Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Something for Green Wing fans. I've just finished watching the first series of Green Wing, the oddball British hospital sitcom. If you're not familiar with the show, it's like Scrubs in that the hospital staff are rarely troubled by actual patients and the humour comes from their own interactions. The two series also share the use of slapstick and surreal elements, but Green Wing never dismisses any of its visual and verbal nonsequiturs as dream sequences. Also, its dialogue is more naturalistic than Scrubs's rapid-fire approach.
Anyway, in the inevitable Wikipedia orgy that follows my obsessive viewing of a cult TV series (see also: Terminator: The Sarah Chronnor Conicles, Freaks And Geeks, Carnivale), I discovered that the two male leads in Green Wing – Stephen Mangan (half-Swiss anaesthetist Guillaume 'Guy' Secretan) and Julian Rhind-Tutt ("fraise-blond" surgeon 'Mac' McCartney) – co-starred in a series of commercials for Barclaycard in which they echo their characters' relationship from the show.
While these ads are mildly amusing, there's a stiffness, a corniness, to them that really shows how much better the Green Wing writing was – the series had eight regular writers – and how much better the actors were when they had an entire cast to interact with.
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Anyway, in the inevitable Wikipedia orgy that follows my obsessive viewing of a cult TV series (see also: Terminator: The Sarah Chronnor Conicles, Freaks And Geeks, Carnivale), I discovered that the two male leads in Green Wing – Stephen Mangan (half-Swiss anaesthetist Guillaume 'Guy' Secretan) and Julian Rhind-Tutt ("fraise-blond" surgeon 'Mac' McCartney) – co-starred in a series of commercials for Barclaycard in which they echo their characters' relationship from the show.
While these ads are mildly amusing, there's a stiffness, a corniness, to them that really shows how much better the Green Wing writing was – the series had eight regular writers – and how much better the actors were when they had an entire cast to interact with.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
On the affect of re-enactment. On Wednesday night I went to a screening at the Jam Factory. For some reason, film distributors always want to stage their screenings there, which is very inconvenient for me but it's given me a chance to refamiliarise myself with a space that I hadn't regularly visited since the '90s.
It's a bizzarely ahistorical space because it is tasteless by any era's standards, although it was opened as a shopping mall in 1979. The lurid colours, all purple, aqua, mustard and salmon-pink; the absurd colonnade; the piazza that reminds me vaguely of the World Expo '88 piazza; bizarre rococo touches of the Village cinema corridors themselves, with gold trim and squiggly patterned carpets.
Does anyone remember when it had those slightly wrong-looking, life-sized statues of Hollywood characters? Marilyn Monroe gamely holding down her white gauzy skirts in the entrance (I remember her white knickers); the Mask and Catwoman swinging from the rafters. There were probably more, but I can't think what they were.
So I left the cinema and got to the tram stop, where I realised it was about 15 minutes until the next tram. On the corner is this insane '50s-themed American diner called Soda Rock. I decided to go in there for a bite to eat (I hadn't had dinner and it was getting on for 9pm).
Soda Rock used to be a Johnny Rockets, but they don't operate in Australia any more. I went for a job interview there in the summer of 1996. They asked me why I wanted to work at Johnny Rockets and I said, "I want to be a singing, dancing waitress!" (Serenading the customers used to be one of the job requirements, sort of like flair bartending at TGI Friday's or dancing about on the giant keyboard at FAO Schwartz.) This did not appear to impress them and I did not get the job.
When I walked in, it felt almost hallucinatory, like a scene from a David Lynch movie, or perhaps the famous Edward Hopper painting Nighthawks. This wasn't just because it was night-time, or because the place was brightly lit yet almost deserted (a couple were sitting quietly in a booth at the end of the restaurant and I couldn't immediately see any staff). And it wasn't just the life-size Elvis statue that could've been transplanted from the Jam Factory:
It was also because it seemed to emit a melancholy air of time and place being suspended. I felt as if I'd entered a weird cultural capsule. Popular songs from the '50s were softly playing in a way that made me recall dream sequences from films and TV shows, especially the ones in Carnivale that are soundtracked by Ruth Etting's 'Love Me Or Leave Me'.
Because the walls are mirrored, the floor tiled and the ceiling panelled in some laminated substance, the room seems much larger than it is. There's also an odd contrast between this mood and the restaurant's calculatedly jaunty fitout, all glinting chrome and red-and-blue vinyl booths.
I slid into a booth and ordered a sloppy joe combo ("hot" – and they weren't kidding, the chilli was very spicy). Funnily enough, I happen to be reading Fast Food Nation at the moment. As I ate, and read about the history of the great American fast-food chains, I wondered about the anachronism and anatopism of what I was doing.
I felt as though I was re-enacting some imagined notion of a specifically American youth culture. I haven't made a comparative study that maps culinary history on social life, but it's my impression that we never had the jolly diner/malt shop culture of mid-century America – the sort you see on Happy Days and Back To The Future where diners are hangouts for kids.
Instead, I imagine that until those Eye-ties came along after WWII to teach us how to enjoy espresso, we had dingy "tea rooms" and "coffee lounges" that were more like British-style greasy-spoon caffs. These were the sorts of places where lonely workers or itinerants would wander in to eat in silence and solitude, and as that link celebrates, there's an affective aesthetic to these places:
It seems to me that Britain has its own cultural traditions around these places, but the British caff falls into traditions of shabby, working-class stoicism in the face of relentless, bureaucratic social decay. I was also thinking in particular of William Trevor's short story 'Lovers Of Their Time', which appears in the anthology My Mistress' Sparrow Is Dead and details a doomed affair that plays out over lunch breaks in London's dingy pubs and cafes.
