Two Muppets, One Cup, Two Girls

Kermit the FrogI’m sure that in the past, I have written about 2 Girls 1 Cup. But during my Thanksgiving trip, the subject came up, as I will discuss shortly. I have, for the first time, done a bit of research on the video. That is to say, I looked at the Wikipedia page on it, because that is about as close as I ever want to get to it. For those who may not know, it is a short film featuring two young women who apparently defecate into a cup (glass, actually), drink it, and vomit it back into the other’s mouth.

I was introduced to it by some young men I worked with at a startup. They really wanted to show it to me — as was quite common at the time (late 2007 — when it was still fairly new). I asked them, “Is it scatological?” That was said right as the video started. One of them said, “What is ‘scatological’?” At that point, one of the young women defecated into a glass. I immediately stood up and as I walked away, I said, “That is ‘scatological’!” So I only saw the first few seconds of it. The young men filled me in on the complete narrative later.

Hungry BitchesIt turns out that the video itself is just the trailer for an hour long Brazilian fetish porn film called, Hungry Bitches. There has been much discussion over the years as to exactly how “real” the whole thing is. One thing I noticed in my brief encounter with it was that the feces of the one woman was either fake or she was very ill indeed. The porn industry seems to have perfected the art of the enema, so I don’t actually have much difficulty seeing how the whole thing could be faked. Clearly doing any of that is something that would be truly disgusting for a normal person, but for a professional, well, whatever.

(It is worth noting that I know a few people who are what we might call connoisseurs of pornography in its many forms. When I asked them about the video, they were lackadaisical about it. 2 Girls 1 Cup is not at all a new thing. Similar films have been around since at least the early 90s. So this particular video becoming a big deal is due to the vagaries of society — most especially the recent proliferation of video streaming services.)

What I learned last week is that there is a genre of videos which record people’s reactions to 2 Girls 1 Cup. Clearly, there are people who find scatological material erotic. It’s a small percentage of the population, surely. But human sexuality is broad. And I am not one to judge when it comes to such matters. But clearly, the video did not go viral because people found it titillating; it went viral because people found it disgusting. So shooting people’s reactions to the video was quite normal. I haven’t actually seen any of them, because even that is too close to the original.

Hungry Bitches was released in January of 2007. According to Wikipedia, “Around mid-October 2007, video-sharing sites including YouTube were flooded with videos depicting others’ reactions to watching the video for the first time.” By mid-November, comedian Adam Ray came up with his own scripted version, Kermit the Frog Reacts to 2 Girls 1 Cup. I actually hate the idea. Kermit is a hero of mine. But I did check it out. (Note: it has some foul language.)

There are a number of things that impress me. One is that the puppetry is rather good. The voice isn’t bad, until it gets too loud and outraged. And Adam Ray is the kind of comic who pushes jokes too far. He doesn’t allow the joke to end with the appearance of the hand lotion. Instead, we get Kermit masturbating under the table. Is it pedantic of me to note that frogs do not have penises but rather cloacae? Probably so, but it is something of a matter of honor.

Following this two weeks later, Ray released, Kermit Shows Rowlf the Dog 2 Girls 1 Cup. It is the better of the two. (Note: it has some foul language.)

Again, I think Ray pushes the joke far past its breaking point. All he needs to do is note that Rowlf is, in fact, a dog. But it works. I think they both do, and they are creative. It’s all rather interesting. The producer of Hungry Bitches, Marco Antônio Fiorito, even said in an official declaration, “I have already made fetish movies with scat/feces using chocolate instead of feces. Many actors make scat films but they don’t agree to eat feces.” That’s a lot of creativity to create the fantasy that some people desire. I respect that. But I hope the subject never comes up again in my life.

Anniversary Post: Jean-Luc Godard at 85

[Okay, it’s another one of those days that I really don’t like my options for the anniversary post. And it just so happens that it is Jean-Luc Godard’s 85th birthday. I keep forgetting that he is still alive. So I’m rerunning Jean-Luc Godard from last year. Check the Afterword for something else. -FM]

Jean-Luc GodardThe great filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard is 84 years old today. I know, last year I referred to him as overrated. I’ll stand by that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t great. It’s a general thing anyway. I think the French “New Wave” have been hopelessly overrated. This is probably due to the fact that most of them were film writers so they were in a position to plug themselves — which they did. But generally, give me Robert Bresson over any of them. And generally Alain Resnais over Godard or Truffaut.

