Saturday, March 3, 2018

Natural Born Killers: 24 Year Retrospect

Natural Born Killers: 24 Year Retrospect








   I was talking to a friend at work about the fantastic soundtrack for the 1994 Oliver
Stone film “Natural Born Killers”. It occurred to me that I had not seen the film for quite
some time even though I own it. It hit theaters 2 years after I graduated high school. I
was in a transition period and preparing to move to Jacksonville from Southern Illinois
with my then fiance. I did not see it in the theater. I’m quite sure I either rented it from
the local video store or bought it outright probably through Columbia House or some
other such service.


   I was/am/always will be a lover of film. I’m probably not a good critic because I love
films so much that I rarely see the flaws and focus on things that connect with me in one
way or another. When I was a kid in Arizona, I spent some time with my cousins and
there was a summer movie program at the theater where kids could see movies
relatively cheaply. Arizona is hot. Theaters are dark and cool. That’s one thing. What kid
doesn’t love popcorn and soda and candy? Certainly I did. I remember seeing films with
my Great Grandmother Naomi and she would sneak in tons of goodies in her giant
bottomless blue bag. She, like my dad, usually fell asleep after the first 5 minutes or so.
I can honestly say I have never fallen asleep while watching a movie… in a theater.


   When my mother moved us to Golconda, Illinois the summer before I began high
school, I felt like I had dropped off the face of the earth. It was a town that lacked both a
cinema and a bookstore, two requirements for me. There was a theater in Paducah,
Kentucky, but that might as well have been the moon. I didn’t have a license… or a
vehicle, not to mention, we were dirt poor. I immediately began picking up odd jobs,
mostly mowing lawns, in an effort to save up for a used VHS player from the local pawn
shop. Mercifully, someone opened up a video store and pizza joint called Pudgy’s and I
signed my card and paid my dues. This process took over a year and it felt like an
eternity. When my wife and I traveled to Golconda from our home in Sarasota a few
years back, Pudgy’s still had VHS tapes. Many I recognized from multiple rentals.


   My hunger during this forced fast has never been satiated. I watch tons of films,
many multiple times. I have an extensive movie collection and my list of favorites is
constantly evolving. I have lost friendships arguing about films. Mostly, I can’t stand
the cynicism that people bring to films. Their lack of suspension of disbelief is
something I find galling. I am still bewildered why some people hate the film
Prometheus… or The Last Jedi… or many others (too numerous to mention) with
such vitriol.


    It especially bugs me when amateur critics can’t elucidate their points. Like Free Jazz,
there are some films that you have to bring something of yourself to the table. You have
to meet the artist halfway. Some “difficult” directors may require you to evolve to a
certain point so that you can understand their work. David Lynch was one of those for
me. His work didn’t gel with me at first. I was too stuck on linear narrative to get
everything I could from his films. I have evolved and I appreciate his output
tremendously. This is a case where a film doesn’t suck because you don’t get it. It
simply didn’t connect with you. Some people find this process tedious and pretentious
and that is why you have endless sequels to sure thing franchises. Safe bets put asses
in seats, money in pockets and popcorn in gullets.

   There is nothing wrong with that last part by the way. There are so many films that
serve so many differing purposes for wide and varied swaths of people. I loved
Kong: Skull Island. It was the epitome of a fun summer film.


   I didn’t approach it like it was Citizen Kane. I went in with the right mindset and left
with a big goofy grin on my face. Some films are fun. Some are dumb fun. Some are
smart fun. Some are educational. Some are artistic. Some are flawed masterpieces
and some are just plain masterpieces. Some films fail because they are marketed
poorly and aimed at the wrong audience. Some find success later as cult favorites.


   Natural Born Killers was controversial when it came out. I remember that. I feel
confident that at least some of the controversy was manufactured by Oliver Stone himself.