The other day I was reading Daniel Neville's thoughts about a discussion of Australian modernism he went to, associated with the Modern Times exhibition at Heide (which I still haven't seen because without a car it's near-impossible to get there. I feel very aggrieved that Connex is an event sponsor, because you can't even get to Heide on the train). Ultimately the discussion revealed a disconnect between modernism-as-aesthetic and modernism-as-socio-political-project.
I have thought about nostalgia a fair bit, mainly in emails to Ben, for whom it's an academic project. He has done the reading, you see. But at the moment I'm writing an article for The Age about why people love Mad Men themed parties, and so I'm interested in nostalgia in terms of historical re-enactment rituals: the ways that we insert ourselves into an imaginary but nonetheless corporeal and hence affective past. I know that Laura has thought about these issues before.
Perhaps Mad Men parties display the same kind of disconnect as the designers who love modernism – we focus on the era's glossy look and don't consider the politics. That's part of the ambivalence of the series itself. But nonetheless I think Mad Men appeals to people in an affective way. Dressing like this, and being in these stylised environments, has visual and tactile pleasures.
This is what I was thinking about as I sat in my booth at Soda Rock – the ways that being physically present in these environments sharpens your view of the relationship between past and present.
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It's a bizzarely ahistorical space because it is tasteless by any era's standards, although it was opened as a shopping mall in 1979. The lurid colours, all purple, aqua, mustard and salmon-pink; the absurd colonnade; the piazza that reminds me vaguely of the World Expo '88 piazza; bizarre rococo touches of the Village cinema corridors themselves, with gold trim and squiggly patterned carpets.
Does anyone remember when it had those slightly wrong-looking, life-sized statues of Hollywood characters? Marilyn Monroe gamely holding down her white gauzy skirts in the entrance (I remember her white knickers); the Mask and Catwoman swinging from the rafters. There were probably more, but I can't think what they were.
So I left the cinema and got to the tram stop, where I realised it was about 15 minutes until the next tram. On the corner is this insane '50s-themed American diner called Soda Rock. I decided to go in there for a bite to eat (I hadn't had dinner and it was getting on for 9pm).
Soda Rock used to be a Johnny Rockets, but they don't operate in Australia any more. I went for a job interview there in the summer of 1996. They asked me why I wanted to work at Johnny Rockets and I said, "I want to be a singing, dancing waitress!" (Serenading the customers used to be one of the job requirements, sort of like flair bartending at TGI Friday's or dancing about on the giant keyboard at FAO Schwartz.) This did not appear to impress them and I did not get the job.
When I walked in, it felt almost hallucinatory, like a scene from a David Lynch movie, or perhaps the famous Edward Hopper painting Nighthawks. This wasn't just because it was night-time, or because the place was brightly lit yet almost deserted (a couple were sitting quietly in a booth at the end of the restaurant and I couldn't immediately see any staff). And it wasn't just the life-size Elvis statue that could've been transplanted from the Jam Factory:
It was also because it seemed to emit a melancholy air of time and place being suspended. I felt as if I'd entered a weird cultural capsule. Popular songs from the '50s were softly playing in a way that made me recall dream sequences from films and TV shows, especially the ones in Carnivale that are soundtracked by Ruth Etting's 'Love Me Or Leave Me'.
Because the walls are mirrored, the floor tiled and the ceiling panelled in some laminated substance, the room seems much larger than it is. There's also an odd contrast between this mood and the restaurant's calculatedly jaunty fitout, all glinting chrome and red-and-blue vinyl booths.
I slid into a booth and ordered a sloppy joe combo ("hot" – and they weren't kidding, the chilli was very spicy). Funnily enough, I happen to be reading Fast Food Nation at the moment. As I ate, and read about the history of the great American fast-food chains, I wondered about the anachronism and anatopism of what I was doing.
I felt as though I was re-enacting some imagined notion of a specifically American youth culture. I haven't made a comparative study that maps culinary history on social life, but it's my impression that we never had the jolly diner/malt shop culture of mid-century America – the sort you see on Happy Days and Back To The Future where diners are hangouts for kids.
Instead, I imagine that until those Eye-ties came along after WWII to teach us how to enjoy espresso, we had dingy "tea rooms" and "coffee lounges" that were more like British-style greasy-spoon caffs. These were the sorts of places where lonely workers or itinerants would wander in to eat in silence and solitude, and as that link celebrates, there's an affective aesthetic to these places:
Tea Rooms lovers will not readily forget the lingering air of inertia and lost souls: the murmur of the long, atrophied afternoons, dolour condensing on the windows...
It seems to me that Britain has its own cultural traditions around these places, but the British caff falls into traditions of shabby, working-class stoicism in the face of relentless, bureaucratic social decay. I was also thinking in particular of William Trevor's short story 'Lovers Of Their Time', which appears in the anthology My Mistress' Sparrow Is Dead and details a doomed affair that plays out over lunch breaks in London's dingy pubs and cafes.
The other day I was reading Daniel Neville's thoughts about a discussion of Australian modernism he went to, associated with the Modern Times exhibition at Heide (which I still haven't seen because without a car it's near-impossible to get there. I feel very aggrieved that Connex is an event sponsor, because you can't even get to Heide on the train). Ultimately the discussion revealed a disconnect between modernism-as-aesthetic and modernism-as-socio-political-project.
I have thought about nostalgia a fair bit, mainly in emails to Ben, for whom it's an academic project. He has done the reading, you see. But at the moment I'm writing an article for The Age about why people love Mad Men themed parties, and so I'm interested in nostalgia in terms of historical re-enactment rituals: the ways that we insert ourselves into an imaginary but nonetheless corporeal and hence affective past. I know that Laura has thought about these issues before.
