Kubrick At LACMA: A Kaijyu's Spark

Spent yesterday afternoon, finally taking in the sprawling Kubrick exhibit currently taking residence at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and felt a need to share a few images and thoughts.

Despite the fact that this blog's initial function was to explore elements of film and pop culture more in line with more niche subgenres and  concepts, there's no denying the influence of Stanley Kubrick in nearly all corners of my artistic and written life. My first Kubrick film was 2001, where it grabbed hold of a 5 year old ball of curiosity, and never sought any reason to let go. I vividly remember seeing Spartacus with family soon after, and then the ads came about for The Shining, the winter we lost John Lennon, as well as my parents going their separate ways. My first, forbidden taste of A Clockwork Orange came via late-night cable in Texas during a vacation stay with some folks in Houston. So many pieces of personal history, intertwined with the deep impressions his sights and sounds left within me, and perhaps ideas far beyond what a kid could possibly comprehend. Even when I didn't understand it, I couldn't help by replay the emotions on display endlessly.

The name. The images. The aura. It didn't have to make intellectual sense so much as emotional, and somehow his films got to me in ways noone else had. I felt his films initially, and to have this before growing older and sophisticated in my processes in order to better grasp the chaos and beauty on display.

I liken his works to a gateway. One with great consideration for new creative angles, and a yearning for familiarity to take a vacation, whilst not running away from some of the more troubling aspects of the human animal. An obsessive vision that dared me to seek out, rather than merely take in. To question, rather than merely accept. Most importantly, to embrace film as a collection of daydreams, nightmares, and contemplations on who we are, and where we are as a species.

I feel like as a whole, we are transformed by artists who find themselves capable of reaching to others in their own unique language. Kubrick remains that primary voice in my head that reminds me to not only listen to my instincts as an individual, but to better listen out for those speaking unique, but resonant languages. That the tribes exist, and that they work to bridge despite our reptilian ancestry.

His works are also a reminder of our current frailties, and that it is possible to spend a little time in the shoes of those which we do not understand, without judgment, or division. And that perhaps previous world models, for all their pragmatism, might not have been the most human, let alone humane.

Which is why I cannot help but find hope in films by international names such as Chan-wook Park and others. It is this unerring drive to get at the heart of the modern human by way of imagery and sound that Kubrick laid out a path for more powerfully than perhaps any filmmaker in the history of the cinema. It is important that we continue to explore the possibilities, regardless of language, culture, or background. The paths are as infinite as David Bowman's ultimate dive into the unknown, all Kubrick did was illuminate this revelation.

The Throughline

After much of the extensive pausing that has graced the walls of this blog over the last year-plus, it has nagged me what it is that binds a majority of my writeups/reviews. Considering it as some mildly consistent body of work comprised of hours upon hours of grinding through whatever thoughts were found floating about in need of some manner of home, while discomforting in some respects, also deserves examination if even for a moment. Which is hopefully why these words are coming out in rapid succession this morning, at the beginning of the year of the Water Snake. Perhaps with some calm resolve, this could help clear up the fog of so many recent breaks. While real life has taken a significant point in matters, it hasn't been without thinking endlessly about what topics make for good editorial, be them here, or at AD, or any number of places. Daily schedules notwithstanding, it is also about finding something new to consider, even if the subject itself has been adequately written about elsewhere. So where does the Kaijyu seek out its own brand of thought?

Likely within an insufferable need to clear the air between fan behavior and an awareness of more grounded social context. And while none of it is entirely successful, it does feel very much like a common denominator that binds even the most gonzo peek at a bloody post-tokusatsu tribute. Which is also why the occasional darker than average piece of horror or doc comes my way and has to attain some manner of coverage here. Even the more obvious multiplex experience can carry with it some manner of social challenge that the average crowd might consider in between the opulent production value and explosive sound mix. One of the bigger things that film school helped me understand was that everything created is equally capable of coming through with something that is beyond the often extraordinary trappings we are sold into watching it for. Ostensibly it's just looking out for some semblance of the personal that could transcend the package. When novelty wears off, especially in a media climate such as now, one may find it important to seek out just what it is that draws them to certain works. What does one walk away from them with? What did it help us consider? What is it to be truly entertained?

