Riki Tiki Tavi

Riki Tiki Tavi

REJECT THE SYSTEM WITH RIOT GIRL RUIN: The Punk Singer (2013)

The Punk Singer is a documentary about Kathleen Hanna, singer of feminist punk rock band Bikini Kill. It details her life in music and art up to the present day. Inside the first 25 minutes I was already acting like a shitty, bullish man- taking ownership of the feminist punk narrative in my own mind, shaming this documentary for lack of historical perspective in regards to this riot girl revolt; Anti-Scrunti Faction, Frightwig, The Neo Boys, Lydia Lunch, M99, The Gits, The Slits, Delta 5, The Raincoats, X Ray Spex, Diamanda Galas- just to name a few. All feminist artists- some far more extreme and bold than any in the Riot Girl Movement. I was chaffed at the very notion that the film begins it's narrative as if that stuff had never existed- that the only historical perspective they offer is the way back 60s Gloria Steinem connect. The cover for Patti Smith's Horses LP did as much for freeing young women's (and men's) ideas about sexuality as a dozen fanzines.

Once I had gotten this out of my brain space, I sat back, shut the fuck up and realized that this is one person's story that explodes into a thousand, maybe a million, other people's stories. That it is a story we can all relate to makes it that much more endearing. The struggle to be heard above the din, to escape our childhood dramas, to be loved, to give love, to create, to help, to force the world to see our vision of ourselves rather than the one assigned to us at birth. The documentary itself is not as stunning and deep as you may want- lacking fluidity, style, a cohesive story telling directive that could have expressed more the explosive, thrilling, intoxicating magic of this time period, the riot girl movement, the pulse and throb of the music. It misses this opportunity entirely. It has a flat, matter of fact vibe- one that engages, but never engrosses. The film also feels one sided- no women from any other scene are represented, or comment on the riot girl movement and how it may have affected them during this period. It would have been nice to see a wider perspective.

As you come to the reason Kathleen Hanna retired from performance in 2005, it becomes a fragile, human drama, and the entirety of the film and all of it's attendant problems are rendered moot, as you see this woman reach to become herself again. The final frame is given to our subject matter- still tough, still energized, still ready to remind those who forget, you don't need anybody but yourself and those who got your back. The rest is just bullshit hype.

DAYTRADERS BROKER PUNK COMMODITIES IN FILM AND FINANCE: CBGB, The Movie (2013)

Unlike Oliver Stone's 1991 film The Doors, the new film about the now legendary CBGB club is a complete piece of shit. The Doors film- as bad and inaccurate as that was- has at least taken on a camp value that is mostly hilarious and fun to watch unravel before your eyes; This CBGB film is so devoid of intelligence or art or plotted pose the only emotion left is contempt, which quickly melts into a sad hypothesis that it may be a propaganda film created by establishment conservatives, to confuse and confound any one interested in the actual ideas and environment from whence this music came.

I could start by picking on the shit bag film making- the flat cinematography, the poor costuming, the hideous make up,  the way in which the film makers seem to disregard any sense of congruency in favor of squeezing out enough of a commercial to sell this era to a new generation of know nothings. This film plays like an extended GAP advertisement for punk. Considering that Taylor Hawkins- the drummer for mall rock stalwarts Foo Fighters- plays Iggy Pop- terribly, mind you- should be a dead give away that this is not a serious film made by anyone who wants to make great entertainment- rather, it seems to have leaked from the bowels of business interests hell bent on draining any sense of danger or excitement, in order to produce a nice, neat, clean package of yesterday nostalgia. The marketing department must be having an orgasm.

Not all is lost, however. The music itself is wonderful-  imaginative, fantastic, galvanizing- it is no mystery as to why the filmmakers have wallpapered this visual calamity with great songs of the era- even if many of them are totally out of synch with timeline and incident. Alan Rickman, as CBGB proprietor Hilly Kristal, brings the only true acting weight to the proceedings, the only performance compelling enough to watch. Donal Logue- playing Kristal's partner- is passable- but the rest of this cast is much like the dog shit that littered the CBGB floor. Much of the cast renders their famous counterparts nothing more than Mickey Mouse teeny boppers with quaint directives rather than the mutant rejects of a society too pretty to tolerate such ugliness. Malin Ackerman as Debbie Harry is particularly awful, avoiding Harry's sweet, adorable sexuality in favor of grinding like a strip club slut. Mickey Summer as Patti Smith is also particularly bad- yet, Justin Bartha as Stiv Bators may be one of the worst portrayals of a known entity I have witnessed.

The story itself is interesting enough to be told, absolutely. Yet, a dramatization such as this- artless, colorless, mediocre- is the wrong way in which to present such a thrilling tale. There is a joy attached to knowing that this music has become part of the fabric of American Pop culture, finally- that all of those sick, crazy, disgusting, strange, weird ideas have made it to the mainstream- but at what cost? When it all gets muddled and mashed into this modern day hybrid of robotic dialogue and ready made trend bait, it tends to cancel out the importance of the thing itself. And even if it is mere entertainment in the end, a film made about it should be equally entertaining. This CBGB movie is not.   