Perhaps Mad Men parties display the same kind of disconnect as the designers who love modernism – we focus on the era's glossy look and don't consider the politics. That's part of the ambivalence of the series itself. But nonetheless I think Mad Men appeals to people in an affective way. Dressing like this, and being in these stylised environments, has visual and tactile pleasures.
This is what I was thinking about as I sat in my booth at Soda Rock – the ways that being physically present in these environments sharpens your view of the relationship between past and present.
Monday, June 08, 2009
The Rosie Fantail origin story. You know how superheroes always need an origin story? Yesterday my mother reminded me of mine.
Apparently I had turned four, and for my birthday my mother took me to a panto at the Oxford Children's Theatre in Box Hill. At one point they invited everyone who'd had a birthday in the last week to come up onto the stage. I complied and then they went around asking all the assembled birthday children their name and how old they were.
When they asked me my name, I replied, "Rosie Fantail." This was news to my parents.
I was quite tickled to hear this story because I remember campaigning at that age to be known as Rosie Fantail, but I didn't remember declaring it publicly, on stage and everything. Awesome.
Anyway, I have had the last laugh because Rosie Fantail has now taken on a life of her own. She is even one half of award-winning DJ duo Plump'n'Rosie (available for weddings and parties).
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Apparently I had turned four, and for my birthday my mother took me to a panto at the Oxford Children's Theatre in Box Hill. At one point they invited everyone who'd had a birthday in the last week to come up onto the stage. I complied and then they went around asking all the assembled birthday children their name and how old they were.
When they asked me my name, I replied, "Rosie Fantail." This was news to my parents.
I was quite tickled to hear this story because I remember campaigning at that age to be known as Rosie Fantail, but I didn't remember declaring it publicly, on stage and everything. Awesome.
Anyway, I have had the last laugh because Rosie Fantail has now taken on a life of her own. She is even one half of award-winning DJ duo Plump'n'Rosie (available for weddings and parties).
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Guilty confession: sometimes I think I'm pretty hilarious. It is deeply unfashionable to admit that you find yourself funny. It smacks of being self-absorbed and stuck-up. But I think it's equally awful to disavow things about yourself that you like, merely for the sake of appearing modest.
Put it this way. If you're going to make a joke, it's comforting to know that at least one person will always laugh – you. Rather than feel depressed because 'nobody understands me', I might as well enjoy my own sense of humour.
With this in mind, I'd like to say that I find my stupid themes for Is Not Magazine's YouTube Tuesday events very amusing indeed. Nobody ever told me they had to be themed, but I always try to invent some kind of theme for each month's edition – mainly for my own entertainment. Some of them are more plausible and other more desperate. Here are some of them – for posterity as much as anything else, as they're rather ephemeral.
September 11, 2007
YouTube Tuesday
Where the cream of the internet is improved with friends and beer.
"Yes, it is time for another YouTube Tuesday, where we scour the internet for the most hilarious and outrageous videos, then play them on the big screen in a bar. Don't worry, we're not going to screen Twin Towers footage with the Benny Hill Show theme behind it. (Oh, too soon?)"
November 13, 2007
YouTube Tuesday
An event that preceded Channel 10's "The Friday Night Download" by some 14 months.
January 8, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Summer Edition
Ease your way back into the working year by watching amusing online videos!
"If you've never been to YouTube Tuesday before, make it your New Year's Resolution; and if you have, resolve to come again, and also to attend YouTube Tuesday."
February 12, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Love Edition
Bring your crush, canoodle in the dark, reveal your awful laugh
"Yeah, so it's the February YouTube Tuesday and hence the obligatory Love Edition. We thought about strewing red roses all through the back room at Loop, but that is pretty expensive. Still, it's two days before Valentine's Day – you might get lucky! YOUTUBE TUESDAY HOOKUPS HAVE HAPPENED BEFORE."
March 11, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Mad March Edition
Online video craziness with Is Not Magazine
"Last month you learned surprising new things about Sarah Silverman's sex life and Bert and Ernie's drumming skills. Now, being March, we are making like Ken Bruce and going COMPLETELY MAD! Or perhaps like that dude who advertises MASSIVE SALES of BRAAAAS, BRIEFFFFS AND G-STRINGS! at the Exhibition Centre. As Jeremy likes to say, "GET YOUR TITS IN 'EM!""
April 8, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - April Follies Edition
All manner of April Foolishness, brought to you by your friend the internet
"April Fool's Day may technically be over, but at Is Not Magazine we are no strangers to foolishness (or indeed, foolywangness) of all sorts – and now we showcase it once more in our monthly screening of the best in internet video."
May 13, 2008
YouTube Tuesday – Mayonnaise Edition
The (salad) cream of online video, tossed liberally with drinks and LOLs.
"Now the Simpsons were keen to teach us that you don't win friends with salad, but Is Not Magazine would beg to differ, because it is May and another opportunity to meet lovely new people awaits! "
June 10, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - June-O Edition
Pregnant with internet videos! Honest to blog, homeskillet!
"It started with a chair. You sat in this comfortable chair at Loop some time between 6:30pm and 7pm, after donating $5 to Is Not Magazine. Jeremy played some funny videos and you laughed, and then maybe went to get some dumplings or Italian food for dinner. Thus you eased yourself back into the working week after the long weekend. Then you put on your finest leopard-print gown and won an Oscar The End."
July 8, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Julyke To Watch Edition
The perfect dose of mid-winter scopophilia
"Julyke to watch funny internet videos, right? Then jubetter get jurass to YouTube Tuesday. Juwon't know what will happen, but juwill definitely laugh."
