Be the change you want to see in the world

 

Photo: flickr.com/photos/vrampersad

MSPs, meetings, memos… These meaningless ways of engaging with the institutions which govern our everyday existence cannot possibly foster any type of change in the fundamental structure of our society.

The brainwash begins when we enter formal education. Not only are we conditioned to accept a highly regimented schedule as the best way to organize the day, preparing us like rats for the ‘adult’ world of a full time job, but that polite hand-raising and quiet agreement with policy is enough to affect change.

Antiquated styles of protest, such as marches, hand-held signs, and gatherings, are now powerless to effect real change because they have become such a predictable part of the status quo.

Those yearning for change, who cannot accept this bruised-apple version of the world, who will not wait the many years for legislation to be approved, seek more immediate solutions through direct action.

Direct action involves activities like sabotage, strikes, workplace occupation, sit-ins, street demonstrations, spray painting, and squatting. Contrast this with indirect action, such as electing representatives to spew half-truths and inconsistencies.

Direct action can become violent and thus a form of civil disobedience, but many famous incidents of direct action have been non-violent in nature.

Mahatma Gandhi pioneered the philosophy of Satyagraha, “resistance to evil through active, non-violent resistance”. His methods of non-cooperation, peaceful resistances and fasting brought attention to India and its strife, both externally and internally. Would the same result have been produced by petitions and pamphlets?

Hunger: Movie review

 

Photo: Studio Promotional Material

“There is no such thing as political murder, political bombing or political violence. There is only criminal murder, criminal bombing and criminal violence.”

With two simple sentences, Thatcher’s monotone articulation condemned ten Irish Republican hunger strikers to death during the summer of 1981. Hunger, directed by Turner Prize-winning artist Steve McQueen, focuses on Bobby Sands, the first prisoner to initiate the hunger strike in 1981 in power struggle between the paramilitary prisoners and the Prime Minister.

Cinematically, the film is engrossing. McQueen uses unconventional angles to convey very conventional actions. Rather than watching a mouth chew breakfast, the camera concentrates on a lap being showered with toast crumbs. Instead of a face wincing in pain, we are shown blood trailing out of battered knuckles immersed in a basin of water.

Although Hunger’s focal point is the prisoners and their use of the body as a political weapon, the film also attempts to humanize the prison guards as well. The everyday routine of getting ready for work includes one of the guards checking underneath his car for a bomb while his wife peers fearfully through lace curtains.

The film’s violence is extremely realistic, which makes it more disquieting. Far removed from slasher gore, the brutality inflicted on the prisoners in the movie will elicit gasps. Michael Fassbender, who plays the role of Sands, achieved his skeletal figure through a medically monitored crash diet, and his wizened frame spotted with sores is disconcerting.

What is most striking are the levels of silence and noise. The senses are soothed by a shot of a guard quietly smoking in the snow, then barraged by a scene filled with riot police bashing their batons against their shields.

McQueen won the Camera d’Or (for first-time directors) at Cannes this year for Hunger, and it’s an impressive debut. 

Published in Veritas December 2008 Issue 101

The Days Run Like Wild Horses Over the Hills: Book review

Photo: Graziano Orgia (Wikicommons)

Charles Bukowski

The Days Run Like Wild Horses Over the Hills: A Collection of Poems

Open the page of any Bukowski book and his voice jumps off the page, slurring slightly in your ear, moist beer-breath raining spittle on your cheeks. Like a functionally alcoholic friend, he dispenses skid-row advice and train-hopping stories; his stark, minimal prose conveying more than any sonnet could even aspire to.

Although published in 1968, this collection of poems is modern and fresh, their energy leaping off the page to grab your collar, wild-eyed and slightly desperate. Bukowski’s constant regurgitation of bleak moments and quiet triumphs provide a peek at the inner workings of an individual similar to those around him, but more aware of the crushing defeats and surprising beauty which compose life.

Bukowski’s alter ego Henry Chinaski does not appear and many of the poems visit his familiar stomping grounds: the racecourse, whores, girlfriends, bar fights and late-night bottles of wine. That is not to say they are merely reheated leftover accounts of a whirlwind year of madness before he settled down to use his adventures as experience to draw poetry from. The title ‘Poet Laureate of Skid Row’ which has been bestowed on him is something he has earned.

