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OMG guys I can’t believe what that bastard Joe Jackson just did! He totally just plugged his business during his son’s tribute show! Ugh, that is so wrong!!!
I mean, sure, had he feigned sadness and regret at his son’s passing instead, it would have made me sick to my stomach, because that would’ve been so fake! But instead he had the gall to turn this respectful, tasteful media-driven feeding frenzy into something crass and commercial! What a creep!
Don’t these people get that we, the real Michael Jackson fans, were the only ones who, like, totally loved him? I mean, sure, in the past I repeatedly referred him a “weirdo” and “freak”, but as even my closest friends freely acknowledge, I can sing all the words to the chorus of “Bad”. Seriously, I was like his biggest fan. And now he’s gone and I’m like totally devastated.
Goodnight, sweet prince.
 It’s the most predictable thing in the world: blogging about the recent death of a prominant celebrity, presumably in order claim you were one of the first to jump on the cultural bandwagon of this most recent spate of recreational mourning.
But I finished my exams yesterday, so allow me this small piece of self-indulgence, please.
In the early ’80s (possibly ‘81 or ‘82), Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough” was one of my favourite songs, and in 1982 I had a bootlegged copy of Jackson reading the E.T. storybook.
In 1983, I owned “Say, Say, Say” on 45, had TV Week pinups of Jackson on my wall, and sang “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” into my Realistic-brand cassette player (itself a present for my fourth birthday the year before).
In 1984, I asked my dad to rent the video for “Thriller” and I remember watching what was the most phenomenal video clip of its era. Around that same time, I tried to buy the Michael Jackson doll from a toy shop in Blacktown: they were sold-out, but they had plenty of the Boy George doll in stock (which I turned down). For my birthday that year, I asked for Thriller, and Michael Jackson was now without a doubt my favourite singer. (Shakin’ Stevens preceded him, believe it or not, but we’ll leave that discussion for another day…)
In 1985, I met my now-stepfather for the first time, and as with all weekend lunchtimes in the mid-’80s, I was seated at my mum’s Thorn-EMI HiFi, playing my rather complete collection of ’80s LPs and 45s. I remember, very clearly, showing-off my collection: the Ghostbusters soundtrack, various compilations from the era (e.g. Throbbin’ ‘84, Thru the Roof ‘83, Choose 1985, Raiders of the Pop Charts…), Bruce Springsteen 45s, etc., but the crown jewel was Thriller, complete with a gold sticker on the cover proclaiming it the winner of seven Grammys. “Bet you didn’t know I had that!” I exclaimed proudly, holding up the album’s iconic gatefold sleeve. (I ended up taping my stepfather’s 45 of “Ben”, a staple of Jackson’s childhood output.)
As we moved towards the late ’80s, I lost interest. I’d moved onto Peter Gabriel and Billy Joel, Dire Straits and Supertramp. It wasn’t ’til I watched Moonwalker on TV in 1989 that I finally bought Bad, and it’s still a very uneven album to my ears, but its moments of brilliance (e.g. “Another Part of Me”, a song written for the Jackson/Lucas/Coppola film Captain EO) make it still worthwhile.
In 1991, I was given the Moonwalker videogame for the Sega MegaDrive for my 13th birthday, and for Christmas I was given Dangerous on cassette. By now, however, the magic was gone. It was all downhill from there.
But in the early-to-mid-’80s, Jackson was integral to my childhood. He was more than a man: he was the icon of the decade. Just listening to Eddie Van Halen’s solo in “Beat It” seems to conjur up so many memories.
Had Jackson died in 1986, he’d be a James Dean-like figure, immortalised as fresh-faced, vibrant, charismatic and captivating. Instead, his life mirrored that of Elvis Presley, stunning audiences worldwide with spirited, exhilarating, innovative performances for years before eventually succumbing to excess and eccentricity. Both died in the midst of stunningly unaware self-parody. Both inspired impersonators who held fanatic devotion to their idols. But both, at their height, were like nothing else before them.
If there’s a stamp issued, I’m voting for the “Young Jackson”…
Having now watched the Four Corners expose of the group sex culture within Rugby League, I can say that I’m not particularly surprised by the revelations. The benefit of the show, however, was in painting a vivid picture of a culture that celebrates brute force and instinct over respect and regard for others.
Here’s the thing: the best players have a great gift for acting reflexively, living purely in the moment and emphasising simple tribalism. In short, higher brain functions aren’t exactly high on the list of priorities.
And so what we’re dealing with here is a case of animals behaving like animals. You can’t train a Rugby League star to respect women any more than you can teach a lion integral calculus. These manboys are essentially sociopaths, and the best you can hope for is to keep them in line using fear of consequence.