I remember a Greyhound Bus trip from Southern Illinois to Arizona to see my father one
Christmas when I was a junior in high school. I read Mario Puzo’s “The Fourth K” on the
journey. Read… more like devoured. I loved that book. I was aware of Puzo as the
novelist who wrote and co-adapted “The Godfather” novel and film.  The New York
Times called “The Fourth K” a , “a garrish comic book” which was fine by me. I loved
comic books. Still do. I bring this up because Puzo’s novel and the Oliver Stone film
“JFK” both came out around the same time. I saw the film in a Phoenix theater shortly
after it was released on December 20, 1991. That was enough to set off a virulent case
of JFK fever. If you have ever suffered from this malady you know that you have an
insatiable desire to find out everything you can about the most dramatic and tragic
event in American political history.

   I was fully on board. I was jacked in. Sadly, Mario Puzo died in 1999, but Oliver Stone
kept making films. His technique was to throw in a bit of everything in the soup pot of his
directorial choices. A lot of things worked. Some didn’t. He was always willing to go
further down the rabbit hole than I was willing to follow. He lost me with some of
the more outlandish conspiracy theories. He seemed to be more open minded than I
could be about controversial things. Recently, while watching the special features on
NBK, I was reminded of some of these bridges too far.


   Robert Downey jr. was brilliant in Natural Born Killers as the sleazy tabloid TV
journalist Wayne Gale. He was also struggling with his own demons in the form of
substance addiction. Drugs flowed freely on Oliver Stone’s sets. This is one of the
inherent flaws of the 60s and 70s mindset of free love and drugs. It’s all good until
someone has a bad trip… and Robert Downey Jr. was definitely on a bad trip. In
retrospect, it seems irresponsible to the nth degree to be handing out drugs to a
man who would be arrested 2 years later in April of 1996 for possession of heroin,
cocaine and an unloaded .357 Magnum. It’s a miracle that he didn’t become a statistic.
As per Oliver Stone’s role, let’s just say (to draw a parallel) I would have a hard time
reconciling with myself if I had done blow with John Belushi the night he died.


   Injuries on set are, for the most part, accidents. Sometimes they are avoidable.
Sometimes not. Sometimes they are the result of irresponsible actions taken by the
director or producers. There has been a focus on this recently.


   Francis Ford Coppola kept the cameras rolling during this scene in “Apocalypse, Now”.


   Martin Sheen had been celebrating his birthday by heavy alcohol consumption and
injured his hand by punching glass. That’s real blood you see on the sheets behind
him. All of this ended up in the actual film.


   Werner Herzog’s 1982 film “Fitzcarraldo” was plagued by accidents.


   Having a film crew on a paddle boat careening recklessly out of control in the rapids
of the Amazon River seems, well… reckless. The cinematographer split his hand open
and had to have it stitched closed without anesthesia.


   Many film enthusiasts (myself included) consider “Fitzcarraldo” a true masterpiece.
If you pressed them, some would admit that the obstacles encountered during filming
add to the allure. This leaves a giant question in my mind. Why are we able to look past
the sins of director’s like Coppola, Stone, Herzog and yet we single Quentin Tarantino
out for recklessness during the filming of “Kill Bill”? Changing morals? Different times?
It’s worth noting that Quentin Tarantino wrote the script for Natural Born Killers.


   This is the director Randall Miller (CBGB). During the filming of the Gregg Allman
biopic “Midnight Rider” a camera operator named Sarah Jones was killed when she was
struck by a train. This was not the first death on a film set, but Miller received the
dubious distinction of being the first filmmaker to serve time in prison for the death of a
member of his crew.



      Two camera operators were injured filming this scene. Both reportedly blamed
Oliver Stone.


   Oliver Stone came dangerously close to providing Charles Manson an alibi during
the special features of NBK. As someone who read “Helter Skelter” in high school, this
was a dividing point. This was not the first time Oliver Stone expressed controversial
positions and certainly won’t be the last. I am left of center politically and in some ways
how I feel about Oliver Stone is similar to how I feel about Bill Maher. For every single
point I find myself in agreement with Maher (or Stone) there are at least 3 others
where I differ… sometimes quite strongly.

   As a young man I felt that art shouldn’t have limits and shouldn’t be afraid of controversy.


  This is “Immersion” (more commonly known as “Piss Christ”) a 1987 photograph by
the artist and photographer Andres Serrano. This is one of the images (along with
works by Robert Mapplethorpe) cited by the arch conservative Jesse Helms, who was
head of the National Endowment for the Arts, in an effort to defund the NEA.

