“you start thinking, everything should be like this all the time, anything that’s not like this is a ridiculous waste of time, I want peak experiences and only peak experiences because life is all about peak experiences and people who consent to have less than constant peaking epiphanies all the time are missing out, etc., etc., all infantile nonsense of course but as feelings go a bracing & pleasant one.”—
So what is this politics? What incidents of grim nature, not in blood spilt, but cause behind such spilt blood, say about these minds? What is our agenda, so burnt and collapsing under the weight of quips. Not quo, but simple wit and suit style. When Berlin marched, and fists were held in time with our feet. Our party of socialism and the rise of democracy. Whose flesh is colored blue, as a free sky. When free meant a steel helmet put aside and a crooked smile on Hamburgs hat. Why did you die my sweet heart, your beating was the anthem of this now dirty country. We are not fighters of sex or slaves. Or street fighting at that. We are not angels of a nation, carrying bricks on our backs to build a golden empire. Our heroes are long gone replaced with the face of shit. Pure, uncompromising shit. Faces sworn off from good and only opening eyes for something worth nothing. Our royal dynasties weep now with the poster of glory we have written, “WE ARE SOULESS AND BLANK, WE ARE MOULDLESS AND DANK.” Our brandy is our water, and our calm is our chaos. How then can we fill our cups with strenth when there is no more to be found? The only blood spilt is sympathy and charity, not a mobilization of truth. Fredrick said his hair stood on its ends with he thought of failure. Ann reached for his fingers, wrapped them in her own, and said “Dont be afraid, what you fear has already come, we can only go up from here.” This is what Paul Levi thought as he looked into our grand world. This is what he saw.
before my gregracious spittake on Fantastic Mr. Fox, heres a little Friendly teasing for Mr. Wes Anderson, the only known instance of having the honor to be in both the Worst and the Best People of 2009 list on videogum. Also that last little Andrew Bujalski namedrop is just the icing on the cherry on the cake.
“I read this article that said all the Italian workers at Cinecitta are saying, like, ‘He’s the Maestro, he’s Fellini, come back to life!’” – My friend Dave on Wes Anderson’s work on The Life Aquatic, 2005
“I’d blown it, Friedkin had blown it, Altman went into eclipse, one flop after another, Francis went crazy, even Raging Bull didn’t do any business. Everybody kind of blew it in varying shapes and sizes.” – Peter Bogdanovich, 1997.
“His often damaged characters are viewed in a compassionate light.” – Wikipedia.
The Dreyfus Affair (2013). Following two generally well-received adaptations, The Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) and The Rosenthaler Suite (2011), Anderson writes and directs a bizarre remake of the 1937 Paul Muni biopic The Life of Emile Zola, with Jason Schwartzmann as Zola in the lead role.Though the film wins praise for its meticulous art direction, carefully composed 19th Century Paris setting and anachronistic Yves Montand soundtrack, critics savage the film. “He seems more interested in getting the waxed mustaches of French military officials correct than in understanding the life of Emile Zola,” complains one. Some over-analytical critics feel the film is a misguided attempt to refute the type of unsentimental naturalism Zola championed; others find this over-analytical criticism ridiculous and suspect Anderson just wanted to make a credible film with lots of beautiful 19th Century Paris interiors. A beautiful slow-motion scene of Emile Zola purchasing a live lobster at the Saxe-Breteuil Market for dinner and silently walking back to his apartment to the strains of Montand’s “Les Feuilles Mortes” is particularly celebrated and/or lambasted.
The Last and Best of the Peter Pans (2017). The death of J.D. Salinger in 2015 at age 94 seems to have shaken Anderson and plunged him into a period of reflection. He isolates himself in an apartment in the Upper West Side of Manhattan for several months. The screenplay he emerges with is an account of a wealthy young heir (played by unknown John W. Stillman, Jr. in a breakout performance) who becomes the first male to graduate from a prestigious eastern women’s college and subsequently strikes up an odd friendship with a self-sacrificing Pakistani ice cream man in Central Park. Some hail it as a return to form. Detractors agree, noting it is a return to the very specific form of youthful, damaged elites in a romanticized New York City interacting with near-mute foreign-born stock characters. Reviews are mixed.
The Sisters Tagliatelli (2019). Anderson seemed here to be self-consciously addressing his reputation for consistently writing thinly developed female characters. “Three chic, mysterious women (Kat Denning, Kristen Stewart and Emma Watson) silently and mirthlessly sit around an apartment in Venice smoking for two hours and listening to Leonard Cohen,” complains one critic. “Barely a movie,” grouses another. The film is light on dialogue, heavy on “Famous Blue Raincoat.”
Mission: Impossible X:II [a.k.a. M:I:X:II] (2022). Inexplicable commercial forces compel Anderson to step in for an ailing Paul Thomas Anderson to direct Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible XII. Tom Cruise weighs 275 pounds and is former governor of Ohio. Adrien Brody and Luke Wilson play estranged twin brothers that bring Cruise’s Ethan Hunt character out of retirement when they threaten to destroy a fictional U.S. state resembling Connecticut with invisible Tesla frequencies. The soundtrack is entirely pre-T. Rex Marc Bolan solo recordings. A box office disaster, and the beloved franchise lies dormant until it is reinvigorated four years later with Sophia Coppola’s reboot The Impossible Mission.
