January 2009

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David Choe - Dirty Hands
David Choe: Setting a good example.



I’m psyched to check out Dirty Hands, a new documentary about artist David Choe. I’m usually skeptical about “street art” films, but the trailer looks pretty great, and I’ve heard that Choe is kind of a madman. I compare everything in this street/art vein to Video Days — which, by the way, did you know that can watch all of Video Days on Google Video? — and I’m always hoping that new stuff will somehow advance the form that Spike Jonze laid out all those years ago. Maybe this will? Maybe other stuff has?

David Choe - Black Dynamite - watercolor
Choe worked some watercolor magic for a movie called Black Dynamite that just made some waves at Sundance.

David Remnick’s excellent biography of Muhammad Ali, King of the World contains a truly stunning scene that sprung to mind during last week’s inauguration. Before Ali’s first big bout, a meeting with Sonny Liston, the press didn’t know what to make of Ali’s confidence and bombast. A reporter asked: “Cassius, all these things you’re saying about Liston, do you really mean them? Do you really think you’re going to beat this guy?”

Ali: I’m Christopher Columbus ... I believe I’ll win. I’ve never been in there with him, but I believe the world is round and they all believe the world is flat. Maybe I’ll fall off the world at the horizon but I believe the world is round.1

I feel like there’s a thread that runs directly from this statement to last Tuesday’s inauguration, and it made me want to dig deeper into Ali, the myth-maker. So last night I watched a 1964 documentary, made by photographer William Klein, called Muhammad Ali: The Greatest; it’s included in a recent Criterion Collection release called The Delirious Fictions of William Klein, which is cheap-o on Amazon right now, actually.

Muhammad Ali - William Klein - Title
Typography suits the subject. ALI. Yeah.

Muhammad Ali - William Klein - Ali
Klein is known for his still photography, and he brings a photographer’s eye, and a cavalier attitude toward editing. The movie is a montage of spontaneity and action, tracing Ali’s path from the build-up to his first fight with Sonny Liston to the Rumble in the Jungle with George Foreman.

Muhammad Ali - William Klein - Joe Louis
Klein catches a nice glimpse of another groundbreaking figure.

William Klein - Muhammad Ali - Mysterious punch
Ali’s second fight with Liston became infamous for the “phantom” punch that ended it. Rumors abound that Liston took a dive, either because he bet against himself or because he was afraid that the Nation of Islam would seek revenge if Ali lost. See it for yourself on the YouTubez.

Muhammad Ali - William Klein - Kids in Zaire
Klein captures some amazing moments around the Rumble, which took place in Zaire, 1974.

Muhammad Ali - William Klein - Foreman fan
The whole nation appears to be in and around the stadium. When We Were Kings tells the whole story. It will blow your mind, and make you love Norman Mailer at the same time.

Muhammad Ali - William Klein - Mobutu Sese Seko
Mobutu Sese Seko, Zaire’s strongman president, is omnipresent in Klein’s footage from the fight. I love this image of his head slowly coming into focus from the clouds.


Updike

John Updike - Time

I love writing letters, but for some reason the only letter-to-the-editor I’ve ever written went something like this:

Dear Mr. Remnick,

If you publish one more story by John Updike, so help me God I will cancel my subscription immediately.

Sincerely,
Doug LeMoine

The year was 1999. I had been driven to what I saw as the brink — of patience! of sanity! — by the New Yorker’s incessant publishing of Updike’s fiction, which seemed (to me) not only incessant, but over-stylized, nauseatingly East Coast-ish, maudlin, wooden. No matter my mood, I found it insufferable and insulting, tone-deaf when it came to anything but older white guys. I don’t like to speak ill of the departed, so I’ll stop there and I’ll admit that I’ve softened in the meantime. Updike’s literary criticism is — who can argue? — instructive and insightful. He knew his stuff, and I felt enriched (sometimes grudgingly so) when I read his reviews.

With regard to the aforementioned letter, my hand was forced almost immediately. Updike had published something like 25,000 stories in the New Yorker to that point, so I might as well have told John Henry to stop driving steel, or for Jerry Garcia to stop jamming. By the time my letter was fluttering into David Remnick’s trashcan, I was already being forced to make good on my threat, a task that was ultimately embarrassing in its cold, bureaucratic execution. Contrary to any engaged reader’s conception of the publisher-reader relationship, when you say “I’d like to cancel my subscription,” they don’t transfer you to the desk of the editor so that you can ream him a new one. You hear a few keystrokes, and then get asked if there’s anything else you need help with.

Upon reflection, this experience was a life lesson in itself. Mr. Updike, I thank you, and I wish you well.

