Today I want to look closely at the most brilliant new-ish song I’ve heard in a while–the song “Hummingbird” by Wilco off of their album A Ghost is Born. To my ears this is a song that is both skillfully crafted and yet beautifully affecting. And the album is fantastic as well-one of the best I’ve ever heard, in fact. On the album there is a variety of textures as well as a large amount of forms and styles. One song, “Spiders (Kidsmoke),” even plays with listener anticipation as the hypnotizing, minimalist keyboard rhythm is overtaken by an all-out rock assault at several unpredictable points in the song. All of this, along with the seventies-esque production techniques makes for a fantastic album of road music, which I have empirically tested on the highway between Oklahoma City and Stillwater several times, (as well as on a lonely road in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico.) If you don’t own this song or album, I highly recommend it. For, how else will you know what I’m talking about for the rest of this article? On to the details…

The first thing you hear in the song is an insistent McCartney-esque pattern of quarter-note chords in the middle register of the piano. After four bars the piano volume is unnaturally and quickly dropped down to make room for Jeff Tweedy’s subdued vocal:

His goal in life was to be an echo
Riding alone, town after town, toll after toll
A fixed bayonet through the great southwest to forget her

I’ll let the cat out of the bag a little early and let you know that I am struck by the beauty of Tweedy’s words for this song. This is a rarity for me, but I think that they are the signpost for the “craft” of this song. First of all, the writer is dealing with people without names. Both of the characters of this song are denoted merely by pronouns with no antecedent. I think the choice to keep things anonymous suggests a kind of archetypal quality to the characters. The ambiguity of the first line is then countered by a more concrete line of action, riding alone, and then a marvelous metaphor-”a fixed bayonet.” And then the other character is (not) introduced: the her that he is trying to forget.

With the second half of the first verse comes a really poignant moment:

She appears in his dreams

On the word “appears,” all kinds of warm instrumental sounds “appear” to fill out the space that was left by the lone piano before, not the least of which is the liquid, sustaining two notes on clean electric guitar. It’s a moment where time is expanded, both figuratively and literally, as the insistence of the piano pulse is overshadowed by these longer, smoother notes. There is no better soundtrack to paint the picture of dreams of the feminine kind.

The rest of the second verse is a little ambiguous, but that’s one of the beauties of this song as a whole-you feel what he’s saying, but you don’t know what he’s saying:

But in his car and in his arms
A dream can mean anything
A cheap sunset on a television set can upset her
But he never could

The contrasting B section to this song is driven by the melancholy melody and sentiment in a different key:

Remember to remember me
Standing still in your past
Floating fast like a hummingbird

Again, we have a concrete image of a hummingbird and the metaphor of standing still in someone’s past, which seem like contradictory ideas. But again, the ambiguity is key. This song practically asks you to try to figure it all out; the lyrics seem just this close to being comprehensible.

With the return to the verse melody, (in a new key), it’s a little bit closer to a rock n’ roll song with drums and bass and off-beat electric guitar chord stabs. But the interesting thing is how the rhythm section brings a new half-time feel underneath the original piano line. This time, instead of the subdued, mumbly voice, we hear a little bit more determined and strained vocal style. The second verse is where the imagery kicks into overdrive:

His goal in life was to be an echo
The type of sound that floats around and then back down
Like a feather
But in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans
No one could hear him or anything

“Deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans” is such an elegant way of painting the picture of an urban cityscape. Contrast that with the natural scene that follows:

So he slept on a mountain
In a sleeping bag underneath the stars
He would lie awake and count them
And the gray fountain spray of the great Milky Way
Would never let him die alone

The internal rhyme scheme of line four shows Tweedy to have an adept control of words, but the idea put forth is probably more striking, that this Kerouac-ian lonesome traveler would not be disregarded by the seeming void of the universe. Somehow, some way, he would be cared for- a rare moment of unquestionable hope on the part of Tweedy.

The ethereal B section appears again, this time with an overdubbed higher vocal part and then is repeated one more time with drums and the band to give us the “rock band” sound. Interestingly, this fairly short song ends with an instrumental coda that introduces an all new bouncy melody on strings joined the second time by a fuzzy guitar aping the viola sound and finally ending on an unresolved chord.