  I defended this work quite vociferously to anyone who would listen. I felt that there
were many meanings that could be derived from it (aside from the sacrilegious) and
that each was important. Nowadays, I feel like controversial art is important for one
main reason - it sparks discussion.


   The French satirical weekly magazine “Charlie Hebdo” published cartoons of the
Islamic prophet Muhammad. On January 7, 2015 two terrorists killed twelve members
of the staff. If I could sit down with Young Mike and have an intellectual discussion, I
would love to ask where he stands on artistic freedom in the wake of this horrible
atrocity? Certainly Old Mike doesn’t have an easy canned answer to this one.

   The best statement I can make is: I do not believe in censorship of art. However,
hate speech and those who put it forth in the world are quite sophisticated in masking
ideology as art.

   My old high school civics teacher Mr. Bramlett (R.I.P.) would say something like -
You are free to say and do anything, so long as you are prepared to accept the
consequences.

   During the special features of NBK, the superb actor Tommy Lee Jones refers
to Molière when discussing the film. Molière’s satires attracted criticisms from the
Catholic Church and moralists alike. It’s clear that he viewed NBK as a satire and
the critiques of the film to primarily originate from modern day regressives.

   My question when it comes to violence in films boils down to whether or not it
is necessary. For instance, if a film is made about King Leopold II, you should
expect to see some violence. If you are watching a film called “Fuzzy Wuzzy
Bear” it’s likely to expect minimal beheadings. These are, of course, two extreme
examples and the devil is always where the lines aren’t so easily drawn. A
filmmaker might defend the right  to play with the expectations of the audience.
I would throw my lot in as well. I would add the caveat that the commercial revenues
for the film will probably reflect to which degree this is executed.

   Statistically, we know that violence is down all around the world.


   Statistics don’t seem to trump our own personal experiences and are often
skewed by blaring headlines.


   This is “Guernica” a large oil painting by Pablo Picasso. It was completed in
June 1937. This work was designed as a response to the bombing of Guernica
during the Spanish Civil War.


   This is an image from “Pan’s Labyrinth” a 2006 film by Guillermo del Toro.
Many people consider this to be his masterpiece. It takes place in Spain during
the Franco era of postwar Spain. I find the violence to be extremely disturbing
and upsetting… and absolutely 100% necessary.


   This is a scene from a Looney Tunes cartoon involving Elmer Fudd and Daffy
Duck. Cartoon violence was never meant to be taken seriously. The injuries
suffered by the two hapless burglars in the perennial Christmas favorite “Home
Alone” would kill the average person deader than a Dickensian doornail.
Societally we look past cartoon violence, but there are those few who moralize
about it.


   This image is from the 1995 Jim Jarmusch film “Dead Man”. Jarmusch
exercised what’s called “Economy of Violence” to great effect in the film. There are
only a handful of violent scenes in the course of the narrative and because they do
not bludgeon us like say the Battle of Zion scene in The Matrix Revolutions, the
effect is that the scenes of violence carry weight and are even more shocking.

   Oliver Stone served in Vietnam. He made what many consider to be his
masterpiece“Platoon” from his experiences.


“Platoon” (1986) was the opener to Oliver Stone’s Vietnam trilogy along with 1989’s
“Born On The Fourth Of July” and the conclusion “Heaven & Earth” in 1993. Stone’s
generation (and his personal artistic output) are shaped by 4 events:

   1. The JFK assassination on November 22, 1963.
   2. The MLK Jr. assassination on April 4, 1968.
   3. The RFK assassination on June 6, 1968.
   4. The Kent State massacre on May 4, 1970.

   Right now, in America, we are having a discussion about violence. It’s really
about America’s gun culture and violence, but let’s concentrate on the tertiary
discussions for the moment. Those who don’t want to deal with the firearms issue
tend to focus on media (aka art) as being responsible for the rash of violence. They
tend to blame primarily films and video games.


   This is a photograph of John Lennon with his assassin Mark David Chapman. This
picture was taken 6 hours before Chapman fired 4 bullets into John Lennon on
December 4, 1980. He was clutching the 1951 J.D. Salinger novel “Catcher In The Rye”.


