Spielberg and Almodovar

There are two directors I avoid like the plague: Steven Spielberg and Pedro Almodovar.

For Spielberg, I liked the Indiana Jones films and the Animaniacs, but beyond that, Spielberg has proved himself not much more than a perveyor of trite sentiment. When he thinks that he needs to make some grand and bold statement is when he gets into trouble. Schindler's List was such a pile of doo doo that I did not even bother with Saving Private Ryan. I can say with nearly 99% confidence that it, too, was a big pile of doo doo (technical term) that does nothing but serve to the sentiments of boomers. Yawn. Better things to do with my time.

As for Almodovar, I remember really wanting to see Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. The preview made it look great, with a lot of sight gags and so on. Unfortunately all the sight gags were in the preview, and were set up as surprises, so by the time you got to the film, it was ruined.

Almodovar made a film that featured a bullfighter. Sorry, Pedro, but the world of toros y toreros is one that you are not predisposed to understand. I do not care to see the camp version of torear. I hate camp. Disco deserves to die, too, but that is another story.

Certainly I have huge moral qualms about Almodovar and his world view, but I can overlook those if there is genuine art there. Truth is truth, beauty is beauty, even if the artist is handicapped in seeing it all himself.

The moment that I really turned against Almodovar, by which I mean not just as a matter of "oh, he's just a schlocky director who titilates liberals with his silly campy crap" but as a matter of "I must avoid this man, because I don't think that I could be civil to him" was when I read an interview of him. He was talking about how much he liked the world of women and how he was bored by the men who "sat around drinking wine, smoking and talking about politics."

Pedro! This is the supreme joy of Mediterranean life. And frankly, if you are not going to talk about politics, quit whining that you are suppressed. You ought to be suppressed, you whiny mama's boy! At least the films. Yuck.

Anyway, what got this started was the email that the NY Times sends me every day with the headlines. In the magazine section there is a piece on Almodovar. Here is the teaser:

Pedro Almodóvar has sanctified society's transgressors, rescued Spanish surrealism and liberated international cinema. This feature includes a slide show of actresses who have appeared in Almodóvar's films.

Sorry, but sanctifying transgressors is bad. He did not "rescue" Spanish surrealism (maybe the ghost of Bunuel needs to beat him up, something that the ghost of Bunuel would definitely do), and, pray tell, what did he "liberate" international cinema from? Intelligence? Art?

If anything Almodovar has shackled Spanish cinema to the same quaint liberalism and pointless hedonism that threatened to destroy French and Italian cinema a few years back.

Let me tell you this: in a hundred years, the films of this turkey will be completely forgotten, but they will still be watching Fellini.

The Hackberry Ramblers

Last night our local public television station aired John Whitehead's documentary on the Hackberry Ramblers, the trailblazing Cajun band (first band to record "Jolie Blonde" under that name, first amplified Cajun band, etc.) that still is going strong 71 years after Luderin Darbone and Edwin Duhon put it together in a utility building (they were banned from using the Darbone living room as a rehearsal space). It was a good documentary with a good blend of interviews, footage, and shots of rural Louisiana.

Darbone and Duhon are still in the band (both are in their 90's now) and are still close friends. Ben Sandmel, the young fellow who plays drums, as well as manages the band, produces their new records, and hauls the heavy stuff around, has a duty that is quite unusual for a band manager. Whenever the Ramblers travel, he has to find the schedule for masses at the local Catholic church, as Darbone has not missed a daily mass since 1957! Refreshingly the documentary did not portray Darbone's piety as some strange abberation, rather as a source of strength (I met the director when he was interviewing Chris Strachwitz at Arhoolie, and he did seem like a decent guy).

Recently the Ramblers have had some great times, with lots of touring (including European tours), appearances on the Grand Ole Opry, the New Orleans Jazz Festival, and MTV, National Heritage Awards, and general acclaim. Last year Arhoolie released a disc of their first recordings, taken from 78's, which is a great record.

Anyway, I highly recommend the music of the Hackberry Ramblers (you can find their best stuff on the Arhoolie website) and if you have a chance to see the documentary, it is definitely worth an hour of your time. I have no idea how well distributed it is, as it was on a KQED program that features the work of independent film makers, so may have just aired locally this time.

Goya postponed

I did not finish the Goya book this week, as I ended up getting caught up in Fellini's 8 1/2, which is possibly the best look at artistic indecision ever made. Until this week I had only seen the film once since I bought the DVD a few months ago(although I had seen it many times before). But I made up for it with about 5 viewings (only one a complete, start to finish viewing, however). I still love this film and will probably watch it through once again this week.

However, Melanie is getting sick of my humming, so I will probably have to give it a rest for a little bit, at least until the great Nino Rota score is out of my head. Also, my late night reading hours don't like being neglected and tend to rebel. I find myself waking at hideous hours with an itch to dig into a novel. I can only succumb to such an itch once in a week, or I get way too sleep deprived (reading late at night is dangerous for me, since I have "one more chapter then back to bed" syndrome).

So, no review of the whole Goya book, just yet. And, to tell the truth, I am not really interested in writing about 8 1/2 right now. I have some big questions about the work, and writing would have to get into those, and that would require too much other reading and watching and I simply do not have the time, unless I am being paid (ah, the crassness of it all, for love of filthy lucre!). So, if you want my essay on 8 1/2, make an offer.

Goya, I'll rant about for free.