Of course, this does result in more effort being put into not getting caught, hence recent non-apologies that are more about how regrettable it was the story finally broke than any real recognition of the intrinsic “wrongness” of the actions.
Some women are evidently just as much evolutionary throwbacks as these degenerates in jerseys are, but that doesn’t make the players’ behaviour any less inexcusable, particularly when cases like the NZ incident pop-up (which I’m sure is more representative than isolated). If anything, it only illustrates how vapid a good chunk of the population is.
So what’s the answer? The only way forward, in my opinion, is the end of professional rugby league. As a society, we cannot continue to lavish riches upon brutes and thugs.
 The Empire Strikes Back (1980) In 1977, a science fiction/adventure film changed the landscape of popular cinema forever. George Lucas’ Star Wars reintroduced the idea of science fiction as the modern myth, being a genre for everyone, not just the nerds and space fanatics.
On its heels were both the cheap knockoffs (e.g. Battle Beyond the Stars) and the genuine followers (e.g. Alien), but for those interested in the promised further adventures of Luke Skywalker, it wasn’t until 1980’s The Empire Strikes Back that the next instalment of the Star Wars saga was finally delivered.
But things were different this time around: while George Lucas provided the story (and several uncredited drafts of the screenplay itself), Irvin Kershner handled directing duties with Lawrence Kasdan largely providing the nuts-and-bolts of the script. Furthermore, Empire was released as Episode V, not Episode II (with the original Star Wars being retitled Episode IV: A New Hope in 1981). How could such a film ever match the original for excitement and thrills?
The genius of Empire is that it doesn’t even try to match its predecessor. Sure, the action set-pieces are spectacular and the fight scene is one for the ages, but this is not a film focused on being a non-stop thrill-ride. The emphasis here is on themes of maturity and duality, and the realisation that the potential for evil lurks within even the best of us.
Continue reading The Empire Strikes Back
 Star Wars (1977) It’s hard to overemphasise the impact that Star Wars has had on modern cinema. Steven Spielberg’s Jaws laid the groundwork, but Star Wars became the prototype for the effects-laden blockbuster. That countless imitators (and the imitators of the imitators) often missed the point when it came to the success of Star Wars was a sad but inevitable outcome.
Director George Lucas, who had great success with American Graffiti just prior, filled his screenplay with everything swimming around in his subconscious both as a child and as an adult: westerns, adventure serials, comic books, fairytales, samurai films, war films, pulp science fiction and anything else that sprang to mind. Yet everything in Star Wars seemed to exist in a coherent universe, where princesses could stand alongside bounty hunters and fighter pilots. In short, he concocted the most delicious blend of fantastic imagery that bounces around a ten-year-old boy’s head and then splashed it onto cinema screens everywhere.
The plot, furthermore, followed closely the monomyth as detailed by Joseph Campbell but never felt by-the-numbers. Instead, the audience seemed to be partaking in a ritualised retelling of an ancient story dressed in the tropes of 20th century pop culture, and it’s this dual nature of the film—contemporary, yet timeless—that no doubt lead to its massive popularity and longevity. We all knew the sources of inspiration and so it was immediately familiar without being strictly derivative. This was the Hero’s Journey for pop culture junkies.
Continue reading Star Wars
 An artist's impression of Gliese 581 e (Wikipedia) Very exciting news today: we’ve discovered two exoplanets, one less than twice the size of Earth, the other within the “habitable zone” where liquid water can exist. And both reside in the same system! (The latter exoplanet was discovered two years ago, but its ability to potentially sustain life was only discovered recently.)
If you think this is all pretty academic, consider this: the star Gliese 581 (about which both exoplanets orbit) is only around 20 light years away. If “Earth-like” planets can be found so close to home, imagine how many are out there in total! With each new discovery of Earth-like planets, the term ne in the Drake equation—the term estimating the number of potentially life-sustaining planets for stars with planets—becomes a better and better approximation of the real state of things. Suddenly the Earth itself isn’t so priviledged after all, and not only will we have hard evidence to back that up, but we’ll also have a fair grasp of just how likely intelligent life actually is.
This is the logical extension of the Copernican and Darwinian paradigm shifts, and the next step in our journey towards humility.
 Brazil (1985) Quite a few films have a behind-the-scenes history of power struggles and “creative differences”, but only a select few enter lore as being films that almost devoured their creators. Apocalypse Now is one such film; Brazil is another.