Above all, I have never been able to get into À Bout de Souffle, or Breathless as it is commonly known in English. But I’m not one to especially appreciate cinematic technique when it isn’t combined with compelling characters, plot, or theme. I’m willing to admit that I’m missing something, but the film seems to me very sloppy, never clear what it is trying to say. And it has the plot of Dillinger, with less interesting characters.

Godard got more interesting the more political he became. I’ve always been very fond of Alphaville and later still La Chinoise and Week End. His later work also shows more wit, even when he’s being serious. But it is hard to show any of this here. So consider just a minute from Alphaville. I think you can see a direct line from this to Jon Jost:

Afterword

In the film Alphaville, the lead character is tested with a joke. I wish it were available on YouTube. It is told totally deadpan, and yet is funny as hell:

One day a tiny man entered a North Zone cafe and said, “I want a cup of very hot, sweet coffee,” adding: “I shan’t pay, because I fear no one.” He drank his coffee, he left. He drank his coffee and didn’t pay. The cafe owner said nothing, he was afraid of scandal. But when the tiny man repeated the trick a few times, the cafe owner said: “I’ve had it, I’ll get a tough guy to beat up the tiny man if he comes back.” So, on the fourth day, when the tiny man said, “I want a cup of very hot, sweet coffee,” the tough guy goes to him and says: “So you’re afraid of no one?” “That’s right.” “Well, neither am I.” “Well,” says the tiny man, “make that two cups of coffee. Very hot and very sweet!”

The Happy Pointlessness of Life

CalvaryI’ve notice how personal reading is for me — and I figure for most people. I don’t much read New Republic. Instead, I read Brian Beutler and Elizabeth Bruenig. I’m not so much interested in being informed, because I get that by reading more general things. But I’m interested in what these people have to say. And there isn’t much reason for it. It’s a question of trust or identity. They are people who I can imagine having over for dinner without wanting to murder them. Something like that.

I wonder if it is the same way around here. I assume that it is. The point cannot be to learn about the world, but to learn about what I think of the world. And that’s fine. I do have an outlook on life that isn’t totally unworthy of listening to. I try to be something slightly more than what you will read elsewhere. And there are things — generally related to puppets or Don Quixote — that you won’t read anywhere else. But it does create a bit of a problem when I get quite personal. I don’t write to get a reaction. I write because that is what I do. It is the way that I think about things — the way that I process the world.

After being away from home for five days, I find that I am totally out of sorts. I’ve heard this about cats. They hate it when their worlds are upset. If you do so much as move the couch, they freak out. I feel that way. I hate for my routine to be upset. And it was many times this last week. First there was a day wasted driving. Then I had to work in an unfamiliar environment that worked okay — but not great. And then there was the drive back. And ever since, I’ve been filled with debilitating anxiety.

If I could wed this person I am today with the energetic and happy person I expect to soon be, that would be something: to take joy in the activities of life, even while knowing that it is pointless and that it does matter if I am here tomorrow to continue on with the happy pointlessness of life.

This morning, rather than work, I put on Calvary. When I first watched it, I wrote, Calvary and the Lost Art of Forgiveness. As you can tell from that review, I saw that film in a hopeful way. But this time, it seemed like an allegory of hell. I had noticed this originally, “If he isn’t killed with a bullet to the head, he will be killed with a thousand cuts.” The denouement seems like the greatest act of kindness in the film. The world is evil. It is not surprising that the early Christians would come up with the idea of original sin.

But where does that leave an atheist like myself? I don’t go in for the “thoughtless cynicism” of the townspeople. And I certainly don’t think that the murder of Father James in “Calvary” does a damned thing to fix the problem. Even more, if you look to the Bible, what happened to Judas Iscariot? By church tradition, he either killed himself or was otherwise killed gruesomely. It’s a contradiction, right? In order for Jesus to wash away our sins, he had to be murdered, but Christians hate Judas for facilitating their salvation. If I were a Christian, I would think it Judas who truly suffered (and continues to suffer) for our sins.

