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Friday, October 13, 2000

DAVID FOSTER WALLACE - INFINITE JEST
1088 pages. 304 endnotes. one would think that within a book of this length you'd be able to find all of the answers, cf. the holy bible, which, incidentally, it's longer than. while still reading the book, i commented that i got the feeling that the book was building to some immense conclusion. but it never happened, and i've come to realize that that's the magic of this particular novel and why it'll never be an oprah "book of the month" selection: there is no grand emotional climax and you're not fed all of the answers; the mysteries of infinite jest transcend the page and are grappled with in the imagination.

now i'll foolishly attempt a plot synopsis, bear with me: most action in infinite jest takes place in the very near future, in the year of the depend adult undergarment, which calculations indicate is approximately 2008. oh, about that year name, in this future, year sponsorship is sold to the highest bidder and the money goes to the government, who in turn use the money to make up for the funds lost when the nation was reconfigured and the great concavity was formed. nation reconfigured? what? well, virulent toxic waste was "discovered" in new york and new england, near the canadian border and the area, needless to say, had to be evacuated. that area became the great concavity, a virtual wasteland where giant feral infants (or hamsters) were said to roam free.

in the town of enfield, mass., there exists a tennis academy, founded by the late james o. incandenza, optics specialist and, later, apres-garde filmmaker, and a halfway house called ennett house. at the enfield tennis academy, many of the youngsters are getting high and dream of making "the show, a term for the professional tennis tour, and at ennett house, the inhabitants are getting clean and dream of making it back "out there," their term for the outside world. the lives of the residents of both of these institutions are paralleled and eventually intersect, particularly the lives of hal incandenza, 16 year-old tennis whiz and son of the late founder, and don gately, a reformed burglar who's now live-in staff at ennett house. in the opening pages of the novel, hal mentions the name of gately before we even know who he is. (i should mention that the book is not in chronological order; cantilevered would be a better way to describe it.)

the book features, literally, a cast of thousands -- precocious tennis aces, grizzled a.a. vets, wheelchair-bound terrorists, transvestite coke-addicts, to name a few -- and all of their lives are intertwined in a search for what is called "the entertainment," a film allegedly made by james incandenza and one that is considered to be lethally entertaining. in a way, it's highly reminiscent of paul thomas anderson's magnolia -- but with enough macabre twists to suggest the film as directed by david lynch -- in which a number of characters find their lives' paths crossing: a line from that film, "we may be through with the past, but the past isn't through with us" is applicable infinite jest, in which everyone's past seems to come back to haunt them.

the book, when boiled down to its essence, is about addiction, and particularly america's addiction to its addictions, a country who could very likely be undone by its inability to say "no." in its pages, you'll find people addicted to pot, crack, prescription meds, television, sports, gambling, sex, and much more. as i've said before, it's incredibly ironic that i found myself addicted to this book, taking the unwieldy thing with me onto the subway and into work. it's a very sad novel, but not one that'll make you cry (and i've seen the book get bad reviews because of just that). the characters in infinite jest are, by and large, emotionally spent; they're burnt-out. when you're finished with the book, hopefully, wallace will have conveyed to you the sadness of our current existence and our spiritual emptiness as a nation, which i think is far more profound than manipulating you into crying over a character's death or some such.

the set-up is masterful, as with each new page, we discover a new relation between two characters that we never knew existed or a character mentioned very early on in the novel reappears later. wallace exhibits absolute mastery in his ability to make the language bend to his wishes: his vocabulary and structure are incredible, and he comes across as all-knowing in whatever he discusses, be it television, tennis, or mathematics. some might find the endnotes to be pretentious, but they do serve an important function. sure, we could do without some, but it would just clutter the story to place, for example, james incandenza's filmography into the middle of the novel.

the book is both the fastest and longest 1100 pages i've ever read. the story is so engrossing that you lose track of the time, but on the other hand, he tends to make use of every available space on every page so that they often resemble big rectangles of words. the philosophy i employed while reading the book can be summed up as, "one page at a time," a paraphrase of one of the a.a. slogans mentioned in the book. if you view it as "1 page down, 1087 to go," you'll drive yourself mad; just enjoy each page as it comes. some might say that no book needs to be 1088 pages long, but very few words here are wasted -- if you got rid of more than, say, 200 pages, it'd be to the book's detriment.

and yet, with all of those pages, one can't help but think, once they've finished, that it could stand to be longer, that there's still so much that could be explained like, "what happened in the year or so between the novel's end and its beginning?" there's a part of everyone, i think, that calls out for that, and if you're someone who doesn't like having ends untied and plots unresolved, then infinite jest is not for you. infinite jest becomes a book that exists off of the written page, one that will make you wonder about the lives of its characters long after you've completed the book. too many pieces of art are easily forgotten after one turns off the stereo or leaves the theater or closes its pages, affecting you for the moment but ultimately fading away into the recesses of your mind. infinite jest is a book that will get under your skin if you let it, and it will also reward you greatly when you complete it. and you will: just take it a page at a time.
-fred solinger | steal this link!

