Recommended if you like Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
Dig, Lazarus, dig!!!
Recommended if you like Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
Dig, Lazarus, dig!!!
So much I could say about this one.
But it’s one of the few times where I can say, “I worked with that person.”
Probably wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.
Because I’m a Trump supporter.
But he was the best drummer I was ever in the same room with.
And drumming was the longest “career” I ever had.
I’ve played drums since I was a kid.
All of them.
Orchestral snare drum.
The whole 4-mallet thing.
But when I worked with Clem, I was a bass player.
It was the bass that took me to England.
And to Spain.
And it was the bass that first took me to Los Angeles.
But this is about Blondie.
And what a band!
Based on my own experiences just mentioned, I can attest to the extremely high musicianship of Clem Burke.
And watching this relatively-short documentary (an hour) convinces me of just how special each of the band members were/are.
But perhaps my favorite part is seeing Mike Chapman work.
The record producer.
What a talent!
It was my dream to be a record producer.
Didn’t really work out 🙂
Maybe you fuck up.
Or maybe no one helps you.
Or maybe you get one chance. And only one chance.
But that’s ok.
Because life goes on.
Marilyn Monroe aged.
Lou Reed sang about it on the Velvets’ “New Age”.
And Godard wrote about it.
The aging of Marilyn Monroe must have been a traumatic phenomenon for the first generation of movie goers.
The first generation with that color reality.
And with the television buttress.
Even Elton John, a homosexual man, was in love with Marilyn…in a sort of way.
“Candle in the Wind”
Which brings us to Debbie Harry.
The former cocktail waitress from Max’s Kansas City.
Chickpeas and lobster.
Park Avenue South.
And brings us to the album Parallel Lines.
This documentary is almost strictly about that album.
About Blondie’s breakthrough into the mainstream.
Yeah, they were punk…
Had the street cred.
But they transcended.
Mostly due to musicianship.
A bit like the Talking Heads.
The other bands were hopelessly arty.
Of this scene.
My favorite, Suicide.
[R.I.P. Alan Vega]
I met Alan once.
Changed my life.
But Suicide never really had a hit.
[Nooo…you don’t say?!?]
But that was punk.
And my whole mission is a bit of a punk mission.
Not a name I came up with.
But given to me.
I remember that day.
And the personages.
But my mission is also a bit like the mission of Greil Marcus.
And Lipstick Traces.
Now I’d just prefer to read Debord.
Or read Len Bracken on the Situationists.
But Greil tries (valiantly!) to pull it all together.
And I’m a bit like that kind of wanker.
Just hoping to SOUND like I know it all.
And someday have Harvard written on my spine.
But we’ve hardly discussed Blondie.
Or this excellent little film.
Which is currently streaming on Netflix in the U.S.
Again Kino Lorber’s marketing team (?) seems to be absent behind this release.
There’s no Wikipedia page.
And the iMDB page lists the title of this made-for-TV-affair as Blondie’s New York and the Making of Parallel Lines.
Ok, so it’s not Citizen Kane.
But it’s well worth watching!
Directed by Alan Ravenscroft.
He does a fine job here.
It really is a magical story.
New York City.
The Fugs! 🙂
New York, a magical place.
Hell, even mayor Ed Koch is in this.
And he’s much easier to stomach than Bill Clinton.
I don’t care…liberal, conservative…whatever.
Just don’t be a dick!
And if you’re a dick, have the schtick down!!
He has the schtick down.
He’s learned to lie.
In his many years.
“The babies, the beautiful babies…the innocent babies”…
There were no babies, my friends.
There was no chemical attack.
That footage was in the can for some time.
But it’s a white lie in the world of geopolitics.
It’s like telling your kids that Santa Claus delivered the presents.
There’s no way to explain, “I’ve gotta bomb Syria to make an impression on China. And the bombing has to happen almost simultaneously with dinner…at Mar-a-Lago.”
And McMaster must be lying too.
Just don’t make a habit of it.
Because then you’re CIA.
And that’s a dark road.
To get wrapped up in lies.
But the white lies are synthetic terror where nobody dies.
Even the Russian/Syrian body count.
Especially the “four kids” detail.
The Democrats are really (I mean it, unfortunately) exceptionally dumb.
They only sense the general outline of the conspiracy.
Russia’s faux indignation.
But they don’t understand that their infantile foreign policy made such machinations necessary.
See the documentary.
Forget about North Korea for a moment.
By all means, don’t watch inferior propaganda.
The Propaganda Game?
Songs from the North?
Cinematic equivalent of toilet paper.
The Cinémathèque Française knew the value of propaganda films.
Back when they were educating “the five” (Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol, Rivette, and Rohmer).
And Godard understood the importance of “good”, well-crafted, persuasive propaganda.
As Jacques Ellul wrote in 1962, “Ineffective propaganda is no propaganda.”
In other words, it has no business calling itself propaganda.
But kick back with some Machiavelli.
And The Art of the Deal.
