film

You've read the book, now see the movie! Power and Terror: Noam Chomsky in Our Times, by Tokyo-based filmmaker John Junkerman, is a "talking-head documentary" of Chomsky's appearances and interviews after the September 11th attacks. According to The Onion A.V. Club, it's "so dry that theaters showing it might as well pass around attendance sheets and assign homework." All right! Par-tay!

Who's with me? It'll be playing at Uplink Factory from the 14th to the 27th of April (excluding the 18th to 20th), but since it's only playing at or before 1 p.m., I have to see it either on the 26th or 27th.

art

Note to self: the Henry Darger exhibit is coming to a close at Watarium. Try to make use of that repeat-entry pass. Also? Try not to look so amused this time. These are mangled children. Sort of.

Here's the entry from the last time I went:
I took a peek inside Henry Darger's mind this weekend and it served as further reminder that a very fine line runs between the distinctions of "artistically quirky" and "completely insane." I spent that Saturday afternoon examining illustrations of naked little girls with penises spying on their political enemies and of children being strangled, hung, shot, and disemboweled by soldiers. The images were as cute as they were disturbing, what with the bright colors and the children's little kewpie doll faces staring out at you as they dodged bullets and begged for mercy. All I could think to say as I left the building was "Yup."

In case you don't know, Henry Darger (1892-1973) was a janitor and dishwasher in Chicago. Only after his death was it discovered that he had written a more than 15,000-page novel over the span of 60 years accompanied by aforementioned illustrations. The title? [deep breath] The Story of the Vivian Girls, in what is Known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion. Out of the lunatic, the lover, and the poet, which one of them would have come up with that title?

club

If I hadn't already made plans for tonight, I'd be going to Yellow in Nishi Azabu. It's another Fantastic Plastic night with Tomoyuki Tanaka, this time as a release party for his latest album "too". I always have the most fun dancing when he's the DJ...and when it's not annoyingly crowded.

Here's the line-up and info:

Real Dance Floor
Tomoyuki Tanaka (Fantastic Plastic Machine)
DJ HIGGINS aka Gildas (KITSUNE / DAFT TRAX)
Special Session Live : Maki Takamiya, Ryohei Yamamoto

Real Lounge Floor
Tomoaki Nakamura (MUSICAANOSSA/Cafe Apres-midi)
hirochikano (la bossa)
KITAYAMA (X-LARGE)

OPEN/START : 22:00
advance ticket : 3000 yen (1D) available at TICKET PIA
door : 3500 yen (1D)
INFO : YELLOW planning office/03-3746-2368

dandy

Do you know what's dandy? FAQs!

I will answer any and all questions. Even the stupid ones like "Can you use chopsticks?" and "Do you like Japanese men?"

audition

Does anyone want to be the voice on the Hitachi ATM? If you're interested, let me know and I'll give you information on where to send your tape.

They're looking for:
A mature, female, non-accented English accent.

The tape should contain the following three lines and your name and contact phone#/email address:

1. Please enter your ID number.
2. Please take a copy of the customer guide and a holder with you.
3. Please sign your name in the customer signature column on the right.

Hitachi will choose the narrator from the demo tape and the recording will take place in April (one two-hour session).

Personally, I think I'd be freaked out if I had to hear my own voice on an ATM. It'd be like my conscience telling me not to withdraw so much money at once or so often. "Your account balance is dwindling. Shopping is not the answer." Yeah, thanks.

theatre

I'm sort of obligated to see Intrigue Theatre's production of The Government Inspector next week in Akasaka. So if anyone wants to go, let me know.

I thought that their production of Moliere's The Miser last year was exceptional and more on par with the types of shows I really liked when I was a frequent theatregoer back home. Small-scale, high-quality productions in an intimate venue.

Also, if you saw Tokyo International Player's production of Amadeus last fall, you might remember Ian Rose as Mozart. I thought he was pretty damn good for the most part. If I remember correctly, he's also teaching an acting class at Museum Tokyo in Ogikubo, but is planning to leave Japan soon. So this is likely to be his last show in Tokyo.

The Government Inspector plays 7-13 April at Studio Akasaka Playbox. I suspect that the weeknight shows (other than Friday) and the weekend matinees will be less crowded.

film

I just did some quick research to try to find descriptions of all the films in the "Documentary Anthology" of the aforementioned Image Forum Festival. Unfortunately, I could only get information on four of the six films, and as it turns out, one of them (Dieci Minuti alla Finne) isn't even really a documentary. Also, some of the copy may be awkward because they've been written by non-Native English speakers.

Dieci Minuti alla Finne - Daniele Cipri, Franco Maresco
Technical test on the apocalypse in Palermo. They are some men in a cave while we hear explositions outside, far away. Perhaps a war, which nobody knows about. Some of the few survivors move on a desolated and uninhabited land. Images of cemeteries and deserted landscapes pass by, while the survivors start behaving absurdly like animals.
From here.
Info on the directors here.

Locke's Way - Donigan Cumming
Film maker films a family collection of photos, visibly and audibly moved. Out of breath, he tells a tragic life story. [more]

Great Balls of Fire - Leon Grodski
Great Balls of Fire resists categorisation. Is it reportage or an art work, an intentional riposte to the slickness of news coverage of September 11 and the commodification of the destruction of the World Trade Center twin towers or perhaps just at testament to the "word on the street." It features James E. Jones, a homeless man who keeps time with a cup of coins. He appears here like a modern-day soothsayer, dispensing wisdom to the passers-by. [more]

Terra Incognita - Ben Russell
Portrait of Easter Island, made without a lens, with a commentary by a computer. [more]

classical music

My idol and oblivious mentor Edita Gruberova will be performing pieces by Donizetti at Suntory Hall on April 5th and 9th. Friedrich Haider will be conducting. I will be sitting. Outside. Far away. And probably by myself.