The book must be read twice. As with much of his work, the temptation is to guzzle it all in one sitting, reading until 2 am, sipping fortified wine. But the rush to immerse yourself completely into his itinerant world will cause you to miss the elegant turn of words which characterizes his work, lifting it out of a mere description of the lifestyle of one on the edges of society.

These collected poems are more esoteric than his later works, and on the first reading, can seem slightly obscure simply for the sake of obscurity. However, the second reading recommended above will allow time to leisurely dissect his carefully chosen words. 

Although some critics dismiss his work as simply a depiction of a taboo male fantasy, the slobby, anti-social bachelor who drops out of society, analysis of any situation is more clear when standing on the outside looking in. “It’s when you’re on skid row / you realize that everything/ belongs to someone/ and there are locks everywhere”.

Bukowski is like the local drunk leaning against the bar attempting to create eye contact from everyone’s downcast stare. Many overlook the genius of his thought, be it due to subject matter or his sparse, statacco style. Lift your gaze, walk over, and let him regale you with tales of ordinary madness, sometimes love poems and hard-knock advice. “Van, whores don’t want/ ears/ they want/ money.”

Hey… This is a box! We’ve been watching a box!

Photo: Hana Kirana (Wikicommons)

Every night, millions of people become slack-jawed, almost drooling, with glassy blank eyes and a thousand-yard stare. Attack of the Bodysnatchers? No, it’s just prime-time TV. (Originally published in impulse May 2008).

Have you ever been in conversation with someone and in an attempt to describe something they say ‘…And it was just like a scene from the Sopranos!’? As if there was no other reference that could better convey the event? As if television was the best way to experience life?

The average Scot aged over four will watch 27.9 hours of television a week. If you grow up with a television in your house, this means you will spend around ten years of your life staring motionless at a screen, without adding in any time spent at a computer.

Walk into most homes with a television set and it takes centre stage in whatever room it’s in, with all other furniture arranged around it. We also organize our daily routines around it, watching it at set times. TV demands our complete frozen attention, which the media industry then sells on to advertisers. The filmmaker Godard suggested that viewers should be paid for watching considering the labour time involved and the money created from them.

TV isn’t a meeting place to exchange ideas and thoughts, but a barrage of one-way communication. If you disagree with something, there is no chance to go back and reconsider it. Viewers become lulled into uncritical consumption, passive and still. Your only right is the right to turn the TV off.

I did it on an impulse

Last academic year I was the deputy editor of a glossy Napier student magazine as part of a Magazine Production module. While it totally gave me an ulcer, it was excellent hands-on experience. Below is a blurb written for the Napier Creative Industries pamphlet about the class. The next few posts will showcase some of the work I created for the class.

The phrase ‘like herding cats’ always springs to my mind whenever group projects are mentioned. Creating impulse, the 3^rd year Napier Journalism magazine, was no different from shepherding a flock of tabbies.

impulse magazine is produced by 3^rd year journalism students every year. A practical exercise in publishing, students are responsible for the creation of a real magazine, from deciding on a target audience and creating copy to funding publication by selling advertising.

Under the gruff but concerned watch of David McMurray, Dave Mclusky and Derek Allen, we laughed, we cried and we almost battered each other, but we produced a 32-page glossy magazine.

As deputy editor, I was directly underneath the editor. Like the cool uncle, I had the authority of an editor, but less of the responsibility to dish out discipline. Sarah Hunter, the editor, and I, oversaw all of Group 2’s activities, from deciding features done to whether impulse should be spelt with an upper or lower case i.

impulse was a labour of love, with the emphasis on labour. Requiring every skill learned I have ever learned, the project never left my mind the whole semester. But the feeling of actually holding the magazine in my grubby hands can’t be beaten.

They’re coming for you Barbara…

 

Photo: Public domain (no copyright)

Zombie movies kick ass. There is just something about the undead I find riveting. I’m contemplating jacking in this uni lark and becoming a zombie preacher, traveling from town to town spreading the gospel. I thought I would begin by sharing with the brothers and sisters of the congregation the Five Commandments of Zombie Revelations. (Originally published in Veritas, Napier student newspaper.)

