Frozen River

Courtney Hunt's Frozen River chronicles the lives of two down-on-their-luck mothers trying to catch a break. It's a week before Christmas, and Ray Eddy's (Melissa Leo) deadbeat husband grabs the family savings (which they were going to use to pay for a new house) and heads to Atlantic City (they have two children). Ray tries to find him only to accidentally meet Lila (Misty Upham) who has stolen his car. Lila tricks Ray into helping her transport immigrants illegally across the Canadian/U.S border (both sides of the border are Mohawk territory), by car, over a frozen river. Initially, Ray reacts in a hostile manner, but after being refused full-time employment at the dollar store where she's been working for two years (by a smug teenaged manager), she warms up to the idea, and the border runs increase.

Hunt's screen-play hauntingly captures the impoverished domain of these frustrated anti-heros. The language is stormy and the characters weathered; they aren't noble disney-esque 'hope-things-will-work-out-some-day-caricatures,' they're ruff-and-tumble derelict survivalists. Leo's performance is strong as she evocatively portrays a beaten-down wife attempting to competently balance several different social roles, including responsible mother, dedicated employee, concerned citizen, and caring wife, all the while suffering a perennial nervous breakdown. Her wager parallels that of her husband's insofar as she takes serious risks to make a buck; Lila provides bulletproof reasons which suggest those whom they transport across the border are not criminals, but she still can't shake the possibility. So she walks the hard-line between personal success and legal destitution, doing what she can to get by, suffering, staggering, surviving. Her relationship with her son (T. J. played by Charlie McDermott) is enough to remind many 30 year-old males that they were once an asshole, and the strength she shows after being fucked around one too many times courageously demonstrates a desperate rationality.

Lila's tough too, and when presented with an opportunity to take back her one-year old son she takes it, moving on. Regarding opportunity, neither of these women have much, but they make ends meet by whatever-means-necessary, continually crossing their frozen cultural rivers.

Dating

I'd love to date
a psychotic,
a psycho'd
be great for me.

Our stoic lust
gently confined for all
eternity.

Mermaidia

Just once when I've finished my laundry in my apartment building and I'm returning home by walking past the pool I'd like to see some hot-ass Mermaids. Or some girl I know whom I've liked for awhile dressed up like a Mermaid swimming around for me with enthusiasm. That would be great. I will refer to her as Mermaidia and grant her three evenings each fortnight at whichever Sushi restaurant she doth care to attend. With my shit luck I'd probably miss the whole situation and go home to watch some foreign war film while someone else teaches and guides my almost-Mermaid companion along unforseen paths of enlightenment.

This will probably happen knowing what Mermaids are like.

Homely

Crack that egg,
sizzlin' stew,
creatures of habit
tick-tock, review.

Sortin' that snow,
candy rockstar,
bask in a moment,
retiring, bizarre.

Return of the Jedi,
hey, that's my sandwich,
and who drank the vodka?

Is it raining?

Comforting Down,
delicate duck feathers,
that sweet sweet _______
will keep us together.

Shit. What happened to the garden?
I wasn't supposed to do that.
I was working the night shift.
Fuck you.

Valentine's Day Disappointments

Yup, back in to stinking Valentine's Day. Nothing happening on my end besides an empty jar of pickles and someone on television with a 150 pound tumor. That's what my roommate says anyway. That's _______ huge. Reminds me of, I don't know, Valentine's Day? I couldn't even watch faithful Q: the Winged Serpent; I thought watching good old Quetzalcoatl fly around preying on the living would bring back that Valentine's spirit, but not this time. Sorry Q, maybe in my next life you'll bring me back as someone who gives a fuck. About Valentine's day. For suckers. Valentine's day's for suckers. What does Mick Jagger say? The times they are a changin'? No, that's Kieth Richards, Kieth Richards said that stupid, you're stupid.

Stupid

Here's the top 10 ways my top ten 10 partners have dissappointed me over the years:

Stupid

10. No. That was me. No. that wasn't me. OKAY, that's mine, Jesus Christ you spoiled . . .

9. Look, I know you like the sweater, but the sweater isn't mine. I borrowed it from my cous . . . No, seriously, she's my cousin. That's who I borrowed it . . . What are you doing with that? Come on, I can't afford to buy another . . . For the sake of . . .

