Memo To Chavez: Don’t Let Terry Gilliam Direct

Venezuelan president (who’s working on the “for-life” part)Hugo Chavez is distributing 1 million free copies of Don Quixote to his countrymen as part of a nationwide literacy campaign based on a Cuban model.
According to the BBC, Chavez called for his pueblos to, “feed ourselves once again with that spirit of a fighter who went out to undo injustices and fix the world.” And who was bat-guano crazy. Good luck with that.

Venezuela celebrates Quixote book
[BBC via robotwisdom]

By Their Fruits Ye Shall Now Them

While the Republican Sanhedrin was proclaiming their own–and Tom DeLay’s–righteousness on the Sunday morning political talk shows, I spotted Harry Reid, Senate leader of what Bill Frist calls the “anti-faith” movement–at church.
They probably have to look up the address: Get Tom DeLay To The Church [frank rich, nyt]

Smells Like Cine Spirit

Gus Van Sant’s new film, Last Days, is a fictional recreation of the impending death of Kurt Cobain, shot in the director’s now-mature semi-documentary style.
The trailer’s up; Last Days opens May 16 in France, timed, presumably, with its debut at Cannes. Don’t feel bad that France gets to see it long before the US, though. After all, Gerry didn’t come out in France until after Elephant.
Last Days trailer [allocine.fr, via mefi]
a fluffy Cobainiac take on the movie [mtv.com]

Les Parapluies de Staten Island

Since all the pros are weighing in on it, let me say that Laura Shin’s umbrella review in Slate is wack. What purports to be a The New York Review of Umbrellas’s ignores some key aspects of New York City’s indigenous umbrella culture, and in ways that make me think it’s unconsciously geared to visitors, not residents, of the city.
This daytripper’s bias manifests itself in the criteria: saying smaller=better makes no more sense for umbrellas than bigger=better does for SUV’s. Unless you’re planning on carrying it folded up much of the time because, like the folks you see uptown with Century 21 bags, you don’t have an apartment or an office to stash stuff in.
Also, even in these Friends-friendly days, “plays well with others” is not a trait held in high esteem on New York City streets, especially not for umbrellas. For a lot of highly self-interested New Yorkers, bigger is better, even if it’s not, and getting your eye poked out is your problem, mac. [Note to Malcolm Gladwell: got another SUV story for you.]
Sure, there’s the Chinatown umbrella, but Manhattan’s other indigenous species–the Doorman Umbrella–is completely ignored. Maybe the writer lives in a walkup. These black giants are the Lincoln Town Car of umbrellas, more than you really need to do the job, and better if you have someone else doing it for you.
Lately there’s been a proliferation of Patented Umbrellas, which have those collapsible drinking cup-like sheaths on the tip. This is wrong. Convenient, surely, but wrong.
The Hotel Umbrella is an increasingly rare breed. These usually logo’ed Doormen Umbrellas are briefly loaned to guests at better hotels. [They’re getting rarer because some new better hotels now prefer to sell their guests an umbrella.] Someone once took my large black umbrella from the bucket at a shop, and left me with a nearly identical model courtesy of The Carlyle Hotel. Thanks.
The Firm Umbrella, the Golf Umbrella, and the Firm Golf Umbrella are usually seen in midtown, and truth be told, they’re probably being carried by some banker who moved to Rye when his second kid was born. In addition to being selfishly large for the street, these usually have the added benefit of being free (or at least it felt that way when you signed for it at the pro shop).
I recently lost my favorite umbrella, which had served me well for over six years. At the height of Niketown-hatin’ 1998, and figuring that they’d probably invest a lot in the R&D, I bought a big black Nike Golf umbrella. Yes, it had swooshes on it, but it was a small price to pay; the thing was light, strong, huge, and it never once blew out on me.
When someone stole it from a pizza restaurant a few months ago, I tried to replace it, but they sure don’t make’em like they used to. I ventured back into Niketown (what a dump), nothin’. The $15 model at the outlet you pass on 95 in Maryland was engineered to protect Nike’s margins, not my (or anyone else’s) head.
I know return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
Un-brellas [slate, via kottke and TMN]

