An Apology

To my readers, I want to say this:

My last article sucked. Yes, you read that correctly.
Sucked.

For that, I apologize. After re-reading the piece, I realized how half-cooked and rushed it was, not only as piece but as a concept.

With that, I will be moving on to another topic this week, one actually worth reading.

What Could Have Been, pt. 1

Story telling is divided down two generally clean lines: Fiction and Nonfiction. While these two worlds are often the only ways one can spin a yarn, it is easy to see how these two distinctions might bleed together. Great men, from ancient China's Guan Yu to President George Washington, have many stories that are unverifiable attributed to them, but they weave almost seamlessly into the fabric of both popular story and cultural tapestry.



At what, however, does the storyteller diverge from what is considered to be the accepted historical narrative to ask "What if?" Speculative Fiction fills this gap and has provided the literary world both beautiful and outlandish contributions to culture. Speculative fiction does not entirely deal in history; any subject where there is room for debate or imagination allows for an author to spin a tale within an already accepted realm.

Jules Verne, arguably a master of Speculative Fiction, released his classic work, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea in 1869. The story focuses around the crew of the Nautilus, a submarine far advanced of nautical technology at the time. Nemo's crew deals with giant squid, hunting for giant pearls, and battles against the elements in this ground-breaking piece, and yet for reasons seemingly unknown, the story has stuck in the consciousness of the literary world seemingly since it's publication.

However, not all of Speculative Fiction are so seemingly light. Kevin Wilmott's "mockumentary" C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America was produced in Britain in 2004, asking the simple but world-altering question of "What if the North had lost to the South in the American Civil War?" With an unblinking eye, Wilmott's film tells a story that would be considered shocking to most audiences though not necessarily to that of historical scholars.

So what can be said of Speculative Fiction in relation to the world outside of books and the proverbial "Silver Screen?"

Join me next week for a look at one of the quickest growing and most bewildering out-cropping of a fictional genre known.

Preview - August 25th

I have a simple question for you: What do the goggles do?
If you know the answer to this trick question, you already know where I am going. If not, check back on Friday.

Death & Rebirth

Experimental and Avant-Garde films are not entertainment as most people would normally see it. In many cases, the standards of narrative, cinematography, and sound are abandoned for testing the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) boundaries of both cinematic and audience tolerance.

Few films so viciously assault celluloid and audiences as E. Elias Merhige’s Begotten. If movies can be described as a ribbon of dreams, Merhige’s experimental masterpiece is a ribbon of fevered nightmares, a bleak reinterpretation of archetypical Creation myths. Allegedly written regarding the directors near-death experience at the age of 19, it’s easy to see how Merhige would later go on to direct such macabre films as Shadow of the Vampiree (a dark comedy/horror centering on F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu.)


Begotten uses a twisted allegory to represent the elements common to Genesis stories found across multiple cultures. Many stories feature a masculine Demiurge coupling with a Mother Goddess, giving birth to a self-sacrificing Messiah. Anyone with a passing familiarity with Theology or the Cosmology of Hinduism or Ancient Egypt might be able to see some of these in Begotten. They may be shocked, however, to see a Messiah naked and twitching in primal suffering or to see a God in a seemingly mindless act of self-mutilation. Where Merhige excels in this film, however, is not in gore or “shock factor,” but rather his vision of the cinematic process, from technique down to the base medium being used.

Filmed entirely on Black and White Reversal stock, Merhige went through the painstaking process of rephotographing each frame. The end result is a true monochrome; black and white with absolutely no grey middle tones. The effect is entrancing and unsettling, shifting between blindingly bright and complete obfuscation, the visuals can be deeply confusing as to what is actually being viewed. Sonically, Begotten is devoid of spoken word and a traditional score or soundtrack. In place of dialog is crickets, white noise, snippets of classical instrumentation, and an unwholesome wet gurgling noise. The combination of visuals, subject matter, and atonal sound creates a mix that is as enticing as it is repulsive.

Begotten was released in 1990. Given the graphic and bizarre presentation, it was unable to secure a wide distribution, though eventually it found it’s way via independent movie companies who secured copies. With the advent of Internet, Begotten has found a greater audience, and has been considered to be a high-water mark for Experimental cinema as well as heralding the oncoming violence that has bled back into Horror movies.

Begotten is a truly unique work, and as such, is not for all audiences. For those interested, I have provided a link to the film in it’s entirety. However, keep in mind that it is not safe for work, extremely graphic, and not “light cinematic fair.” As always, apply discrimination before clicking the link below.



