Japanese cinema, "now" now, and then....

I've been on a Japanese kick of late.  I happen to return to this culture, frequently, for a vast bouquet of inspiration.  Simply, the well is never dry.

The last five films I've watched this week were Japanese. One observation I've made is that the Western Cinematic tradition has lifted heavily from this world, and Akira Kurosawa ( i feel silly leaving a link here, but I'm going to assume that a good percentage of people are not that familiar with him, and do not give the same unwavering adulation to say, Stanley Kubrick) being on the receiving end of this homage ripping, while also being the most universally influential. But aside from the good type of artistic stealing which is mostly an "influential" lifting, there has been a much more malignant form of culture appropriation, which comprises of the more serious form of perjury. And yes, this bad form of stealing is rampant in cinema.

In the prior decades, distribution was the real barrier to familiarity with international cinema. The world, before NETFLIX and the web was a localized arena.  So localized in fact, that believe it or not, you'd have to go to a movie theater to see a movie (perhaps a film festival, or art-house theater, school, etc).  And, if you didn't catch it, then you'd have to hope for some form of taped distribution.  It wasn't till the late 70's whereby people were actually renting and buying movies.  At this juncture in the space time continuum, the selection was incredible limited.

With the explosion of VHS and the video store, more titles could be discovered. But, media was not ubiquitous, and our reference points were limited to stuff we heard about, or actually saw; which again, had serious limitations in breath, scope, and in memory. Image those days, in which Wikipedia, Google and Youtube were not at your beckon call, and did not serve as your assistant brain (soon to be, First Brain). Yes, scary indeed.       

Say you saw something really interesting in an obscure Japanese movie from the early 70's, and were a filmmaker in the 80's and even early 90's, and you happened to steal heavily from it.  In fact, even go so far as to purge it's images, its style, its flow.   People would hardly know.  Only a relative few.  And surprisingly, unlike music and other types of arts, this type of heavy lifting would not even be frowned upon critically, and certainly not by the general movie going audience.  For the most part.

The idea of originality in Western Cinema has long been a secondary by-product; a term Hollywood tried to bury (and successfully) in the 50's (purely conjecture here).  It's worked.  This is one of the only arts where familiarity gets a pass almost every-time.  And as the post-modern infiltrated movie making in the early nineties, it was even considered cool.  

But on a personal level, I always felt a more kindred liking to original works (herein I'm referring to a more direct style of moviemaking) then post modern assemblies of those styles.  But that was then, and now is now.      

But, "now" now, is not like the 90's now.  People dream up movement phrases like, "The New Sincerity", and while this might last for "now", it can never congeal into anything resembling the classical arts movements of a prior century.  Because we have moved past time oriented "movements".  We are in a post-movement world; better yet, post-mechanical-watch.  Human time doesn't neatly pack itself into bubbles anymore, because it's umbilical cord to our evolutionary clock has been cut.  

And "now" is like the scene from the Mel Brooks film SPACEBALLS:  Now "Now", Not "Then" Now.  This sentence above, however is not my own, i'll gladly admit.  In fact, I lifted it from a wonderful conversation between media theorist David Ryan Polgar and Douglas Rushoff.  If only cinema were so nice to attribute.

I'll leave you with this apropos image from Kinji Fukasaku's BATTLES WITHOUT HONOR AND HUMANITY

a quantum question....

Mirs - Summer God Complex (Official Visualization 2014)

Here is the visual representation for the MIRS track SUMMER GOD COMPLEX. This video is a digital deconstruction of footage that originated from an infamous, lonely and appalling source.

That source was also the lead-in into the writing process, although it was just a jumping point, a kernel of story that evolved into something else.

The deconstruction of the source footage also plays into an internal, corrupt mind grasping at order, and at times seeing beauty in it's own destruction. The process involved the breaking down of codecs.

Birthdays & national tragedies....

Today is one of my best friends birthdays. His is never forgotten. Although I forget many other birthdays, a habit I am not proud of given the breadth of technology available to remind you, his is my second thought of the day.  The first is reserved to 911, the American Tragedy.

It's been 13 years, a fact equally astonishing to realize the unequivocal changes throughout the world since. Their was no youtube, iphones, gopros, twitter or facebook.  We didn't personally document everything like a desperate hoarder, grasping to no avail at a slipping life.

The memories now of that horrific date are living and breathing ones.  They feel tangible, and although they might not be accurate given our subjective and changing memory, they can be as raw as the real thing. In this case, that's a truth. It burns. The heart.

these days....

today we pray to our new gods.  technology, these days....

ical meets virus....

