1. Trampoline Hall, Monday 26 April 2004, at Rockit, 120 Church Street Toronto
by Timothy Comeau
I might as well be up front and saw Trampoline Hall (to be written TH in what follows) gets 10 stars, for what are obviously a variety of reasons, but for the purpose of this review I’ll try to cover the basics, or why I at least enjoyed it. As I type this, I’m remembering checking out some of the press they’d archived on their website and I think, ‘they don’t need another glowing review; there’s no need to add to that list with things said or thought before’. But then again, the articles featured therein don’t really review the shows. It’s more about what you missed.
The reviewer tries to turn their experience into a story, and provide photographs for the How-the- People-of-the-Future-Will-Think-We-Looked collection. So this can’t be that type of review…no photos for one, and for another, no point in rubbing your noses is what you missed. You’ve missed many conversations between millions of people, and that never seems to matter, but if you need to know something from such a talk, you get a synopsis, or a accurate retelling, or an expanded book. You missed the conversations Benjamin had with Adorno but you’ve probably got the ultimate result of that sitting unread on a shelf somewhere.
I go on like this since TH had the aspect of a really good conversation. One of the first reviews I ever wrote for the Saturday Edition was about a really awful roundtable talk I saw at Harbourfront Centre featuring uninspired and washed up has-beens. It didn’t make it to screen, which is probably a good thing. Now, the worst part about that talk, which I use as a measure of awfulness in spite of the fact that I’ve since seen worse, is the way the audience is locked out of the ideas being presented, and we get rambling speculation, as opposed to consideration. Really, TV, for all it’s evils, is better than this because at least there’s a script in there somewhere, some evidence of thought however puerile. In such a scenario, one can’t help but feel that the audience is actually more intelligent than the panelists, who are only on stage because of past accomplishments which are now obscure. In the case of Trampoline Hall, there was no sense of that. Perhaps because we were all approximately the same age, one really had the feeling that intellectually it was a level playing field, and our accomplishments so far in life mean that there was no need to look up or down at anyone, beyond the physical aspect of the speakers being on a stage. So let me polish that metaphor a bit more to say, the distance one looked up at them, (or down, if one was in the balconies) was not great and was inconsequential.
I liked the location, the upstairs of the Rockit bar, with its balconies (which lived up to hosts Misha Glouberman’s envisioning of the proper TH venue), beer, plastic cups, chairs, tables and cigarettes. I’m not going to use the word community beyond this sentence, a word being both tired and uninspired, to talk about how nice it is to hang out with strangers for a show in a smoky cub to listen to three people’s ideas on things you would not think to talk about otherwise. I’ve come to think that the point of all education and performing in the world, the art shows, the paychecks, the trips to the library and the bathroom, the links to good reads and torture photos on the net, is all so that we can have mutually interesting conversations over bummed cigarettes and a pint. Following the natural process, food for thought becomes shooting the shit. We get to affirm our mutual interest in each other through a common language.
And TH is all about sharing an interesting conversation in such a context with an audience. Instead of listening to some Guinness philosopher’s pet theories at the bar, we instead put them on a stage , and offer them the time to present this idea. And for me this is ultimately what made Trampoline Hall an enjoyable night: that respect was shown to both the audience and the presenters, by giving each time. No interruptions, a question period, and a bathroom break. No squirming and bored panelists there because it’ll look good on the CV. The speakers seem generally invested in presenting their thoughts, and by virtue of being there, the audience is willing to listen.
Oh, and this is what you missed: Tyler Clark Burke, spoke about her grandfather who was a New York supreme court justice; the next speaker was Julian Holland, who spoke of slanted suicide statistics and the capitalistic inhumanity present in their bias, and the last speaker consisted of Lee Henderson, who spoke of freeloading: how to do it and what to avoid. This last talk inspired the most laughter.
2. Captions to pictures in a soap opera magazine six years ago
by Timothy Comeau
1. Much to her family’s objections, Lucinda is hellbent on becoming Mrs. James Steinbeck
2. Josh is in trouble again now that Annie is back it town.
3. After each does some soul-searching, Hayley and Mateo reach an agreement that both of them can live with – but can Raquel?
