Lindsay Anderson: O Lucky Man! (Part 2)

O Lucky Man! keeps swirling in my head. Some further observations are in order on techniques. Above: "old-fashioned" Mick Travis (Malcolm McDowell) and insouciant Patricia Burgess (Helen Mirren) in London.

I. Action scenes alternate with interludes, some of them pastoral and some musical, the latter featuring Alan Price and his band delivering songs that comment on or prefigure what else is going on in the film. Anyone who has heard The Animals' version of "House of the Rising Son" (1964) will be familiar with Price on some level (that's him playing a Vox Continental organ on the track). Here, Price's assembled group sounds a lot like early 1970s Kinks, at least to me. On the title track, Price sings (this is only a snippet):

If you have a friend on whom you think you can rely
You are a lucky man!
If you've found the reason to live on and not to die
You are a lucky man!

From the satiric "Poor People:"

Poor people stay poor people
And they never get to see
Someone's got to win in the human race
If it isn't you, then it has to be me.

Finally -- from "Justice:"

All life from beginning to end
You pay your monthly installments.
Next to health is wealth
And only wealth will buy you justice.

II. Throughout O Lucky Man!, people in positions of power rarely act for the common good; quite the opposite -- there is much abuse of power at all levels, from cops on the beat to the corporate top. Intimidation and torture or, as Dick Cheney and gang defined such tactics during their conducting of the "War on Terror" -- enhanced interrogation techniques -- are used to exact a phony confession from Mick Travis, for instance. On the other hand, as in Voltaire's Candide, there are sources of compassion, including various benevolent people depicted in this film (providing needed uplift, for sure). One of my favorite sections follows Mick as he escapes from a military-industrial accident on a secret facility through a wildly dangerous apocalyptic zone until he crosses a stream, hears birds singing and church bells in the distance, and eventually finds respite in a pastoral church setting.













III. Like a John Dos Passos novel, O Lucky Man! utilizes a variety of techniques to drive home the narrative and make comments on the greater world. In addition to the Alan Price and company performances, silent film style is occasionally used for emphasis, as is graffiti (still shot example: REVOLUTION IS THE OPIUM OF THE INTELLECTUALS, plus peace sign), little bits of radio news heard in the background, scrolling news headlines (exactly as we are now used to now via cable news) on a building in London;  and quotations from books, including lines of philosophy and poetry.  Let's  not forget advertising slogans and various social clichés worthy of Are You Being Served?

IV. There is more -- for  a later post.



Today's Rune: Journey.

Lindsay Anderson: O Lucky Man! (Part 1)

Happy to have seen O Lucky Man! again soon after If. . .   Both came recommended by my sister Linda back in the 1970s. Both are now availble on DVD and worth tracking down.  I'd seen blurrier video versions in the 1980s, but not since the end of the Cold War.

Many of the same actors percolate from If... to O Lucky Man! and play multiple roles. Malcolm McDowell keeps the name Mick Travis, though he is a different man, more happy-go-lucky in the cruel, cruel, occasionally wonderful world as seen through the wandering, wondering skeptical eyes of McDowell and Lindsay Anderson. Blend together Voltaire, William Blake, Tom Paine, John Dos Passos, Ian Fleming, Dr. Strangelove, A Clockwork Orange, Luis Buñuel, The Kinks and Pink Floyd and presto, you get a sense of the kaleidoscopic vision of O Lucky Man!

I don't like to "rate" much, but that said, this has got to be in the top five percent of English language films in my book.

It's nothing less than a true attempt at exposing and understanding modern life in all its absurdities, complexities and banal evils through the scrim of capitalist society, the most efficient form -- so far -- of plundering the planet and the majority of people living on it.  All with a story line that, after the disappearance of "Oswald," takes Mick Travis North and South, West and East, though not in that order, initally as a coffee salesman.  

O Lucky Man! seems even more chilling in the 21st century than it did in the 20th, despite its comic and satirical elements.  

I am reminded of how weird things are getting every time I retrieve a milk container for my first cup of coffee in the morning: "Our farms," the Horizon "leaping cow" Organic LOWFAT MILK carton explains, "produced this milk without antibiotics, added hormones, pesticides or cloning."  God, let's hope so.



Today's Rune: Possessions.  

The World War One Ambulance Driver

Me as World War One ambulance driver, Justice, Illinois (about twenty miles southwest of Chicago). The printed date shows MAY 1968, but the original snapshot was more likely taken in 1966 or 1967.

WWI was very much in the Zeitgeist: It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, the one featuring Snoopy as flying ace vs. the Red Baron, premiered on October 27, 1966. (Yes, there is a first time for everything!)

