmaker whose style is best compared with that of David Lynch. But that description may be belittling to him; he is as original a director with his own unique cannon of exotic cinema. But he is far less known than Lynch as he has been largely delegated to the niche and festival markets. Granted, his films require a certain taste for the alternative, especially as his style is heavily influenced by silent and early sound cinema.

His films are very low budget, usually shot inside large sheds in Winnipeg, where he also often sets his tales. Though his characters are generally pantomimic figures dealing with sexual obsessions or unrequited love they usually wander through fantasyscapes constructed from period settings. The visuals are sometimes stark, sometimes rich, but a dark fairy-tale is woven through all his images and his themes. The blackest humour is just hidden below the surface, but Maddin likes also to gaze towards the divine.  

I get a buzz from some of his films, in particular Careful (where everyone must be quiet due to living under a mountain prone to avalanches) and Archangel (a town suffering from amnesia so they keep fighting in a war that's over) but I've found certain of his features were a touch too long. I felt they would be better served as short films. I guess it's not surprising then that his filmmaking strengths do seem to revel in the short narrative.

Heart of the World is a short film Guy Maddin wrote and directed for the 2000 Toronto Film Festival. It was a commission to celebrate the millennium and the artistic cinema of Canada. I think it is the best example of Guy Maddin as film craftsman and shows that an epic can be six hours or, in this case, six minutes. Playing on the style of early Russian cinema its breakneck pace rattles along making the absurdity of the tale all the more infectious. If you enjoy Heart of the World (which is on the same dvd as Archangel and Twilight of the Nymphs) then be tempted to check him out.

That stalwart hero of the comic book The Phantom, he who is The Ghost Who Walks, has been around a long time. He began back in 1936 as a U.S. daily newspaper strip created by Lee Falk, who got in before both Superman and Batman. That strip still runs today even after Falk's death in 1999. Though he's become the hero with the hell-cool skull ring, who's adventures are followed all around the world from India to Scandinavia, Australians seem to have a special bond with him. He's so beloved by generation after generation that this year sixty years of The Phantom comic in Australia can be celebrated. It is the longest uninterrupted publication run anywhere of The Phantom and the longest running comic published in Australia.

Yes, The Man Who Cannot Die, the masked dude with the best tight-fitting threads, is a stayer with a rich history, not just the newspaper strips and comics but the 1943 movie serial, the 1996 movie, a heap of novels, collectors cards, animated appearances and continual talk of future productions. What is the secret to his long-standing success? He's a valid icon transcending the changing of cultural guards. Amidst the continual waves of new pop-cultural movements he seems to continually reappear like a surfer bobbing up from the behind the breaking surf. Perhaps because amongst all the other comic book heroes, he has found a balance of not being too silly and not too serious. Similar to Wonder Woman, he successfully operates as a heroic, iconic figure and as an ironic, iconoclastic figure with fans on both sides able to jointly revel in his groovy awesomeness. Best of all, with maybe Batman the only one beating him for the coolest look, The Phantom still is hip with little, if any, design change in his seventy-two years. Out of all comic book heroes one gets more from him of a sense of history.

But I have a lament, or at least a bit of a whine, that despite his vast coolness, there is very little decent merchandising to allow much of anyone to celebrate his funky style. Sure, there  are non-genuine skull rings, a very funny "Phuck it's The Phantom" t-shirt of a few years back, unofficial diaries, a few recent graphic novels, but where are the t-shirts now, the  posters and omnibuses of classic Phantom, history/art book and other cool things people, old and young, would like to get hold of and proudly display? I've met passionate Phantom collectors and they are hungry. I predict that a series of well-designed Phantom t-shirts, some humourous, some straight, would be a successful fashion trend, like the Astroboy t-shirts you still see around.

Besides being a hero to the down trodden and ladies in distress he could become a sub-cultural icon of fashion. He deserves to be. And that's as good a reason as any for me to put up some cool Phantom graphics.

In his three previous novels Matt Ruff skirted around the genres of science fiction and fantasy, occasionally shooting straight through them, but like Pynchon and Lethem, doesn't quite want to settle there. Regardless, he is a fantasist in the best post-modern sense. Bad Monkeys is his latest and coolest book. It is the adventures of Jane Charlotte as told by Jane Charlotte while handcuffed in a cell and talking to a psychiatrist.