 

Night of the Living Dead

A beautiful movie. Made in 1968, the original zombie movie created a template for all horror movies which is still used today. Every classic element is here: the average Joe shoved into a life-or-death situation who takes control, the coward who jeopardizes everyone’s safety, the female whose compassion leads to her demise and the most perfectly bleak ending. Watch out for the zombie in his boxers.

Carnival of Souls

While the undead do not feast on the flesh of the living in this 1962 classic, its surreal trance sequence with twirling spectres is purported to have inspired George A. Romero of Night of the Living Dead fame. 

Dawn of the Dead (Remake)

This remake of Romero’s sequel to Night of the Living Dead is a refinement of the zombie movie. First time director Zack Snyder unleashes carnage even before the opening credits blast across the screen. One to watch through an Xbox 360 so you can rewind and re-watch the best bits in slow motion.

28 Weeks Later

As the screenplay writer reputably snaps, they aren’t zombies but rage-infected humans. But labels are meaningless; violence, blood and death are. Frenetically paced, watching this flick feels as though someone is sitting on your chest compressing your lungs.

Zombie Holocaust

There was a spate of horror movies filmed in Italy with Italian actors and then badly dubbed over with Bobby-and-Peggy-Sue all-American accents in a money-saving gesture. In this gem, a girl goes scuba diving topless in a thong, is attacked underwater by a zombie and escapes by the skin of her titties. The zombie then proceeds to attack what appears to be a real shark in a continuous 2-minute underwater sequence without any visible air tank. Intense.

Published in Veritas December 2008 Issue 101

Control: Movie Review

 

Photo: Wikicommons

As atmospheric as Joy Division’s songs, Control tells the story of iconic frontman Ian Curtis’ rise to fame and ultimate suicide at age 23. 

Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, the film has won 15 awards, including Best British Independent Film 2007. Originally shot on colour stock and then printed to black and white, the movie’s greyscale tones convey the drudgery of industrial Manchester in the late 70s and early 80s.

More biopic than biography, the film concentrates on Curtis, played by Sam Riley, rather than the band itself. The dynamics of Joy Division are not really explored, and the story concentrates more on Curtis’ troubled relationship with his wife Deborah, his affairs and his epilepsy.

Both lead characters, Ian and Deborah, are excellently acted. Samantha Morton’s subtle portrayal of Deborah invokes a great deal of empathy as she struggles to maintain her relationship with an increasingly distant husband. Riley’s Curtis is suitably moody and cocky, but Riley shines when on-stage as Curtis.

The “live” performances of Joy Division are the highlight of the film, with Riley imitating Curtis’ disjointed, slack-armed dancing perfectly. The rest of the band, who played their instruments live during filming, sound like recordings on Still, a posthumously released album with rare and live songs. The only difference is Riley’s voice, which is unable to replicate Curtis’ signature reverberating baritone.

The film loses pace in the second hour, as the focus moves from the band to Curtis’ affair with Belgian journalist Annik Honoré, played by Alexandra Maria Lara, and his disintegrating marriage. As the screenplay uses Deborah Curtis’ biography of her husband, Touching from a Distance, as source material, scenes where writer Matt Greenhalgh has taken artistic license, like interactions between Curtis and Honoré, can be slightly schmaltzy. When was the last time a beautiful Belgian babe murmured seductively, “Tell me about Macclesfield?” However, the romanticism contrasts with the brusque way he treats his ever-dutiful wife.

First-time film director Anton Corbijn frequently puts Riley in the edges of the frame, creating a sense of distance and emptiness. Corbijn also uses many close-ups, perhaps due to his experience as a music video director.

Wreathed in shadows, the film is pleasing to the eye, and the storyline easy to follow even if you enter the movie with no background. This isn’t just one for the fans, but when a thudding baseline kicks off in the live scenes, the die-hards are forgiven for grinning as though they were actually there.

Published in Veritas 2008

I’ve bean thinking of you!