It’s all brain chemistry, of course. Whether we feel good or bad, it is just the chemicals swimming around our bodies. Some days I reflect that today would be a very bad day to die. That, I suppose is the illusion. Because those are the days that I want to get things done. Self-actualization is a happy delusion — one I hope to get back in the next couple of days. But I think the way I feel today is much more clear-eyed. I don’t want to die. I just don’t especially care. If I could wed this person I am today with the energetic and happy person I expect to soon be, that would be something: to take joy in the activities of life, even while knowing that it is pointless and that it doesn’t matter if I am here tomorrow to continue on with the happy pointlessness of life.

50 Years of A Charlie Brown Christmas

A Charlie Brown ChristmasTonight will be the 50th showing of A Charlie Brown Christmas. I met my oldest friend Will in the 8th grade because of it. He had tape recorded the audio of the show and was typing it up because he wanted to do a production of it. Mostly, he just wanted to perform Linus’ big speech, “Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.”

We did eventually get it performed and made $12 and some odd cents that we gave to the Optimist Society. I forget how it happened, but Charles Schulz’s secretary contacted us telling us that it was a copyright infringement and that if we did that again, we would need to license it. It was all done very nicely. But it does rather show the silliness of copyright: kids doing their own theatrical version of A Charlie Brown Christmas and giving the money to charity should not be seen as a threat to an artist’s livelihood. But that is a discussion for another day.

I rather liked it when I was a kid. Now all of those Charlie Brown cartoons drive me crazy. The voice acting is terrible. But there’s also something a bit too sweet about them. And then there is all the religious stuff. The interesting thing is that by the end of his life, Schultz certainly could not be considered a believer. Of course, many people try to push against that, because there was a lot of Christianity in his early strips. But whatever he was at the end of his life, it wasn’t a Christian — except perhaps of the universalist variety (and even I can consider myself one of those).

A Charlie Brown Christmas is incredibly heavy handed. It always reminds me of my aunt who used to say in a disappointed tone that we don’t remember the “reason for the season.” At the time, I didn’t really understand what she meant. I mean, I understood that she was saying that we should remember it was all about the baby Jesus. But I didn’t understand it in the full evangelical sense of the lament that Christmas should not just include Jesus but that it should be just about Jesus. I find it incredibly silly today, because if Christmas were just a religious holiday, no one would notice it. It be right up there with Flag Day.

The contrast in A Charlie Brown Christmas is between the commercialism represented by Snoopy and the “truth” spoken by Linus. And that truth is from Luke, chapter 2. And if it is really the reason for the season, it’s pretty pathetic:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, “Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

It’s just the announcement of a savior. We are not talking the Sermon on the Mount here. There is nothing edify about it. And the truth is that by Christian theology, there is nothing special of Jesus’ birthday. In fact, among many early Christians, Jesus was just the receptacle for the Christ, who entered him at some later time — most often when he was baptized.

The big holiday for Christians should be Easter. It is Jesus’ death and resurrection that matters. Yet I never hear Christians complaining about the Easter Bunny and the commercialization of Easter. And I think I know why. Christians covet Christmas’ popularity. They want it for their religion. It isn’t about theology; it’s about PR. And it is sad.

But here we have 50 years of A Charlie Brown Christmas — nothing short of full out Christian propaganda, Yet we have to hear each year about the war on Christmas. Imagine the outrage that would take place if a single television show presented Islam in a similar light!

Chocolat: Where Liberal and Conservative Meet

ChocolatI finally got around to watching the 2000 film Chocolat. I loved it. It’s like a fairy tale. It reminded me most of The Boxtrolls, which I reviewed earlier this year (The Boxtrolls and the Happy Ending of Class). The emotional core of the film is Vianne’s first customer, Yvette who uses a special chocolate concoction to revamp her love life with her husband Alphonse. I don’t think it is about sex so much as sensuality. People can have sex without connecting with one another. Think of phone sex or pornography. But we see Yvette and Alphonse throughout the movie as a doting and happy couple. That is the magic of chocolate and Chocolat.

But I noticed that on Rotten Tomatoes, the film does not have a terribly high rating: 63%. It speaks to our culture that the overwhelming majority of negative reviews come from men. And far too many of the critical reviews are political in nature. I’m not against that in general. I write many film reviews from an explicit leftist perspective. But the reviews that I read were only implicitly political. They didn’t engage with the film’s politics. Instead, they referred to it as Jeremy Heilman does, calling it an “offensive liberal fantasy” and that it “treats Catholicism as folly.”