August 12, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Second Birthday Edition
Now officially a toddler
"In celebration, we will screen some especially mental videos off the internet and there will be a cake - we are tossing up between a Dramatic Chipmunk Cake or a Chocolate Rain Cake (*move away from the cake to breathe in)."
October 14, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Nightlight Saving Edition
Get back that hour you lost by watching funny internet videos
"Where did that hour of the day go? (I ask, still wearing my pyjamas.) Well, we at Is Not Magazine have thought of a fine way to give it back to you: the October edition of YouTube Tuesday, incorporating a special encore screening of the best bits of the Pork Chop Edition!"
November 11, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Remembrance Day Edition
With the downloading of the files, and with a mouse click, we shall remember them...
"Being Remembrance Day, we are going to screen some of our all-time favourites as well as new funny, astounding and memey videos."
January 13, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Not Happy January Edition
Boo hoo, back at work... so ease the pain with some funny internet videos!
"Bummer, eh? You've had a lovely little break over the end of 2008 and start of 2009, and then you have to go back to work just as the nice weather finally kicks in. We know now why you cry, but it's something we can never do."
February 10, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Febrouhaha Edition
The shortest month! The shortest amount of notice!
"Holy crap you guys, we forgot it is YouTube Tuesday this coming Tuesday! There was some Christian Bale-style shouting when we figured this out! It's a total Febrouhaha!"
March 10, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Lousy Smarch Weather Edition
In these turbulent times, the hilarity of online video is our only certainty
"Is it raining outside? Is there a gale-force wind? Is it horribly hot? Did your boss send you home early in case the trains all got cancelled? Did you get that text message from the cops? Lousy Smarch weather!"
June 9, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Chk-Chk JUNE!!! Edition
Call on your fully sick boys and watch some funny internet videos!
"So you and your friends came into Loop and there were these two videos screening. And the funnier video said to the sillier video, "Oi bro, you slept with my cousin eh," and the other one said, "Nah man, I didn't for shit eh" and the other one goes, "I will call on my fully sick boys eh," and then pulled out a remote and went chk-chk JUNE!!!"
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Put it this way. If you're going to make a joke, it's comforting to know that at least one person will always laugh – you. Rather than feel depressed because 'nobody understands me', I might as well enjoy my own sense of humour.
With this in mind, I'd like to say that I find my stupid themes for Is Not Magazine's YouTube Tuesday events very amusing indeed. Nobody ever told me they had to be themed, but I always try to invent some kind of theme for each month's edition – mainly for my own entertainment. Some of them are more plausible and other more desperate. Here are some of them – for posterity as much as anything else, as they're rather ephemeral.
September 11, 2007
YouTube Tuesday
Where the cream of the internet is improved with friends and beer.
"Yes, it is time for another YouTube Tuesday, where we scour the internet for the most hilarious and outrageous videos, then play them on the big screen in a bar. Don't worry, we're not going to screen Twin Towers footage with the Benny Hill Show theme behind it. (Oh, too soon?)"
November 13, 2007
YouTube Tuesday
An event that preceded Channel 10's "The Friday Night Download" by some 14 months.
January 8, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Summer Edition
Ease your way back into the working year by watching amusing online videos!
"If you've never been to YouTube Tuesday before, make it your New Year's Resolution; and if you have, resolve to come again, and also to attend YouTube Tuesday."
February 12, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Love Edition
Bring your crush, canoodle in the dark, reveal your awful laugh
"Yeah, so it's the February YouTube Tuesday and hence the obligatory Love Edition. We thought about strewing red roses all through the back room at Loop, but that is pretty expensive. Still, it's two days before Valentine's Day – you might get lucky! YOUTUBE TUESDAY HOOKUPS HAVE HAPPENED BEFORE."
March 11, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Mad March Edition
Online video craziness with Is Not Magazine
"Last month you learned surprising new things about Sarah Silverman's sex life and Bert and Ernie's drumming skills. Now, being March, we are making like Ken Bruce and going COMPLETELY MAD! Or perhaps like that dude who advertises MASSIVE SALES of BRAAAAS, BRIEFFFFS AND G-STRINGS! at the Exhibition Centre. As Jeremy likes to say, "GET YOUR TITS IN 'EM!""
April 8, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - April Follies Edition
All manner of April Foolishness, brought to you by your friend the internet
"April Fool's Day may technically be over, but at Is Not Magazine we are no strangers to foolishness (or indeed, foolywangness) of all sorts – and now we showcase it once more in our monthly screening of the best in internet video."
May 13, 2008
YouTube Tuesday – Mayonnaise Edition
The (salad) cream of online video, tossed liberally with drinks and LOLs.
"Now the Simpsons were keen to teach us that you don't win friends with salad, but Is Not Magazine would beg to differ, because it is May and another opportunity to meet lovely new people awaits! "
June 10, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - June-O Edition
Pregnant with internet videos! Honest to blog, homeskillet!
"It started with a chair. You sat in this comfortable chair at Loop some time between 6:30pm and 7pm, after donating $5 to Is Not Magazine. Jeremy played some funny videos and you laughed, and then maybe went to get some dumplings or Italian food for dinner. Thus you eased yourself back into the working week after the long weekend. Then you put on your finest leopard-print gown and won an Oscar The End."
July 8, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Julyke To Watch Edition
The perfect dose of mid-winter scopophilia
"Julyke to watch funny internet videos, right? Then jubetter get jurass to YouTube Tuesday. Juwon't know what will happen, but juwill definitely laugh."
August 12, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Second Birthday Edition
Now officially a toddler
"In celebration, we will screen some especially mental videos off the internet and there will be a cake - we are tossing up between a Dramatic Chipmunk Cake or a Chocolate Rain Cake (*move away from the cake to breathe in)."