And remember the unholy marriage of art and commerce that is and was Blondie.
The first thing film critics have to get right is the title.
Let me explain a bit.
On my site, I always list a film in its original language (to the best of my ability).
In my opinion, that is the best way of honoring the film.
So far, I have encountered the mild idiosyncrasies of Romanian, Serbo-Croat, Czech, and Polish in addition to the mind-blowing intricacy of Farsi and Japanese.
But with Deutschland im Jahre Null we are seeing a German-language film by an Italian director…sort of.
Italy has a very peculiar tradition concerning voiceovers and direct (or, conversely, indirect) sound. It is an oddity which caught the attention of Godard in his role as film historian.
I cannot give you as erudite an explanation as my hero Jean-Luc, but suffice it to say that foreign (non-Italian) films in Italy have traditionally been overdubbed into Italian. So, in other words, no subtitles.
This is distinct from an American viewer watching a Fellini film. The “American” version (whether on DVD or as a film print in a theater) will be in Italian with subtitles in English. This goes for almost all foreign-language (non-English) films marketed in the United States.
But getting back to Deutschland im Jahre Null… It is similar to the Danish director Carl Th. Dreyer directing the French film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc…with one major difference. Dreyer’s film was a silent one (the only French being the intertitles). Rossellini’s Deutschland im Jahre Null is very much in German. We are hearing German actors speak (exclusively) German dialogue.
What is most interesting is the linguistic lineage of this film. In English, this film is known as:
Germany, Year Zero
Which is quite similar to Rossellini’s preceding masterpiece (in linguistic parallel):
Rome, Open City
To be fair, let’s consider the Italian name (the real name) of Rome, Open City: Roma città aperta. Fine. That is the way I recognize the film. The true name is (in my mind) Roma città aperta.
But with Deutschland im Jahre Null we come to a very strange case. If we do not recognize the primacy of its English title (Germany, Year Zero), and I do not, then we are directed by that great arbiter of cultural legitimacy Wikipedia to consider our options exhausted by being cognizant of the Italian title (Germania anno zero).
What is the message of this omission by English Wikipedia? I believe the message is that Germany was (and continues to be) a null. A zero. A conquered culture.
We see a similar thing in the kowtowing stereotype of conquered Japan. And though Japan might be experiencing some moderate-to-light financial troubles in recent years, Germany is by all accounts the economic powerhouse of continental Europe. Why do I bring economics into the discussion? Because wealthy nations are able to assert themselves.
But let us step back a bit. Wikipedia does have some tasty morsels of information concerning this film. If the source can be trusted, this 1948 film was not shown in Germany (the country from whence the language of the film takes its name) until 1952. After its single screening in München (Munich), it was not heard from again within those borders until it ran on German television in 1978.
Wow…26 years. Either this film was grossly misunderstood, or it was understood all too well. From my reading, this is a very pro-German document.
Rossellini was not George Stevens making concentration camp propaganda. Roberto was making art. The sign of art is the admission of possibilities. Art seduces us because it is subtle. Art does not proclaim in blanket statements. Art does not underestimate the intelligence of the viewer.
Roberto Rossellini did something with his “war films trilogy” which seems to have been unprecedented. The desire of neorealism was to film fiction as if it were documentary. This fiction would be, likewise, based on reality.
But why is it, then, that we have very different views of Roberto Rossellini and Robert Flaherty?
I will tell you my guess. Flaherty’s sin was in the framing of his presentation. To wit, he presented his staged documentaries (take the oil industry propaganda piece Louisiana Story for instance) as if they were naturally-occurring, spontaneous documentaries. The sin, then, was his duplicitous relationship with his subjects. He actively made his human subjects into actors.
Rossellini takes a different tack. There is no pretense that Deutschland im Jahre Null is an ACTUAL documentary. It merely has the feel of that medium. Likewise, Rossellini’s use of nonprofessional actors was likely more of a precursor to Robert Bresson than a twist on Flaherty’s bizarre formula (which predated Roberto in both Nanook of the North  and Man of Aran ). No, Rossellini had created something new.
It’s not so much the films of Flaherty to which I object as it is the idea of them. At least one of his concoctions (perhaps thanks to director F.W. Murnau) is very fine indeed: Tabu . Flaherty and Murnau co-wrote this ostensible documentary. Indeed, with Flaherty we come into contact with inchoate, obscure film genres such as docudrama, docufiction, fictional documentary (ethnofiction), etc. etc. etc.
Most importantly, none of what I have written here has even scratched the surface of Deutschland im Jahre Null. What ever became of the heartrending main child actor Edmund Moeschke? I do not know.
One thing is certain to me: no film before Rossellini’s “war trilogy” (Roma città aperta, Paisà, and Deutschland im Jahre Null) [1945/1946/1948] takes on such politically sensitive and important topics in such a raw way. The closest would be the socialism of Eisenstein or the humanism of Chaplin.
It is, therefore, no wonder at all that Rossellini spawned a million “new waves” the world over.