Most of the negative reviews come in the form presented by James Kendrick, “For all its anti-religious and anti-establishment posturing, Chocolat is terribly conventional.” But how is it anti-religious and anti-establishment? If it is, so is the 1970 holiday staple, Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town. Because the main character in the film is not Juliette Binoche’s chocolate making wanderer Vianne Rocher; it is Alfred Molina’s Comte de Reynaud, who is distorting the town and its church because of his own personal problems. Vianne may delight the town, but ultimately, it is de Reynaud whose transformation changes the town. And that transformation is not brought on by chocolate, but by his secretary Caroline telling him what everyone knows about his wife, “I don’t believe anyone would think less of you if you were to say she was never coming back.”

The problem that is evident in the “anti-establishment” complaint is that people like Vianne and Johnny Depp’s “river rat” Roux live in opposition to the establishment. They simply want to be accepted enough to exist unmolested. Some people have the gift of fitting in better than others. But as the film ably demonstrates, the church is about acceptance. From the beginning, we see that the young Father Pere Henri understands this. But he is oppressed — not by the church but by the Comte de Reynaud. And it is not out of dedication to the church or traditional ways that de Reynaud does this, but out of pain from his abandonment.

In the end, all the different factions in the film learn to live together. But this is not revolutionary. Because we do not start with a natural state. We start with a town that has been distorted by a very powerful man. When Vianne blows into town with the north wind, she brings not chaos but tranquility — a return to normality. This is something that liberals and conservatives alike should understand and celebrate.

I loved the movie. It is a rare film — a modern classic that Frank Capra would have made.

Afterword

The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, and having set her in the center of the court, they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do You say?” They were saying this, testing him, so that they might have grounds for accusing him. But Jesus stooped down and with His finger wrote on the ground. But when they persisted in asking Him, he straightened up, and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. When they heard it, they began to go out one by one, beginning with the older ones, and he was left alone, and the woman, where she was, in the center of the court. Straightening up, Jesus said to her, “Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “I do not condemn you, either. Go. From now on sin no more.”

Why All the Love for John Wick?

John WickWhen discussing Hollywood filmmaking, I always have to come back to Laurie Anderson’s song “Big Science,” “I think we should put some mountains here. Otherwise, what are all the characters going to fall off of?” I tend to think of the song as deeply spiritual — questioning the nature of existence and time. But that one line pretty much sums up how Hollywood makes movies. These movies are to story telling what legos are to architecture. And even that if giving most films too much credit. And it is certainly giving John Wick too much credit.

I wanted to see the film. For one, I’m a Keanu Reeves fan. And I like revenge stories. And above all, I’m willing to meet a film on its own terms. But it was just bad. It had just about every comic book movie cliche in it. I’ve always felt that my greatest weakness as a fiction writer is my dialog. But listening to the dialog in this film was bad — like Jail Bait bad. The action sequences are all retreads of The Matrix. And the characters all act exactly as is necessary to move the plot along. That generally means they act stupidly.

Let us consider Viggo, the main villain. In order to save his life, he gives up his son to John Wick. Wick then kills the son and it is done. But then it is revealed that Marcus was working for Wick (this comes as absolutely no surprise unless you think that an assassin with rifle scope is incompetent — on multiple occasions). So what does Viggo do? He kidnaps Marcus and tortures him to death so that John Wick will come back and kill him. After having given up his son, why would he do this? There’s only one reason: because the screenwriter didn’t bother to write a credible motivation for the final confrontation.

But the critics have generally raved about the film. Why? Because it is so stylish! Well, it is stylish. It looked a hell of a lot like Constantine — made almost a decade earlier. The critics also liked the action, which as I said, was just a rehashing of The Matrix (15 years earlier). So John Wick puts together two previous Reeves films — but without the interesting plots that those films offered. And this is apparently enough.

Will people still think this is a great film in 25 years like they do “The Killer”? I’m sure they won’t.