October 14, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Nightlight Saving Edition
Get back that hour you lost by watching funny internet videos
"Where did that hour of the day go? (I ask, still wearing my pyjamas.) Well, we at Is Not Magazine have thought of a fine way to give it back to you: the October edition of YouTube Tuesday, incorporating a special encore screening of the best bits of the Pork Chop Edition!"
November 11, 2008
YouTube Tuesday - Remembrance Day Edition
With the downloading of the files, and with a mouse click, we shall remember them...
"Being Remembrance Day, we are going to screen some of our all-time favourites as well as new funny, astounding and memey videos."
January 13, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Not Happy January Edition
Boo hoo, back at work... so ease the pain with some funny internet videos!
"Bummer, eh? You've had a lovely little break over the end of 2008 and start of 2009, and then you have to go back to work just as the nice weather finally kicks in. We know now why you cry, but it's something we can never do."
February 10, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Febrouhaha Edition
The shortest month! The shortest amount of notice!
"Holy crap you guys, we forgot it is YouTube Tuesday this coming Tuesday! There was some Christian Bale-style shouting when we figured this out! It's a total Febrouhaha!"
March 10, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Lousy Smarch Weather Edition
In these turbulent times, the hilarity of online video is our only certainty
"Is it raining outside? Is there a gale-force wind? Is it horribly hot? Did your boss send you home early in case the trains all got cancelled? Did you get that text message from the cops? Lousy Smarch weather!"
June 9, 2009
YouTube Tuesday – Chk-Chk JUNE!!! Edition
Call on your fully sick boys and watch some funny internet videos!
"So you and your friends came into Loop and there were these two videos screening. And the funnier video said to the sillier video, "Oi bro, you slept with my cousin eh," and the other one said, "Nah man, I didn't for shit eh" and the other one goes, "I will call on my fully sick boys eh," and then pulled out a remote and went chk-chk JUNE!!!"
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Thoughts sparked by Nick Stahl. Googling for information about Nick Stahl feels far more shameful and perverted to me than trawling for porn. Oh my god, there is some Stahl fan art on the internet that makes me want to die, it is so embarrassing! In order from most to least embarrassing , here is my hierarchy of embarrassing fan behaviours: fan art; fan songs; erotic fanfic; non-erotic fanfic; cosplay; conventions; fan video montages/slideshows; pictures of fans with the celebrity; fansites; posters/computer wallpapers of the celebrity; social networks/blogs.
By this you can conclude that I find fandom very embarrassing, even though I should probably save my embarrassment for my own obsession with the Terminator franchise; at least these poor Stahl fans have never made a cake in the shape of Nick Stahl's head. Which brings me back to the man in question, who starred as John Connor in Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.
What a strange-looking man he is, with his wide- and deep-set eyes, little nose, giant chin and sticking-out ears. He intrigues me because in one of my favourite parlour games, Plausible Family Casting, I can't really think of anyone else currently working in screen acting who looks enough like him to be a plausible Stahl (perhaps Matt Damon, at a pinch – interestingly, Stahl lost the lead role in All The Pretty Horses to Damon).
Stahl got his start as a little tacker in Mel Gibson's movie The Man Without A Face. It's interesting how much more conventional and corn-fed he looked as a child. Here he is with Unkie Mel at the pre-mere in 1993:
The reason I am going on about the way he looks is that, while in the past I have not been interested in Nick Stahl at all, over the last month or so I have been spending a lot of time staring at a screen with him on it. I've been working my way through the two series of Carnivale, in which Stahl starred as Ben Hawkins. (I won't go on about the actual show too much, although a heartfelt shout-out goes to my brother Matt for indulging me on Sunday in a gratifyingly lengthy discussion about its Byzantine plot.)
It's an interesting role in which Stahl doesn't have much dialogue and is called upon to look confused and uncomfortable much of the time. But I was quite intrigued by the way that Stahl makes bewilderment romantic and even heroic in Carnivale. Here he is at work, displaying Ben Hawkins's trademark knitted brow and slack mouth:
There is also a particular way he walks, a kind of slouching amble, and a slow, Southern way of talking, that made me wonder how much of what I was seeing was the character and how much was Stahl himself. So I did the unthinkable. I rewatched Terminator 3.
I stand by my previous assertion that Stahl was horribly miscast in this film. The standard cry is "Where was Edward Furlong?" Here, I'm afraid, was Edward Furlong:
Still kinda badass, I suppose. ("Later, dickwad!") But anyway, of all the potential actors who could have played John Connor they got Nick Stahl, and it turns out the walk is probably just the way Nick Stahl walks, because he did it in this movie, too. What also struck me is that the bewilderment from Carnivale is also there in Terminator 3. I had always interpreted this as wimpiness, but this time around I responded sympathetically, and I felt as though Stahl's John Connor better dramatised the tragedy of someone at the mercy of an unwanted destiny.
The rest of the movie remains pretty bad, though.
But this makes me wonder two things:
1. Do we become affectionate towards people merely by looking at them a lot?
2. How much of our private selves is visible in the work we do?
Today I saw the Michael Caine movie Is Anybody There? I was thinking about how Nick Stahl is really small biscuits in terms of 'actor persona', since Michael Caine has always played versions of the same character. But are we really seeing Caine the person, or a quality that he realised, early in his career, he was good at portraying?
However, Is Anybody There? is set in an old folks' home and I kept noticing the way that the old folks had wedding rings that looked as though they'd been worn for decades. You know, almost sinking into the skin – these rings didn't look like costumes. It made me think about how visceral acting is, how much the illusion of life on screen depends on subtle corporeal details such as these. In small ways, actors do inhabit their roles.