Overall, this song has a lot to offer a listener. On the lyrical side, the ambiguity and resultant invitation to multiple interpretations are matched by the strong imagery and interesting phrasing. (As far as my own interpretation: I see it as a “relationship-gone-bad-I’ll-never-make-that-mistake-again-song.”) On the musical side, Wilco employs all manner of instrumentation changes from simple voice-and-piano to a full out band with string section to delineate the form and move the piece from one section to another without boring the listener. Another cool aspect to this song that is beyond the scope of this article is the relatively sophisticated harmonic language employed in comparison to a lot of other pop music and even a lot of other music by Wilco.

So, if you have never heard this song, I implore you, dear reader. Buy it. Or hit up a friend who has it. You will not be sorry. Actually, you will be sorry. Sorry for never letting such beauty into your life before.

“It is World War III down there. People are being killed.”

Does that line send a chill down your spine? Does a cry of “Wolverine!!!” whip you up into a purty good frenzy?

If you are a male between the ages of 25-35 those lines ought to mean something to you. They come from the classic 1984 film Red Dawn, a film that had a profound effect on an entire generation of adolescents. Cold War tension war running high in the United States and those fears were realized in the fictional exploits of a rag-tag band of high schoolers trying to survive a Soviet invasion.

No male within Red Dawn’s target audience was able to resist the urge to daydream about precisely what he would do should he find himself thrust in the same situation. Every boy calculated precisely where he would obtain weapons, which friends he would bring along, and where he would hide out.

Throw in the fact that this was the first movie ever released with the PG-13 rating and you’ve got a cinematic goldmine, evidenced by its outstanding opening weekend even though our nation’s attention was turned to the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.

Trey Parker and Matt Stone were clearly influenced by the film, as evidenced by the South Park episode “Grey Dawn.” Who can forget the chilling scene where Mr. Garrison is teaching the class about Genghis Khan as the AARP paratroopers are dropping in the background? Or the hair-raising Randy Marsh, behind the octogenarian’s prison camp fence, urging the boys to “AVENGE ME!!!?”

Additionally, several Red Dawn references can be heard on the radio in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

“John has a long mustache. The chair is against the wall.”

The diverse cast of characters gives the viewer plenty to relate to. Perhaps you see yourself in little brother Matt or political Darryl. Or maybe you can better relate to the young Danny, grizzled Colonel Andy, or one of the token girls. Most likely, everyone’s favorite character is either meek boy-turned-maniac Robert, or Swayze’s hair.

In the early days of World War III, guerillas – mostly children – placed the names of their lost upon this rock. They fought here alone and gave up their lives, so that this nation should not perish from the earth.

Thank you, Wolverines.

A Private Little War
Rating: “Fascinating”

Synopsis:
Spock and Kirk land on a planet Kirk had visited years earlier and left as being peaceful. However, Kirk and Spock are ambushed, and Spock is shot by some of the planet’s inhabitants. Not only is Spock injured, but Kirk is left to wonder how the planet’s inhabitants got guns. Meanwhile, as Spock is being treated for his wounds (he puts himself in a state of hypnosis), a Klingon ship is detected in the planet’s orbit. Kirk, with his suspicions raised, beams back down to the planet along with Dr. McCoy. Shortly after beaming down, the two are attacked by mugato, a venomous gorilla-like beast, (if you can imagine that), and Kirk is bitten.

McCoy and Kirk are taken to a “hill people” settlement, where Kirk will be treated for the mugato bite by the wife of Kirk’s friend Tyree, who is now the leader of the hill people in their war with the village people, (HAA!!). Nona, Tyree’s wife, is a sort of sorceress who is able to arouse a man with the use of some sort of leaf, (I cannot remember what it’s called.) She is also urging her pacifist husband to acquire guns, or “firesticks”, to battle the village people. Tyree is urged back to the camp, and discovers his old friend Kirk is injured. Nona, with the use of a mahko root, brings Kirk healing. (There is also the use of a strange ceremonial movement where Nona cuts the palm of her hand with a knife then lays her hands on Kirk).

As Kirk heals, Nona continues to urge her husband to use the firesticks, and later she sees McCoy using a phaser. Kirk asks Tyree to take him to the village and see how the villagers are getting the firesticks. They discover at night that the villagers are getting them from the Klingons, and steal one of the firesticks. Kirk teaches the hill people how to use the firesticks, in spite of McCoy’s objections and Tyree’s apprehension. Kirk later seeks out Nona while she is bathing to get her to help him convince Tyree to fight the villagers, but she is more interested in Kirk’s phaser. She uses the enchanting leaf or root she uses on her husband to cast the spell on Kirk. Kirk can’t resist her and begins to go to town. Tyree sees them from a distance, and in his anger, contemplates shooting them with the firestick, but instead leaves in disgust. Kirk and Nona are attacked by a mugato, and Kirk is able to destroy the mugato with his phaser right before it is about to bite Nona. Nona, in her gratitude to Kirk for saving her life, knocks him out and steals his phaser. McCoy and the rest of the hill people find Kirk, and they take off after Nona, who has gone off to apparently boast to the villagers about the phaser. A group of villagers attack Nona, and one of them stabs her to death in the struggle. Tyree sees this, and an all-out brawl ensues between Kirk and the hill people with the villagers. After the brawl is over, Tyree in his grief realizes that there is no choice but to fight, and asks Kirk for more firesticks.

