Emptying the Haunted Air

So, I guess the last (woefully empty) post was meant to be some sort of enlightened piece about contemporary South Korean director Park Chan-wook. It’s not that I ended up having nothing to say, I just couldn’t be bothered saying it… I’ll get around to writing the piece – I’ve wanted to write an essay discussing some things about Park Chan-wook for a while.

Meanwhile, Australia’s embattled Opposition leader, Malcolm Turnbull, had returned to a dark theme; perhaps the only consistent theme of his leadership. Beating on Labor over ‘border security’ (as it’s now typically called) is political territory well-worn by the Coalition, only now the rhetoric has changed a little, from John Howard’s divisive call to arms:

“We will decide who comes to this country, and the circumstances in which they come”

to some sort of attempt to claim the moral high ground on issues of the well-being and excretory health of detainees :

“I really have great concern about whether or not this Government has any forward plan other than more bunk beds more portaloos and that quite clearly is chaos it’s not a strategy that is going to deal with the humanitarian issues…” – Sharman Stone, Opposition Immigration spokeswoman

The Coalition, as it turns out, have almost no chance of winning the next election, so it all doesn’t really matter. What it shows, however, is how farm Malcolm Turnbull has strayed from the small-L libertarianism that brought him to public prominence in the first place – his advocacy of the Australian Republic, support of gay marriage, his belief in climate change. Issues that, incidentally, grant him a significant personal vote in his inner-Sydney seat of Wentworth.

Perhaps he’ll take over the republic movement again. It’s a nice thought.

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LEDs in love

The ‘p’ stands for pirates. If you don’t know what ‘dnd’ stands for, then you are unfathomably lame. Alternatively, you might just belong to a  different social order than that of the pallid, darkness-dwelling creatures I count among my friends.

A tune, ‘fore we move on!

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I once again attended the Sydney Film Festival this year but, due to financial and time constraints, only saw two films. The first was Jia Zhangke’s 二十四城记 (24 City) at the Dendy Opera Quays, perhaps the contemporary Chinese director’s most unusual film to date (and that includes 三峡好人, with had a rocket ship temple-thing). It flirts with with documentary style, weaving fictional characters into interview footage to explore the history of the city of Chengdu. Like Jia’s previous films, it is essentially a film about people, and their coming to terms with the past while history itself is being swallowed up by the rapid changes in contemporary China. As in 三峡好人 (Still Life) and 站台 (Platform), there is a running motif of visiting the same environments as they are pulled down, torn apart and re-purposed. This is perhaps more prominent in 二十四城记, which uses the turning of an old munitions factory into a ritzy hotel to tie all of the stories together. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t feel quite as cohesive as the two other aforementioned films from Jia, but it is interesting nonetheless. More interesting is how Jia seems to be using his films to paint a diverse picture of modern China, probing different cities, peoples, dialects and landscapes with each film he creates.

The experience at the Opera Quays was marred only by the actual cinema audience. I don’t know if you notice the same thing (or even if it is anything to notice), but film-festival crowds tend to attract a pretentious sort of person, who feels the need to make an abnormal amount of noise during screenings. Not coughing, or scratching, or anything. This film-goer laughs at the slightest hint of humour, as if to say: “Your subtle and nuanced comedy isn’t lost on me, film!”

The other film I saw was 歩いても 歩いても (Still Walking), a Japanese film directed by Kore-eda Hirokazu. It was also good… Perhaps I’ll speak on it another time, but it really made me want to go to Yokohama (I think that’s where it’s set) in the same way that Ozu’s films make me want to go to Tokyo. The space the film creates is so vivid and enticing. It screened at Sydney’s State Theatre, whose golden halls and wonderful atmosphere provide an experience in itself. I should go there more often.

Speaking of the Opera Quays, I saw Battles as part of the Luminous Sydney festival – an odd event, whose intended purpose and artistic-coherence still baffles the hell out of me. Battles, naturally, were several galaxies of awesome, and John Stanier is some sort of demi-God. Check him out.

