The Skunkeye Consumer Guide

I just returned from a much needed week at the Beach House. We had a wonderful time; I think I’ve perfected the art of the pumpkin pie, my dog and I had magnificantly joyous walks along the surf, and I was able to catch up on some reading. It has been a trying period for my family and this Thanksgiving was a healing and a regeneration of sorts…

Some time back I caught part of the film adaptation of Pat Barker’s Regeneration on cable – it came out while I was overseas - otherwise it would have definitely been on my radar. Actually, i'm surprised I never picked up on the books. I was quite excited about the concept and was looking forward to reading the series – in fact, I even gushed about it to my grandmother while she was in the later stages of hospice. I’m sorry it has taken me this long to get around to reading the trilogy – Regeneration, The Eye in the Door, and The Ghost Road – and I especially regret it’s too late to share the experience with her. My grandmother and I always enjoyed these kind of sprawling literary feats together – Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet and the Avignon Quintet, Olivia Manning’s The Balkan Trilogy, and John Galsworthy’s The Forsythe Saga come immediately to mind. And certainly there are shared elements in the Regeneration trilogy with the work of Michael Ondaajte (The English Patient) and Milan Kundera (The Unbearable Lightness…).

Man, I really wish I could share my recent journey with Pat Barker’s masterpiece with my grandmother- I devoured all three books in a day and a half. The film treatment of Regeneration pales tremendously with the scope of the source. We could have endless discussions. There is no greater pleasure than immersing oneself into a body of literary work.

At any rate, the trilogy takes place during World War I and revolves around real-life figures, poets Siegfried Sassoon (who figures prominently in the first volume) and Wilfred Owen (who is more like a tangent or point of reference in the series) and psychiatrist and anthropologist William Rivers. The most memorable and developed character is the fictional Billy Prior, who is indelibly created by Barker and takes us through all three volumes. The first volume is set at Craiglockhart Hospital in Scotland, where British officers were sent to recuperate from shell-shock before being sent back out on the front lines. I really can’t do these books justice in a blog entry – Barker examines psychology, class, gender, and the neuroses and futitlity of war in a highly poignant and relevant way. In light of current events, The Regeneration Trilogy should be on every student’s reading list. It’s funny, in high school, the War Poets were always my favorites (besides e.e.cummings and Dorothy Parker) but, at the same time, All Quiet on the Western Front filled me with horror (I even got nightmares) – The Regeneration Trilogy manages to bridge all that for me. Highly, enthusiastically recommended. If only I could find the three-volume bound edition here in the United States, because otherwise I’d be gifting everyone this for the holidays.

Oh, I also saw Walk the Line, the Johnny Cash biopic. I’ve been a huge Cash fan all my life and I think the producers did a fair job in their treatment. Although the film veered drearily towards the made-for-TV movie genre at times and the structure was highly schematic and some of the clichés made me want to choke, the pace was invigorated by rousing performances by Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon. Especially during the rollicking musical numbers, where the chemistry was sparking off the screen. Phoenix’s hangdog appeal, inherent awkward sensitivity and overall earnestness would make the late Cash proud. Witherspoon, who I thought was perfect as Becky Sharp in Mira Nair's adaption of Thackerly's Vanity Fair, has yet to shake that “not a girl/not yet woman” vibe that she shares with the equally talented and pigeon-holed Drew Barrymore, but I do believe she did June Carter justice, and, who knows, we might have a latent Sally Field. Haha, I do think the film underplayed the fire-and-brimstone religiosity of the Carter Family and Cash after his conversion – it was hinted at during the detox scene I guess – when the Carters stave off Cash’s dealer at rifle-point; friends of mine who have met the couple in recent years were unprepared for and a bit put off by the aggressiveness of their convictions. Anyways, Walk the Line is a heartfelt love story and the music rocks.

Hard to believe over two years ago I was starting my site blogging about The Libertines. Those posts are really embarrassing and amateurish; I was still finding my way around a new medium and unfamiliar forum. I’d like to think the quality of entries has improved in time but I also miss the good ol’ days when it was anything goes with this space – and I was certainly posting with more velocity. Maybe it was a bit more fresh then, now I’m certainly more studied. Perhaps the thrill of the blog might have waned for me, or maybe I’m not getting such a kick out of things lately - um, growing up, but I’ve put too much into this site to abandon ship.