DEATH IS ALL AROUND IN THE DRUG SPIRAL OF LIFE: The Death Of Richie (1976)

One of the single greatest teenage drug movies ever made, The Death Of Richie (titled "Richie" on the original Prism video box) follows a young Robbie Benson on his hell ride through teenage drug addiction, as he cruises around with his wastoid friends popping pills, smoking grass, doing angel dust and LSD and all sorts of goodies that get you good and gone against the grind of the demands of being young and white in the suburbs. Ben Gazzara is masterful in his role as the tightly wound, overly concerned, angry father who desires to have the father son relationship he once had when Richie was younger, now replaced by high school concerns that don't include Mom and Dad. As Richie falls deeper and deeper into his drug fueled, anti social fast lane, the parental concerns become more threatening, intense, and ultimately, tragic. Eileen Brennen plays Richie's mother- bitten lip, furrowed brow, worried eyes- she is in a perpetual state of anguish over her son's behavior as well as the tension between father and son- a tension the typically results in shouting matches and loud threats, followed by Richie's retreat into his secret drug crawl space, where he turns on and stares at the flashing lights and zones out of his problems completely. It is a fantastic, groovy, way out little space. Originally a TV Movie Of The Week, the cast is flawless- 70s child superstar Lance Kerwin plays Richie's brother, with the ever solid Clint Howard and the one of a kind comedian Charles Fleischer as Richie's drug buddies. And the 1976 visuals are wonderful- the pinball arcade, the parks, the clothes, the hair, the cars, the restaurants- it's all there, in glorious, gritty color. Exploitative realism at it's finest.

HIGH SCHOOL REFLECTIONS, MEMORIES & THE TEENAGE DRAMA: Seven Minutes In Heaven (1985)

The teen movie ruled the roost in the not so distant 1980s, so much so that many great ones fell through the cracks. Seven Minutes In Heaven is a much sweeter, more innocent affair than the more bawdy, colorful hits of the day, but nails high school melodrama superbly. Three best friends move about their lives together- one boy, two girls. Natalie is only interested in her future political ambitions, Jeff is into Polly, and Polly is distressed over not having a boyfriend, until she falls in love with baseball player Zoo Knudsen. Jeff has trouble at home- a child of divorce, a demanding stepfather- so he moves in with Natalie temporarily while her father is out of town. Natalie starts dating Jeff's friend James, who is not as faithful as she thinks. Seven Minutes In Heaven specializes in gentle, warm vibrations- it does not avoid the pitfalls of teen life- bullying, parental problems, teacher difficulties, first crush fever- rather presents these issues in a less vulgar, ridiculous, comical way than many of it's contemporaries. The film captures the aching, longing, bittersweet emotional impact of life at 16- how every incident, every crush, every moment is a monumental experience to be held in awe, the newness of living on this planet still a fresh idea, before the realities of experience spin us in directions in and out of our control.

NEW WAVE SEWER SLEAZE IN NEW YORK CITY: Times Square (1980)

A gritty, glamorous street story of two 14 year old girls- one the quiet daughter of a politician, the other a loudmouth rock n' roll runaway, hip to the downtown vibe- who meet under compromised circumstances, only to escape into the wild nights and begging days of New York City, when such things ran the smashed up kids of lost teenage desire. The girls spend their days creating and dreaming of a universe where they- The Sleaze Sisters- will set the youth free through music and madness, away from the stronghold of adult directives.  The girls become entangled with a midnight DJ- who spends his airtime baiting the kids who listen to his show, dishing out observations on the nasty nights of New York City night crawlers, reading aloud desperate letters from his minions, doling out suggestion in a sinister, self righteous tone. The girls perform on his show, and become a hot sensation- eventually putting on an event in Times Square that attracts all form of teenage malcontent, dressed in garbage bags and dark make up. Roxy Music, The Ramones, The Pretenders, Suzi Quatro,  and Gary Numan are among the many cool as a motherfucker rock n' roll bands featured on the soundtrack, and The Sleaze Sisters themselves produce one of the film's best bits- where they perform a great little punk song "Damn Dog," at a strip club, also included on the record. Time's Square captures a time and place far since washed away from today's preconditioned hard sell, the days when finding yourself was a common commodity- a way of being so important you'd runaway from home just to do it, fuck conformity and projection- freedom is the only cause worth a dollar or dime.      

HARD CHAOS & THE NASTY TEENAGE BITE: Made In Britain (1982)

This is a bleak, minimalist, harsh tale of an English skinhead, hell bent on creating criminal chaos at every turn- malcontent, sneering- a constant threat written on his face, daring everyone and anyone in his sight lines to challenge his rage. After being tossed around various juvenile facilities, our protagonist is sent to the last place before Borstal- a sort of half way house, in which councilors try to reach these kids before a full on meltdown occurs, directing them towards a life away from the streets and into the more quiet, steady hum of working Britain.  Yet Trevor, the skinhead in question- so full of anger, so mad at the world, so disgusted by the authority figures and rules and regulations, lashes out in retaliation of his right to do just that. Time and time again Trevor is told how best to save himself, and time and time again Trevor punches straight through, refusing to play by any rules but his own. There is a prickly, nattering violence underscoring this film, as Trevor draws the viewer into his feral confrontations- an obstinate brat, a loudmouth, a brutish, bludgeoning teenage nasty- the manifestation of a dystopian world view, a cynicism and hubris of volcanic proportions. Made In Britain is not so much fun, nor should it be- the pleasure in watching something of such callous extremity the ride itself- a full throttle, scream at the world youth movie, overflowing with the confusion and emotional misery only life at 16 provides.