In any case, I was in good company. Among actual Great War ambulance drivers and attendants were writers, artists and musicians of all kinds. For example: Erwin Blumenfeld, René Clair; Jean Cocteau; Malcom Cowley; e.e. cummings; Kati Nino Dadeshkeliani; John Dos Passos; Dorothy Canfied Fisher; Dashiell Hammett; Ernest Hemingway; Robert Hillyer; Sidney Howard; John Howard Lawson; Arhibald MacLeish; Somerset Maugham; Maurice Ravel; Albert Roussel; Robert W. Service; Olaf Stapledon; Gertrude Stein and Hugh Walpole. Good way to participate in the action without full commitment to nationalism and war -- especially if you're only about six years old.

Today's Rune: Joy.

Lightnin' Hopkins: His Life and Blues

I thoroughly enjoyed Alan Govenar's Lightnin' Hopkins: His Life and Blues (Chicago Review Press, 2010).  Govenar scoured city and country to find every bit of information he could; he dug through company records, conducted numerous interviews and sifted through a mountain of liner notes and articles. Combined with an extended engagement with Hopkins' recorded output -- even a reasonable sampling -- this biographical study will give anyone interested a good feel for the iconic bluesman.  One also glimpses how the music show business worked from the 1940s into the 1980s, in the studio and on the road. 

For now, two things to note. First, some keen observations by Ed Pearl, owner of Ash Grove, a West Coast oasis for live performances at  8162 Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles that ran from 1958 to 1973: "He [Hopkins] knew his limitations . . . and he was happy to be part of his community, but he knew there was a bigger world out there. He thought people should be equal and he thought . . . poor people should have more. And everyone is a child of God. He was against the Vietnam war." (p. 194, from 2008 Govenar interview).  Another noteworthy aspect of Lightnin' Hopkins' life: his thirty-five year relationship, until his death, with Antoinette Charles. She was a love of his life, and strong, if not the only one; given that she was married to someone else for the same duration, with kids, it was the same for her. 

As Govenar points out emphatically, not all of the bluesman's recorded output is of equal quality. Delving into his discography (and there's a comprehensive one included), it's a good idea to choose carefully. The most recent collection I've been listening to features him on electric guitar  (Hopkins' preferred style): Lightnin' Hopkins, Rainy Day In Houston (2000), recordings from 1955, 1961 and 1968.  This one has three of my favorite of his topical tracks: "War Is Starting Again," "The World's In A Tangle" and "Vietnam War."   

Today's Rune: Strength.

Lindsay Anderson: If. . .

If. . . is a film that came recommended by my sister Linda, and I first saw it as a teenager in the late 1970s. I loved Lindsay Anderson's work then and enjoyed it even more so recently after watching If. . . for a third time as a full-fledged adult.

If. . .  showcases a blistering take down of the British ruling classes in two phases: I) scrutiny of the hoary status quo -- symbolized as a public (private boarding) school -- by Mick Travis and his crew and II) an armed uprising.

Literalists would take this film as a blank check for going off the deep end, forming lunatic groups like the Weatherman, Baader-Meinhof and  Symbionese Liberation Army. Broader, deeper thinkers might eventually form a loose coalition group like WikiLeaks. More cautious (and perhaps saner) people might take from this film a valid, universally true portrait of how things work in modern society and go from there. 

Such a rebellious thematic approach, sometimes focusing only on phase I scrutiny and sometmes turning phase II into a more symbolic rebellion, can be traced directly from Jean Vigo's Zéro de conduite (1933) through François Truffaut's Les Quatre Cents Coups / The 400 Blows (1959), Anderson's If. . ., The Kinks Present Schoolboys in Disgrace (1976), The Sex Pistols (1975-1978), Pink Floyd's The Wall (1979), Alan Parker's Pink Floyd The Wall (1982) and David Fincher's Fight Club (1999, based on the 1996 Chuck Palahniuk novel). And there are others, but not much yet in the 21st century. 














The whole cast of If..., led by Malcolm McDowell in his first role (as Mick Travis), is stellar. The mostly realistic school culture scenes alternate with surrealistic ones; some scenes are in black and white, others are in color. This was a point of much conversation by my sister Linda's "Neighborhood" bunch. I can see why.

Along the way through the film, there is some discussion of the First World War (yes!) and many telling visual details can be observed, like posters of Che Guevara (the iconic Alberto Korda shot), Chairman Mao and Charlotte Rampling. The eerily effective soundtrack (featuring Les Troubadours du Roi Baudouin and some other flourishes) is the same kind in spirit Werner Herzog would utilize throughout the 1970s.  Everything works together seamlessly.