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From my viewpoint, A Private Little War is a respected episode among the Trek Nation, but not considered one of the greats. That’s puzzling to me in light of how overrated snorefests like The Doomsday Machine and Balance of Terror are creamed over. I know it may seem contradictory of me to talk about the greatness of this episode and only rate it a “Fascinating”, but the “action” sequences in the middle of the episode just drag horribly. The night scenes in the village kill me. It’s essential to the plot to establish the Klingon role in the imminent civil war, but the sequence to steal the firestick is really not all that interesting. Nona is a scene-stealer, and the mugato has become a bit of a Star Trek icon, not unlike the face of Balok and the Tribbles.

The pace of the episode is disjointed, but there is an understated sense of urgency throughout the show. I also get a bit frustrated at the scenes where we see Spock’s “recovery.” I don’t know what the purpose of this is, other than to add a sense of suspense for the not-so-jaded 1960’s television audience, who might be wondering, “Is this it for Mr. Spock?” I suppose the creative team is saying that imperialism and geopolitical greed has only one end, that being destruction. Not such a profound statement, given that if imperialism and conquest lead to abundance and freedom for all, then there would be no need for such statements or commentary.

It’s also important to note that this episode aired on television at a time when John Wayne was a Hollywood icon, and Hollywood glorified the Might Means Right worldview, (at least to a measurable degree.) I can imagine John Wayne, after a viewing of A Private Little War, declaring in disgust, “Star-gazing pansies!”

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Well, this was unintentional, but I’ve discovered as I look over the five films I have watched this go-around, that all five films have one thing in common: all of them share some level of controversy in their release, be it subject matter or statement or the fact that scenes in the film attempt to be the most sickening thing ever shown to an audience. All of these films have a touch of “gotta-see-it” hype to them, (even if one was hyped 65 years ago.) And after all these months of praising great films, I’m finally pulling out the knives. So with that said, let’s get right to it:

The Grapes of Wrath (1940) Henry Fonda ***

Screen adaptation of John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel about Oklahoma farmers seeking relief in California is a very good film but still has its issues. The cinematography and Fonda’s performance are outstanding, but the screenplay feels like a rush job (it’s a two hour film that BEGS to be three hours.) The 12 member ensemble does the film no favors as too many characters are glossed over (one disappears completely with no explanation), and there’s technically no ending as the then-controversial for the ’40s ending is cut altogether. About as good as an adaptation as could be expected, but by all means read the book instead if given the option.

The Woodsman (2004) Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgwick ***

Solid character story with Bacon as a child molester being released from prison and how he adapts to an unaccepting world. The catch is that the urges are still there, and that people in fact have a right to be untrusting. Very well-paced film as there are about three or four plotlines ranging from finding love with a co-worker to discovering another pedophile stalking children. Film highlighted by a tense sequence where Bacon engages in a conversation with a possible new target. Strange sex scenes between Bacon and Sedgwick, (real life husband-and-wife), as the same shots seem to be used repeatedly.

Hannibal (2001) Anthony Hopkins, Julianne Moore **

Unpleasant and borderline sickening sequel to Silence of the Lambs puts Hannibal Lecter out in the open, Clarice Starling on his lead, and a (literally) faceless patient of Lecter’s out for revenge. Decent enough plot but Clarice comes off as the stupidest FBI agent ever and Lecter comes off as a modern day hero. An uncredited Gary Oldman as the faceless Mason Verger is the highlight, (his scenes earn the ** all by himself), but too much gross imagery makes the film hard to enjoy. Contains what may be one of the most disturbing scenes I’ve ever seen in a major motion picture, (involving the fate of Ray Liotta), partly because it’s played for comedy. If you want to see wild boars eat people alive and a man get fed his own brain, then knock yourself out.