Coming full circle, I’m absolutely delighted with the Babyshambles debut (official) release, Down in Albion – Pete Doherty’s project gives me shivers of joy as the Libertine’s debut did three years ago. I’ve always stood by Pete – in the way I’ve always preferred Keith to Mick and George to John and Paul (and Ringo) – the dark horses appeal to me more. I wish the press would just let poor Pete alone and let him continue to take his drugs and do whatever and just make his excellent music – man, what a songwriter and talent. If Mark E. Smith (the Fall) can make it this long…

.Down in Albion is a hugely shambolic affair but each track, if not a gem, is a least a diamond in the rough. And one thing I’ve always appreciated about The Libertines and, specifically, Pete Doherty, is that the bullshit and poseur aspect is nil and this music is absolutely sincere and raw – and original - in the way that rock and roll should be. And if the press hasn’t documented out Pete Doherty’s troubles enough, through Babyshambles he serves it up himself without shame. So there’s no cribbing the Smiths, Joy Division, Bauhaus, etc – the usual points of reference (and sampling) for the recent crop of hot bands – Babyshambles is straight from the heart. These songs stand up, even if Pete Doherty can’t always manage that. And I tend to appreciate the sketches more than the polished masterpieces. That Mick Jones produced Down in Albion (he also was also a presence on both Libertines albums) gives the effort special validation – in fact, the sprawling album reminds a bit of later Clash releases, with its myriad musical elements (in particular dub reggae), only without the over-production that tainted London Calling and Sandinista for me (I was a bit of a three-chord punk purist at the height of my adolescent Clash romance).

Feels great to be in love with a record again….Down in Albion is by no means perfect but it is giving me a real charge today. I could do a track by track analysis, but that would be overkill. I will say the wonderful and witty opening track, “La Belle et le Bete” could be the “Ballade du Pete and Kate.” Poor Miss Moss has been getting unfair rap too – and its really unfounded because I’ve been around the biz and its not like everyone didn’t already know and she’s hardly the only offender – total tabloid retaliation methinks (remember she won that big defamation suit?). Anyways, Babyshambles is not yet widely available domestically in the US but when it comes around it should be a real shot in the arm for those up for experiencing it.

Haha, I think it is oddly appropriate that I have actual chimney sweeps doing sooty work in my ramshackled fireplace at my city rowhouse as I write this. Here’s to my favorite Ragamuffin!

The Washington Post concluded a lengthy two-part examination of the changes in my neighborhood today. While the developments are hardly news to those of us who have been living here for some years – and really to anyone who has any interest in the real estate in this area – that this appeared on the front page (slow news week?) and that it comes on the heels of last week’s WP report on the slow-down of the market (In Shaw, as always, has apt comments on that) is worth noting. I don’t think things are really going to cool off in DC, at least in my area, that much.

Wonkette provides excellent snark on the piece:

"Real Estate Boom: Armageddon Apartments? Recent reports that the area real estate market is finally cooling probably have a lot of worried investors looking to God, but only Pastor Theresa Garrison of the Church of the Rapture got an early direct line: "Garrison always says that God channels his wishes through her, and when He said, 'Sell,' it was near the peak of a commercial real estate boom on 14th Street." The Washington Post has been reporting on the gentrification of the corner of 14th and T, and the sale of the 30-year-old church was a watershed moment in letting loose the flood of urban settlers. At first -- in a nod to the church's legacy -- the luxury apartments were to be called "Rapture Lofts." Developers then thought about the target demo a little more closely. It will be called "T Street Flats." Garrison is pleased with the name change: "See, I found out that the rent is gonna be so high that only the rich homosexuals and lesbians will be able to buy this condominium." And bad news for bargain hunters: In case of rapture, these lofts will remain occupied."

Speaking of churches and gentrification in the neighborhood, there is a charming ministry on my little (and almost completely yuppified within the last four years) rowhouse street, which has a small but still active (and absolutely non-obtrusive) congregation and I would hate to see it go. Hell, I can’t even afford to live here and I don’t even have a flock! I’m sure the hawks are circling down on that property ready to pounce, especially since it has unique curb appeal!