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By this you can conclude that I find fandom very embarrassing, even though I should probably save my embarrassment for my own obsession with the Terminator franchise; at least these poor Stahl fans have never made a cake in the shape of Nick Stahl's head. Which brings me back to the man in question, who starred as John Connor in Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.
What a strange-looking man he is, with his wide- and deep-set eyes, little nose, giant chin and sticking-out ears. He intrigues me because in one of my favourite parlour games, Plausible Family Casting, I can't really think of anyone else currently working in screen acting who looks enough like him to be a plausible Stahl (perhaps Matt Damon, at a pinch – interestingly, Stahl lost the lead role in All The Pretty Horses to Damon).
Stahl got his start as a little tacker in Mel Gibson's movie The Man Without A Face. It's interesting how much more conventional and corn-fed he looked as a child. Here he is with Unkie Mel at the pre-mere in 1993:
The reason I am going on about the way he looks is that, while in the past I have not been interested in Nick Stahl at all, over the last month or so I have been spending a lot of time staring at a screen with him on it. I've been working my way through the two series of Carnivale, in which Stahl starred as Ben Hawkins. (I won't go on about the actual show too much, although a heartfelt shout-out goes to my brother Matt for indulging me on Sunday in a gratifyingly lengthy discussion about its Byzantine plot.)
It's an interesting role in which Stahl doesn't have much dialogue and is called upon to look confused and uncomfortable much of the time. But I was quite intrigued by the way that Stahl makes bewilderment romantic and even heroic in Carnivale. Here he is at work, displaying Ben Hawkins's trademark knitted brow and slack mouth:
There is also a particular way he walks, a kind of slouching amble, and a slow, Southern way of talking, that made me wonder how much of what I was seeing was the character and how much was Stahl himself. So I did the unthinkable. I rewatched Terminator 3.
I stand by my previous assertion that Stahl was horribly miscast in this film. The standard cry is "Where was Edward Furlong?" Here, I'm afraid, was Edward Furlong:
Still kinda badass, I suppose. ("Later, dickwad!") But anyway, of all the potential actors who could have played John Connor they got Nick Stahl, and it turns out the walk is probably just the way Nick Stahl walks, because he did it in this movie, too. What also struck me is that the bewilderment from Carnivale is also there in Terminator 3. I had always interpreted this as wimpiness, but this time around I responded sympathetically, and I felt as though Stahl's John Connor better dramatised the tragedy of someone at the mercy of an unwanted destiny.
The rest of the movie remains pretty bad, though.
But this makes me wonder two things:
1. Do we become affectionate towards people merely by looking at them a lot?
2. How much of our private selves is visible in the work we do?
Today I saw the Michael Caine movie Is Anybody There? I was thinking about how Nick Stahl is really small biscuits in terms of 'actor persona', since Michael Caine has always played versions of the same character. But are we really seeing Caine the person, or a quality that he realised, early in his career, he was good at portraying?
However, Is Anybody There? is set in an old folks' home and I kept noticing the way that the old folks had wedding rings that looked as though they'd been worn for decades. You know, almost sinking into the skin – these rings didn't look like costumes. It made me think about how visceral acting is, how much the illusion of life on screen depends on subtle corporeal details such as these. In small ways, actors do inhabit their roles.
The contemplative life. Recently I went away on a writing retreat organised by Leanne. At first I was afraid about not being a 'real' writer ('real', in this case, meaning "long-form fiction"), and intimidated by the fact that the other people there, whom I mostly didn't know, would be 'literary'. But it turned out that everyone had different kinds of writing (and reading, and planning) to pursue.
I'd been at the end of my tether before I went – that feeling of constantly being behind on everything, with work piling up (literally, in my case – unreviewed books, DVDs and CDs everywhere). Just making it from day to day was a real struggle. Worst of all, I was feeling fuzzy in the head, as though my brain wasn't quite tuned in properly.
By contrast, the writing week (although I only dared stay five days away from the internet) felt quiet and clear. Life was very simple and pleasurable: I would get up at around 9am, potter about in my PJs with avocado crazy toast and a cup of tea, reading bits from the weekend papers (we'd left on Saturday).
Then I'd get dressed and sit down at my computer for some serious work, punctuated with more pottering about and a rediscovery of my childhood fascination with the maintenance of wood fires. I'd finish work at maybe 6pm, then it would be time to have dinner and socialise with the others. I would be among the last to bed at maybe 11:30 or midnight.
When I got back I felt a real sense of loss. It wasn't just the hollow feeling that sets in upon returning from a lovely holiday. It was bewilderment: having 'rebooted' my life, how was I going to maintain that sense of quiet, that restfulness, among the usual internet white noise, emails wanting stuff from me, bills needing to be paid, bags full of unwashed laundry and a cat who alternately demands to be cuddled and poos on the goddamn floor?
I was worried that I had become the sort of person who can't handle everyday stress except by physically removing myself from it. That's just not practical. So I was intrigued by this Cary Tennis question on how to live a "contemplative life" while still being 'of the world'. It's a slightly different case here, as I don't especially want to devote my life to spiritual contemplation or permanently cloister myself, but I do want the sense of clarity and simplicity that can come from having time and space away from the quotidian.
Also, something in me responded to Cary's observation: "You mention groups, so it sounds like you are imagining not a solitary existence but membership in some sort of spiritual society, perhaps one that is shut off from the hustle and bustle, one made up of people who seek a spiritual way of living."