Thursday, October 12, 2000

U2 - ALL THAT YOU CAN'T LEAVE BEHIND
it's a sad thing to see rock stars get old. the rule seems to be that, as an artist gets older, their output becomes less and less interesting: this suggests that their best ideas were used up in their youth. case in point, the other day i was in the store and saw that the bamboozled soundtrack had a new song by prince. there was a time when this was cause for a small celebration and i would've ended up buying the cd on the spot, if only for that song. well, thankfully, we now have these things called "listening towers." prince is the perfect example of an artist who, while still releasing a good tune now and then, will never be the as vital as he was years ago. and this revelation, it ages you as well because you can remember a time when the artist was important.

u2 have been another example of this phenomenon. every time they ready a new release, i get caught up in the attendant hype. when bono and the guys talk about the songs, they just make them sound so damn good and this wipes from my memory the fact that they haven't made a good album since achtung baby. needless to say, going on almost ten years now, i've been a disappointed u2 fan. as far as i'm concerned, u2 isn't about irony or electronica or what have you. what's worse than just getting old is when an artist hopelessly claws for relevancy by jumping on a trend instead of just being who they are. if it's good enough to have gotten them to where they are, why not stick with it?

the success of u2 was a triumph of passion and populism, of anger and attitude. as they grew older, the anger started to wear off, as anger usually does, and was replaced by what one hesitantly calls a religious fervor, typified by the joshua tree album. the press has been heralding all that you can't leave behind as a "back-to-basics" u2 album. in interviews, bono et. al have been pushing the same. "beautiful day," a boisterous single recalling past hits like "pride," gave me hope that maybe, this time, it wouldn't be just hype. i did go in with lowered expectations -- "fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me," after all -- but i'm very pleased, and shocked, to inform you that all that you can't leave behind is an excellent album.

the album begins with "beautiful day" and it's a great opener: an anthemic chorus, the edge's screaming guitar, the explosive rhythm section, and bono's ardent delivery set the tone for the rest of the album. the opening four tracks are easily as good as any opening quartet i've heard this year: there's "beautiful day"; the loping, flat-out fun of "elevation"; "walk on" with its plangent tones and heart-rending yearning; and "stuck in a moment" which is gracefully soulful. what made u2 great in the past also makes these songs great: it's the sound of a band on the same page, showing strong commitment and devotion to what they're doing and just writing and playing exceedingly well. (and, when i say "band," i mean to include brian eno and daniel lanois. the combined efforts of the participants proves that, without each other, they're nothing.)other highlights include "kite" with its cool sounds and relaxed guitars; the effortless lilt of "in a little while"; the impassioned indignance of the majestic "when i look at the world."

i've used a multitude of synonyms for the word "passionate" in this review, and i do believe that that's a good sign for this album. as i've said above, i believe that u2 is at its best when they have a clear vision and are dedicated to it. all that you can't leave behind is a very adult album -- in this case, "adult" not being a synonym for "pornographic. one could argue that there music has always been "adult," just that, in the past, it had been performed by young men. the themes seem to be ones near and dear to bono's heart and it's refreshing to see an older band not making concessions to the youth market.

"grace," a meditative and hymn-like tune, closes the album, an album which starts off with a bang and ends with a whisper. the word "grace" could be applied to the project as a whole as every aspect of the album is executed with just that, grace. u2 have returned to let us know that they can still rock, can still deliver the big ballad, and are still masters of the grand statement. threatened by being consumed by their past and forgotten by the present, with their new album, u2 haven proven that they are one thing that we should not leave behind.
-fred solinger | steal this link!