8. Yes, I had a great time at mass. And those pancakes were excellent. I really like it when you do that with your hair. You look really beautiful. Jesus, am I dating Catherine De Neuve? So ah, . . .

Oh come on . . .

7. Seriously, its a work related vacation. Its just a weekend. No, she won't be there. Look, it happened a long time ago. We've discussed this. No, that was another Shambalina. Yeah, I know it sounds weird, . . . I do, I do know two Shambalinas. Why don't you . . . Who are you calling? Wait, okay her name's . . .

6. Hey, great, "Friends" is on. Again. Why don't we call up some of your friends and watch it with them? That will be so much fun! Can we eat some vegetables? Great, I'll grab the Kale!

5. No, they can't stay. I don't feel like playing the games. I can't, I can't play the games. Its always so awkard. I never know what they're getting at. I don't understand what they mean precisely. The innuendo's killing me. I'm hot I'm cold. . . . . . . . Hey, they're your parents.

4. Okay okay. Great, lets play Jeopardy!

3. I'm never going to get it. No, never. Seriously, I don't . . . That's what I mean by . . . Never, never means . . . There's a misunderstanding, what I mean to say is . . . No, in 3 mont . . . You see, in 3 months nothing will have changed, thats why I've used the word . . .

2. Polka dots. Always with the polka dots. No, don't get me wrong, I love the polka dots. Seriously, I'm doing the polka here. Look; you're not looking. Come on, Polka dots, polka dot party . . . In relation to what? . . . In relation to WHAT?

1. Yes, I love you too.

Seriously

I hereby declare, that e-mails signed with only one symbol, whether it be a number, letter, or some other culturally representative denomination, carrying with it some kind of stunted vernacular rhythm, are the stigmata of the left wing, while their counterpart, those e-mails mentioning one of the myriad names born by the phonetically flowing individual, in full, are the right wing's prerogative, forevermore.

Brick Lane

Sarah Gavron's Brick Lane overtly and covertly deconstructs the age old tradition/progression dialectic in a multidimensional manner. The story begins in a small Bangladeshi village where Nazneen (Tannishtha Chatterjee) prepares to travel to London's Brick Lane (also known as "Banglatown") and marry her arranged husband, Chanu Ahmed (Satish Kaushik). Nazneen's incomparable beauty is matched by her bucolic charm and her traditional devotion is eventually challenged by fiery young delivery boy Kirim (Christopher Simpson), who, after 9/11, becomes tired of the resultant bigotry, and believes the solution to Bangladeshi segregation is militaristic. The older and wiser Chanu understands the folly of his ways, or the inevitable beastly consequences of militant communal activism, having lived in Pakistan during a revolution where 3 million Muslims died, Muslims killing Muslims in order to valorize Islam (Catholics killing Protestants in order to valorize Ireland, . . .). Chanu's life is difficult: he devoutly upholds the principles of his faith and acts according to its tenants. He firmly believes that an educated man should find work, will be able to find work, and thereafter, support his family. However, after quitting his job due to the fact that another was promoted when he felt that he deserved the esteem, he cannot find another.

On the surface, it appears as if Brick Lane is predominantly concerned with chronicling Nazneen's staggering transition, however, her adjustments are matched by those of Chanu as he tries to coordinate his lifestyle into an alien frame. In the beginning, it seems as if Chanu is being set up as the same old 'traditional male' who brutalizes the female members of his family as they seek freedom from servitude. But this isn't the case. Certainly, he enjoys all the privileges of having a docile, supple wife who takes care of his home, children, and has his meals ready upon his return home. This is how he was brought up to believe things should naturally be. But as his search for work becomes desperate, and his oldest daughter's petulant cheek more derisive, he doesn't take to drink or brutality; when he discovers his wife is having an affair, he doesn't react violently; when presented with an opportunity to join an organization which seeks 'justice' against the racist components of the system within which he can't find work, he criticizes them and will not sign-up; when his wife decides to remain in Brick Lane rather than move to Bangladesh with him, he breaks down, shedding tears that his code no doubt forbids him to expel; and he leaves without his family, a firm, solid Man, because, even though he has lost everything, his faith has remained in tact, and continues to provide his constitution with tranquil resolutions, through which he radiates peace (whose example provides a stoic representation of a strong religious individual who finds solace through faith). As the currents of Nazneen's affair flow more recklessly, he wisely tells her that "the thing about getting older, is you don't need everything to be possible anymore, you just need some things to be certain." This statement firmly establishes the ways in which his imaginary world has been destabilized by his culture's symbolism, in order to force him to accept its reality. Concurrently, when his daughter (Naeema Begum) ridicules their poverty, he poignantly reminds her, that outside their brick walls, her spoilt attitude will find no quarter.