4. A night of loving for John and Marlena
5. Marley and Cindy collaborate on a plan they hope will get them waht they want.
6. V, disguised as Isabella, and Jax travel to Monte Carlo where she finds herself the center of a very high stakes wager.
7. Caitlin and Cole find themselves trapped in an explosive situation
8. Viki confronts Todd after he leaves Tea at the alter
9. Humor is an important ingredient to get one through the day.
10. Francesca and Cole opened a Pandora’s Box after successfully heisting the Rosario jewels.
11. Coles couldn’t be happier now that she’s settled into her new home.
12. Believing Brenda’s life was in danger because of his mob ties, Sonny left her at the alter, while he stood outside the church in pain and misery.
13. Longtime friends, Sonny and Lois grew up together in Brooklyn and shared many memories.
14. Due to Lily’s pregnancy, Sonny’s farewell to his true love, Brenda, was bitter sweet.
15. Kimberly and Rick go to dinner – but each has something different in mind.
Tim has started a mailing list of articles he’s found on the net which consitute “good reads,” interesting news, or at the very least, food for thought (it’s not always something easily agreed with). The articles are archived at www.goodreads.ca and to subscribe, email tim@instantcoffee.org
2.The International Space Station and the newsworthiness of Rex Harrington
by Timothy Comeau
Apparently Bushy down south is going to soon announce a return to the moon. Like the weapons of mass destruction, I’ll believe this big-election-next year-bribe when I see it. For the past while I’ve been content to make do with watching the space station fly overhead every once and awhile. Now, it’s not that big of a deal, but it is one of those things that most resemble art while making no pretense to be so. Like a conceptual masterpiece, it is rather banal and boring, but it can inspire much thought. Nothing else so reminds me of what Heidegger was talking about when he was going on about Greek temples. But I mean really, Greek temples…when we’ve been to the moon for god’s sakes. Why should any of that classicism make sense to us when we have a space station orbiting the earth, and visible according to a schedule worked out using good old fashioned Newtonian physics and viewable using good old java applets and contemporary telecommunication technology (links below).
Nothing so makes one so aware of how pathetic our attempts to go to space have been, then seeing this fragile light cross the sky. Rating: 9/10
Rex Harrington’s Retirement on CFTO News, Wed 19 Novembe 2003 11.20pm
You can’t buy arts coverage on the TV 11 o’clock news and yet they think we care about the ballet? I mean, at least I understand the economics of celebrity and why they think anyone should care about Ben and J’Lo and the ultimate downfall of American civilization that was Ryan and Trista’s wedding. But Rex Harrington…. does CTV news even know who Brian Jungen is? Are they even aware that Sobey’s is shelling out 50 grand to artists who usually get in the news for “wasting tax payer money”? And yet they think the public cares about an anachronistic fey sport like ballet? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been to a ballet and I probably would not turn down the chance – I tend to be open minded about fey things – but I honestly can’t see what they were thinking in imagining anyone cares. I don’t understand how Rex Harrington is a household name. Hockey, curling, and ballet? The Karen Kaine days are ovah. Bye bye Rex, I so don’t care. Rating: 2/10
Sat. Sept 20 | I catch the midnight Go Train home. Transferring to the bus to take me to Ajax, I notice this one guy picking on another. When we get off the bus in Ajax, the person being picked on confronts the person, and this quickly escalates. The fella is hit and knocked unconscious. At this point, I see someone run up from behind me, who I thought was running in to break up the fight, but instead, upon reaching the scene, kicks the unconscious person in the head. A crowd gathers and administers first aid, the ambulance comes, people on cell phones have called 911 and reported the license plate number of the car that was waiting to pick up the person who was being picked on (and who hit the guy).
Sun. Sept 21 | I get my passport photos taken at Costco. The pictures remind me that I need a haircut.