   On March 30, 1981 President Ronald Reagan was shot by John Hinckley Jr. who
had become obsessed with actress Jodie Foster after seeing her in the 1976
Martin Scorsese film “Taxi Driver”. In his hotel, Salinger’s “Catcher In The Rye”
was among a half dozen other books in his possession.


    On April 20, 1999, two students Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, entered Columbine
High School in Colorado heavily armed and murdered 12 of their fellow students
and a teacher before killing themselves.

    Both killers were fans of first person shooter games like “Doom” and listened to
Marilyn Manson. Games and music became a convenient scapegoat for the NRA
and their cronies in Congress.


    They were also fans of Oliver Stone’s “Natural Born Killers”.

   It is at this point that I would like to point out my personal belief that the
United States is unlikely to have a statistically higher number of mentally ill people
than any other country. Also, violent films and games are consumed all around the
world. I do agree that ratings systems should be shored up and enforced. I also
believe that increased spending on mental health services is part of a larger
solution. However, America has a real problem with the hypocrisy of Fake
Violence vs. Real Violence, and where we are willing to legislate one, we seem
unwilling or unable to deal with the other. Also, for the sake of argument, even if
disturbed individuals are stirred to violence by media, the reality is that they have
too easy access to weapons that can be used in mass killings. If we don’t deal with
that last fact, all the rest of it is ultimately useless. I have been voting for politicians
who support common sense gun safety legislation since that horrific day in 1999.


    On February 14, 2018 (Valentine’s Day) there was yet another mass shooting this
time at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. 17 were
murdered and 14 others were injured. This one was different in that the students
were roused to action and immediately began taking to social media and meeting
with politicians. We finally seem to have reached a tipping point and real action is
beginning to take shape.


   These students are heroes and deserve our support so that this truly happens…

#NeverAgain

Monday, January 8, 2018

The Evolution of My Portable Writing Bag


Writing Bag Mark I

I have been working on a novel called "The People's Republic of Retail" for four years and in that time I have completed four chapters. I work as a bookseller at B&N and the other day I came across a book called "Failed Writers". It scared the bejeezus out of me. I never give up, but sometimes I review the way I do things and "adjust" my methods and goals. I have a giant Toshiba Laptop at home that I affectionately refer to as "The Wedge". When I pack it away in my standard writing bag, along with various notebooks, stationary supplies, and other accouterments, I find myself wishing I could employ the services of a Sherpa. I have decided to make a portable writing bag - one that will allow me to utilize the time before work to write without destroying my lumbar region. The bag itself is a hunter green and faux leather brown (my favorite color combination) Messenger Bag from B&N purchased with my employee discount. Here is what it contains:

1. Lego Camera with USB cord
2. Toshiba Netbook NB200 with Neoprene Sleeve
3. Electronic Franklin Merriam-Webster Dictionary/Thesaurus (which needs a battery)
4. iHome Mini Cordless Mouse
5. American Flag Mouse Pad
6. Stormtrooper Memory Stick
7. Internet Password Logbook
8. 1 Pilot G-2 07 Red Ink Pen
9. 1 Berol Blue Highlight Pen
10. The Novelist's Notebook by Laurie Henry
11. 1 Mead 5 Star Notebook packed with essential notes
12. 1 Ticonderoga Erasable Carmine Red 425T Pencil
13. 1 Bic Atlantis Neon Green Pen
14. 3 Zebra 5-301 BP Pens - 1 Black, 1 Blue & 1 Red
15. 26 Curad Alcohol Wipes
16. 1 Dust Free Cloth
17. 1 Mead 100% Recycled 2 Subject Notebook
18. Packet of Notes (about 48 pages) relevant to Ch. 5 of my novel - Hole Punched, Reinforced & Ring Bound.
19. 1 Sony Walkman NWZ-E465 MP3 Player with 2,180 Songs
20. 4 AAA Duracell Copertop Batteries
21. 1 Pair of QFX Blue Earbuds. Not a fan of these. They greatly diminish the amount of space used, but the loss of sound quality is appalling. Thinking about lugging my good headphones separately. 


Writing Bag Mark II



and finally...




