RIP Jack McCarthy, storytelling poet extraordinaire.

I was blessed with seeing and hearing two fine storytelling poets in my lifetime--the late Jack Shafer and the just-departed-today Jack McCarthy.

Jack was a legend in the slam poetry community, or to be more accurate, to anyone (poet and nonpoet alike) who experienced him onstage-and-off.

He was kind and gracious to me in late 2006 when I came to Seattle (he and his wife Carol lived in Washington in recent years) to do a couple of featured readings.  I was also glad to go with him to one of his features in the area, plus a Seattle Slam reading.

My all-time favorite Jack McCarthy poem is "The Walk of Life"; here's the link: http://www.standupoet.net/Poems/Walk_of_Life.htm

Here's video of Jack's poem "An Evening of Television":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50n5HHnakAE

Jodie Foster's Golden Globes De Mille award speech means whatever you want it to mean.

I miss the unpretentious child/young adult actress Jodie Foster, great in just about everything from Scorsese films to TV guest shots to the now-forgotten musical TOM SAWYER to the also-forgotten CARNY (I still have to catch up with her performance in Adrian Lyne's FOXES).  I also miss the Jodie Foster who directed the not-as-well-known-as-it-should-be-now LITTLE MAN TATE.  I really miss the Jodie Foster who could win an Oscar for an anti-rape film like THE ACCUSED--and then turned into the high-minded Jodie Foster who made overreaching twaddle like NELL (chick a pea) and THE BRAVE ONE (apparently intended as a tasteful film on the chilling subject of vigilantism).  I supremely miss the Jodie Foster who, as a filmmaker, couldn't get a film about controversial Nazi-propagandist director/actress Leni Riefenstahl made--but at least tried.

The Jodie Foster who appeared at the Golden Globes to collect a career-achievement De Mille Award had some moments of genuine humanity (talking about her mother and praising her filmbiz colleagues)--mixed with blasts of fury at--as I parsed it--aging in Hollywood, the increasing triviality of celebrity culture and barely-concealed anger at years of being unable to cease gossip about her sexuality and keep her private life entirely private.

And perhaps the low point of Ms. Foster's speech occurred when she trotted out the now-easy-target-cliche Honey Boo Boo reference and hatefully mocked noncloseted celebrities for living "reality show" lives.

But a lot of people (both at the ceremony and watching it at home) seem to have mentally compartmentalized the Jodie Foster remarks--sifting the good from the less-edifying and absorbing the presence of one of the few women in the business with Genuine Power (although Lena Dunham, who came off quite likable in her two acceptance speeches--could have a Foster-esque career, in terms of current and possible future achievements as writer/director/producer/actress).

RIP singer/songwriter Sammy Johns.

Sammy Johns' mid-70s hit "Chevy Van" is probably (along with Alan O'Day's "Undercover Angel") the quintessential display of the era's male adolescent sexual fantasies on the AM-radio Top 40 format.

Here's the Sammy Johns Wikipedia biography:
http://rol.st/X63exb

Poetry Video: MISSING TOWER RECORDS

Post-mortem remarks on PROMISED LAND--and its rejection by critics and audiences.

It's definitely sad when talented people (Matt Damon, John Krasinski, Dave Eggers, Gus Van Sant) collaborate on a well-intended message film meant to connect with mainstream audiences (a la the Jane Fonda 70s/early 80s canon including COMING HOME, THE CHINA SYNDROME and 9 TO 5) and failing at that goal.

So, let's dissect some of PROMISED LAND's flaws point-by-point (plot spoilers included):
1. If PROMISED LAND was meant mostly to be an indictment of 21st-century corporate hucksterism (getting people to pay for the privilege of having their land "fracked" for natural gas), then a different director than Van Sant was needed--someone who could provide a synthesis of Alexander Mackendrick (SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS, WHISKEY GALORE) and Preston Sturges satire/parody but with empathy.  At its weakest, PROMISED LAND seems like Elia Kazan/Budd Schulberg's A FACE IN THE CROWD on Valium.
2. The documentary GASLAND at least had the potent "money shot" of water coming out of a tap; the water (with gas included) was then set on fire.  PROMISED LAND instead gives us John Krasinski's crusading environmentalist (who has a Secret revealed in the third act) doing a show-and-tell-with-props exhibition for Rosemarie DeWitt's elementary school class.  Not as effective.
3.  Going back to point #1, the film, by going with the "what is your price"/"why can't you just take the money" approaches, is somewhat low on drama/conflict/tension.  If, perhaps, the Matt Damon corporate character had developed a sort of friendship-laced-with-regret towards Krasinski (provided no third act Secret existed), audience involvement might have increased; imagine if Krasinski had taken Damon to actual farmers/homeowners and demonstrated the negative effects of fracking--then you have a movie that shows, rather than merely relying on show-and-tell.  And then Damon (plus Frances McDormand's spiky-but-somehow-likable Company Person) is told by higher-ups to destroy Krasinski's reputation and neutralize his potential threat to corporate profits...major drama which would have made for the Damon-tells-truth-about-employers-at-town-vote finale much more resonant than how it plays out in the actual film.

Re Laura Dern and Mike White's HBO series ENLIGHTENED.

Television critics these days often focus attention on a few designated-hip series and consign the rest to a sort-of-no-serious-review-zone (i.e. the forceful denial of BOARDWALK EMPIRE's continued existence in Time Warner mag ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY).

ENLIGHTENED begins its second season (paired with Lena Dunham and Judd Apatow's GIRLS) this coming Sunday on HBO.  It's about subjects such as the search for spiritual grace, workplace relations, corporate politics, profiteering, parent/child relations, lingering post-divorce attraction and sailing one's raft across the rivers of disappointment, loneliness and alienation towards something which may be better on the other side.

Buy the Season One DVD/Blu-ray box onsale January 8th; watch as much as possible so you'll be sort-of-ready for Sunday's Season Two premiere.

It's one of the best shows you aren't watching on television.  Trust me.

Another occurrence of poetry burnout.

Posted this past Friday on Facebook:

My recent local experiences with poetry have been mixed, with the low point of having a manuscript rejected by Moon Tide Press. Therefore, I'm accepting not being good enough and not willing to pay for workshops, private study and MFA programs--plus not being capable of getting along well with difficult people. And I'm tired of inviting taunts and abuse. So, no more poetry readings for me in 2013. I don't think I'm a bad poet, so I'll keep reading other people's work and occasionally posting poems of my own. But the current poetry environment is too rarified and mean for me to want to take part in and accept its mores/standards. Goodbye. 

One reason you won't see me at poetry readings in 2013.

Previously posted to Facebook:

The final-to-date poetry reading I attended last month contained the unnecessary spectacle of a host complaining that a poet (included in host's publication) didn't have "meaning" re the poem she read as compared to another reader's poem. I didn't sign on for crap like this when I attended my first reading 15 years ago this April at Midnight Special. Can't take it anymore.