Jade comes over and I help her with some stuff. We buy groceries and eat a wonderful meal. I miss seeing The Gathering Storm on CBC.
Mon. Sept 23 | In town for a YYZ Board Meeting, I rent The Gathering Storm from Queen St video.
In a daze after a contentious Board Meeting, I neglect to pay attention to the traffic lights and am almost hit by a white SUV while crossing the street by Union Station. A caught in the headlights moment is followed by a little dance anticipating dodging this environmentally insulting several ton behemoth, which nevertheless has a good set of brakes, and does a little dance of its own as it skids to a halt. Chalk that one up to luck, and catch the train.
I watched The Gathering Storm and enjoyed it.
Tues. Sept 24 | A police officer shows up at the door wanting to speak to me. He delivers a subpoena for me to testify in court on Thur. Oct 2, regarding a motorcylce accident I witnessed in March.
I tried to watch Tarkovsky’s Solaris but halfway through I was bored and stopped it.
Wed. Sept 25 | While ridding the Go Train into work, an older man got on with bags and banged on the overhead thinking there was storage up there. I pointed to the empty seats across from me, and he accepted. This prompted an handshake and he asked my what I was reading (The Virgin Blue by Tracy Chevalier). He drops a God booklet on the table in front of me. I say thank you, and go back to my book. He sits down and talks with the straightlaced freaks he got on with (why do these people who identify with christianity have such a creepy fashion sense?) Then he returns for the sunglasses and hat he left at my table. Sitting down he asks me where I’m from, and then asks my name. “Timothy” I say. “Timothy, like in the Bible!?” I nod . “Tell me, is Timothy a born again Christian?” I say no. He asks me what I believe, and I mumble something about following Catholicism. He starts that this isn’t enough, I need to be born again, I need the salvation of Jesus. I ask, “How do you know?” and he says it says so in the Bible. “But that’s just a book like this one,” I say, holding up the novel. Of course he doesn’t agree, and starts to reply, when I lose my cool. I bang on the table with my right hand and say, “Listen sir, I’m on the train here going to work, trying to read my book, and I don’t want to talk about this Christian shit. If I’m going to Hell it’s my business, not yours, so you go sit over there”, pointing to seat from which he’s come. He raises his hands are raised in submission, and says, I respect you for saying that, I’ll leave you alone. With regard to religion there’s commentary and interpretation and the history – that I find fascinating. But proselytizing I find insulting to one’s intelligence.
I tried to finish watching Solaris but it put me to sleep as all Tarkovsky movies tend to do to me.
Thu. Sept 26 | This day was safely conventional.
Fri. Sept 27 | I go downtown to meet with Jin and Jon to go to Kitchener, which is a total waste of our time. We then return to the city to party all night.
Sat. Sept 28 | Returning to Ajax on the train, I have a conversation with an 18 year old girl who is studying journalism, since she would one day like to either start a magazine or a bookstore. The conversation is pleasant until she begins to describe her fascination with vampires, martial arts, weaponry, and being the witness to shootings and decapitations (“when I was 7, a man was working on his van when it suddenly fell on him and his head popped off, and I asked my mother, ‘is that going to go back on?’ ‘uh, no, let’s go in the house’”) in addition to the story of a friend’s father who had worked as a correspondent in “the west bank or somewhere in the middle east” who, following a hot tip, went to a certain location at a certain time, heard a dumptruck appear, do it’s business and leave, and upon investigation found a mound of freshly decapitated heads. “He’s been in therapy ever since, he can’t sleep well; every time he closes his eyes, he sees the open eyes of the heads staring up at him”.
Marriage as a long conversation. When entering a marriage, one should ask the question: do you think you will be able to have good conversations with this woman right into old age? Everything else in marriage transitory, but most of the time in interaction is spent in conversation. (Fredrich Nietzsche, Human, All too Human # 406)
I was reminded of the above quote by Hillary Clinton last spring, who was on TV doing promo for her memoir, reading an excerpt from the back of the book. In her bedtime story voice, she tells us that she began a conversation with Bill Clinton in the spring of 1971 and they’re still talking. Could not one consider text a conversation, held between the writer and the reader? If so, then last spring, I began a conversation with AS Byatt, through her text Possession, and the film adapted from it.