Nazneen's life is difficult as well, torn between youthful passion and wizened old age, forced to mitigate her appetites. After she arrives in London, her banal existence is balanced by childhood memories of the village where she grew up (and wishes she had never left). Hence, even though part of her desires to stay with her husband, she remains in London, thereby ensuring that her daughters will not suffer as they mature from an equivalent sense of loss.

Brick Lane is a powerful film with a poignant message that liberally revitalizes the vibrant strength maintained by right of centre progressive conservatives. Moving to another country in order to cultivate a life certainly isn't easy, and Gavron's film gracefully portrays the perennial hardships associated with youth and age, the feminine and the masculine, the domestic and the foreign, the present and the future.

A bushel full of roses stretching
round the cloister's arc;
silent red-stitched poses glowing
beaming fetching hark.

Clutched within, within my hands,
the pain as pleasant points;
barbed and wired, slanted, tired,
bursting through my joints.

Blood falls steady, a silent pool
of life and death's rebirth.
Sticking in my finger's ring and
soaking up the thirst.

A lively skyline friends in hand
work through the day's events;
hip and hearty, checked out smarty
scarves and socks and pants.

Looks as though a place to go
although I don't know where.
But I asked her "towards my home?"
and he said "everywhere."

This cultivated cultured life
has many different facets;
each contains their lush domain
as artists spread and catch it.

And frame it, qualify the time
and complicate its strife.
With Chester Himes and Hammet's
rhymes to simply its life.

A dialogue reverberates finds
features firmly fastened.
In a note that's left beside
graffiti poignant, placid.

Abrupt the shifts, the lines,
the rifts bursting forth with song.
To know yourself in time with pics
the season's strum along.

If you took media and advertising out of sports you could probably play sports. S'pose it's all part of the game (and see why many find soccer so appealing).

Traitor

Jeffrey Nachmanoff's Traitor destabilizes the phenomenon of democratic patriotism from a variety of different angles, deconstructing its boundaries while reformulating them as well. The concept of friendship is also studied within, along with what it means to have faith, and the ways in which politics can problematize one's beliefs.

Samir Horn (Don Cheadle) is a devout Muslim who saw his father blown up by a car bomb as a child. He then moved to Chicago where he was expelled from high school for throttling 3 caucasian teenagers after they spoke none to kindly to an African American girl. Afterwards, he joined the military and when we meet him he is selling arms in Yemen. He is arrested during a raid which sends him to prison where his religious integrity wins him the admiration of Omar (Saïd Taghmaoui). After their escape, they join a terrorist organization and begin planning a series of strikes against the United States. And throughout this entire period, Horn has been working as a double agent for Governmental Representative Carter (Jeff Daniels) with the hopes of capturing said terrorist organization's kingpin.

Horn is pursued by Governmental Agents Roy Clayton (Guy Pearce) and Max Archer (Neal McDonough) (who are unaware of Carter's plan). Clayton's father was a baptist minister who would douse crosses set aflame by the Klu Klux Klan. When partner Archer wonders why every Arab Muslim in the United States is not automatically profiled, Clayton reminds him that millions of Muslims aren't Arab, making the action of racial profiling, ludicrous. Clayton believes the United States represents the good guys but Horn vociferously reminds him of their own terrorist activities. Every one is searching for the good while manifold persons are unwillingly sent to Heaven.

Horn's faith is the foundation of his being and he consistently reprimands religious hypocrites who forget God's authority. The same can be said for Clayton although his devotion is not as strict. They both seek the same ends, both tailoring their pursuits with ethical designs, one forced to live the harsh realities of his political allegiances, the other living within the political imagination of his faith. In the end, the African American leaves law enforcement behind and chooses to serve God at the local level, having realized that both national militaries and terrorist organizations exploit their soldier's faith for their own economic gain. The American of European descent continues to pursue his dreams, believing he is making a difference. Omar cannot accept his exploitation, and Horn must watch as his friend dies.