Renaming Bush Street - San Francisco - Pranksters after the inauguration

Okay, one last political thing. In the wee hours before yesterday’s inauguration, a genius prankster named Alex Zecca reportedly covered every “Bush” street sign from downtown to the Marina with a sticker that said “Obama.” I heard about it when I got into work, but missed the chance to see it for myself. Luckily, Vanessa Naylon saw it happen. Awesome.

Last Friday, we improvised a parlor game during a visit to Sarah’s parents’ East Bay homestead. They’ve got tons of books on California history, including a gem called California Place Names: The Origin and Etymology of Current Geographical Names by one Erwin Gudde, a Cal professor and friend of Sarah’s fam. There wasn’t much “game” to the game; someone shouted out a city or county or river name, and then we all offered theories about its origin before flipping to its entry in the book and reading aloud.

A sample. Yosemite:

From the Southern Sierra Miwok yohhe’ meti or yosse’ meti [meaning] “they are killers,” derived from yoohu– [meaning] “to kill,” evidently a name given to the Indians of the valley by those outside it ... Edwin Sherman claimed discovery of the valley in the spring of 1850, naming it “The Devil’s Cellar.” In March of 1851, it was entered by the Mariposa Battalion and named at the suggestion of LH Bunnell: “I then proposed that we give the valley the name of Yo-sem-i-ty, as it was suggestive, euphonious, and certainly American; that by so doing, the name of the tribe of Indians which we met leaving their homes in this valley, perhaps never to return, would be perpetuated.”

There’s so much information in here that it’s hard to know where to start, but (1) Yes, majestic wilderness should be called things like “they are killers.” This should be a requirement for any place that is rugged and majestic and awe-inspiring. What words can match landscapes like these? Those that involve violent death, for starters. (2) I can guess at why were the Indians leaving, “perhaps never to return,” but this seems like a detail that should be, say, expanded. (3) The “y” at the end, for my money, makes more sense. It was replaced by an “e” in 1852 by a Lt. Tredwell Moore. No explanation is given as to why; the implication is, why not? More on Yosemite here, but the whole book is pretty great.

Obama inauguration - Washington Mall

It appears to have been attended primarily by ants. Thx, Chris. From GeoEye.

Jesse Jackson mentioned that he had expected Rev. Joseph Lowery to end the benediction with a “stemwinder.” What’s a stemwinder? Well, apparently, it’s a old-timey term used to describe “a rousing political speech.” (Jesse was right, too).

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right.

Personally, I thought this was a nice way to playfully deflate the pomp, and to test the strictures of political correctness, but the folksy tone seems to have tweaked the guys I watched on Fox News a few minutes ago.1 It’s probably worthwhile to note that Lowery was referencing (at the very least) an old blues standard, Big Bill Broonzy’s “Black, Brown, and White”  — though the lyrics of the song likely have roots and references elsewhere.

I went to an employment office,
Got a number ‘n’ i got in line
They called everybody’s number,
But they never did call mine
They said, “if you was white, should be all right,
If you was brown, could stick around,
But as you black, hmm brother, get back, get back, get back“
I hope when sweet victory,
With my plough and hoe
Now i want you to tell me brother,
What you gonna do about the old jim crow?
Now if you was white, should be all right,
If you was brown, could stick around,
But if you black, whoa brother, get back, get back, get back

Considering that Rev. Lowery has been there since the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement — he helped to lead the Montgomery Bus Boycott — I think he’s earned the benefit of the doubt (at the very least) when it comes to winding stems. (And as I was writing this, his Wikipedia entry was updated to note that the concluding words were “part of a civil rights chant that Lowery has included in many speeches over the years,” linking to a couple of speeches in which he has used the same conclusion).

1 Also, some people are peeved about “white will embrace what is right;” most seem to interpret an insulting insinuation that “white” has not done so yet. I assume these people are themselves white. And that they take everything very, very personally.

Obama personal responsibility

President–elect Obama:

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

...

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America’s birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

“Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].”

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Read the whole dang thing. It’s just as impressive in text as it was in voice.

I’ve always been fascinated by Lost, the intricately-plotted TV series about the survivors of a plane crash. On the surface, it’s a new-fangled Gilligan’s Island meets The Bridge of San Luis Rey. The goal is simply to get off the island, and the story of doing so is advanced in parallel with flashbacks that tell the stories of the characters. But the writers go way bigger than that, and after four seasons the story has woven threads of Lord of the Flies (in the way that social systems develop among the survivors), The Prisoner (in the discovery of a mysterious group of people living on the island, known as “the Others”) The X-Files (in the occasional supernatural events), and Rashomon (in its use of overlapping flashbacks and contested testimonies) — among, I’m sure, others.