Monty Python’s Terry Gilliam, who had previously directed Time Bandits and Jabberwocky, set about to create his own 1984. Gilliam’s vision was of a twisted, distorted version of the present, occupying a space and time given only as “Somewhere in the 20th Century”, but looking like a totalitarian future as envisaged from the perspective of post-war Britain. The oppression is palpable, lead not by a menacing “Big Brother”-type but instead by a bureaucratic system determined to justify its own existence.
Jonathan Pryce plays Sam Lowry, a man content to live out his life working in the bowels of the bureaucracy, supplementing his day-to-day drudgery with Icarus-like fantasies where he flies through the clouds and rescues the woman of his dreams. When Sam actually encounters (quite literally) “the woman of his dreams” (played by Kim Greist), he soon discovers the impact that poorly-managed governmental systems can have on ordinary people.
Every inch of the world of Brazil emphasises the irony that the things we rely on to improve our lives often end up hindering us more than helping. This is a high-tech society, yet the technology intrudes upon and complicates life — giant ducts snake through buildings to deliver the “goodies” of modern life, while telephones resemble old-fashioned switchboards, requiring the user to fumble around with cords and connections in order to communicate with others. Similarly, the voluminous paperwork required in order to achieve anything of worth means that the simple matter of air-conditioner repair becomes a major operation that will take days (if not weeks). “Heating engineer” Harry Tuttle (Robert De Niro) decides to work outside the system and is branded a “terrorist” for his troubles.
Continue reading Brazil
Being an actor can be pretty hard at times, it seems. When you’re not battling zombies on set, you’re battling paparazzi in real life—it’s easy to get the two confused, as Woody Harrelson recently discovered:
“I wrapped a movie called ‘Zombieland,’ in which I was constantly under assault by zombies, then flew to New York, still very much in character,” Harrelson said in a statement issued Friday by his publicist.
“With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie,” he said.
Harrelson (allegedly) did what any sane person would do when confronted by a zombie: “damaged [the zombie's] camera and pushed him in the face” (as reported by CNN).
In fairness to Harrelson, it surely is a fine line between being paparazzi and the living dead.
 Blade Runner (1982) 1982 was a good year for science fiction on film: on the one hand you had Steven Speilberg’s E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, which was one of those inescapable blockbusters that was as much an event as a film; on the other hand we were given John Carpenter’s The Thing, which seemed to be the cinematic inverse of Spielberg’s offering. Transcending that dichotomy, however, was Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, a futuristic film noir that is arguably the most important science fiction film of the 1980s — certainly, it was one of the most influential.
It is Los Angeles in 2019, and within the urban decay are four rogue ‘replicants’ — sophisticated androids that are virtually indistinguishable from humans. Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is a former blade runner — a detective charged with tracking down and ‘retiring’ (i.e. killing) rogue replicants — and he’s brought back on the job to retire the current four who are still on the loose.
Blade Runner is an important film for a number of reasons. Firstly, it helped to define the ‘cyberpunk’ subgenre: its world was a grimy, sprawling urban landscape fused with high-tech industry, and this became the paradigm upon which so much science fiction was later built. Secondly, its themes of humanity, creation and the nature of memory are dealt with seriously but never in a heavy-handed manner. And finally, it’s yet another case of a film that was relatively unsuccessful at the time of release but whose influence was so marked that it’s now regarded as a classic almost by default.
Continue reading Blade Runner
Ah, Easter: a time for reflecting on death, rebirth and spiritual renewal. Putting aside the continuing commercialisation and secularisation of this event, clearly, our celebrations have their roots in the Christian tradition.
Or do they?
The name “Easter” was first reported, by the monk and scholar Bede, to be derived from Eostre, an ancient Saxon goddess who, during the (spring) month of Eosturmonath, inspired feasts and celebrations in her honour. In fairness, some later scholars have doubted Bede’s account, but what motivations would a Christian monk have for telling such tales? Furthermore, Bede was writing during a period close enough to the Christianisation of England that he most likely had access to such information. (Wikipedia has more information.)
In any case, much of the tradition of Easter goes back to the god Attis (earlier Tammuz, Osiris, Dionysus and Orpheus) “who was believed to have died and been resurrected each year during the period MAR-22 to MAR-25.” Furthermore, “He was a god of ever-reviving vegetation. Born of a virgin, he died and was reborn annually. The festival began as a day of blood on Black Friday and culminated after three days in a day of rejoicing over the resurrection.” (See here, though a dissenting view can be found here.)
Put more succintly, no matter which way you turn, it seems that Easter (in one form or another) predates Christianity by quite a bit. So, Christian, atheist, Pantheist, Pagan or other, enjoy Easter—it’s your day, too.
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