Her story begins with a restless childhood and how she is recruited to be a member of the Department for the Final Disposition of Irredeemable Persons. Such persons are referred to as Bad Monkeys. Once she has her main weapon in hand, what looks like a plastic toy gun, the novel becomes a wild ride of conspiracies, secret agencies, coded messages, UFOs and real wacky shit I don't want to give away.

The novel goes to crazy land and you are indeed intended to question the reality of it all. But this is Philip K Dick territory where the drug induced paranoia dial is set all the way to eleven. Getting lost in the madness is the right trick. Slick as pelican shit in high wind and so dripping with evil grin attitude it is an easy and fast read even though that'll probably do your head in. You may want to reread some sections just to make sure.

It's a funny and dangerous book about questioning the very idea of sanity and a sane society. I may be prejudiced by the great cover or towards anything that has monkeys in the title but I push this onto anyone who is into good cult fiction, Philip K Dick, Neil Stephenson, Pynchonesque writers and the postcyberpunks.

James Gleeson 21 November 1915 - 20 October 2008

Spike TV hosts the Scream Awards dedicated to fantasy, SF & horror in most mediums. It reminds me of the MTV Movie Awards but for an older and darker set of fans. This year George Lucas appeared in person to accept his Icon Award, apparently fronting up with two Storm Troopers. Robert Downey Jr did a satellite link-up to accept his.

Here's the full list of awards:

Pop surrealists Mark Ryden and Marion Peck have come together to create a children's book, of sorts. Sweet Wishes is a cautionary tale about getting what you wish for. Ryden and Peck don't employ their pens and brushes to this book but instead photograph toys from their collections in scenes very much in their signature styles. Along with the book they produced a film of this delightfully messy fairytale of Dolly, Baby and Bear and all the sweets you can and cannot eat. Remarkably the climax of this charming little story parallels the outcome for several staff members towards the end of a typical Planet Christmas party.

It is the tenth anniversary of The Big Lebowski, which in itself is cool. It is perhaps the best example of Coen Brothers unique brand of groovy geek storytelling. It's my second favourite Coen movie, has a great soundtrack and is a true slacker tribute.  Cult classic is a term overused but in this case The Big Lebowski has joined that pantheon.

Still, it was a tad surprising to discover that the phenomena that is The Big Lebowski went under my radar all these years. The film was not a big hit when it first came out and the critics weren't that sweet on it either, but its influence over time has created not just a movement but also a subculture. And the coolest thing is that they get together and they party. Party so well that even the Dude himself has joined in. 

Since 2002 there has been the Lebowski Fest held in various US cities and it has spread to the UK. Like any fan-style congregation (and I've been to a fair few) you let your hair down and all get into the same groove. With Lebowski Fest that means bowling with mega-style attitude, live music and, I think safe to guess, lots of beer.

The people behind Lebowski Fest have their act together to promote their cause and they recently published I'm a Lebowski, You're a Lebowski which covers all aspects of the film and the culture arisen from it. I recommend it for Dude fans. There's a doco doing the festivals and you can even join The Church of the Latter-Day Dude.

So if you aren't a Big Lebowski fan I say just take it easy, man. Check it out for the first time or check it out again. Get into the groove, but if you happen to be bowling, then try not to get it in that groove. And remember, the dude abides.

Edward Gorey is famous for diabolical events that befall small children. That is in the form of wicked little books with his intricately crude scratchings of ill tidings upon unsuspecting youth. But his cutely disturbing classics like The Gashlycrumb Tinies, Cautionary Tales for Children and Wuggly Ump are only a small part of his vast body of work as writer and illustrator. His books like The Gilded Bat and The Doubtful Guest and his illustrations for Edgar Allen Poe, H. G. Wells, T.S. Elliot, Samuel Beckett and John Updike have been influential on many artists and writers including Tim Burton, Tony Millionaire, Jhonen Vasquez, Gris Grimley and Neal Gaiman. Even The Tiger Lillies and Kronos Quartet recorded an album in his honour.