Sometimes we plan the week, in precise, efficient detail, and then, a cold comes knocking on the door changing everything.  Life is not linear.  

And if you force it as such, the joy and spontaneity of the game, the game of life vanishes.  Life is just one giant improvisational game, ephemeral and hardly meant for seriousness.  The mood of the moment or time might feel grave, but mortality is our constant reminder; this is fleeting, don't be a jerk about it.   

the future: a robot, the human....

Last night, towards the end of an intimate wedding, three men huddled together at the back of a fancy hotel courtyard, cocktails in hand, discussing THE SINGULARITY. An almost spontaneous conversation with very little pre-talk. Straight faced, and committed.     

Two days prior, in a small downtown bar, the patron and bartender sparked up several conversations. It was obvious that these talks happened quite regularly. As one conversation bounced to the next, THE SINGULARITY reared its once ambiguous head into the dialogue seconds before serialized Japanese Yakuza movies from the 70's.   

A week before this, in a large cafe with a direct path to the Hollywood sign, a man and a women, after a lemonade and espresso chatted about the robotic overlords; one part jest, one part contemplative certainty.  

THE SINGULARITY: no longer relegated to sci-fi dork-hood, or computer scientist savants and futurist with lots of time on their hands.  It is now part of the dialogue. Maybe not with the same rapidity as The Kardashians, but in enough minds to infer that it's manifestation is inevitable. Lets just make sure we can become friendly enough to make room, because our time as the top of the chain is limited.  As Douglas Rushkoff states, "I'm on team human".

what we notice, what evades...

I got into a discussion with my father yesterday about Downtown Los Angeles.  I happened to be watching some television with him while on one of my little retreats to Orange County.  I go there often to get away from among other things, the parking hassle in LA.  The stress of Trader Joe's I hear is soul crushing.  I'm immune because I don't step into grocery stores.  But, getting coffee at a Coffee Bean is a fucking ordeal.

Anyways, we were watching a movie staring the most underrated actor in American Cinema, Keanu Reeves (who just happened to turn 50 in an ode to Dorian Grey, and is by all accounts the nicest son of a bitch in Hollywood) and a tracking helicopter shot a moving car racing through a completely empty Time Square.  The next cut showed our hero (Keanu) with a few passengers including the beautifully eyebrowed Jennifer Connelly (is my memory eluding me) and my mothers favorite leading man, Jon Hamm racing through fake New York, which was in fact real Downtown Los Angeles.  Movies and commercials often do this.  Shoot exteriors of NY, film in dtla.  They look somewhat similar in what is called the Historic Core, but, with any scrutiny, the deceit becomes obvious.  Alright, here is the title of the film;  THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL.  And a confession, this was my third time seeing it.

So, the discussion wasn't about the validity of using the two spaces.  When I made the observation of the two spaces being used in the cut, to my father, he replied that it wasn't possible because palm trees litter LA.  I argued that palm trees don't exist in downtown.  And we went back and fourth.  My argument was superior because, "I live and work in downtown".  And that was the end, he conceded.  

Now, cut to today; here I am looking at some shots I developed from my trustee Nikon One Touch, and lo and behold, a shot of the art's district in downtown LA.  What we can see in the back is a lovely group of palm trees.  I've passed by this area many times, and in a moment of argument, palm tree's where wiped from my memory.  As if all the palms in downtown where wiped off the landscape, in favor of a more urban LA, best used to create car commercials or Hollywood films that were meant to be NY.

Memory is an illusion.  Enjoy the rest of your day.  Never argue from a source of fantasy.

the never ending story....

Sometimes creative projects take a very long time to finish.  Especially in these modern times, when you can control the flow with new tools and without the same financial pressures of previous times.  Storage is cheap. Film stock and processing is not.

But, process changes with technology.  The context of creation is the factor.  Creativity is not an internal force exerted unto the outer realm.  It is a reaction to the outer realm.  This is our rebellion against the ambiguous rules set force, by unforeseen energy, into human order.  

We try to mimic nature, or in our esteem, to conquer its beauties in words and visuals, to make sense of the chaos.  But this chaos is our flame.  This chaos is our master.  

attention; the death of a day

Sometimes the list is too long and the being is forced to frantically jump from one thing to the next at such a rapid rate that it feels like the many has turned into nothing.  Not even one. A gloomy fog has set in.  

That an attention mechanism is forced to react to a circumstantial and technological evolution that it in no way was suited for.  

