REARVIEW: DAZED AND CONFUSED

In a recent interview with Sight and Sound, the topic of Dazed and Confused's reputation as a nostalgic film came up. "I had really mixed feelings about those years of my life," says Richard Linklater. "I tried to recreate it, but I didn't even know how I felt about it. I wasn't saying the 1970s were great. It was more like, 'Yeah, those years were kinda shitty actually!' I was revisiting a lot of not-so-great stuff."

Reviewing the movie in 1993, Roger Ebert, who liked Dazed a lot, picked up on Linklater's ambivalence, but acknowledged the sheen hard times acquires with distance. "The years between 13 and 18," he wrote, "are amongst the most agonizing in a lifetime, yet we remember them with a nostalgia that blocks out much of the pain."
 
Finally, let's get nerdy and consider what we're talking about when we're talking nostalgia. "The Greek word for 'return,'" Milan Kundera reminds us in his novel Ignorance, "is nostos. Algos means 'suffering.' So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return."

After a brief, pathetic run in theatres, Dazed and Confused began to build an inimitable cult following. It's now known and loved for its soundtrack, its last-day-of-school feeling, its unchecked, unpunished drug use, its unchecked, unpunished McConaughey. Fans who saw the movie as teenagers or thereabouts have warm feelings about the way it fits into their own experiences and maturations. 

Linklater's currently being lauded out the wazoo for capturing formative years in Boyhood, and much of Dazed's lasting power has to do with its similar success in showing major pivots of youth. And so it's hard not to experience waves of nostalgia, not specifically for the 70s, or for bush parties, or for Aerosmith, but for those stages of our own lives. Dazed indeed doesn't declare the 70s to be awesome, and it doesn't claim being between 13 and 18 is awesome, but it does capture the importance of that spate, no matter how weighty the circumstances. If we feel good about any of that, it's on account of it being over.

But is Dazed an inherently nostalgic movie? Or is it us who truck in our own nostalgia, our own sentimentality for pubertal awkwardness and classic rock?

Consider that the movie takes place during America's bicentennial, a period of national nostalgia. Consider, too, that the Vietnam War, so divisive and destructive for the country had "ended" only a year earlier. Three years earlier, men in the position of the seniors would have had the pall of the draft lottery looming over of them.

Considering nostalgia literally, the movie's anything but. There is no yearn to return. If anything, Dazed is about the desire to leave the past behind. Mitch sees to opportunity to ditch his dink pals, and he jumps at it. Pink struggles with his own trajectory, whether or not football, and a certain braided loyalty to his friends, is what his future will be. Ranking the decades, Cynthia declares that the 70s suck, and "maybe the 80s will be, like, radical or something." (In some ways, it's an inside joke, because--those of us who lived through the 80s, as children or adults, know they were terrible.) And maybe the most iconic statement out of Dazed--aside from "Alright, alright, alright"--is Pink's declaration: "If I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life, remind me to kill myself."

Still and all, few movies get off on as cool a note as the opening talk boxing of "Sweet Emotion." It's not that the 70s were the coolest time to be alive, but for two hours it does sort of feel like it.

- Andrew

REARVIEW: SLACKER

"'Generation X' is now a cliché, but then the whole notion that there was some other group, some other way of perceiving the world that was different from Michael Douglas's baby boom, or Jane Fonda's baby boom - it was heretical. To a certain tiny bunkered group of boomers, it still is."

  Douglas Coupland, Wired interview with Richard Linklater, 1994

It's fitting that in Richard Linklater's first movie, a short documentary of the '85 Austin Woodshock Festival, the director runs into Daniel Johnston. A skinny, lisping Johnston holds up his "old new album" Hi, How Are You? and makes Linklater promise that he'll listen to it. Apparently recorded while Johnston was having a nervous breakdown, that album, and Johnston himself, eventually became a touchstone of the underground, DIY, outsider movement of 80s North America. The spool clunk of the boombox he was recording on is audible throughout, the tape hisses like a leaking tire, and Johnston's playing and singing lives on the cusp of unlistenable. But if you give yourself a chance to acclimate, to listen past the technical "flaws" you do achieve an access to the grandiose tunes that Johnston's hearing in his own difficult head.