–The Book–
Having gotten over the repulsion I’d felt for years at seeing it’s pre-Raphaelite cover in the bookstore and thinking it was something entirely feminine and not at all of interest to a boy steeped in science fiction and the cynicism of contemporary art, I picked up this thick paperback at the local library, my interest piqued by last year’s film. Based on the trailer, I thought the story was one of reincarnation – two lovers in the 19th century rediscover each other through academic research and fall in love all over again. The story is more banal and far more intriguing.
Published in 1990, and set in 1986, this story takes place in the dying days of typewriters; computers do make their appearance here and there, but all in all, this is a tale for the last generation of academics who fell in love with words and the tales of deconstructed meta-narratives before the computer and internet came along to put it all together again. It is essentially two love stories, the first of which begins with a conversation which has not had a chance to complete itself. The 20th Century character Roland finds drafts of a letter which begins a search for an undisclosed portion of a 19th Century poet’s life – that of Mr Ash. Mr Ash is a complete fiction, but in this alternative reality he is perhaps akin to William Morris, a poet obscure, but not too obscure.
I think I have to stop pretending to claim any profound understanding of postmodernist issues, because every time I feel I have a grip on the theories I read something which throws me off balance – and I write this because Possession seems to have been written as a critique of postmodernist theory. AS Byatt had definitely mastered her craft, and the excessiveness of her skill is overbearing. Her recreation of 19th Century writing would be impossible for me, because the tone and formality of the language I find so inhumane as to be repellent, and I had to skip these portions of the text to simply to be able to breath. Byatt’s appropriation of academic jargon, and the 1986 setting, seem to posit that love is beyond discourse and that at the end of the day, all of our theories are nothing more than a pastime for the bored and over educated. That deconstructed meta-narratives and post-something-or-other critique are there only to fill our lives in the absence of that which all mammals such as us seek – food, shelter, love or a bathroom.
Whole chapters of text written in a 19th Century style are not necessary to convey the one idea which anchors the plot line for that section – something which the film makers picked up on. This novel was really written for a generation who like Byatt were raised in a pre-televisual time, where a big fat book was all the more required to stave off the boredom of an evening next to a fireplace, a generation raised with Latin and Greek meta-narratives.
–The movie–
Neil LaBute drinks mocca choca supercalifragiclicoala espresso while the sun rises above the Los Angeles horizon. Because he’s a famous Hollywood 2-bit schlep, he lives in one of those beach homes, where he sits and ponders the scripts of his magnum opiate. Should he be faithful to the text of this highbrow English hottie-tottie snob? Or should he find a way to blow something up near the end of the film, delivering a signature line which has been in his head since he overheard it at the restaurant – “That’ll be all.”
No, he has to focus; he has to get this project done, since it’s already been in limbo for years. He’s the director triumphant, he got the script, and he’s got his friend already lined up to play the lead. That fact that he’s American, and the character he’s supposed to play is British is irrelevant – this will be changed, so that the female character will have a reason to be snarky to him. Such a long book – and he has to get it down to a couple of hours! He thinks, “Oh this is just a chick flick, no need to satisfy the male urge to classify, and strategise by giving us a plot that makes sense”.
The movie becomes an exercise in summary. Talk about cutting to the chase, this film cuts out the chase, and replaces it with scenes that seem incongruous. This movie becomes the definition of a film swissed-cheesed with plot holes. In the novel, one sees how the characters arrive at their positions and decisions – in the film, its as if everything pops out of thin air, as if being directed from above … which it is … as if to say that internal narrative consistency and apparent irrationality of the characters do not matter since we all know this make believe anyway, and that you’re only here because you had nothing else to do – an attitude that is so disrespectful of the audience’s intelligence that director Neil LaBute should go into something else.
Why the hell do they dig up a grave at the end? This does not make sense! It’s the Chewbacca defense applied to a plotline.