Today's Rune: Wholeness.

Crazy Heart Live

Here's a shot I snapped of the Crazy Heart band with Jeff Bridges and T. Bone Burnett last month at the 8.0 ("Eight Oh"), not long after The Big Lebowski showing at the Modern. Felt like stepping inside the movie Crazy Heart, weirdly.

Burnett and Bridges earlier this year won Crazy Heart Academy Awards: T-Bone (with Ryan Bingham) for "The Weary Kind" and Bridges (Best Actor) for his depiction of Bad Blake. Burnett was awarded a Stephen Bruton Award at the Lone Star International Film Festival and Bridges was given a Lone Star Society Lifetime Achievement Award. Stephen Bruton, who died last year, worked on the Crazy Heart soundtrack and was buddies from way back with T-Bone Burnett; Bruton had been part of Kris Kristofferson's band (among others) and cut five solo albums.  










I had the opportunity to hear T-Bone Burnett speak for about an hour at the public library. There he talked a lot about his friendship with (Turner) Stephen Bruton, whose family owned Record Town, a "Beatnik record store" where they both learned a ton more about music. I'll pick up from there at some point, but meanwhile, "time out."

This past weekend, I actually went to Record Town and met Sumter Bruton III, Stephen's older brother and a veteran recording musician in his own right. Record Town, which was first opened by the Bruton family in 1957 after they moved to Fort Worth from New Jersey, is still going strong and still has a strong but laid back Bohemian vibe.

Sumter Bruton is a blast, throwing out stories left and right and going every which way with them. He spoke highly of Before Motown A History Of Jazz In Detroit 1920-1960 by Lars Bjorn with Jim Gallert (2001) and at one point, played a lick of John Lee Hooker's "Boogie Chillen'" on a guitar from behind the counter. Stories bounced from Black Ace to ZZ Top, about the intermingling of blues and country and so on. And he was the very guy who handed T-Bone Burnett the Stephen Bruton Award. "I had to think of things to say . . . like his full name is Joseph Henry Burnett." On a not unrelated note, Sumter Bruton has a reputation for playing in the tradition and style of an earlier T-Bone: Aaron Thibeaux T-Bone Walker.

Sumter is both affable and sharp, and others hung around listening, too. I picked up some Slim Harpo and Black Ace grooves while there.  In the words of Arnie, I'll be back.

Brighton: The West Pier

Much of Richard Attenborough's Oh! What a Lovely War (1969) was filmed on Brighton's West Pier (which had been built a century before) in 1968. In the film, it is luminous and beautiful, contrasting sharply with the Western Front.

I have fond memories of taking a train down from London's Victoria Station in 1991 and checking out Brighton with an English girlfriend, an architect who specialized in arcades and vestiges of military fortifications. The Gulf War had just ended, and British troops had paraded in the streets of London in full desert regalia. The train ride took only about an hour, and I was buoyant from seeing the Pogues and Kraftwerk at the Brixton Academy.

At the time we were there, Brighton's West Pier could not easily be reached because (as in the photo above by Paul M. Smith) a major section was missing. But you could see it clearly from shore. Since then, all the woooden parts have been destroyed by fire (in 2003), leaving only cast iron skeletal remains. Still magical in 1968, it included a pavilion, concert hall and arcade stands.

This is the West Pier observation deck from which the officer corps (surrealistically, and including John Mills and Edward Fox) direct operations and tally casualties, which were in reality colossal: on the first day of the Battle of the Somme alone, the British suffered nearly 60,000 casualties, including 20,000 dead. To put this in perspective, the KIA totals dwarf Anglo-American casualties for the entire duration of the ongoing Iraq (2003-present) and Afghanistan (2001-present) wars. In one day.
















In the three-part documentary accompanying the DVD version (2006) of Oh! What a Lovely War, Attenborough mentions how he tried to incorporate eyewitness scenes painted during the Great War by C.R.W. Nevinson. Here's one, Paths of Glory (1917), considered "a hindrance to the war effort" at the time, now at the Imperial War Museum in London, which I explored in the early 1980s and 1991. Paths of Glory also happens to be the name of Stanley Kubrick's powerful 1957/1958 Great War film, and two WWI books (one by Humphrey Cobb, the basis for Kubrick's work, first published in 1935, and one by Irvin S. Cobb, 1915), deriving from Thomas Gray's 1750 poem, "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard:"

"The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

Today's Rune: Growth.