With the rise in lo-fi and DIY, music--and whatever kind of art--could now be made by kids with limited means, limited talent, but limitless spirit. This lo-fi wave that grew out of and became braided with the hardcore scene was made available to the popular culture when Nirvana put out that "naked baby" album of theirs in 1991. We could argue about Kurt Cobain's prowess as a songwriter until the hipsters come home, but I think Cobain's importance as a music fan can't be understated. As a emissary for the underground, Cobain elucidated the darker corners of American music--whether or not you wanted to further explore those corners was your call. As good an example of any of this--and we can also cite Nirvana's covers of Vaseline and Meat Puppets--was the exposure Cobain gave to Daniel Johnston by wearing a Hi, How Are You? shirt everywhere during the highest heights of his popularity.

Nevermind came out in September 1991, Canadian author Douglas Coupland's novel Generation X had come out March of that year, and, smack in the middle, Richard Linklater's Slacker was released that summer. If you're a high school student writing a paper on "Generation X," this trio is probably the best source material. Coupland and Linklater's work managed to stay fairly underground, but the explosion of Nirvana brought the underground aboveground, and it didn't take long for a generation, for a type of person sporting a type of worldview or fashion-less fashion, to turn into a cliché or a brand.

 

"It was kinda sad to see slacker, the word, as it broke into the national mainstream, become kind of a negative," says Linklater in the film's Criterion Collection commentary. "Because I always saw it very positively. I always thought to be a slacker would be a badge of honour. It meant you weren't beatnik, or hippie--I never saw those as negative, either. But maybe that's me. Other people saw those as negative as well, to mean bummer, or loser-type people. But to me that was always kind of heroic if you were doing your own thing and living a life of purpose and passion and working on your own thing and not really selling out to commercial interests in your life. You felt good about how you spent your time and you didn't feel your life was too compromised. That that would be a worthwhile, successful way to live. To depict that, I thought would be a positive thing."

Slacker captures a type of living, thinking, talking, and making before that lifestyle became stereotypical, or romanticised, or derided. Acted largely by Austin musicians and artists, it's a kind of document of a collaborative artistic community pre-"Seattle," and pre-a time when everyone was eager to find "the next Seattle." Like the DIY, lo-fi movement in music, Linklater's film is scrappy, sometimes awkward, but genuine and unfettered in its interest in life machinations. Whether your see heroism in that is your call

- Andrew

A DAZED AND CONFUSED MOVIE CLUB

Guelph Movie Club is back from Summer Break. To celebrate, we're going back to school with Dazed and Confused on Thursday September 25 at 9:00pm. It's time to welcome the new class to movie club with a good ol' fashioned freshman hazing.

We're kidding, obviously.

It's a new year of movie club, so we hope you'll come out and support what's become a monthly homage to the movies we love.

Next month is our annual Halloween Episode. Help us pick which scary movie we watching in October using the following handy poll. Note that you can only vote once. After that, the poll won't appear when you view this blog. The results will be revealed before we watch Dazed and Confused.

One more thing before I go. The Bookshelf is great. They let me run Movie Club. They let us watch the movies we want. For those reasons and many more, I want to make sure they get as good as they give. So please, come out on the last Thursday of every month and bring your friends. Let's make Movie Club a winner for them so they can continue to make it happen for us.

'Til then, see you at the movies!

- Danny
 

Which Classic Do You Wanna Be Spooked By in October?

Hellraiser

Psycho

Friday the 13th

The Exorcist

Silence of the Lambs

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REVIEW: CALVARY

Christianity is so stained into the Western cloth that, really, that garment is more stain than cloth at this point. And Catholicism is soaked especially deep into those fibers, if not in terms of active faith, certainly the rituals. Maybe best evinced by Pope Francis joining Twitter (though Miley Cyrus has more followers; 18.5 million to the Pope's 4.4 million), the Catholic Church has taken strides to modernize themselves. Complicating this retrofitting is an ongoing history of ignominious abuse that is so egregious that it has, sadly, become a punchline by now. The depth of tradition and the prevalence of repugnant malfeasance can't help but make for imbalanced communities.

Father James (Brendan Gleeson) is a staffless shepherd to a flock on the West coast of Ireland. Hearing Confession, the Father is informed that he'll be killed the next Sunday. The would-be killer has had some of the above-mentioned repugnant wrong done to him, and his intention is to punishment an innocent representative of the faith instead of the guilty one. As we travel through the community, meeting its residents, we're ostensibly wondering who will do the killing--and then, gradually, who won't do it.

The second film in director John Michael McDonagh's "Suicide Trilogy" (following The Guard), Calvary--Calvary being the hill on which Christ was crucified--is as much a whodunit (or, who'lldoit) as it is a tour through a community that's come unmoored from its religious tradition. Said community is made up of the great ensemble of Dylan Moran, Chris O'Dowd, Marie-Josée Croze, Isaach De Bankolé, M. Emmet Walsh, and Aidan Gillen. Possibly about to leave them, the film weighs the worth of Father James in their lives--and the actual worth of their lives. The man, on the cusp of woebegoneness but still harboring a spark, quietly galumphs around town like a superhero who's lost his powers, but is still trying to do good for the self-destructive residents.