Here’s the funny thing: John Wick works on its own terms. It tries to be nothing but violence porn — a big budget Ichi the Killer — and it succeeds at this. But the critics can’t talk about that. They have to talk about “style.” Meanwhile, they dump all over Krippendorf’s Tribe, even though it fully delivers the silly nonsense that it intends.

There is a tradition of this. Critics are much more likely to judge a drama (if that’s the right word for John Wick) on its own terms than they are a comedy. Just look at the critical response to Ishtar, which is a hilarious film. It has a 28% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes; John Wick has an 85% fresh rating.

So when it comes to John Wick, I will say what I usually say about films: it succeeds on its own terms. But that is not what critics normally say. What’s going on is that critics decide that they like a film and justify it. In the case of this film, there really isn’t much to like. It is what it is, but who enjoys this kind of thing? Will people still think this is a great film in 25 years like they do The Killer? I’m sure they won’t. But John Wick is passable. It’s enough like things we’ve seen Keanu Reeves do before, so it must be good. And God help us, they are making another one.

Jackie Robinson Story and Other Anti-Racism Films

The Jackie Robinson StoryThe Jackie Robinson Story came out in 1950, and, as a selling point, starred the actual Robinson. It’s dated now, largely because it was pretty low-budget, but you have to consider what the movie was for its time.

Naturally movies were made by and for African Americans. Most were independently financed. The major movie studios didn’t want anything to do with addressing racism (today, they give themselves awards for movies which do address it, only 100 years or so after those movies should have been bankrolled.)

Other Anti-Racism Films

There was Fritz Lang’s 1936 Fury, starring Spencer Tracy as a white guy attacked by a lynch mob. Lang was a German whose films impressed Hitler so much, the Führer asked Lang to be his personal #1 filmmaker. Lang got the hell out of Germany. Fury was his first American movie, and while it’s technically about a white guy getting lynched, there are so many African American performers in background roles that audiences knew what was being discussed.

You had The Ox-Bow Incident in 1943, along the same lines. Then 1947 gave us Gentleman’s Agreement, about antisemitism. (You know the old Groucho Marx line “I’d never want to belong to a club that would have me for a member?” Groucho was talking about all-Jewish clubs, because even famous celebrities like him couldn’t join the racist ones.) And Broken Arrow, about the mistreatment of Native Americans, the same year Jackie Robinson came out.

“You’re not only wrong, you’re wrong at the top of your voice.”

The best of all old-Hollywood movies about racism is Bad Day At Black Rock, from 1955. Spencer Tracy — Again! — is a one-armed war veteran who uproots some desert railroad stop by asking questions about what happened to his Japanese-American war buddy. In a great scene, he’s bullied at a lunch counter by a local thug (play by Ernest Borgnine), and delivers one of my favorite-ever lines: “You’re not only wrong, you’re wrong at the top of your voice.”

The Jackie Robinson Story

The Jackie Robinson Story in 1950, broke some real ground. It didn’t only depict Robinson being abused by bigot fans and resented by bigot teammates. It mentioned how African Americans, even those with college degrees (a big deal in those days!) couldn’t get decent jobs. It showed segregation, which movies at the time just didn’t do.

Is Robinson an actor? No. But he doesn’t embarrass himself, either. He’s a little wooden, but that’s not unusual for low-budget movies. His laconic delivery works well in context, since the player Robinson obviously had emotions he wasn’t permitted to express.

What dates the movie more than anything is, surprisingly, how the baseball scenes are directed. They’re terrible. Apparently due to budget constraints, most are shot from the same few angles. So you watch Robinson swing over and over and it becomes snooze-rific. Near the climax (which cheats time and space a little by inventing a pennant-clinching final game) there’s a shot from behind the catcher, showing Brooklyn in the background, and it’s jarringly exciting.

Jackie Robinson is in the public domain now, so you can watch it for free. Here’s one copy via the Internet Archive:

Afterword

In the film, , Robinson is invited to speak before Congress because of his inspiring life story. This was not the case; he was asked to testify before the HUAC on whether singer Paul Robeson was a communist.

HUAC — the House Un-American Activities Committee — was responsible for a series of show trials in the 1950s, instituted as political props for several fear mongering politicians. The commies are gonna get us, see, so elect me! The most notorious of these fear mongers was Wisconsin Senator Joe McCarthy, who headed the Senate’s version of the HUAC — the Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations.