Writing Bag Mark III

Monday, November 13, 2017

Max’s Gyros

Max’s Gyros



First let me describe the gyros 


- as you walk

in (to the sound of an
electronic doorbell)
the first thing that 
hits you is the smell

Cumin, garlic, lamb,
beef, a faint scent 
of cinnamon or allspice

It’s a warm smell
like a stew simmering
all day in a crock pot

Or steaming hot soup
when you have a cold
and your bones ache
from a long work day

It’s a welcoming smell

A comforting smell

Like Family

Like Home

There are only 3 foods
I crave and that
immediately make 
me feel better
no matter what

Vietnamese Pho at Pho Cali
Fried Chicken from Yoder’s
and Max’s Gyros

When I began to 
heal from my spinal
surgery and could
swallow again the
first thing I asked
for was Max’s Gyros

Max was a slight 
man - physically - but
a giant in spirit

- to move his family
from Iran and start
a business in Sarasota, FL
speaks volumes to me
about what it means to
be a man

He spoke English with
a Persian accent

To me he was a magician

A true character

I had been talking 
about gyros at 
work when the 
Frito Lay vendor
spoke up and said,
“If you want a
good gyro try
Max’s."

I asked around
“Oh, yes, Max,.”
he owns that service 
station on Stickney 
Point


I went to the
BP station on 
Bee Ridge with
my wife

It was the wrong one

The clerk said, “Max,”.
yeah, he’s up a 
couple more

“That’s odd,” I replied. “2 BP.”
stations that
close together

“No”, she corrected.
“Max got mad at
BP and tore down 
the sign. He’s an
independent now."

I admired him
before I ever met
him.

Max sold independent
gas at reasonable 
prices and everyone 
knew it… For, Dear 
Reader, every interaction 
I describe here with Max
took place between
infinitesimal spaces
from one fuel customer
to the next. Almost all
seemed to know him
and greeted him by
name.

Cars moved in and out
from his fuel pumps
in a cacophony of
controlled chaos.

But that was Max
- uncompromising
quality and value
and a human touch

- That is something 
the big box corporate
places will never
understand - for 
without that crucial
third ingredient
(The Human Touch)
- They can never tap
into the formula
that Max had.

-Anyway, back to
the Gyros
You saw the hunk
of gyro meat

(A mixture of 
lamb and beef)
Roasting slowly 
on the vertical spit

rotating steadily

hypnotically

as the brown juices
popped out of tiny
geysers and fell, like
golden tears of joy,
to the base of the
spit where they
sizzled and smoked

I’ve had gyro meat
at a lot of places,
mostly it was over-salted, 
full of gristle,
but not Max’s.

He used just enough
spice to season his
meat - and just enough
fat to impart flavor

It’s the perfect balance

Max had a long bread
knife - the kind 
with teeth on the 
bottom and a blunt
rounded tip

When you ordered
a gyro
Max would grab his
knife - survey the 
spinning meat for the
best parts - and 
begin slicing

He would cut the
meat into vertical
strips with the
slightly crunchy
exterior and the 
warm, succulent
interior

After the meat was
sliced Max would
begin constructing
the gyro itself

Now, this wasn’t a 
fast process. 

Max was aware that 
a steady stream 
of customers was
crowding and shuffling
into the cramped
confines of his
store.

(The customers fidgeted
but never seemed to
lose patience - they
were willing to 
wait for quality.)

However, he was not
running around like
a madman either

Max moved like a man
who loved what he did
and was unwilling to
compromise his standards
in the interest of
speed…

But, I digress 
- the Gyros -
Max constructed
the gyros
on warm, thick pita
bread that he
and his wife 
made

On a bed of fresh,
crisp lettuce
with plump, juicy
tomatoes
(All of which he bought
locally)

With a slathering 
of the tangy
yogurt sauce
called tzatziki

and that’s it

Simple, Fresh,
Delicious

Max also had a
cooler filled with
salads - the star 
of which was the feta his wife
made that was
out of this world

They also had
buttery, flaky
spanakopita
And luscious sweets, too

Like Baklava, dripping 
with sensual, golden 
honey

And my personal favorite
Kataifi - with filo 
dough cut into strips
so thin it was
like shredded wheat

with honey and 
pistachios filling
the center

We talked with Max
while we waited. He
was ebullient with
eyes that sparkled
and danced

This was at the height
of the Axis of Evil
Iranian Nuclear
scare - and here 
we were talking
to Max about 
Iran and food
and Chicago and
his children with
whom he was 
smitten. Their 
drawings papered 
the door to his
office - and he 
was so proud of them

and his wife and of 
her yogurt and feta
that she made by
hand.