Wednesday, October 11, 2000

the triumph of radiohead: drawing parallels between u2 and radiohead isn't a difficult thing; wasn't a difficult thing, rather: the bends showed that radiohead had a penchant for arena-rock and for making the grand statement a la bono & the boys. after the massive word-of-mouth that surrounded ok computer, i theorized that radiohead was in the same position as u2 right before the joshua tree, i.e. on the cusp of stardom.

when the billboard ratings are announced tomorrow, radiohead, with 209,000 albums sold, will be at the #1 position: with that amount of sales, they're not so far off the numbers posted last week by boy-band 98 degrees. the album is a departure from their earlier work and has left more than a few fans scratching their heads. was it the marketing plan -- not releasing a video or single from the album -- that made the album a success? or was it the significant buzz around the band? is it both? reviews for the album have been mixed and decidely restrained, by and large: does this 209,000 represent the major radiohead fans who've been waiting with bated breath for its release? or has the general public bought into the hype? for the answers to all these questions and more, tune in next week when we discover what kind of sales drop-off kid a experiences!
-fred solinger | steal this link!

my God: i didn't even know this until now. on saturday, richard farnsworth, most recently the star of david lynch's the straight story, eighty years old and suffering from terminal cancer ended his pain with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. his performance in the straight story was one of the best i've seen in recent times. may he rest in peace.
-fred solinger | steal this link!

Tuesday, October 10, 2000

ROBBIE WILLIAMS - SING WHEN YOU'RE WINNING
introducing: robbie williams! he sings! he dances! he makes an ASS out of himself! the robbie is here to entertain you and to do so, he comes equipped with songs in every style imaginable. like to rock? robbie's your man! want a good weepie? he'll pluck a song from the heavens and make you cry! fancy a dance? robbie delivers! touch his bum and he'll say something cheeky! not enough? plug him in for real FLESH-TEARING ACTION! robbie: let HIM entertain you.

robbie williams seems to be scientifically-engineered for maximum entertainment. he appeals to broad demographics: he's an older, more dangerous alternative to the backstreet boys and/or 'nsync (though, strangely enough, he's younger than members of both) for the young girls; older girls might like him for the same reason, but also because he has personality; and he's safe for indie-kids because he, like, gets the joke and always has at least one clever line or two per song. his songs create an immediate impact, which is perfect for these times when most people would like to believe that they're too busy to "get" most of what's out there and they're too intelligent to listen to pop music.

following up on the success of his the ego has landed cd in this country, robbie releases sing when you're winning which is more of the same. coincidentally enough, both albums are top-heavy, each beginning to peter out near the middle-end which probably corresponds to the attention spans of most people -- another brilliant, though possibly unknowing, stroke of marketing. the best tracks are largely found on the album's first half: "let love be your energy" is a brilliant and skyscraping opener with robbie singing like he means it; "better man" which supposedly came about when robbie asked the spirit of john lennon to inhabit him: possibly bullshit since lennon, late in his life, rarely released anything of this caliber and i doubt he'd just give it away; "rock dj" does just that with its cod-rapping and great beat (and that video!); "supreme" with its smart steal from "i will survive"; "kids" with kylie minogue is trashy, sleazy rawk fun in the "let me entertain you vein" but funkier; and "if it's hurting you": neil young for people who don't like neil young.

after that, highlights are hard to find but that doesn't mean it's still not an entertaining stretch, just less entertaining than the beginning. "love calling earth" is the type of ballad george michael used to release in his sleep, and it's the song that makes you stop and think and then possibly say: "wow, robbie williams is the new george michael." there's enough to back it up: both started out in boy bands, both worship elton john, both have wide-ranging tastes, and many speculate that, like george, robbie is also gay. the main difference between the two is that robbie has a palpable sense of humor, something that we didn't see from george until it was drawn out of him by that bathroom incident.

people have judged robbie on his personality alone: for some, it makes them music more; others dismiss it entirely. in this country, where robbie has yet to break big time, we're able to judge him on just the music alone, by and large. so if you consider yourself a pop fan, step up to robbie williams and -- wait for it -- let him entertain you!
-fred solinger | steal this link!

Monday, October 9, 2000

today is columbus day: yes, it is. today, we, as a country, come together and celebrate columbus' epochal discovery of san salvador. why do we do this? good question. is it that we don't want to correct scholars of the past who thought he actually did discover america? maybe. is the government, for whom today is a day off, reticent to retract a holiday? most likely, yes.

taking it from a new-york-centric point of view, we have a parade here. it's mostly a celebration of italians. if the holiday were deleted, they'd see it as an affront. i mean, after all, why is there a st. patrick's day parade? why do the irish get their own special day? perhaps i'm just bitter because i don't have the day off -- though, admittedly, half-empty subway trains are never a bad thing -- but if anyone can really tell me why we still celebrate columbus day, why, i'll make ye me bride.
-fred solinger | steal this link!