Robinson gave testimony, and did not turn over on Paul Robeson. Instead, he berated the anti-communist headhunters for demeaning the African American experience of constant racism. You can read part of Robinson’s speech here.

That same site has links to Robinson’s FBI files. Back when, if you said or did anything which offended FBI director J Edgar Hoover’s idea of pure patriotic 100% not-gay Americanism, the FBI would start surveillance on you. To prove that these dark days are over (!) you can now see some creepy FBI files on the Bureau’s website.

Anniversary Post: Fantasia

FantasiaOn this day in 1940 — 75 years ago — the Disney classic Fantasia was released. I’m not that fond of it. It’s good film, but not something that I seek out like I do The Grapes of Wrath and His Girl Friday (Internet Archive), which were released the same year. But the reason that I bring it up is because it isn’t in the public domain. After 75 years, Disney still must be paid for every frame. And remember that copyright length has just gotten longer and longer due primarily to Disney.

I know a lot of people think it is strange that an author such as myself would be against our copyright laws. But they don’t protect writers and artists. They protect corporations. The truth is that we should be able to celebrate the 75th anniversary of Fantasia by watching it. All of us — for free. I should be able to embed a high definition version of it right here. But instead, there are just small clips of it. It might as well be Despicable Me.

But the truth is that I’ve always preferred Allegro Non Troppo. It is not so sugary sweet. And it has a great sense of humor. Of course, it is also deep. So screw Disney and Fantasia. Here is Sibelius’ Valse Triste from Allegro Non Troppo. It still gives me chills.

Anniversary Post: Trace Beaulieu

Trace Beaulieu[Forgive me friends for doing a bit of recycling here. I’m exhausted from this last few weeks of preparing for my niece’s wedding — in addition to all my work for Frankly Curious and my recently aggravating work for Quality Nonsense. (I love the work, but I am fighting with a very annoying contractor at the moment.) And given that today isn’t a terribly good day for historical events, I’m going to do a birthday. -FM]

The great Trace Beaulieu who is 57 years old today. He is best known as the original (and One True) Crow from Mystery Science Theater 3000. He is also, interestingly, the only decent puppeteer the show ever had. No one else ever seemed to have figured out the art. It’s aggravating to watch the others; I take personal exception. Also, after Beaulieu left the show, Crow became a much nastier character (although he was still hilarious).

Every time Beaulieu’s birthday comes up, I think about starting a twitter account: The Gospel According to Crow. It would just to be a single quote from Crow each day. You know, like, “MST3K 3:21 I wanna decide who lives and who dies!” But Andrea seems to think it wouldn’t have enough context for people. Like that line: it was in reference to Joel asking Crow what he wanted for Christmas. So I’m going to think about it for another year. But the Word of Crow must be spread.

In the meantime, here is Beaulieu as Crow doing Jay Leno:

Happy birthday Trace Beaulieu!

Anniversary Post: Godzilla

GodzillaOn this day in 1954, Godzilla was first released. It’s a great film. If you base the film on later versions of it or on the monster movie genre over all, you will get the wrong idea about it. The film is at base a warning against the misuse of science. It starts with the true story of the fishing boat that was destroyed during the first hydrogen bomb test.

The film circles around the stories of two scientists. The first is Kyohei Yamane (played by the great Takashi Shimura), who comes to see Godzilla as a creature that shouldn’t be killed. The other is Daisuke Serizawa, who has developed a weapon that can kill Godzilla but is afraid to unleash yet another unthinkably powerful weapon on the world. Not surprisingly, these larger ethical considerations were removed from the English language release of the film.

I highly recommend checking out the film. The Criterion Collection Godzilla is particularly good with both the original and the America versions of the films. They both contain commentary tracks from David Kalat, who provides you with all the historical and cinematic context you could need for the films. If you have a problem with monster movies, this will help you to see it in a whole new way.

A New Pawn Stars Spin-Off!

Pawn StarsI just saw a bare snippet of Pawn Stars. In it, some guy brought in an autographed copy of a Marilyn Monroe poster. He was helped by Rick’s son Corey. And the show immediately cut to Corey in the back being interviewed. Corey said something like, “Marilyn Monroe was one of the biggest stars of the 1950s. She was Hollywood royalty.” Blah, blah, blah. It was real standard stuff — the kind of thing that uneducated people mistake for erudition. But what was strange about it was that it was Corey and not Rick, who we at least kind of think might know a thing or two.