The film adaptation makes up the unconscious identity of any text; for any song their exists the possibility of the remix, for the text, the possibility of a film. And while there are ‘definitive’ versions which try to create a faithful reproduction of events, there is the possibility for any number of modifications – this movie version chose to dumb down, to simplify, to become an exercise is brevity. Telling only what needed to be told, it is almost unfair to watch this film after reading the text. It is full of plot holes which are there only because they chose to exclude so much. A novel like Possession should be a 3 hour movie – that is not unreasonable, especially when one compares the two English Patients where the text is smaller but the film is large; instead here you have the reverse, a large text and a small film. It is only an hour and half long! Its so light and breezy it could blow away on late night television, you’d end up watching infomercials or the girls on the beach having forgotten the story over on channel 6. The film has disposed of much of the nuance and its sense of reality is compromised because it has paired down a complex story into something too simple to be believable.
2. September 11th’s Week in Review | Timothy Comeau
Last weekend hearing the words “September 11th” as part of a documentary made me realize how it has become an integral part of our vocabulary, used almost unconsciously. The following is an account of my hearing in conversation or radio, and seeing in print, the words “9/11″ or “September 11th”. I have tried to record the time and the context as accurately as and as agreeably as possible, without extraneous detail.
sun 26 jan
on Catholic.net, in an article headlined, “The Day they begged for priests”
12:29 AM | in a Trektoday.com BBS posting about two particular episodes of DS9
mon 27 jan
12.10am | heard on BBC radio report on the impending Hans Blix report
3pm | “stories from 911″ as a subtitle to a book seen at Pages
5pm | completely unrelated paragraph in the book Citizens by Simon Schama, refering to September 11 1792
8.08pm | David Frum speaking in an interview on TVO
9.20pm | In an article by Christopher Hitchens on Slate.com
tues 28 jan
12.30pm | Walter Mead, writing in the Globe and Mail, includes “Sept 11.” three times in his commentary article by Walter Mead in the Globe and Mail with the headline “How Bush grasps the world”.
1.55pm | “9/11″ seen in a graphic from a CNN screencapture of the memorial service in a Google.com image search for the Ground Zero architectural proposals (prompted by an article headline in artsjournal.com).
2.36pm | David Collenete, Minister of Transport, speaking during Question Period broadcast live on CPAC, said “September 11th 2001″
8.13-14 PM | “September 11th” was said three times in the space of two minutes during the Newshour special on the 108th Congress on PBS
wed 29 jan
1.14 am | “9/11″ heard in an interview on the State of the Union address with Alexie Simingtiger (not sure if that’s spelled right) broadcast on the BBC World Service.
1.44-46pm | Isabelle Devos, speaking about her “Insecurities Project” in a CBC Newsworld interview said, “September 11th” twice in two minutes.
thu 30 jan
3.14 am | “September 11th” was said in a voice over and in print on CBC News. The story involved the Privacy Commissioner’s report on the Federal Government’s proposed security legislation.
1.31pm | From Google.news: “September 11 relatives relive trauma > Expatica > 1 hour ago > 30 January 2003 HAMBURG > Five relatives of victims of the September 11 attacks offered tearful testimony at the al Qaeda terrorism trial in Germany”
1.34m | Headline on CBC.ca: “Witness > Tonight’s documentary, “Security Threat” shows how far security demands have threatened our privacy and curtailed our civil liberties since Sept. 11th”.
2.33pm | Headline on GlobeandMail.ca “Privacy under ‘unprecedented assault’ Radwanski accuses Ottawa of ‘using’ Sept. 11 to become Big Brother”.
4.40pm | Google.news “Ridge Touts Border Security Plan > Washington Post – 2 hours ago > New homeland security chief Tom Ridge, telling America’s enemies: “We are coming after you,” set out his plans on Thursday for tightening security at US borders and preventing further Sept. 11-style attacks. “
4.46 | Headline on CNN.com ” 9/11 families confront terror suspect in German court”fri 31 jan
Rick Groen’s review of the movie “The Recruit” in the Globe and Mail: “Certainly, there can be no doubt that the setting here is post-Sept 11″.