THE WHO - MADISON SQUARE GARDEN - 10/7/00
in a spoken intro to "bargain," pete townshend spoke about how stupid it was to pay so much fucking money to see the who play, but he hoped that, by night's end, the audience would've felt like they got a bargain. the whole time, i'm standing there, snickering to myself about the irony of the situation. see, i had gotten my first work-related perk: free tickets to the show, so, yes, it was indeed a bargain. the who surprisingly rocked me harder than i'd ever have imagined. but, first, there were opening acts to sludge through.

the first act was a british band named unamerican who strike me as one of those bush/bbmak sorts who achieve more fame here than in their native land: the fact that they have the word "american" in their name seems to confirm that. they played straight-ahead, meat-and-potatoes rock in the oasis vein. the first song had a good riff but the rest of what followed was lost in a haze of guitars, drum, & bass. by the time they hit their third song, i found myself saying, "bring on the wallflowers!" words i never thought would pass my lips.

and, yes, the wallflowers were next. this tour had started off as a classic rock fan's dream: the who with the black crowes & jimmy page. that is, until page threw out his back and the wallflowers took their place. the wallflowers are very classic rock in their own way: they're like bruce springsteen without "born to run" or the songwriting chops, meaning well-intentioned, innocuous mid-tempo rockers. my theory is this: if you're going to have to sit through an opening act, they might as well be an inoffensive band like the wallflowers. playing live doesn't seem to be their thing and the tunes from the new album suggest that i won't be picking up my first wallflowers album come tuesday, but they thankfully kept it brief and their hits passed the time.

when the who took the stage, you knew that this was a legendary band. comparing the stage demeanors of the three bands that played that evening, you could tell which one would be considered historic. certainly i made jokes about the old boys hitting the road again, each new concert tour supposedly their last, and, if i hadn't received the tickets free, i wouldn't have gone, but it was a great show nonetheless.

some background: the who aren't one of my favorite bands ever, though they do have a handful of kick-ass tunes and certainly had enough material to make a two-hour show enjoyable. my main problems with the band is that they're a great rock band but townshend didn't seem content to merely rock: he had to get into rock operas and "experimentation." beyond that, the man never struck me as a great songwriter: every song seems to be written in the same key and they're not very distinguished, on the whole. nevertheless, i was primed for an evening of nostalgia and, above all, RAWK.

first off, i must say that roger daltrey has kept himself in good shape. the last arena show i'd seen was page & plant several years ago, and i don't think i need to get into how robert plant's range has declined. he hit all of the notes and then some. he did his mic twirling, townshend did his windmills, entwhistle -- the who's charlie watts -- looked on stoically, and zak starkey played the drums very capably, if not exactly making anyone forget keith moon.

the setlist was about as good as it could be, though i wouldn't have minded shortening "5:15" and making room for "i can see for miles" and/or "love, reign o'er me." the two highlights, as far as i concerned, were my two favorite who songs: "baba o'riley" and "won't get fooled again." "baba" was absolutely perfect: the band gave off the feeling that they knew they had written an anthem with the song and that it was a classic but played it with a gusto that didn't suggest that they'd played the songs a million times in their career. "won't get fooled again" was nearly as good, with daltrey nailing his scream near song's end. both songs changed my way of thinking about the who a bit. on record, i'd believed that townshend's ideas about rock uniting people and saving the world were naive and done in a pretentious manner. hearing them live, though, in an arena with people clapping and dancing and singing along, lighters aloft, i thought that maybe he was onto something.

their reputation as a great live band was proven that night, as songs that i never particularly cared for (e.g. "bargain," "my wife") sounded great. all of this isn't to say that the night went off without a hitch. "5:15," as i said above, went on for too long. yes, entwhistle's bass solo was fast, but it only worked if you could *see* it: his solo on the closing "my generation" sounded much better. during the night, they were prone to self-indulgence, but i couldn't hold it against them. they've entertained people for so long that i think they deserve the right to enjoy themselves on stage. sure, it would've been nice if they avoided "my generation" the way page & plant kept away from "stairway," but they had fun with it and i think that came across. it was the last night of their tour and, despite townshend's negative reactions to a few bad reviews, i think it was a successful one for them. they played with a vigor that belied their age and showed that they weren't just in it for the money, a la another british invasion-era band whose name i'm sure you don't need me to mention, but i'll say "the rolling stones" anyway. if there's a "next time," and there very well may be, perhaps i'll pay to see them! perhaps.

setlist:
I Can't Explain
Substitute
Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
Relay
My Wife
Baba O'Riley
Bargain
Don't Know Myself
Behind Blue Eyes
Pinball Wizard
The Real Me
You Better You Bet
Who Are You
5:15
Won't Get Fooled Again

Encore:
Magic Bus
The Kids Are Alright
My Generation
-fred solinger | steal this link!