Uh, what else… Oh, right – sound arts! I was a sound-recordist for the Sydney part of Liquid Architecture 10. I’d never been before, but it was quite an experience (not least of all because I didn’t have to pay for entry!). I was there by the grace of Shannon O’Neill from Alias Frequencies, who now has the recordings and will decide what to do with them. I hope they get released for download – it’d be a shame for them to simply be archived, especially an incredible acoustic performance by Chris Abrahams and Kraig Grady (unfortunately, rather inadequately recorded), and an intense sonic assault by Buttress O’Kneel. The birthday party, in particular, was really special – a fitting exclamation mark to the week’s performances. LA really is unique in Australia, and I hope it continues to thrive.

Now, finally, to dndnp! This refers to the Dungeons and Dragons campaign I’m playing with my friends which, thus far, has involved less dungeons in favor of Mayan-style temples, and some sort of ongoing beef between rival pirate gangs! It’s hard to communicate the experience of the campaign, because it is so personal, and shaped by the collective personalities of the group and the DM. Suffice to say, however, that we are determined not to fall into high-fantasy stereotypes. We are far less interested in killing exotic monsters than capturing them, nursing them back to health, socialising them, and then incorporating them into our illegal, amateur street theatre in the perilous city of New Habriham.

Fun times.

I recently posted this on Facebook, but figured that, since I put a reasonable amount of thought into it, I would blog it up

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I don’t watch many documentaries, but this came highly recommended, so I snatched up a copy as soon as it became available. It wasn’t so long ago that I watched Jia Zhang-ke’s film about the Three Gorges dam, ‘三峡好人’, so I couldn’t help but draw comparisons (in spite of the fact that Jia’s is a narrative feature). Each film presents an unique take on the way the massive project has dislocated so many people, but ‘Up the Yangtze’ is enveloped in a kind of personal journey of Canadian director, Yung Chang. This turns out to be both a strength and a weakness (but still more a strength).

The film focuses on four central characters: a young girl ‘Cindy’ Shui Yu, her parents, and ‘Jerry’ Bo Yu Chen. Cindy is sent by her poor parents to work on one of the many Yangtze river boats for Western tourists. Cocky and self-centered, Jerry does the same upon his own accord, so he can earn money (although his personal story is rather less fleshed out than Cindy’s). Unfortunately, the film’s attempts to shape an engaging narrative out of the lives of these people comes across as a bit contrived (as when Cindy and Jerry meet on the pier, and venture together onto the boat for the first time). It’s the only serious criticism I could direct at ‘Up the Yangtze’, because the contrivances get in the way of characters that are already engaging, and stories that are beautiful in and of themselves. Then again, I’m a rather cynical viewer, and go out of my way to nitpick at such things…

As with many of these type of documentaries, I find myself questioning throughout the relevance of the author (director) inserting himself into the film to such a large extent. Yung’s narration is tastefully sparse, but jarringly self-reflective and seemingly exterior to the central issues of the film. I don’t doubt Yung’s personal attachment to the land and its people, and his compassion is what makes this such as effective and moving story. It’s just that, ultimately, I care much less about the occasional stories of Yang’s own family than I do about the main characters, especially Cindy and her family.

The alternative, I suppose, is the kind of austere narrator you might find in a nature documentary – rattling off pertinent facts, clarifying issues in the film, but ultimately disembodied and therefore lifeless. In the end, Yang’s method is much more effective, and I probably wouldn’t have it any other way. Like I said – I tend to nitpick because I love film so much.

The photography is warm and beautiful, and is a stark contrast to the long shots, graceful pans and slow editing of the same landscape in ‘三峡好人’. The camera captures the sheer beauty (and the enormous destruction) of the natural environment but, more importantly in a social documentary, focuses on the quotidian; the day to day struggles of the characters. As in all good documentaries, the humility, sadness and resilience of the people in ‘Up the Yangtze’ is laid bare, and only on a few occasions will you question the honesty (and therefore integrity) of the film. Other than that, I couldn’t recommend this film highly enough.