I’m surprised there isn’t more blog commentary and activity on these WP post stories. Maybe folks, like me, are just deadened by the climate of greed around here.

I spent more time in Baltimore last week and I learned not to say I’m from DC when I’m there – even though my plans are to live AND work there - Charm City residents seem mighty pissed at the surge of Washington commuters who are driving up their real estate values.

Anyways, here are links to the WP series, which is quite interesting even though the stories are overly-familiar to people like me, and also to a visual neighborhood panorama which they seem awfully proud of.

One Urban Panorama Fades, Another Rises (Part One) here.

A Boom Giveth, and It Taketh Away (Part Two) here.

Clever panomrama here.

Full article text after the jump:

Well, I spent the better part of last week in Baltimore. Man, that city is loaded with character and the more I get to know the place the more I’m a Believer. Charm City really inspires me and I'm going back in a few days! Religious readers out there, I need all the novenas I can get because I really want to land a certain gig there and make Baltimore my home!

Meanwhile, back in DC, I caught Where the Truth Lies, by my fave Armenian-Canadian director Atom Egoyan. The film doesn’t seem to be getting much visibility in the US (nor did his last film Ararat- which unfurled an intruiging spin on the Arshile Gorky mythos and the genocide at the hands of the Turks) and in fact its playing right now here tucked away in crappiest of crap screening spaces in the last remaining movie theater around Dupont Circle. Egoyan is not everyone’s cup of tea – folks either find him too somber or too kinky - but Truth Lies is perhaps his most mainstream effort and top-bills Kevin Bacon and Colin Firth as Jerry Lewis-Dean Martin type entertainers – and is well worth catching in the theaters while its around.

With bizarre timing, Where the Truth Lies serves as an excellent companion piece to the previously mentioned Capote and also food for interpretation as Jerry Lewis is currently hawking his recently-published paean to Dean Martin on all the chat shows.

The usual Egoyan themes are at play here and are unraveled in his characteristic and intriguing onion peel fashion – mystery, loss of innocence, obsession, grief, the Rashamon thing, etc. – and for those fans of his most visible Exotica, there is certainly a fair amount of fetish as well. Egoyan’s wfe, the amazing Arsinée Khanjian makes a brief cameo, and several other of the filmmaker’s usual players turn up, but Where the Truth Lies, set in high-rolling and glamorous Miami, Atlantic City, New York, and the Hollywood Hills of the sixties and early seventies is a departure from his usual contemporary, multi-racial and largely working-class Canadian tableaus.

The critics seem to be making much of the looming but hardly mentioned Watergate scandal looming behind the film’s narrative and setting; personally the film reminded me more of stylized, psychological film ala of David Lynch’s much-overlooked Mulholland Drive. Egoyan’s baroque and multi-faceted pieces are like layer cakes that way, actually, and that’s part of the unique experience.  "Where the Truth Lies" could be the subtext of Egoyan's enire oevre.

Alison Lohman continues to be a revelation and appears to have cornered the market on girl-woman roles. Actually, this archetype seem to figure prominently in Egoyan’s body of work and methinks his protégée Sarah Polley might have been able to nail the nuanced role just as effectively. Haha, I just saw Polley kick Zombie butt in the Dawn of the Dead remake on cable on Halloween! Exotica starMia Kirshner, on the other hand, has gone over the edge by playing the most annoying character on the increasingly annoying L Word, plus she doesn’t have the blond, blue-eyed ingénue thing going for her, which is probably essential to the vibe of Where the Truth Lies.

At any rate, the performances are all sublime – Bacon and Firth are at the top of their game and quite astonishing. The art direction is also top-rate and inspired – Wallpaper* aficionados would be wise to use this film as a reference – and the irony is not lots on me that I spent a great deal of time in Baltimore last week looking at mid-century modernist furniture pieces on assignment (the city is a treasure trove!). The film is fascinating and mesmerizing, however I do think the director was over-reaching for an emotional wallop and poignancy that simply isn’t there – the story and the players are all so tawdry – so those looking for the resonance of Egoyan’s previous films, namely, The Sweet Hereafter, might find themselves a bit bereft.