Nachmanoff melodramatically and coercively uses the relationship established between Horn and Clayton to suggest that peace can be achieved if one resigns themselves to democratic ideals, while simultaneously demonstrating the contradictory barriers standing in their way. On the one hand, terrorist activity seems futile insofar as governmental agencies possess records of everything you've ever done (and employ people capable of theorizing every thing you will likely ever do), on the other, those same agencies set up terrorist acts in order to place their spies in a position wherein they are capable of arresting individuals responsible for terrorist acts (whom they cannot locate). Within this matrix, the political manifestations of ethical ambitions intermingle and coalesce, highlighting the importance of acting locally, while stating that such positions cannot be postured without first having traveled the globe.

As a suspense film, Traitor suffers in its pacing, and never leaves its audience fearfully gripping the edge of their seats. At first I thought this was Nachmanoff's stylistic slip-up, but, upon further reflection, it seems that if one is to take the suspenseful content out of a political aesthetic, then creating a film full of suspenseful content which lacks a suspenseful form, serves to destabilize the prominent subliminal formal layer of many patriotic films (Mongol for instance), and broadcasts, and suggests that national politics would be much more patriotic if they could simply stop being so dramatic.

It's a hollywood film working within the sensationalistic terrorist tradition established by the Bush Administration which manages to overtly and covertly destabilize their paranoid cultural ethos, thereby working within the diluted frame it has inherited, to reinvigorate it's democratic commitment.

I wanted to go for a drive once so I asked an acquaintance at work for a lift. I was hoping to see the Northern Lights outside the city's limits. He said sure and that he would stop by around 7. I fell asleep, he stopped by, I missed the knock, ran out in time to catch him, but as punishment for missing the knock he ripped my cable wire out of the wall.

Fucker.

Notice

That sign I can read with
my eyes at night if I'm
up close says something
and has a picture of
someone on it. S'pose I
should read this sign, pay
attention to what it says,
research whichever
organization it denotes,
keep a record.

The Cavaliers

New Market's Cavaliers came to Hamilton's Touche last Saturday and brought along a dynamic set of subdued countrified alternative rock. Reminiscent of Kathleen Edwards and Nirvana Unplugged, they mixed in a smattering of covers with their stylized uplifting rifts, mitigating melodies interrupting verses with solid, definite conclusions, as if to say "take it or leave it" or "damn straight." Don't know how long they've been around, or, anything about them really, but if you like homely harmonies and jauntily jolting tunage, the Cavaliers present an entertaining evening full of energetic grit and gregarious ingenuity, just in time to melt the mid-winter blues.

Road

Light break in the wind
time for a walk down the
ridge left at the T along
the tracks stitch strut
there's no one there just a
lonely shack recently
renovated by an echo's
source serene stop look
search identify focus
critique evaluate turn
there's brandywine creek
rustling rushing rolling
bursting and bubbling
stick my hand in the
water as it flows.

Another Planet (Másik Bolygó) (World Film Festival, Montréal, 2008)

Ferenc Moldoványi's documentary Another Planet is a jolting, quotidian examination of the harsh realities facing child labourers in Cambodia, Congo and Ecuador. One sells cigarettes in the streets at night, others work in scrap yards with dangerous machinery, some fight in wars, pick through garbage all day, or prostitute themselves to make ends meet. If you're searching for a film which provides living, breathing representatives of the humanistic articles occasionally featured in magazines such as National Geographic, representatives who stoically endure spiritual, cultural, familial, and social helplessness with the patience of Job and the resignation of Hephaestus, Another Planet is mandatory viewing, a stunning, cinematic triumph, whose existence is the product of Moldoványi's unwavering commitment. The footage is exceptional and as impressive as Herzog's best work in terms of seemingly insurmountable production obstacles overcome. Flames surround these children constantly and they can't stop in order to spot their source nor seek political means which would see them doused. My favourite scene shows a shoe shine boy gently holding a pigeon, taking a break, resting.

Wildlife Conversation Society

If you're interested in conserving wildlife and reading a publication which will put you in touch with many peculiar species worldwide, check out the Wildlife Conservation Society.

5-Point Action Plan

Check out this 5-point action plan: it's a common sense plan promoting a strong economy and fair society (created by the National Union of Public and General Employees). Good stuff.

Sea Shepherd

The Sea Shepherd Conservation Society boldly defends ocean wildlife and habitat worldwide.