Marc Forster at MoMA: A Word Association Game

Typing the first thing that comes into my mind:
Isabella Rossellini: [gulp] hi
Ryan Gosling: unexpectedly wry
David Benioff: composed (but watch out, the dude killed off Agamemnon)
Will Ferrell’s brother: his biggest fan, (but with the unenviable job of being nice to his richer, little brother for life)
Maggie Gyllenhaal: good sport, Harvard Law material
Maggie Lyko: one of the greatest women in America, who happens to have left for Mexico.
Marc Forster: Sick. [flu-sick, not gross-sick. Both he and Ferrell are getting Theraflu-high on stage]
Meeting Marc Forster: genial. [nice, easy-going, surprisingly not wearing clogs. Says, “I know,” when I introduce myself. Politely doesn’t mention the restraining order.]
My oblique Monster’s Ball oral sex scene reference in my speech: too oblique. Only Forster and the writer get it. Embarassingly, only Forster says it was funny.
Jamie Niven’s inadvertent and unacknowledged oral sex sight gag when the tech guy got down on his knees behind the podium to fix the mic during his speech: hi-larious, that man is grace under pressure personified.
Sean Combs: left the P. Diddy at home.
Best description of Everything Comes Together: The Dead Baby Movie.
Will Ferrell: makes even repressed movies about dead babies, racist executioners, and manipulative closet cases funny.
MoMA atrium: nice place, whaddya pay?
Mini cheeseburger hors d’oeuvres: Get back here!
Bresaola hors d’oeuvres: pre-touched meat
Champagne with straws: generously provided
Diet Coke at the pre-event champagne-only reception: cruelly absent

To Do: White Columns Benefit Auction, 4/16

There’s a lot of goodlooking work that’s been donated to White Columns’ 2005 benefit auction: nice pieces by Verne Dawson, Peter Doig, Rachel Harrison, a pointless-but-nice T-shirt by Payne/Relph, a wheel-thrown ceramic pushpin by Mungo Thompson.
Silent and online bidding is on right now, and some lots will end with a live auction on the night of the 16th.
White Columns 2005 benefit auction

That Che Image And The Guy Who Made It

fitzpatrick_che.jpgFor an exhibition in Dublin, Dutch artist Aleksandra Mir interviews Jim Fitzpatrick, the Irish artist who created the stencil-like poster of Che Guevara. It’s a fascinating story of copyright, revolution, and appropriation, told by someone who’s been largely invisible, even though he made one of the most widely known–and widely copied–images of the last 50 years.
Some interesting tidbits:
– Fitzpatrick originally made 1,000 two-color posters, with the stars hand-colored yellow.
– Several hand-printed early variations–and one painting–made for an exhibition went missing somewhere in Eastern Europe.
– Che was Irish. Irish Argentinean.
– After cutting off negotiations with Fitzpatrick, A US company, Fashion Victim, bought the rights to the underlying picture from the photographer’s heirs and now enforces a trademark–while producing Che clothing in Honduran sweatshops.
– There was an Amsterdam rebel group called ‘The Provos.’
Not everything is always Black or White. [aleksandramir.info]
Jim Fitzpatrick’s website

Be It Resolved by the Legislature of the State of Idaho:

“12 WHEREAS, the Preston High School administration and staff, particularly
13 the cafeteria staff, have enjoyed notoriety and worldwide attention; and
14 WHEREAS, tater tots figure prominently in this film thus promoting Idaho’s
15 most famous export; and
16 WHEREAS, the friendship between Napoleon and Pedro has furthered
17 multiethnic relationships;”

It passed unanimously, btw.
HOUSE CONCURRENT RESOLUTION NO. 29 [state.id.us, via waxy]
previously: Napoleon Dynamite: Oh. My. Heck.