The Black Maria (2025). Anderson’s audacious attempt to make a feature-length commercial film using turn-of-the-20th-Century silent kinetoscopic technology gets him exiled to France for ten years. The film features a grainy, stand-out performance from Anjelica Huston in her last role. The film is celebrated in certain neo-Luddite circles as America enters its sixth SuperRecession in ten years, but distribution is limited. Anderson’s insistence on a live piano score anytime the film is publically screened further cripples the film’s commercial prospects.
Rushmoreville (2035). Anderson’s 35-years-later sequel to Rushmore, written with Owen Wilson and 100-year old fellow Texan Larry McMurtry, proves one of his most controversial films. Adrien Brody steps in for the tragically deceased Jason Schwartzmann as Max Fischer, now in his forties and president of Bloom Amalgamated Offshore Manufacturing, Inc. He is confronted with the return to town of Margaret Yang, who harbors a painful secret. All assume Max and Margaret will resume their high school romance. Can these friends find equilibrium in middle age? Mixed reviews.
Seen Those English Dramas! (2037). A well-received 3D concert film of Vampire Weekend’s legendary thirtieth anniversary performance at Madison Square Garden. “Two timeless institutions make rock music history together,” enthuses one respected Internet commenter. “A bunch of twee old farts reliving the Noughties,” gripes a college-aged Internet commenter.
Well-Respected Men (2040). The death of Ray Davies in 2040 at age 96 seems to have shaken Anderson and plunged him into a period of reflection. He isolates himself in an apartment in Lambeth, London for several months. The screenplay he emerges with is an account of two eccentric, emotionally shattered musician brothers whose 1960s beat group travels from the UK to India in search of enlightenment with a large supporting cast of oddball characters. Internet commenters complain Anderson has been repeating himself for forty years, but Well-Respected Men sweeps the Oscars, including prizes for Best Picture, Best Screenplay and a long-denied award for Best Director. A generation of young American filmmakers, having grown up through the hardships of continuous SuperRecessions, idolize Anderson and admire the now-vanished, never-was world of affluence and whimsy his characters inhabit. The turbulent 2040s are marked by a resurgence of interest in his work in the American film industry. However, Bollywood now unquestionably dominates the world film establishment, and celebrated young Indian filmmakers, for some reason, are not impressed with Anderson’s body of work. His popularity remains a strictly provincial Western phenomenon. The hero of all young Bollywood filmmakers during the 2040s? Andrew Bujalski.
Anderson directs a few more lesser films until War Between the States II: This Time, It’s Personal tears the Republic into small warring factions in 2049, thus obliterating the film industry. Anderson retires to a villa in the People’s Republic of Greater Maine, where he dies peacefully in April, 2075.
The first week of classes is now officially over (MGMT!). Ive bought yogurt and frozen Parisienne pizza. I’m still coughing but its not like thats going to prevent me from waking and baking and shaking my Thang. If anything, let this be the lesson of 2010 (so early). Dont call your own bluff. It’s all stardust in here.
It is what we signed up for that we almost always will receive, as much tricks and thrones as we use to wiggle ourselves out of such unfortunate situations, it is not surprising when we find it is with sticks and stones that we must break down such confounding doors, and quite proudly pick up what it is we asked for, wear it on our heads like a burger king crown and march back to our spot (secluded) on the green armchair at the back of the house. So. What senses do we have now, what new bright and terrible attributes have we collected for a a year so full and thick it feels like cake already. Puff cake, with raspberry train rides and toffee peoples and summer backpacking through lime green villa’s and chocolate fences. I’m not trying to make this into a wet dream of wonka girth and volume, infact i am not even convincing myself or you how sweet this year can be. I am quite simply saying we must bite into this decade like we cooked it ourselves, that we planned the careful lettering, the capitalized “H” and “B” and “LOVE” and “NATURALLY”, the layers, the amount of eggs and bullshit and sincerity and blush and gunpowder green tea leaves. What fools are making their tumblr entries on loneliness so quickly? The first week of this fine decade has not even passed. We cannot drown is misery and fattness and clumpy makeup. Such bright gold things we are. Such tall pearl giants.This year shan’t can’t be foolish, though foolHARDY perhaps? PERhapsio. i’ve lost track (like my twitter) of what i was even trying to say, but i hope to god this year was a good one, i hope to god i wake up in the morning every day and feel magnolia’s sprouting out of my ears. I hope i grow diagonally like steps to a height that i fathom only in sleep and dreams. I hope i go to Europe. I hope we are stumbling mechanics but not empty machinary, full lips and liquid eyes, a glass lamp and the color rose on your face. A garden inside your ovary. and bells inside your voice box. and bells inside a church. and churches on the map of your hands stretching into maps . So when i am about to close my eyes, all i see are diamonds.
holy shit face, its only the 3rd/4th and already the year is a better place than it use to be. please. please. for your own good, for all the good ness of the world. watch this. watch this. watch this.
okay i wrote that last bit before I actually watched it because even the screencapture is an apt reblog but Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. John Darnielle weakens knees. 2010 John is a Hurricane. hes a typhoon. hes a beaut.
“In person, Darnielle’s twitchy, nervous energy serves his fearless songwriting well: He exudes gentility and good humor in conversation, but his performances are utterly committed, with intensity that infuses his screams and whispers alike. In this solo Tiny Desk Concert, his four songs fit nearly into distinct categories: new and quiet (“Hebrews 11:40”), new and loud (“Psalms 40:2”), old and quiet (“Color in Your Cheeks,” from All Hail West Texas), and old and loud (“Going to Georgia,” from Zopilote Machine). It’s no surprise that all four approaches serve him well.”