This bites.

Oh, but look! She's finally playing Norma at Tokyo Bunka Kaikan on the 21st, 25th and 29th of April. No one wants to come with me, eh?

film

I just love how the Image Forum Festival claims to be interested in international influences, yet seems completely inaccessible to non-Japanese. Nevertheless, here are some events that have managed to pique my interests despite my pathetically limited vocabulary.

Decay of Fiction by Pat O'Neill (2001, U.S., 74 min.)
The Decay of Fiction, eight years in the making...is the most complex piece ever produced by Los Angeles-based special-effects whiz Pat O'Neill and the fullest expression of his career on the periphery of the dream-factory assembly line.[more]

The Forgotten: A Documentary Anthology (I heart documentaries. Details to follow.)

Videos by Miranda July (1996-2001, U.S.)
Defining Miranda July is like trying to define a color. When confronted with the scope of her work--multimedia performance, experimental audio, single channel video, fanzines, riot grrrl film and video distribution, and now perhaps, following a cameo as a nurse with a bruised eye in Jesus' Son, acting--the head spins. [more]

Films by Matthias Muller
Matthias Muller's films merge visceral emotions and dense abstraction in dream-like collisions of found footage and original processed material. His formalist image manipulations in dazzling rhythms of light and shadow explore nostalgia, desire, death, and destiny. This survey of films from Muller's broad and developing body of work highlights a decisively alternative queer aesthetic, extending the tradition of experimental artists from Kenneth Anger to Jean Genet. [more]

Selections from the Holland Animation Film Festival

Rivages Lointains - Art films from Europe from 1995-2000

I would have added some of the Japanese film events, but I don't think I'd be able to understand any of them. But from what I've seen so far, the imagery still looks pretty amazing.

event

It's hardly a secret that there will be no Harukaze rave in Yoyogi Park this year. Last year's was bigger than ever and I remember hearing complaints that it became way too popular. "Commercial," even. Still, there was plenty of drug-taking and merry-making, and I can't say that I'll miss it. I even wrote about it in my Super-Secret Blog last year (entry below), declaring "never again" while clutching my hair in both hands and staring at my dilated pupils in the mirror.

But here's the thing. Synchronisity is taking over the spring rave this year with Shanti. Their motto? "No drug [sic]. No violence. No garbage." (I'm sure that's how they managed to get permission after Harukaze was denied.) Moreover, they've announced a long list of great performers from their other events. And, with all these promising changes, one might even hope that the bathrooms will be not-nearly-as-disgusting this year.

So, as a new-and-improved, responsible citizen, I'm packing only my dance shoes and my vitamin C and heading over to Yoyogi...Well, okay. Clothes too. I suppose I ought to wear more than just dance shoes.

____________________________________
Okay, here's last year's entry. Names have been changed blah blah blah.

Yesterday, I went to Harukaze, a huge annual party in Yoyogi park that has, apparently, become extremely commercialized over the three years that it has been running. Nevertheless, that didn't stop the space cakes and mushroom soup from selling. In the first year, about two hundred people converged; but this year...well, okay, I'm not really good with numbers. A lot. A lot of fucking people were there--dancing, drinking and lying around on what seemed to be one big blanket. And a good many of them didn't seem to believe in the modern wonders of deodorant.

Boys and girls, let me say right now that drugs are bad. You don't want to poison your body that way. You'll feel super-aware at first, but then you'll realize that you can barely feel your hands. And, when it starts raining, you'll have to keep asking people, "Is it really raining or am I imagining that? Really? Is it raining? Are you sure? It's not raining, is it?" Then you'll miss feeling normal and will just want the trip to end. You'll feel like you'll do anything to come down. You'll convince yourself that the trick is in your own reflection. If you could only get to the mirror and see your own face, you might return to your senses. Better yet, if you can get back home, everything will return to normal. Of course, you'll be wrong. Then you'll leave the other self-poisoners, forcing yourself to come down alone. Since no one else is there to share your own drug-induced thoughts, you'll have to live in your head for a little while. You'll think people on the bus or train are not only German, they are also laughing at you and talking about you. "They know!" you'll convince yourself. Then you'll wonder if you're talking out loud and are just unaware. Or maybe you're flatulating like crazy and are too fucked up to realize it. You'll try to listen really hard and focus on your faint reflection in the window in an attempt to grasp any semblance of the real you...and also to make sure you're not really flatulating. But it'll occur to you that you're still not normal. You can't focus. Then, when you get home and run to find your reflection--your key to awareness--you'll be greatly disappointed. You'll notice all the flaws in your face and will become overly-fascinated by your dilated pupils. You'll try to go to sleep, but the thoughts in your head will be too loud. You'll turn on the radio, but the only thing on will be 60's rock, which you will angrily declare to be "crazy drug music." And then...and then...if you're lucky, you'll finally fall asleep declaring "Never again."

It was strange to be around a bunch of people on E when I, myself, chose not to do it. Really. My choice has something to do with the fact that I hoard my serotonin like a motherfucker. But one of my friends has this habit of telling everyone what she likes about them when she's under the influence. Just for laughs, let's list what she said about me yesterday.

1) "You're such a free spirit." -- Hee hee! No one who really knows me ever says that about me. I'm uptight and have to plan everything. Freedom makes me nervous.
2) "You're so cute!" -- I don't know if she meant my mannerisms or my appearance. But it makes me feel like Meg Ryan, and I'll have to object. Yick.
3) "You have such a kind heart." -- Um. Most of my friendships are formed on the foundation of misanthropy. I don't people-watch because I like people. I people-watch because I like to make fun of people.

So there. I think I've proven my point well: I am a miserable human being.