Dirty Love (2005) Jenny McCarthy, Carmen Electra 1/2*

Not quite the worst movie ever made, but it certainly makes a case. Jenny McCarthy stars in, (and wrote), this movie about a girl getting cheated on, then experiencing one unrealistically horrible date after another, all the while showing the world what a whore she is. Incredibly unfunny and painful attempts at humor capped off by a nails-on-chalkboard performance by a, (thinking she’s black), Carmen Electra. Somehow an amusing 60-second cameo by Sum41 actually raises this film from the depths of zero-stardom. So bad it’s bad. But if you want to see a woman slipping around on her own menstrual blood, well…………

Pink Flamingos (1972) John Waters **1/2

This is one of those films you see solely so you can say that you’ve seen it. Virtually plotless film involves two couples competing to be the filthiest people alive. First major film from John Waters is SO low budget, you can literally hear the projector playing during his narrative voice-overs. Basically a home movie that got a theatrical release, it’s a miracle that it can be so easily obtained, (at least two scenes can be classified as legit pornography.) Film contains, (for real): a live chicken getting killed during a sex act, suggested incest, a singing sphincter, a pre-op transsexual showing what he was about to lose, the main cast getting high on camera, and the scene that this film is infamous for: a drag queen eating actual dog feces. Yes, I’m a sick, (or brave), man for sitting through it, but despite the insanity of it all, it’s a so-bad-it’s-good film, (unlike the two films above.) And even more impressive, the film really isn’t as disgusting as it sounds. Though it IS pretty disgusting.

Next go-around, I actually WILL have a theme as I’ve been Netflixing some legitimately horrible films, so if you’re frothing for some bad cinema, then I’ll have the goods.

-Sydney Brown

Ivan Drago was in a boxing ring in a suddenly darkened Royal Albert Hall. He had just successfully defended his heavyweight title with a first- round knockout, (in which he had hardly broken a sweat), when the lights went out and plunged the arena into chaos.

A flash pierced the darkness and Drago heard a familiar scream over the bedlam. Light was restored as Ivan rushed down to the ringside seating where he had heard his wife Ludmilla cry out.

Ludmilla’s body lay prone on the floor as the sinister Professor Moriarty knelt over her. He had removed Ludmilla’s prized possession, the Filigree Broach from the tomb of Crimea, which was a gift from Prime Minister Fradkov.

Moriarty had orchestrated the blackout to get his hands on the priceless jewelry and was making his way towards the exit when Drago’s shadow loomed over him. He heard the shadow say “I must break you” as he was roughly shoved from behind.

Moriarty spun around, “Ordinarily I do not bother with half-wits and buffoons. Do not test me or you shall find yourself quite overmatched.”

With that, the professor threw a gray, powdery substance into Ivan’s eyes. Drago was blinded. His eyes burned with a furious pain and his glove-clad paws were of little use in wiping them out.

Moriarty taunted Drago- “In a way I’m almost sorry for you; you were a stimulating influence for me. Although I must say you have less frontal development than I should have expected.”

Though his eyes were blurred and teary Drago was able to key in on the professor’s location by his voice and unleashed a frenzied barrage of punches, many landing solidly with 2000 psi of power.

It has been said of Drago that whatever he hits, he destroys and the evidence of this day surely seemed to support that. After fifteen or so well-placed punches the professor’s face looked like that dude in Irreversible who gets bashed by the fire extinguisher.

As the police ran up they said to Drago, “What have you done? You’ve killed him.”

Ivan coldly replied, “If he dies, he dies,” and then went to check on his wife.

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Chris Finch was on his way home from a very successful sales visit. He closed a mammoth deal to sell paper to a rural school district that would surely net him a huge bonus from Wernham-Hogg. Although he had several hours of driving on desolate, snowy road ahead of him, he was already halfway through his third pint of Lager.

His healthy buzz certainly didn’t help him navigate the icy roads. When he swerved to miss a cow lazily crossing the road, he spun out of control, his crumpled car finally coming to a rest in a muddy drainage ditch.

When Finch came to, he found himself lying in a strange bed, an unbelievable pain shooting through his mangled leg. He was nude and his clothes were neatly folded next to him on the floor. Standing over him and changing the dressing on his wound was his savior, Annie Wilkes. The nurse had pulled him from the wreckage and taken him to her house to care for him.

As Annie bent over Chris he quipped, “While you’re down there why don’t you wrap your laughing gear around my old single barrel pump action yogurt rifle?”

Annie leaped with indignation. “What did you just say to me?”

Finchy replied, “C’mon luv. How about just one up the bum, no harm done?”