Summer Book (Tatil Kitabi) (World Film Festival, Montréal, 2008)

Seyfi Teoman's Summer Book portrays the complicated dynamics confronting a Turkish family after their eldest son (Veysel, played by Harun Ozuag) decides he no longer wishes to study at a military academy (an action which will likely ensure the stability of his future). Veysel fails to convince his father (Osman Inan) to let him continue his studies elsewhere and his supplication is supported by his less prosperous uncle, Hasan (Taner Birsel). Veysel's father eventually suffers a massive brain hemorrhage after which his uncle rethinks his position. During this time, Veysel's younger brother Ali (Tayfun Gunay) travels about town, suffering the abuse of older, nastier classmates (one of whom steals his highly cherished Summer Book). The slowly-paced and meandering cinematography effectively accentuates his lonely saunter, enabling its audience to both relive long forgotten youthful haunts and feel the pains of his sensitive spirit. As Veysel discovers the dangers facing Ali, he begins to realize those which will confront him outside of the academy as well, and is forced to question his idealistic goals. However, the idealistic life presented by a secure future is subtly lampooned, as dogmatic governmental proscriptions are consistently shown to be humbug, thereby frustrating the matter further, as Veysel's adolescence flutters away.

Summer Book's patient pace fittingly adorns its content, although the overall aesthetic is somewhat drowsy. Further, its realist style works all to well, at times, making me wish, I'd just, gone for a walk, through Parc Lafontaine, in order to read Benjamin, while thinking about gardening, swimming, festivals, and celebrations. But Teoman's uniform design fluidly captures a summer of change whose currents will be permanently tendered, simultaneously demonstrating the problematic nature of ideals and the complex social matrix maintaining their appeal.

Great Bear Foundation

Interested in bear related news? Check out The Great Bear Foundation.

Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act

The first bill Barak Obama's signed concerns Pay Equity. Good to see.

Women's Funding Network

Want to accelerate positive social change world wide and transform lives with lasting solutions? Check out The Women's Funding Network.

My Winnipeg

Guy Maddin's surrealist tribute to his dementedly prosperous relationship with Winnipeg is both a sustained reformulation of documentary motifs and a comedic critique of the techniques of Freudian psychology. The principle theme is identical to that found within Brand Upon the Brain!: a troubled man tries to find himself by reliving his childhood in a quest to discover his moment of castration, after which, he hopes to overcome it, or, doesn't. Maddin uses this theme to comedically/idealistically/awkwardly/ironically depict an interminable void within which the tortured learn to know that they cannot know themselves without attempting to discover that which no longer (and perhaps never) exists(ed), the picturesque and demonically productive consequences of never ending introspection: a tethered martlet. The principle trope throughout is that of meaning layered upon meaning, Native peoples believing that beneath the Red and Assiniboine rivers run parallel spiritual rivers, a complementary structure of back-roads and alleys (not listed on any map) are used to traverse the city, a bridge destined for the Nile ends up in Winnipeg, longing for its sunny paradise; when a demolition company attempts to destroy the Jets's former stadium, the original hull survives their first blast; actors are hired to play Maddin's family in a film shot in his childhood home, the goal being to discover his identity while indirectly delineating that of Winnipeg, and so on. His film challenges the conventions of the documentary by using a frame wherein it's difficult to tell whether or not anything he mentions is realistic or fantastic, while concurrently seeming quite truthful and frank, concretely mythologizing iconic Winnipeg citizens, groups, buildings, and traditions, as he travels throughout the city by train, always in winter, with bio-magnetic buffalo, wondering if he'll ever leave. Obviously, if he continues to relive his childhood in his childhood home with his overbearing mother he will never leave: he is quite aware of this. Obviously, documentaries attempt to supply a version of the truth while their styles distort it. Maddin responds to this tendency by overtly twisting the truth in order to unravel it, turning the genre upside down to pull its concrete insides out, outside of the cold, inflaming traditions, thereby donating to his community a host of peculiar legends, reminiscent of Greek and Norse ambition, within and without their culturo-historical austerity.

Winnipeg is very nice in Summer.

A comedic disposition can be a remarkable responsibility: thanks to those who helped me figure that out. To clarify things, I support public institutions, minority rights, universal social programs, the arts, equal opportunity, and the equality of men and women. I also support the NDP and believe in God. In addition, while I love animals sincerely, I can't stop eating them (but will someday).

Ms. Foundation

Suggestion: check out the Ms. Foundation Blog. They do good work.