Perhaps what I seek is the kind of solidarity and companionship I enjoyed during the writing retreat. A group of people who were dedicated to thinking and writing in ways that were related, yet different, to my own. People who slid gracefully around each other's rhythms of work and spaces of thought, yet who were also fun and companionable in non-professional ways. Sometimes I keenly feel my lack of a workplace and colleagues. I mean, I have them, but I rarely actually work side by side with them.
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I'd been at the end of my tether before I went – that feeling of constantly being behind on everything, with work piling up (literally, in my case – unreviewed books, DVDs and CDs everywhere). Just making it from day to day was a real struggle. Worst of all, I was feeling fuzzy in the head, as though my brain wasn't quite tuned in properly.
By contrast, the writing week (although I only dared stay five days away from the internet) felt quiet and clear. Life was very simple and pleasurable: I would get up at around 9am, potter about in my PJs with avocado crazy toast and a cup of tea, reading bits from the weekend papers (we'd left on Saturday).
Then I'd get dressed and sit down at my computer for some serious work, punctuated with more pottering about and a rediscovery of my childhood fascination with the maintenance of wood fires. I'd finish work at maybe 6pm, then it would be time to have dinner and socialise with the others. I would be among the last to bed at maybe 11:30 or midnight.
When I got back I felt a real sense of loss. It wasn't just the hollow feeling that sets in upon returning from a lovely holiday. It was bewilderment: having 'rebooted' my life, how was I going to maintain that sense of quiet, that restfulness, among the usual internet white noise, emails wanting stuff from me, bills needing to be paid, bags full of unwashed laundry and a cat who alternately demands to be cuddled and poos on the goddamn floor?
I was worried that I had become the sort of person who can't handle everyday stress except by physically removing myself from it. That's just not practical. So I was intrigued by this Cary Tennis question on how to live a "contemplative life" while still being 'of the world'. It's a slightly different case here, as I don't especially want to devote my life to spiritual contemplation or permanently cloister myself, but I do want the sense of clarity and simplicity that can come from having time and space away from the quotidian.
Also, something in me responded to Cary's observation: "You mention groups, so it sounds like you are imagining not a solitary existence but membership in some sort of spiritual society, perhaps one that is shut off from the hustle and bustle, one made up of people who seek a spiritual way of living."
Perhaps what I seek is the kind of solidarity and companionship I enjoyed during the writing retreat. A group of people who were dedicated to thinking and writing in ways that were related, yet different, to my own. People who slid gracefully around each other's rhythms of work and spaces of thought, yet who were also fun and companionable in non-professional ways. Sometimes I keenly feel my lack of a workplace and colleagues. I mean, I have them, but I rarely actually work side by side with them.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Poem In The Form Of Unanswered Gmail Chat Conversation Starter. As sent to Andrew, that anchovy-loving, non-Gmail-chat-answering bastard.
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I bought some anchovies todayI figure that if they dissolve in food they will be okay
However, I feel quite ashamed of the over-whimsical potential of such a poem. Can you imagine the vile McSweeney's List that could be compiled from such abortive reachings-out on Gmail Chat?
Another time I was at book club and Helen had made these little crostini criss-crossed with anchovies. I ate one to be polite but I made sure to eat it in tiny little bites so that I wasn't overwhelmed with the anchovy taste and made no involuntary facial grimaces. It actually tasted quite nice that way.
Now I have decided to try cooking with tiny amounts of anchovy after hearing (for the umpteenth time) that they dissolve in the pan leaving only a savoury, salty flavour behind. In much the same way, I can handle olives if they are mashed into a tapenade and spread over something else.
HeyTwo foods I really can't stand are anchovies and olives. It is their strong, salty taste, and in the case of anchovies, it is also their hairy texture. Once I was in the window at Mario's, where I am quite often to be found early on Sunday afternoons, and someone had ordered a puttanesca. The smell of it was so vile I thought I would throw up.
Guess you're busy then
I just wanted to say I don't mind your beard after all
Are you around tonight?
We could get a drink
Hello?
Another time I was at book club and Helen had made these little crostini criss-crossed with anchovies. I ate one to be polite but I made sure to eat it in tiny little bites so that I wasn't overwhelmed with the anchovy taste and made no involuntary facial grimaces. It actually tasted quite nice that way.
Now I have decided to try cooking with tiny amounts of anchovy after hearing (for the umpteenth time) that they dissolve in the pan leaving only a savoury, salty flavour behind. In much the same way, I can handle olives if they are mashed into a tapenade and spread over something else.
Friday, April 17, 2009
By poopular demand. I assure you, I really am a very intelligent person who gets a lot of work done in the average workday. However, a few weeks back, my Facebook friend Benjamin Law snarkily commented on the plethora of stupid quizzes that are currently showing up on Facebook by saying, "What's next – 'which poo are you?'"
This was like a red rag to a bull. I couldn't resist actually creating this quiz, but because I am (as I have previously mentioned) extremely intelligent and not interested in procrastination at all during working hours, it has taken me until just now to actually create the quiz. I drew the line, however, at providing images of each poo. There is already a distressing number of very uncompromising results when you do a Google Image Search for "poo".
If you'd like to do the quiz but are not interested in Facebook, then it is reproduced below.
Which Poo Are You?
You won't find a more intellectual - or revealing - Facebook quiz than this one! Discover your innermost personality, through the magic of faeces.
1. You're heading out to eat. What are you in the mood for?
a) Y'know what? Corn on the frickin' cob.
b) I wanna feel the burn – so maybe Sichuan or Indian.
c) At 3am? Okay, a large kebab with extra garlic sauce.
d) A giant salad with plenty of spinach and chickpeas.
e) A triple cheese and bacon burger sandwiched between two steaks.