But, that statement cannot be true.  Because it is in fact adapted to the change.  There can be no other path.  That change is our doing.  We are the singularity.

Singularity; the robot

Tokyo Godfathers - holy shit

The last few days had me rewatching, and in some cases discovering for the first time Satoshi Kon's masterwork animeography in full. 

I was absolutely floored by his 2003 work TOKYO GODFATHERS, one of only two of his works I had not seen previously. The superb characterization and the hauntingly realistic and desolate city landscapes make this an absolute treat. Choosing to focus on detail instead of the usual spectacle, the city becomes all too tangible.  

Tokyo is almost always historically realized as a packed, bright wonder full of flashing lights and bustle, recalling Western interpretations like LOST IN TRANSLATION.  It is fetishized in Western movies.  And that is absolutely part of its identity.

Kon chooses instead, the everyday sights that people who actually inhabit that environment experience; the alley ways, the crevices, corners, the not so wondrous cityscapes and mundane, grey skylines punctuated by the cold, wet snow.  Instead of the Shibuya crossing for example, we get a small corner store, and a drunk asshole who can't stand bums.  

The scenes are rendered in wonderment by their sure realism.  One of my favorite moments was a three shot master through an everyday, ordinary road safety mirror. This is detail; this is knowing the world in which you create.  Maybe I just haven't seen enough anime, but I can't recall many people making this type of choice.  It harkens too a moment in Miyazaki's KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE, in which Kiki stays in bed, stretching, pondering a thought.  I had the same feeling at that moment as well, although one was a shot selection, and the other a characterization.  But Kon does both here, and does it damn well.   

This was also one of a few anime films in which a live action remake could easily be achieved. However, this would be a grave mistake because you won't get better performances or a more fantastic ambience then what was achieved here.  The characterization is totally alive.  The tone is spot on.  It goes every which way, and this is not hyperbole.

i could go on and on, but I'll leave it here.  If you haven't seen it, go find it.  Be ready to experience that sense of wonder that appears when form fits perfectly in its container.  But, I'm not a reviewer, and this is the farthest thing from that.  It's just a personal recommendation. But if you didn't like it after being influenced to see it based on this written journal, you just haven't developed the goods yet.  Seriously.  Peace.  

A beautiful example of a master shot that creates the experience.

This is not the Tokyo we are familiar with in modern movies. (at least not me)

what is awake?

"out of insecurity"

"attached" 

"amazing" 

"that being said" 

"you don't have to prove anything to anyone" 

"i got some black in me, I'll fuck a bitch up" 

"she's not stupid, and she works in finance" 

Those were the few phrases I heard late afternoon, while sitting in a downtown LA bar yesterday as two middle aged women raged on about relationships.  It seems one of them was in a revolving door situation, and she mostly remained quiet.  The married one, without any loss of words and an unsettling bravado.  A natural, one might say.

Much later that night, I watched Satoshi Kon's 2006 anime masterwork PAPRIKA.  

Throughout the day, starting as early as my first coffee run, I was told that I looked like someone.  This happened a total of 9 times yesterday.  The people of said doppelgänger lineage, a bewildering and confusing range.

All these things coalesced into one hellish nightmare with a pedantic, but truthful message. Acoustically all those phrases above made entrances.  The rest is too personal and solipsistic to dictate here but I did wake up with a profound insight into my recent life.

We are all fragments of what happens to us, and in reverse, we are also the producers of such happenings.   No separation exists within the dream and the awake.  They are the same expression.  They are like the head and the body, a singular unit.

the in the out....

A new book to read - How Music Works

Finally getting around to reading David Byrne's book, "How Music Works".  It was recommended by a dear friend, and it's been sitting in my book queue for months.  

And quite frankly, it feels real nice to have a book queue. You should start one today.  Books are practically the only things I collect, aside from vintage musical gear and a couple old film cameras. But, space is getting more and more limited and AU's + VST's are getting so good, that soon, I won't be needing that Roland AP-7's  (the one that works 40% of the time) or the TB-3's, or the Juno's or even the Nordleads anymore. Well, the Nord is not quite that old.

Irregardless, start reading again.  Throw away the futurist opinion that my "too smart for his own good" computer scientist friend "C" has; that books are obsolete tech. We will all benefit collectively from your curiosity.  

And as far as the book, David's insights thus far have been mind opening.  It's really the first theoretical music book I've picked up, even though he might be reluctant to classify it as such. And even though I've recorded and released records over the last few years, I never thought about the form as conceptually as say, filmmaking.  It always seemed more instinctual.  But, I welcome this new openness.  And what better way to start then Byrne, while I track down Eno's, "Year with Swollen Appendices".

ghost

what if you love how it was done before?