But there are two of his non-book works that really charm me. Well, charm me in their deliciously gothic way. Besides being a celebrated illustrator and teller of evil grin tales he was a well-respected artist for the theatre. His most famous accomplishment in this field was as costume and scenic designer for the 1977 Broadway production of Dracula. But theatre is all too fleeting and we can only imagine how that production looked. But you don't have to imagine too hard because you can perform it yourself. All you need is Edward Gorey's Dracula: A Toy Theatre. Based on his Dracula designs you have the sets, props and characters for your own cardboard puppet performance of Dracula. Can something about Dracula be so cute? Yes it can.

Now, this other item is a bit different. You can be a believer or disbeliever of the power of the Tarot and still make use of this. Though I think it best works by being casually placed on the coffee table to get a reaction from the occasional guest. The Fantod Pack is Edward Gorey's oracle deck for impending doom. There is a small book by Madame Groeda Weyrd that provides interpretation of the cards as they forecast things like spasms, thwarted ambition, shrivelling and even loss of hair. Sure, you can buy a pack of Angel cards that promise to only tell you nice things but wouldn't it be more pleasurable to give a reading to a dear friend explaining how everything in their future will just suck. But it will suck in a wickedly funny way like all Gorey.

It's only recently that Gorillaz announced plans for a third album. Not long before that they had said there'd only be a soundtrack to a still unrealised movie. Regardless the guys who are Gorillaz, musician Damon Albarn and artist/illustrator Jamie Hewlett, have been busy with their east/west collaboration, the circus opera Monkey: Journey to the West.

This show looks spectacular and I'd love to see it, but no chance as yet as its handful of performances have been on different continents to where I live. I have to be content with the fairly detailed website and the album called Journey to the West by Monkey. I do like the music but I have to admit that I had to first veer away from my expectations of it being a Gorillaz style album. You can hear Gorillaz in the music the same way you can hear Blur in Gorillaz. You can hear it's the music of Damon Albarn, but he's worked to his brief. This is a score to a western influenced Chinese opera. It's a soundtrack. So after the third listen and after I had cleared my head of prejudice I quite warmed to it and now indulge in the playfulness and subtlety, those Chinese influences mixed with contemporary styles that at times felt like Phillip Glass did a score for a martial arts epic.

However, even though I really like the music, it still sounds like the score to a film or, in this case, a live show, one I'd really like to see. Stills and movies of the actual performances look wonderful and I wouldn't hesitate buying a ticket if it headed my way. Not just cause like Damon Albarn's music but because I'm a big cheesy fan of the 1978 series often referred to as Monkey Magic! Plus I have affection for the original novel by Wu Cheng'en first published way back in 1590, although I admit to only reading the very accessable, condensed version titled Monkey as translated by Arthur Waley, not the full four volume edition known as Journey to the West. 

  But all this is only half of what got me enthused about this whole project. The other half is Jamie Hewlett. I've been a fan of his art since Tank Girl and gladly admit that the images and animation of Gorillaz sucked me in before the music did. The Gorillaz art book Rise of the Ogre was nice indeed, but I wanted more Hewlett. With Monkey: Journey to the West he doesn't disappoint as I find his interpretation pretty nice. You can see some of it in the beautiful packaging of the CD and plenty on the website. I have a Hewlett image of Monkey and Tripitaka in a Chinese landscape of rocky pillars as my background. But still I want more than these tantalizing images and teasing animations, especially the BBC commissioned piece for their Olympics broadcast.

So I'm hoping that Hewlett will expand it to an art book or a DVD of the performance with the accompanying animations is one day released. My money is one or the other, but it could be some time away. In the meantime, we'll soon be seeing Hewlett's tweaking of the Tank Girl universe, but I'll get to that when the time comes. And I hope someone at Penguin realises that the current covers for the novel could do with a redesign and ask Hewlett to slap The Great Sage on it

Penguin Books have been doing some groovy marketing of late, particuarly with the packaging of their classics. Having American street artist Shepard Fairey aka OBEY design new covers for George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm is inspired. I love them.