2005-04-18, This Week In The New Yorker

In the magazine header, image: newyorker.com
Posted 2005-04-11
Issue of 2005-04-18
THE TALK OF THE TOWN
COMMENT/ WASTED ENERGY/ Elizabeth Kolbert on the fight over drilling in Alaska.
DEPT. OF MERGERS/ WINNERS/ Rebecca Mead reports from Mr. and Mrs. Jack Welch’s book party, at the Four Seasons.
DEPT. OF NOISEMAKING/ THE ANGRY INVESTOR/ Ben McGrath on Daniel Loeb and what complaint letters will get you.
LEGACIES/ THE NUT LADY RETURNS/ Tad Friend on a showdown in the Nutmeg State.
THE FINANCIAL PAGE/ IN YUAN WE TRUST/ James Surowiecki on where America’s currency is headed.
OUR FAR-FLUNG CORRESPONDENTS/ Tad Friend/ The Parachute Artist/ How Lonely Planet changed travel.
FICTION/ Ludmila Ulitskaya/ “The Orlov-Sokolovs”
ARE WE THERE YET?
Nicole Krauss/ My Summer in Poland
Jonathan Franzen/ Countdown
Jane Smiley/ Cold Front
Mary Gordon/ Pilgrimage
THE CRITICS
BOOKS/ Joan Acocella/ Piecework/ The writings of Sybille Bedford.
BOOKS/ Steven Shapin/ Cleanup Hitters/ The steroid wars and the nature of what’s natural.
THE THEATRE/ Hilton Als/ The Many Faces of Jane/ A one-woman show about the life of Djuna Barnes.
MUSICAL EVENTS/ Alex Ross/ Off the Rails/ A rare performance of Harry Partch’s “Oedipus.”
THE CURRENT CINEMA/ David Denby/ Track and Field/ “Kontroll” and “Fever Pitch.”
FROM THE ARCHIVE
A CRITIC AT LARGE/ Philip Roth/ Rereading Saul Bellow/ Issue of 2000-10-09
BOOKS/ Joan Acocella/ Finding Augie March/ Saul Bellow’s first novels./ Issue of 2003-10-06/ Posted 2003-09-29
FICTION/ Saul Bellow/ “A SILVER DISH”/ Issue of 1978-09-25
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Tomorrow Night at MoMA: An Evening With Marc Forster

Some of you have already gotten this in email, but tomorrow night (Tuesday, 4/12) is the fourth annual installment of A Work In Progress, where MoMA’s Film & Media department celebrates a distinct directorial voice in cinema.
This year’s honoree is Marc Forster who will be talking with legendary post-structuralist film scholar Will Ferrell about his work (Finding Neverland, Everything Comes Together, that scene in Monster’s Ball). There will be many celebrity guests [not counting me; I’ll be working it so hard, you couldn’t call me a guest], which I’m pretty sure means Johnny Depp and Heath Ledger doing their infamous mashup skit, Finding Balls. No idea what that means.
Here’s a pdf [300k] of the invite, or you can call MoMA’s Special Events office: Tel. (212) 708-9680, fax (212) 708-9429, specialevents@moma.org.
Tickets:

  • The Sniff Forster’s Cologne section: $375 [very limited number left sold out]
  • The Catch A Glint Off His Dome section: $200 [ditto sold out]
  • The Share A V.I. Bowl Of Dip With Sean Combs afterparty: $150 [pack’em in, baby]
  • Hear a party-only guy utter the phrase “typically Swiss mise-en-scene” to try and convince the ladies that he was at the discussion: priceless
  • Restoring Canada’s WWI Memorial

    The Canadian Government has begun restoring the WWI-era Vimy Memorial in northern France:

    It was 88 years ago today [apr. 9] 20,000 Canadians stormed out of the trenches and into the history books, but the scene of Canada’s most famous battle still poses a deadly threat for those toiling here to honour their memory…
    But workers rehabilitating it and surrounding landscape must exercise extreme caution…
    The same armaments and implements of war that left more than 10,000 Canadian dead or wounded at Vimy in 1917 are still exacting a deadly toll…
    The surrounding battleground’s “atmosphere of terror and horror” will also be enhanced to contrast with the stark beauty of the monument, says restoration architect Julian Smith.

    Project beset by danger [canoe.ca, via archinect]
    Official Site – Vimy Memorial
    Vimy Ridge – 80 years on [I used this site a lot researching the film]

    Bond?, Max Bond?

    Since when did architecture Max Bond, of Davis Brody Bond get above-the-line billing on the design of the World Trade Center Memorial?
    From the earliest beginnings of the WTC redevelopment and memorial design process, there’s been a dissonant gap between the public theater and the actual, invisible strategizing and decisionmaking. Like Japanese bunraku, where the puppeteers are in full view, but the audience is transfixed by the controlled movements of the marionettes.
    Some day–but not yet, because it’s still going on–there’ll be an eye-opening saga on the scale of Robert Caro’s The Power Broker to come out of the WTC.
    And Bond Makes Three at the WTC [curbed, and miss representation]