With all that is going on in the story, I’ve always wondered how the producers keep track of the various threads. Well, as it turns out, there’s a person called “script coordinator” who is in charge of this. Gregg Nations, Lost’s script coordinator, described his role in a post to The Fuselage, described as “The Official Site of the Creative Team Behind ABC’s Award Winning TV Show Lost:”

A script coordinator creates the show bible, which is generally a summary of each episode and tracks the introduction of any new characters or important story points. However, on “Lost” it’s a little more difficult than usual. In place of a show bible I created a character bible, an island timeline and a flashback timeline.

In the character bible I track important facts about the characters or other elements in the show established in the episodes, either through what the characters tell each other or the flashbacks. I track how many survivors we have, who has died and their names, when we’ve seen the polar bears or the smoke monster, everything about the hatch, when we’ve had contact with the Others, etc. Again, it’s very detailed work but I think the writers appreciate having all that information at hand in a document so they don’t have to worry about it.

The island timeline is a record of how many days they’ve been on the island and what happened on what days. The flashback timeline tracks the events that happen in everyone’s flashblacks.

So, the next question is: How the heck does he manage all of those bibles and timelines? Needing to visualize interconnected timelines, you’d think that he’d use something like a Gantt chart — maybe Microsoft Project? Or maybe he has some proprietary TV production software that links the timelines with character information? As it turns out, his system is a little more low-fi. In a recent profile in the NYT, Nations briefly alludes to his methods for managing the details:

Had he a background in computer science, Mr. Nations now says, he might have approached the “Lost” project differently. “The best thing would have been to create a database where everything’s linked, and if we’re talking about Jack and what was established in his first flashback episode, you could click on something that takes you there,” he said. But as an accountant, he was more inclined just to make notes in a ledger. “I’ve just created these Word documents, and I just write everything down.”

Nooooooooo. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Even the fan-generated Lost wiki, Lostpedia, is linked up in a rudimentary way, making it roughly 1000x more wrangle-able than disconnected Word documents. Still, like any Lost fan, I’m curious to know what’s in the “bible,” even if it would be torturous to find anything.

The Bilastrator has coined a new term: “Game pressure.” During last weekend’s Kansas-Tennessee game, ESPN analyst Jay Bilas repeatedly said that Kansas players were feeling “game pressure” when they stepped to the free throw line. Game pressure? As opposed to ... practice pressure? As opposed to other kinds of pressure that you’d feel during a big game? Or a nationally-televised game? Game pressure? That’s the best that you’ve got?

Now, I was going to let this go, because I think I know what he means: “Game pressure” sounds like a specific kind of pressure that can’t be replicated outside of a game. Young teams, perhaps, are particularly vulnerable to it because they haven’t been in as many ... games. Anyway, I was going to let it go until Bilas referred to Kansas guard Sherron Collins as “Lawson-esque” (as in North Carolina guard Tywon Lawson) and then predicted that Tyler Hansbrough will again be the national player of the year.

You mean Lawson is “Collins-esque,” right?

Where was Lawson in the Final Four? I’ll tell you: He was getting killed by Collins. If Collins played in the ACC, he’d be getting compared to Chris Paul. (I think he’s more like Vinnie “the Microwave” Johnson). On that note, I hope that Bob Knight is going to break up the ACC-loving commentary cabal at ESPN. From the couple of games I’ve seen, he is made for TV. And he speaks to basketball fans, not just fans of the ACC. He’s not afraid to say unpopular things; not a surprise. He’s also likely to compare current players to non-ACC players (such as his Indiana players from the 70’s), and he’s completely at ease in dissing other talking heads. Is there some way that I can get his commentary on every game? Please?

Aldrich rips the ball away from Hansbrough
Aldrich ruled Hansbrough in the Final Four. “But he just works so hard.” Other athletic centers rule him regularly. “He doesn’t take possessions off.” The argument against him being player of the year is so strong; it seems almost silly to carry it out. Photo: Getty Images

I’ve got no real beef with Psycho T, as Hansbrough is known, but he is not the best player in the country. How could he be? Whenever he plays against anyone big and athletic, he gets killed. Yes, he brings it every night; yes, he leaves it all on the court. Dickie V loves it. All the older commentators love it. Who doesn’t love a kid who plays hard every minute he’s on the court? I love it. He’s like Nick Collison. Nick Collison was awesome, but he was not the player of the year, was he? Would anyone argue that he was, other than hopeless Kansas loyalists? He was a good player on a great team. Like Hansbrough, now. Collison’s problem was that he didn’t play for the most visible program in the most over-hyped conference in the country. If Hansbrough played at Texas, he’d get compared to Collison all the time, and he’d be the feel-good choice for the Naismith. If only.

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