The arts are places where obsessions form identities.  And new forms build incrementally, from the past.  A snails pace, where the market generally reflects changes very slowly.  That's often why the avant-garde, or the creationist class never make the big bucks like those who refine the new concepts into familiar forms, or, when so happens that the market and the audience catches on.  This usually occurred a long time afterwards.  This is in reverse order from tech, which handsomely rewards the futurist and early adopters, of which are many.  But, like Sam Cooke sings beautifully, "A change is gonna come".   And it has, without any knock on the proverbial door, giving artist very little choice but to fight or flight.

The fast changing landscapes creates three classes of artist.  Artist whom, "made it" in the classical sense before the grand digital divide, those who exist, still in relative obscurity after this grand divide, and one's who came after this grand chasm. For argument sake, I place this grand chasm around the mid 2000's.  This theory on dates demands more than I'm willing to write this morning, and I'm sure many arguments can be made for placing the divide at different times.  In fact, from an empirically personal standpoint, the real disruption has occurred most forceable in the last couple years. 

If you came on the scene as a child of the internet, you understand the rules of the game better then Jean Renoir.  If you came before and already "made it" in the classical sense, most of this has no immediate consequences for you at the time being, as long as you are working. However, those in the middle of the two, the one's who were still toiling with arts and crafts and still hadn't made a name for themselves, those are the ones with the hardest times.  Not quite sure where their affinity lays. 

The changes in the landscape demand and dictate a change in identity. Why?  Well, all of your prior heroes did it the old school way.  They did it in a way that was familiar and easy to point to. Even though gatekeepers, creation and distribution and all the old shit was even more impossible then it is today, it was safer.  You could toil in obscurity till you make it, or, even in obscurity there was a certain badge of honor in pursuing something against all odds.  There even existed an UNDERGROUND that accepted your invisibility.  And in the case of something like filmmaking, you could always point to the lack of financial support, but we are not talking about the non-doers here.

Now, that luxury of obscurity as honor badge doesn't quite exist.  You cannot hide.  You must get out in front and do like the new school, and leave your heroes behind.  And if they don't adjust, well, after the last of their pre digital clout dies, they will be left like you.  Starting from scratch.  So, adjust now, try new things, let go of old and dying ideas and jump in.  Play.  Look foolish.  It doesn't matter anyways, because the stream might never forget, but it does forgive.   

An Experiment into Transparency regarding Lunch

I have a secret.  Actually, many secrets.  We all do.  Small ones, horrible ones, inconsequential ones.  But if you ask me what I had for lunch, it's akin to putting a knife to my throat and asking me to sell out my best friends, if, in a fictional bout of storytelling, they just happened to rob a bank and I was entrusted with that information and nobody was hurt.  You know the saying, snitches get stitches.  

The symptoms;  throat constriction, brain fog, and suddenly finding myself in an intensely difficult moment which could be alleviated with uttering a few simple words, whatever they may me, about what I had for lunch.  The most inconsequential questions become existential dilemmas.  Vague is my due course.  That is a character trait, years in refinement.

In my time, i've been able to get away with this in good style.  It was much easier without social media.  And even after, I could hide those simple pleasantries by way of social media interactions. After all, if I posted about where I was, why would I have to repeat said place to a girlfriend, or buddy, or anybody else?  Now, this isn't a modus operandi about everything, just the simplest of pleasantries.  The type of philistine chit chat we engage in as humans for some odd reason.  At some point, the mere thought of these simple niceties became too exhausting with people whom I've known to some degree.  Now, people I don't know so well, this is a non issue which is a sort of weird paradox all to itself.  

Now, everything I wrote above is mostly metaphorical.  It refers to the artist, the process and the work.     

So, it's time to try another approach.  Since I would like to practice what I preach, I will be sharing more information about process.  Secret projects that I toil in for long lengths of time, well, now I will show you what goes on behind the curtain.  This is not easy.  This is total cognitive dissonance.  But, I cannot tell another kid to share their work (and I mean process) without me doing it without abandon.  We are living in an Austin Kleon, Seth Godin kind of world.

Burn those old ideas.  Keep the head empty, and maybe, it can refill itself.

Of course, this experiment has a time limit.  Till the end of the year.  If it proves worthwhile to post clips of a fucking rehearsal, it will continue.  If utter repulsion sets in, I have the rights to terminate my own self inflicted experiment.  

Cheers my friends,
am