Annie was now livid. “You listen here, you foul-mouthed cockadoodie! I am going to teach you some manners.” Finchy watched in horror as Annie took a sledgehammer and swung it full force at his knob.

Despite his terrible pain, Finch acted with lightening quick reflexes to save his prized possession. In one move he narrowly dodged the crippling blow and grabbed a shoe from the bedside. He cocked the shoe and yelled “Stone me! I’ll teach you, you gormless plonker.”

Finch hurled the shoe at Annie with pinpoint accuracy and tremendous velocity just as she raised the sledgehammer over her head for another blow. The shoe struck Annie squarely in the nose and caused her to drop the hammer right on her head. She died instantly, but that didn’t stop Finchy from groping her as he made his way to the phone.

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I originally tossed around the idea of calling this article “Spider-Man is Lonely.” It would have had a curious simplicity to draw a reader in. Of course, the main problem with “Spider-Man is Lonely” as a title is that this article isn’t about Spider-Man’s loneliness. (Although the case could certainly be made for such-he’s socially-awkward, a science-whiz and his one friend, Harry Osborn, is as much a mortal enemy as a friend. And then there’s all the mooning over Mary Jane Watson. Just look at the monologue to the first movie: “This, like any story worth telling, is all about a girl.”)

No, the real power behind the Spider-Man story is the ethical dilemma in which Peter Parker finds himself.

But first, some facts, (since this is the Superhero Information Initiative): Spider-Man first appeared in a comic book in 1963, which would be right around the time The Beatles were becoming really famous overseas. His real identity is Peter Parker, high school student. His amazing super-human strength, agility, and near-precognition come from a bite by a radioactive spider. (One interesting difference I found between the movies and the traditional comic is the method by which he slings those marvelous webs. In the movies, the webs come out of his body from some strange mutation. But the comic book Spidey has mechanical web-shooters. And don’t forget about his ability to walk up walls.

Clearly, he has some amazing powers. But the question of how or even if he should use those powers is where the story gets interesting for me. His Uncle Ben gets to reveal one of the guiding themes of the comic as a whole- “with great power comes great responsibility.” Peter takes this idea and runs with it, organizing his life around works of vigilante justice as an extremely mobile crime-fighter and defender of the public good.

However, I just glossed over a fact that muddies Peter’s ethical waters. Peter only takes on the responsibility philosophy after Uncle Ben’s death at the hands of a criminal. Why is this important? Peter feels responsible for the death of his uncle because of his inaction at a critical moment. He then feels the need to “be responsible” with his powers out of the potential problems for him and his loved ones. While he is acting on principle, it’s not exactly altruistic. His responsibility still fights with the concerns of self. He may have super-human powers, but he is still plagued by merely human ethical concerns. And there is no better display of this than his hesitance with Mary Jane, for fear of her well-being: “No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, the ones I love will always be the ones who pay.” It really does play out that Peter’s powers are a gift and a curse.

I noticed in the first movie that the Green Goblin presents an interesting alternate ethical course for Peter, (other than Peter’s renouncing his powers altogether and trying to “act normal,” which no one really sees as a viable option- not for long, anyway.) In Green Goblin’s speeches we are presented with a more existential view of the world. If Spider-Man insists on being heroic with his powers, he will never know what to do when a “lunatic” comes along with a “sadistic choice.” Indeed, Green Goblin puts him in a spot of dual responsibilities-save the girl or save the cable-car full of innocents-”make your choice and see how a hero is rewarded,” he snarls ironically, “we are who we choose to be.”

Green Goblin’s ethical standpoint is very interesting. If Uncle Ben is the angel on Pete’s shoulder, Gobby would be the devil. He would probably say that “with great power comes great freedom,” a la Raskalnikov in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, who proposes that “truly great” persons should be allowed to subvert the rules and regulations of common ethics. He offers Spider-Man a way out by an invitation to join forces with him: “The teeming masses exist for the sole purpose of lifting the few exceptional people onto their shoulders.”

Few people would probably sign-up for the Green Goblin’s school of behavior. But I can’t help but wonder how different the character of Spider-Man would be if he was beholden to no one in particular- no Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and certainly no Mary Jane. What if he was only beholden to society as a group? While it would be fun to say that a woman screws it all up for Peter and that there is no ethical dilemma without M.J in the story, it’s probably more accurate to say that Peter’s unfulfilled longing for her is what royally screws things up, (in the movies, at least), and complicates his ethical decisions.

Because Spider-Man is lonely.