It got me thinking about the future of Pawn Stars. Someone will come in with a first edition of Thomas Shelton’s Don Quixote, and take it up to Chumlee. Then it will cut away to a back room interview where he will say, “Shelton was the first person to translate Don Quixote into English — just seven years after Cervantes wrote his iconic novel.” Blah, blah, something else Chumlee would never know, blah.

We are one step away from having a show about human traffickers… It’s television gold!

If you miss my point, let’s be clear: Chumlee is the idiot on the show. He’s the guy the producers use to make the show interesting. They would, in fact, never have a segment where he looked learned. Like everyone else, Chumlee plays a part, and in his case, it is the comic relief. But they are now doing it with Rick’s son Corey — someone no more serious, and probably quite a lot duller, than Chumlee. I have never bought it coming from Rick himself. The show is so staged, it is about as “real” as a performance at the Folies Bergère.

It’s annoying to watch these people pretend to be knowledgeable about anything at all. What they are knowledgeable about is how to take advantage of pathetic drug and gambling addicts who sell their only valuables for one last shot at redemption. Any reasonable society would consider everyone involved in this show to be what they are: the bottom most of the bottom feeders. Instead, they are seen as “stars” because, after all, they are rich.

We are one step away from having a show about human traffickers. It’d be very easy to piece together. Just take an “old man” who only cares about how much money he can skim off the desperate people fleeing violence and lack of opportunity. Take his son who only cares about skimming off the same poor souls, but who is too smart to say that publicly. Take the grandson who’s hoping he won’t die of a heart attack before he can inherit all the old guys’ money. And top it off with a wisecracking loser who makes comments about leaving immigrants to die in a semi trailer. It’s television gold!

Oh! And don’t forget about the interview segments where all of them discuss their wisdom of the human trade and how much better their lives would be if we just brought back chattel slavery. After all, it would be The History Channel. We want to make sure it has some history in it. Also: experts who discuss how slavery used advanced technology that must be indicative of ancient aliens.

Anniversary Post: Houdini’s Last Performance

Harry HoudiniOn this day in 1926, Houdini gave his last performance. There is so much myth surrounding Houdini, that I find him almost intolerable as a subject. Indeed, in my second novel, I spend a great deal of time savaging him. Consider that Houdini’s act was always being performed in two places: wherever he was and then wherever his younger brother Hardeen was. And given that I’m not much of a fan of the big stage illusion shows, Hardeen did the only thing of the two of them that I’m really impressed with: plain view straitjacket escape. He was the one who saw that it was even more impressive if the audience could see the performer.

None of this is to take anything away from Houdini. He was a trailblazer, and certainly less boring than Thurston or Blackstone. And I was very interesting to hear a voice recording of Houdini from 1914. He had a far better voice than I expected. The style of that time was very much over the top, and here he sounds rather modern — nuanced. It certainly would have been interesting to see his act.

Everyone knows the standard, but incorrect, story of Houdini’s death: he was being visited by a fan before a show. The fan asked him if it was true that Houdini could take a punch to the stomach. And before allowing Houdini to get ready, the fan punched him, causing Houdini to suffer internal injuries. Houdini insisted on performing that night, but was rushed to the hospital afterwards. But it was too late and Houdini died. Du-du-daa!

It is true that the fan punched him in the stomach. But that was two days earlier. He did suffer great pain. It is probable that the punch did not cause Houdini’s medical problems, but they may have covered them up — making Houdini think the pain was from the punches and so no big deal. Regardless, after two days, Houdini did see a doctor who told him that he had appendicitis and needed surgery right away. Houdini brushed the doctor off, and gave his performance on the 24th — his last. After it, he went to the hospital where he died a week later.

This seems like madness, but it makes a certain amount of sense. As I know from own father, men of previous generations were hard. As it was, Houdini had a broken ankle through all of this, which he performed with. He was a man who was used to pain. And he had not only survived, he had flourished. He was one of the most famous men in the world. He was extremely wealthy, but like most men of his upbringing at that time, I’m sure that not working was unthinkable. So he died as he lived. It’s still kind of sad.