BAMBOOZLED - dir. spike lee
i can't remember where i read this, but this particular article put forth that no working director has more good ideas than spike lee...however, no director has as many bad ideas as him, either. spike lee is a provocateur: whether one agrees with his politics or even believe he makes good films, one must agree that he's never less than thought-provoking. i saw bamboozled over the weekend and, while i enjoyed it and think it's his best film in some time now, it still suffered from the unevenness that's plagued his last several films.

bamboozled is the story of a network writer who goes by the dubious name, pierre delacroix (damon wayans). as played by wayans, delacroix is a caricature: he's a harvard-educated man who, by all indications, is ashamed of his background and therefore changes his name and speaks in a ridiculous pseudo-french accent: he is what most people would call a "sell-out." delacroix becomes angered that none of his shows -- shows all about the black middle-class -- are getting anywhere. his white boss (michael rappaport, the actor called in when one wants a white guy to play "street"), married to a black wife with two biracial children and posters of black athletes covering his walls, demands that delacroix write something "black." delacroix decides that he wants out, but the only way that can happen is if he's fired. his solution? write something that's so offensive and so out there that the network has no choice but to can him.

the result: "mantan: the new millennium minstrel show," featuring two street performers, manray (savion glover) and womack (tommy davidson). the catch: everyone on the show will perform in blackface, except the cast will be all african-americans. imagine delacroix and his assistant's (played by jada pinkett-smith) surprise when the boss loves the idea and orders up twelve episodes. the show becomes a big hit and delacroix, initially upset, starts to revel in his success despite his assistant's pleas for some sanity. understandably, the nation is torn: the show inspires a blackface trend but is boycotted by al sharpton and johnnie cochrane. in particular, the show is despised by a "political" rap group called the mau maus led by big blak africa (mos def) who, ironically, tried out for the show. i'll stop here to keep from spoiling the rest of the film.

so who is lee taking shots at?

- most obviously, the wb and upn.
- "in living color"
- capitalism.
- a nation not willing to give serious black shows a chance.
- african-americans not willing to give black shows a chance.
- hypocritical rappers.
- white people who think degrees in african-american studies or being married to a black person or having black friends mean they have a unique understanding of african-americans.
- tommy hilfiger
- advertisers
- people who'd do anything for money.
- people who criticize others for making money.

at the heart of bamboozled lies this question: what is black? is black "the wayans brothers"? is black "the cosby show"? is it neither? delacroix's father is played by paul mooney , on one end of the spectrum, as a nightclub comedian. he's a very funny man and someone who i'd believe wayans' character, on the other end of that spectrum, plays in to stereotypes. even if that is the case, he's realer than delacroix.

on "bamboozled," the show, there are three characters who are important to our understanding of the film and its message. there's mantan (glover) who, like his partner womack, was once homeless, but, until the very end, enjoys all of the advantages that money and fame bring him: he's willing to do anything in order to do that which he loves, dancing, and to get paid for it. womack ("sleep'n'eat" on the show), in a particularly moving scene and in stark contrast to his partner, is seen crying as he applies the blackface to himself, right before he quits: to him, money isn't worth his dignity. finally, there's honey-cutta: when we first meet him, it seems that he's homeless, as well, but he's much older than the other two. the show is his big break and enables him to make have something late in his life. he's more than happy to do whatever's required of him. just as you're ready to judge everyone on the show for getting involved with something so vile, the character of honey-cutta makes you stop and ask: but who am i to say what people can and can't do for money? with his talent, mantan could very likely find other work, though it's possible he's been typecast for good; womack doesn't seem to care what the alternatives are: he left for the good of his soul; and honey-cutta reminds you that there's a scarcity of roles out there for african-americans, even in this new millennium, and that sometimes you do what you must.

wrapping up, there are, i feel, two main faults to the story. though they were good for comic effect, the mau-maus, given their important role in the film, should've been played straighter in order for the film to have more of an impact (and to make more sense) in the end. secondly, delacroix shouldn't have been given an inner dialogue given the way his character was played. at times, it seemed that whatever he felt was insignificant, that he was all surface like patrick bateman in american psycho. yet, at the end, his feelings played an integral part in the movie. he came across as a cartoon and to have the film hinge on his emotions lessened the effect.

as i left the theatre, i remarked, "that's a lot to process" and, indeed, it is. bamboozled is a font of ideas and it's lee's angriest film since do the right thing: if it possessed that classic's focus, it would've been a masterpiece. despite these flaws, though, bamboozled is still a film to see, and better yet, discuss.
-fred solinger | steal this link!