He was proud of his
family and his heritage
and loved to share
them.

All these things

His Love

His Pride

went into his gyros
and that’s what made…
what makes them
so good.

They are more than
the sum of their parts.


They’re a story…

Max was a storyteller
and food was how 
he told his story.

It’s the story of an
Iranian family who came
to America -
built a business 
-became part of 
the community
- and created a 
home.

That’s what Max’s Gyros
taste like

They taste like
home

An Iranian family
in Sarasota
making great 
Greek food.

“Great” is not a big
enough word
Max’s Gyros are
transcendental

A legacy

His story reflects
the larger American
story

The melting pot

The American Dream

The other day, my wife
Gina stopped at Max’s
when she got off work
to pick up some gyros
When she got home
her eyes were red
as if she’d been crying
And she told me that
Max had passed away
His wife was there
minding the store

She said that Max
had suffered heart
trouble

I was stunned

We sat in silence,
looking at the 
gyros for a time
- and then I took
a bite

And I began to feel better

And I thought about Max
and the role food plays
in our lives

It can bridge cultural
divides

It can bring families
together

And like Max’s Gyros,
it can even tell stories

I think Max would
be happy to know
his story lives on
- Carried by his wife
and children, by 
the people whose 
lives he touched,

And it lives on
with his Gyros which
are still being made 
with love - by the people 
he loved - and shared
with the community
that loved him

I ask you
Is there any
greater legacy
than that?



January 14, 2010

Saturday, September 16, 2017

"Now With Real Miëht©"


MICRO FICTION #4

"Now With Real Miëht©"

"PTOOEY!"

Merit spat out a spongey lump from the can of chili she had just opened. With disgust, she picked it up and walked over to the sink. What in Christ's name was it? It had the texture of gristle and bone shards wrapped in raw chicken skin. She ran it under the water and slowly a grey hunk began to take shape. She placed it on a paper towel on the counter next to the can opener and stifled her gag reflex. Out of the corner of her eye she even thought she saw it move for a second and shuddered.

After fishing the can out of the garbage, she sat down and began to examine the label.

"Now With Real Miëht©"

PACKAGED IN BURGOSLENSKIA.

A cursory look on her computer showed her that Burgoslenskia was a former Soviet satellite republic. She immediately hopped on Travelocity and called for a car service.

The plane touched down at Burgoslenskia National Airport. The architecture was classic Soviet Brutalism. The sky was grey. The people were grey. Just like the "Miëht©".

After asking several townsfolk and a few government officials, Merit found out that the factory was in the heart of the Petroschank Forest and that it was "off limits".

When she got to the edge of the forest, which was bordered by a rusty fence, she saw several signs that intimated that the forest was an irradiated zone.



Undaunted, Merit pressed on.

She was an experienced hiker and arrived at a clearing a few days later and saw a huge factory. Smoke belched out of several chimney stacks. There was a distinct smell. It smelled like... chili.

Through her binoculars, Merit could see a gargantuan saucer had crash landed near the factory. Wait, that didn't make sense? They must have built the factory after the crash. She had to get a closer look. At dusk she stole down to the edge of the factory and scaled a wall to a skylight that overlooked the factory floor. She saw a gangplank extending from the saucer to a large opening in the warehouse. Two by two, factory workers were carrying humanoid robotic creatures on stretchers out of the craft. On the factory floor itself Merit watched as men used giant can openers to slice through the outer metal shells. Inside were creatures covered in neon green scales. A rope was tied around the feet of each of these aliens and they were lifted off the factory floor and deposited in a great vat of boiling liquid. A conveyor belt ran from the vat and huge lumps of greyish gunk were carried from the vat over to the cannery. The final step was the application of the label "Now With Real Miëht©".

Merit rolled onto her back and breathed heavilly.

She scratched her scalp.

In her hand was a neon green scale.