 

Photo: Wikicommons

So I ended up in Dumfries the other day, hanging out with my mate who is on tour. I was riding shotgun in the van with him driving, handing him Haribos and holding the wheel when his hands were otherwise occupied.

The tour provides him with a hotel room so we rocked up to check it out. While he was taking a slash, I flicked through the hotel’s in-house magazine, a fine piece of journalism. After duly noting that tonight was a Tom Jones tribute night, explaining the blue-rinse-filled hotel lobby, I began reading about the two restaurants the Cairndale Hotel had to offer.

You know when restaurants have a theme? Not like super-cheesy where the waiters wear hats and tell you their names in this forced cheery voice, but where the theme is tastefully reflected in the name and decor of the establishment?

This restaurant had a Sawney Bean theme. To explain, Sawney Bean was the head of a Scottish clan consisting of members of his family that lived in a cave in the 15th century and subsisted on theft, murder and cannibalism.

Because they lived in a cave, it’s presumed that the children and grandchildren were the product of incest. They were finally caught after killing 30 to 40 people and executed. The men had their genitalia, hands and feet cut off and were left to bleed to death. The women and children were made to watch the men die, and then burned to death.

I repeat, this restaurant had a Sawney Bean theme.

So the restaurant was closed, but I asked at the front if I could check it out. I wasn’t gonna leave town without seeing it. After staring at me blankly for long enough for me to think she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open standing up, the chick at the front desk took me downstairs and let me in.

The restaurant was decorated with pictures depicting the life and times of the Bean Clan. Diners could enjoy good food and fine wine underneath a painting of the Bean family feasting on body parts.

In the process of my exploration of this fine dining establishment, I woke up a member of the hotel staff who seemed to be sleeping underneath one of the tables. I apologized; he straightened his uniform and hurried out.

Is everyone in Dumfries drunk?

a hack’s progress

have added a comment piece reviewing my evolution as a writer and a journalist, as well as my view on the journalism industry as a whole. it’s too long to blog, so rather than bore you on this page, i’ll bore you on a new one!

Peace progress in pieces

 

Photo: Vervexca (Wiki Commons)

If asked to list the qualities a good leader should have, levelheadedness, the ability to look at reason and the ability to compromise are attributes that many would include. And even though many may act as if they do not recall the basic rules of the playground, the concept of sharing is one that can be found in most cultures. But it is these basic qualities that many of those in powerful positions in society seem to lack.

Elected or not, it seems world leaders have embraced their warrior-lion spirit, to the detriment of the people they hold sway over. The US’s bloodthirsty quest for revenge for the World Trade culminated in the brutal execution of Saddam Hussein, while on the way ravaging Afghanistan, Iraq and the unfortunate people who got in the way. These unfortunate people include Americans, and not just those who were dispatch to far-off places to fight a nebulous ‘war on terror.’

A 2003 poll showed that most Fox News watchers, a large chuck of the population, hold misconceptions about certain events due to way media coverage of such events was framed. These misconceptions include: the belief that weapons of mass destruction had been found by American troops in Iraq, that Saddam and Bin Laden were in alliance, and that Iraq was directly involved in the World Trade Centre attacks. Misinformation clouds the way the public views the world they live in, and this will have reverberations for generations to come.

The peace process in the Middle East is constantly shattered by returns to secularism, extremism and greed, whatever god the perpetrators of incessant violence claim allegiance to. Whether they are unable or unwilling, the succession of leaders in Israel and Palestine allow their bomb their country and people to ruin, both shouting claims of ‘God’s Mission’ over dead bodies and disrupted families. In the political process, both sides seem unable to perform the simple sandbox task of agreeing to share a plot of land that could comfortably fit both cultures.

On the other hand, the moment moderate leaders seem poised to reach some settlement they are gunned down, tragically shown in the case of the Isreali leader Yitzhak Rabin, shot in the back by Yigal Amir, a Jewish militant, in 1995. His famous handshake with Yasser Arafat at the White House in 1993 became another mournful moment in history demonstrating what could have been if people, leaders and citizens included, allowed scripture to take a back burner to peace.

Originally published January 2007