The more serious questions of morality knock consistently through the film like water under a dock. As well, the mystery of who threatened the Father is never far from thought. McDonagh has plenty of chances to get heavy-handed, stern, and morose, but manages a kind of quaintness and levity and humour. Imagine a version of Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town where at the outset it's revealed that one Mariposa resident will kill another before the book's end.

- Andrew

Guelph Movie Club: Extended Summer Edition

We’ve reached the dreaded ‘mid-August’ – that time of the year when our thoughts drift toward the inevitable end of vacation, return to school, and turtlenecks (ugh, right?). But, I say no. Summer’s not over til we say it’s over.

In that spirit, the September edition of Guelph Movie Club is a thumb in the nose of fall AND winter. Forget you cold weather. You can have our warm weather when you pry it from our cold, sunburnt fingers.

So help us pick a classic summer movie to keep us warm through the cold winter nights using the poll below. (Note that you can only vote once. After that, the poll won't appear when you view this blog.)

This is the return of Guelph Movie Club after a long hiatus. I hope many of you will join us (or come back to the fold after summer break). We’ve got some fun things in mind for this year’s slate of movies so please come out, buy a soda and a popcorn, and watch a great movie with your fellow movie lovers.

'Til then, see you at the movies!

Danny

 

Which Movie Will Keep Summer Alive in September?

Dazed and Confused

Meatballs

Caddyshack

National Lampoon's Summer Vacation

Stand By Me

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PRIMER: NABUCCO

Nabucco was only Verdi's third opera, but became one of his biggest, most lasting successes. It seems he was pressed to consider the subject by Merelli, the Scala's director circa 1840. Various stories about the opera became legend, especially the one that Verdi convinced himself to compose the music when he accidentally saw the words to the Chorus of Hebrew Slaves fall open in the libretto he was given. It now seems more likely that enthusiasm for this chorus was generated by the audience reaction when they saw the metaphoric link between their suppressed national identity under the Austrian Hapsburg rule, and the subjugated Hebrews under the foreign domination of the Babylonians under Nebuchadnezzar their king portrayed onstage. The king's name is shortened to Nabucco to make it more wieldly.

Leo Nucci as Nabucco

King Nabucco, has two daughters: Abigaile, the star soprano, and Fenena, an alto part. At war with the Babylonians, the Jews have captured Fenena, who had fallen in love with the nephew of the Jewish king, Ismaele—the tenor. Nabucco, with Abigaile and some disguised soldiers, stealthily enters the Temple at Jerusalem. When Fenena admits her love for Ismaele, the Babylonians destroy the Temple. And since this affair between Ismaele and Fenena has allowed this destruction, the Jewish high priest Zaccharia curses Ismaele as a traitor.

In Act 2, at Babylon, Nabucco puts Fenena in charge of the Hebrews as Abigaile finds evidence that she is of slave birth and bewails the fact Nabucco has kept her out of the fighting. The High Priest of Baal tells Abigaile that Fenena has released the Hebrew prisoners, and that he wants her to rule Babylon, spreading the lie that Nabucco has been killed. Abigaile sings of her own ambition to rule. Zaccharia, now captive in Babylon, discovers Fenena's conversion to Judaism, and prevents reprisals of the Jews against Ismaile. 

Abdallo, a solider, announces Nabucco's death and Abigaile's plans to seize power. As Abigaile enters and demands the Babylonian crown from Fenena, Nabucco appears and declares himself not only king, but god. Fenena sides within the Jews, which incenses her father further. In a crash of thunder he is punished for his hubris and is driven mad and Abigaile seizes the crown.

Liudmyla Monastyrska as Abigaille

In Act 3, the now raving Nabucco sees Fenena consigned to death, and prays to Jehovah to save his only daughter, whose death warrant he has been tricked by Abigaile to sign. He challenges Abigaile with being only a slave, but Abigaile has the only corroborating document and destroys it. Nabucco is helpless to save Fenena. Abigaile is unrelenting. The famous scene follows with the Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves. Zaccharia consoles them that Yahweh will help them.