And it these thoughts continue through at places like Anime Diet, where the occasional cartoon review, or look back at fandoms of days past reside. Attempting to sum up feelings about a medium that has meant so much to me since childhood remains a challenging and occasionally rewarding part of my online life. And its also hard to imagine a medium more telling of a culture and its social nuances than anime, so there is often a wealth to be mined by looking at the trajectory it has granted itself in half a century. And like anything else, it is riddled with a need to make a quick yen, but it also has within it, the power to encapsulate a time and attitude like few other forms of art. Its often visceral nature is not unlike varying types of rock music from folk to punk to sheer noise. And whether or not we acknowledge such a thing, it never ceases to raise an eyebrow or two, or jolt someone into a soap-box-stepping frenzy. And it cannot merely by a reflection of the fans themselves so much as the work that helped illuminate these feelings that were brewing under that surface in the first place. "Just look at that passion all over those walls" It's a visceral, occasionally beautiful kind of love that is hard for some to see the value in, but still deserves some much needed examining from the ground floor.

So what it all comes together as, perhaps is best summed up as a multi-tentacled means of figuring out where one goes after the flaming fanboy begins to cool down. Where one can truly roost, and still appreciate the past whilst looking heartily toward the future. It can just as easily be magical as it could be gritty, horrific as it could be gorgeous, honest as it is bugnuts crazy. It isn't nearly as tonally schizophrenic as one might have imagined. After all, it is imperative that a wanderer seek themselves whilst being lost. It isn't easy to chart a map without a north star, or a compass, but the work brought forth by the challenge makes it all worth while. We are all visitors, and it remains to be seen how many choose to remain as tourists. So there is indeed value in staking out all possible hidden paths. The magic is in knowing where these paths intersect.

In Defense Of Scott Pilgrim's Detractors

After a most recent rewatch of what has over the last year and a half become one of my favorite mainstream films of the last several years, it finally came to my attention that there are other reasons why even those who finally got around to catching Edgar Wright's adaptation, and disliked it, or just felt outright ready to dismiss it. Stylistics & Michael Cera overexposure aside, there are some elements embedded in the film's approach that can easily be seen as ripe for ridicule, or dismissal. And while some of it may lay flat in the lap of the original source material created by Bryan Lee O'Malley, there is a bit of reality play that at times comes at the expense of what some audiences expect out of their central characters. Especially when the film almost defiantly asks the audience to laugh along with an anti-protagonist who's greatest triumph come when it barely steps onto the front porch. Mix this with a virtually cold, unsympathetic (to many) object of affections, and it is hard to identify with many of these characters on an amiability level...But many might still know many of them.

As mentioned in my review back upon it's release in August 2011, one of my minor gripes about the film was how this rendition of events gave the character of Ramona Flowers not only a more tattered, damaged demeanor, but little in the way of character agency, particularly near the finale when she reveals her reasons for returning to her last "evil" ex in the form of Gideon Graves. The addition of a computer chip implanted at the base of her neck, rendering her incapable of escaping the douchey record producer continues to come off as a sleight toward what was once a more bright, assertive, and understandable character. BUT - When taken in the context of the film, which is nearly completely taking place within Scott's ADDled mind/skewed imagination, it serves to support his view of Ramona, which goes all the way around to inform what some viewers are and are not willing to follow in a film of this size. Where the original comics spent more time wavering in and out of Pilgrim's head, revealing the reality of a world moving on without him, the film is much more comfortable within the silly, exaggerated confines of an aloof imagination.

It is this helplessly myopic worldview that at times comes at odds with the expectations of many. And even I, as a viewer couldn't help but notice it. But what always balances it out with me is in how Wright and co-writer, Michael Bacall granted the Knives Chau character enough of an arc to see through her erstwhile ex-boyfriend's irresponsible actions, going from a child to a self-respecting young lady. She becomes everything Ramona and Scott can't seem to get right. The near-stealthy manner in which the "middle-character" becomes the real protagonist is something of a kick in the pants to many to the point that some often don't even see it. It is missing these elements, and perhaps even disliking who are supposed to be the central characters that can fuel much of the divide between fans and detractors of the film. But what I do love about the film aside from it's eye-popping presentation, energy and musical editing, is the fact that it DOES make it clear that this is very much a parody of every mumblecore film ever made where the characters are blinded by whatever short-sighted selfishness the film demands of them. It dares those of us surrounded by subcultures to seek out the real behind the attitude, and is a reminder of what could be lost when we buy so much into the collective images of any pop-culture era.