2. How would you go about wooing that special someone?
a) I keep popping into view and hope they'll notice me eventually.
b) Tell them funny anecdotes. Get me started and I can't seem to shut up.
c) Ply them with liquor. If that doesn't work, I ply myself with liquor.
d) A big smile and a compliment. Simple stuff, but it works.
e) I get so shy that I clam up completely.
3. You're in trouble at work. How come?
a) I'm always hanging around, but never seem to get any actual work done.
b) I yelled at the boss. Don't ask me why; I just kind of exploded.
c) I roll in every day at 11am stinking of booze and gnawing on a KFC Colonel Burger.
d) I spend more time flirting with co-workers than doing my job.
e) I'm so stressed out I haven't left my desk for five days.
4. Describe your dress sense.
a) Bright colours and light, breezy fabrics.
b) Something dramatic; I love to make a bold impression.
c) Dishevelled and covered in mysterious stains.
d) I'm always clothed in silk.
e) Anything, as long as it's skin-tight.
5. Are you worried about the future?
a) Nah, no matter what life throws at me, I always bounce back.
b) I try not to worry because things always happen when you least expect them.
c) Who needs a future when you have tequila?
d) Not really, I can always charm people into helping me out.
e) Oh my god yes! I'm so stressed that sometimes I can't sleep at night.
Mostly As
You're a FLOATER!
Buoyant and tenacious, you can weather any storm(water drain)! No matter whether life gives you the half or the full flush, you're full of beans and bobbing up for more!
Mostly Bs
You're DIARRHOEA!
You're the sexiest poo of all: hot, wet, spicy and explosive! You certainly love to leave your mark. But you're also a poo of impeccable tastes: you'll only come out when there's a poorly refrigerated chicken salad or a delicious bain-marie pizza.
Mostly Cs
You're an AFTER GROG BOG!
Some people have their fun during a night on the town... but the morning after is when you come out to play! Huge, fragrant and incredibly satisfying, you get a day off to a great start.
Mostly Ds
You're a SMOOTH OPERATOR!
Where did you come from, you smooth devil? It's as though you were clothed in silk! A pleasure to poo and a cinch to flush, you're the old-fashioned lover boy of the faecal world.
Mostly Es
You're THE CONSTIPATOR!
Boy oh boy, you don't like doing things the easy way, do you? Tough as nails and solid as a rock, you're also the stubbornest poo in the bowl. You need to loosen up or you'll give someone a hernia.
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This was like a red rag to a bull. I couldn't resist actually creating this quiz, but because I am (as I have previously mentioned) extremely intelligent and not interested in procrastination at all during working hours, it has taken me until just now to actually create the quiz. I drew the line, however, at providing images of each poo. There is already a distressing number of very uncompromising results when you do a Google Image Search for "poo".
If you'd like to do the quiz but are not interested in Facebook, then it is reproduced below.
Which Poo Are You?
You won't find a more intellectual - or revealing - Facebook quiz than this one! Discover your innermost personality, through the magic of faeces.
1. You're heading out to eat. What are you in the mood for?
a) Y'know what? Corn on the frickin' cob.
b) I wanna feel the burn – so maybe Sichuan or Indian.
c) At 3am? Okay, a large kebab with extra garlic sauce.
d) A giant salad with plenty of spinach and chickpeas.
e) A triple cheese and bacon burger sandwiched between two steaks.
2. How would you go about wooing that special someone?
a) I keep popping into view and hope they'll notice me eventually.
b) Tell them funny anecdotes. Get me started and I can't seem to shut up.
c) Ply them with liquor. If that doesn't work, I ply myself with liquor.
d) A big smile and a compliment. Simple stuff, but it works.
e) I get so shy that I clam up completely.
3. You're in trouble at work. How come?
a) I'm always hanging around, but never seem to get any actual work done.
b) I yelled at the boss. Don't ask me why; I just kind of exploded.
c) I roll in every day at 11am stinking of booze and gnawing on a KFC Colonel Burger.
d) I spend more time flirting with co-workers than doing my job.
e) I'm so stressed out I haven't left my desk for five days.
4. Describe your dress sense.
a) Bright colours and light, breezy fabrics.
b) Something dramatic; I love to make a bold impression.
c) Dishevelled and covered in mysterious stains.
d) I'm always clothed in silk.
e) Anything, as long as it's skin-tight.
5. Are you worried about the future?
a) Nah, no matter what life throws at me, I always bounce back.
b) I try not to worry because things always happen when you least expect them.
c) Who needs a future when you have tequila?
d) Not really, I can always charm people into helping me out.
e) Oh my god yes! I'm so stressed that sometimes I can't sleep at night.
Mostly As
You're a FLOATER!
Buoyant and tenacious, you can weather any storm(water drain)! No matter whether life gives you the half or the full flush, you're full of beans and bobbing up for more!
Mostly Bs
You're DIARRHOEA!
You're the sexiest poo of all: hot, wet, spicy and explosive! You certainly love to leave your mark. But you're also a poo of impeccable tastes: you'll only come out when there's a poorly refrigerated chicken salad or a delicious bain-marie pizza.
Mostly Cs
You're an AFTER GROG BOG!
Some people have their fun during a night on the town... but the morning after is when you come out to play! Huge, fragrant and incredibly satisfying, you get a day off to a great start.
Mostly Ds
You're a SMOOTH OPERATOR!
Where did you come from, you smooth devil? It's as though you were clothed in silk! A pleasure to poo and a cinch to flush, you're the old-fashioned lover boy of the faecal world.
Mostly Es
You're THE CONSTIPATOR!
Boy oh boy, you don't like doing things the easy way, do you? Tough as nails and solid as a rock, you're also the stubbornest poo in the bowl. You need to loosen up or you'll give someone a hernia.