In the final Act, Nabucco is still mad, but promises to follow the Jewish god if Fenena is to be saved somehow. He will restore the Jewish temple and convert to Judaism. He is miraculously restored, and freed by Abdallo, and plans to go to save Fenena. Nabucco discovers his daughter preparing to die, but he rushes in to save her and then orders the destruction of Baal, which is preempted when the idol shatters. Nabucco frees the Israelites, and Zaccharias hails Nabucco as true king and divine servant of Jehovah. Abigaile enters in remorse. She has poisoned herself and begs forgiveness of Fenena, begs for divine mercy and dies.

I suspect Verdi had his initial difficulties with the complex plot because the dramatic developments, especially later in the piece, show the actions of the deity in miraculous events, such as the restoration of Nabucco's sanity—if not already in its being removed in the first place—and the destruction of the idol of Baal at the end of the opera. In few other places in Verdi do we see the direct influence of any active deity like this. The gods, or God, is mostly a mute figure, passionately addressed or prayed to, but is never elsewhere represented as being responsive, except in ironic plot twists, that rather serve to undermine any assurance that there is a god there. Verdi was himself a religious skeptic, but obscured this mind-set from his public for obvious reasons.

There are few pieces of music so enmeshed with a national political movement vying for the formation of a nation as this opera. The Risorgimento, the movement to establish Italy as a sovereign nation, eventually took up the chorus of Hebrew Slaves as its official anthem, and the opera was made especially famous throughout the years during which Italy achieved its nationhood.

As usual, personal passion is inextricably tied up with politics and public life in a mixture that is to become ever more familiar in Verdi's operas.

The production on show here has already garnered much attention and praise since its premiere to simultaneous worldwide cinema presentation in the debut season of this format in April 2013. Although it is still an early work, the politico-historical significance of this piece has always served it to remain relatively current in opera productions since its debut.

Michael Doleschell keeps mostly to non-fiction, and is deeply devoted to music and culture and never tires of history, and is fascinated by science and the scientific method [as long as they are well explained]. He broadcasts a program of Classical Music for 3 hours every Saturday afternoon from noon till 3 on the U of G's Radio Station: CFRU. 

REVIEW: A MOST WANTED MAN

John le Carré’s novels have proven to be successful frameworks for film adaptations throughout his entire career, dating back to 1965’s The Spy Who Came in from the Cold up to the most recent A Most Wanted Man starring Philip Seymour Hoffman. Perhaps it is le Carré’s densely complicated and nuanced plots that make his stories seem somehow more true to life than the Bournes or the Bonds (and especially the Ryans and Reachers). What le Carré’s writing lacks in explosions and car chases, he more than makes up for with sophisticated, multilayered characters embroiled in puzzles of espionage. Whereas Jason Bourne is able to single-handedly foil the intelligence agencies of the entire western world, le Carré’s characters produce the same amount of tension that any good spy story will evoke, without firing a shot.

In the hands of director Anton Corbijn (The American), le Carré’s intelligent prose and character complexity is not compromised in this film adaptation. In his last role before his untimely death, Hoffman is a perfect le Carré spy, smoking and drinking too much, out of shape, disgruntled. Against the backdrop of post-9/11 paranoia he plays Günter Bachman, the head of an anti-terror team in Hamburg with the right dose of political cynicism that cuts through the fantasy that righteousness trumps ideology. Everyone has a past they don’t care to mention, an agenda they don’t wish to expose, so while he diligently tracks suspected Chechen Jihadist Issa Karpov in hopes that Karpov can expose an even greater threat, he remains suspicious of those around him claiming to be on the same side. The Americans have an interest in Dr. Faisal Abdullah, a wealthy philanthropist suspected of backing terrorist cells, while the Germans want Karpov interrogated. Human rights lawyer Annabel Richter (Rachel McAdams) wants to protect Karpov as he claims he was tortured in Russia and fears being deported. When Karpov decides to donate millions in inheritance to Abdullah, all parties stories begin to weave together. The result is not a game of cat and mouse that characterizes a usual Hollywood spy-thriller, but rather a game of dangling the bait to see who can catch the biggest fish.

The most refreshing aspect of a le Carré novel and, in this case, movie adaptation, is this deviation from the typical action packed spy-thriller. A Most Wanted Man is a slow burner. It requires patience, and an interest in geopolitics doesn’t hurt. But with that comes a more sophisticated type of storytelling, where complexity sits in place of linear plot lines, where moral questioning replaces the idea that good always triumphs, and where main characters live lives of desperation and paranoia, rather than possessing super human strength and foresight. A Most Wanted Man is as covert and impenetrable as the war on terrorism itself. The winners and losers are hard to define, and good and evil are a merely a matter of perspective.

- Bruno Mancini