Click here to watch.

Preview for August 20th Edition

"Language Bearers, Photographers, Diary Makers.
You with your memories are dead, frozen.
Lost in a present that never stops passing.
Here lives the incantation of matter.
A language forever."

Contemplate this until I see you on Friday.

Intrusion

The technique of using pop culture or consumerism against itself is not a new one. But like any type of controversial act, there must be a starting point or watershed. In the United States, the events on a chilly Chicago night in November, 1987 appears to have set a bizarre standard.

To have the proper perspective of this event, the year of 1987 must be taken into account. The U.S. had been contending with the failing theory of “Trickle Down” economics. Crack cocaine had become a major problem in many cities, met with a police response that was simply not strong enough to match it. The Iran-Contra affair was still a fresh wound, and the Cold War with the Soviet Union was still a black specter hanging over the consciousness of the country. The “Me Generation” had come into being, as such, the 1980s as a whole are remembered as a time period of crass consumerism. In response, a genre of fiction known as “cyberpunk” became popular. Generally set in a near and dystopian future ruled by large corporations, corrupt governments, and saturated in high technology, Cyberpunk stories focused on individuals, often disenfranchised or disillusioned, throwing themselves at the world in an attempt to break down the metaphorical walls of an oppressive world.


One of the most commercially successful pieces of Cyberpunk was Max Headroom. Set in a future of dangerous, aggressive marketing and technology gone awry, the memories and psyche of an investigative journalist are loaded into a computer network. This entity, whose name forms the title of the series, assists freedom fighters with combating this repressive regime. In an irony seemingly lost on many companies (which, in hindsight, is wholly befitting of the 1980s,) the character and image of Max Headroom became associated with Coca-Cola products through a series of television advertisements.

Viewers of the Chicago, Illinois based WGN news broadcast at 9pm were surprised and disturbed to see the nightly sports highlights interrupted by a strange sight. A man wearing a latex rubber Max Headroom mask behaving wildly in front of a sheet of corrugated metal, accompanied by a loud, atonal buzzing noise. WGN engineers, realizing what was going on, changed transmitter, leaving anchorman Dan Roan flustered and perplexed on screen, saying “If you are wondering what just happened, so am I.” At 11:15pm, WTTW, another local Chicago station was struck. This time, audio as well as video came through. For 90 seconds, WTTW viewers watched again as “Max” again to act erratically, mocking Coca-Cola ad slogans, make strange comments regarding dirty gloves, and in a surreal turn, remove his pants to be spanked by an individual off-screen wielding a fly swatter.



This is not, however, the first act of T.V. broadcast piracy. In 1977, a ITN in England news update (which aired on British Southern Broadcasting station) had it’s audio pirated by an individual claiming to be an extraterrestrial who delivered a message claiming to be offering humans world peace and salvation. In 1986, an individual identifying himself as “Captain Midnight” broke through a HBO broadcast with a text complaining about HBO’s monthly prices.

The “Max Headroom Piracy Incident,” as it’s widely known, is exceedingly strange for a number of reasons. Previous signal pirates seemed to have some sort of purpose or message to be conveyed. “Max,” on the other hand, seemed to have little intention beyond hurling irrational insults at local TV stations, humming the theme to a cartoon show, taunting soft drink manufacturers, and to be publicly spanked. One could argue that the acts of the individuals responsible for this act foreshadowed groups such as The Cacophony Society (a band of pranksters from 1970s San Francisco) or Anonymous (Internet hackers, activists, and “trolls” who utilizes websites such as 4chan.)

The television series and adverts featuring Max Headroom have since faded into (no pun intended) virtual obscurity, and are generally relegated to nostalgia, effectively disappearing from the pop-cultural consciousness nearly as quickly as it arrived. There is an irony to the fact that someone using the visage of a character designed to satirize a highly technological world actually being outlived by a further bowdlerization of itself. To date, the persons responsible for the “Max Headroom Piracy Incident” have never been caught, nor has anyone come forward to claim responsibility.

Another Preview

Where were you on the night of November 22nd, 1987? If you were in Chicago, Illinois on that night, this story requires no introduction.

If not, however, come back on Friday. I have something to show you.

This Week

I will not be posting a new article this week as I am taking time to come up with a handful of new topics to work on. I hope to have some sort of "teaser" up when I get the subject matter all squared away.

See you soon!