4.12pm | George W. Bush, speaking at his press conference with Tony Blair, “After September 11th 2001 the world changed…” Tony Blair, speaking a minute after, said, “…his leadership since September 11th…”sat 1 feb
This week’s issue of the Economist, in an article envisioning the world in 2033 mentions “September 11th”.
Shuttle Accident: CNN reporter in front of the White House mentions “September 11th”
I visited Sasha at Mercer Union and told her about Shuttle Disaster II. We went on the internet to watch videos on CBC.ca; Sasha and I began to talk about how it was like September 11th, the news coverage being on all channels. Notable comment by Sasha regarding our use of the net to follow the story, “…the internet wasn’t very good during 9/11…”.
Later I was browsing in Pages and my eye caught Noam Chomsky’s “9/11″ book.
What is it about creativity that turns some of us into Shakespeare and others into designers of porno sites? I am really rather enthralled by the diversity of expression available to us both as creators and “consumers of creative products” to put it in a contemporary way. The old boring debate about low-brow and high-brow has a new dimension now that people are actually spending a considerable amount of time producing animated gifs and other photoshop kitsch.
Last fall I was added to the mailing list of Caroline Mosby, who would appear to be a node in the network of forwards and replies. Since September I have been occasionally receiving sexually suggestive animated gif’s and jpegs, which I often don’t find that har-har funny, since my sense-of-humour is more attuned to Kids in The Hall type absurdity and deadpan understatement. However, I still really like seeing what’s out there, and some of them have been worth noting.
The highlights:
Email with the subject line, “Nice Art” featuring various examples of body painting. The nipple of a breast becomes the nose of a cartoony mouse, female pubic hair becomes the beard of a man and the nest of a bird, a penis painted gray becomes the trunk of an elephant.
Email with the subject line, “You named it what!?” featuring photographs of restaurants, tackle shops, and road signs with improbable but real names, most from the website, http://www.geetrish.com. Buy fish and tackle gear at “Master-Baiter” ; Eat at “Lick-a-chick Restaurant” or at “Fuk-Mi Sushi and Seafood Buffet”. Also featured, a gravestone for a couple with the last name “Kaput”, a restaurant or high-end store named “Cocks”, and a road sign for a place named “Dick Lick Springs”.
Last November, I received an image of a school project that involved growing cacti, only the school decided to use clown pots, where the plant was supposed to grow from the clown’s baggy pants. Some months later, after these children had planted and watered their little cacti, the clowns all appeared to have massive erections. I appreciated getting a glimpse into utter stupidity. Shouldn’t this have been forseen – what were they thinking? But the colours are really nice.
Before Christmas I received an animated gif of a snowman who popped a boner when a snowwomen with breasts scooted on by. Unbalanced by the weight of his erection, he toppled over. I appreciated this one for its simplicity and skillful rendering.
Recently I was sent a picture of an obese orgy, with the subject line, “What really goes on at Jenny Craig.” I don’t think making fun of fat people is funny, for reasons both obvious and not, but no matter – I found the composition engaging and liked seeing the exaggeration of the human form. I began a drawing of it, and working on the drawing I began to think Jenny Saville, Lucien Freud, and Rubens enjoy painting fat because of the sensuality of mixing caucasian flesh-tone paint. Obesity produces such a rich quality of tones – from browns to blues to white and orange, contained within the template upon which we have based so much of our aesthetics – the human body – but it is the human body baroque, the template exaggerated.
A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of receiving a compilations of brain-teasers and optical illusions that have being going around the net for years. I was familiar with some of them, and others were new to me. It was really a nice way to start the day, to be hypnotized by the spinning op-art gifs and the “stare at this for 30 seconds then look away” picture tricks.All in all, it has made the past few months more interesting than it would have been otherwise, and I look forward to see what will be coming up next. If you would like to be added to Caroline’s email list, send a message to car_o_line009@hotmail.com.