At the start of summer every year, I like to kick off the celebration of no schoolwork and limited obligations with something that has practically become ritualistic for me: compiling a summer to-do list with so many things on it that it is implausible and unfeasible to accomplish all of them. It’s not some sort of optimistic gesture where I think, “Oh, I’ll just add way too many things and that will push me to finish/accomplish at least a handsome percentage of the them,” but more due to something I have termed the “Spring Break Fallacy.” It is the exaggerated perception of time that one gets at the beginning of any school break, wherein three months seems like a year, one month seems like six, and one week seems like three months. It is dangerous only insofar as “biting off more than you can chew” in terms of goals and expectations. And it happens to me EVERY school break.

Of course, me writing about it right now shows that I recognize and acknowledge this, so from now on I will purposefully give myself unrealistic goals that I have no means of completing in such a short time. Hence, this post, where I can publicly release my expectations for the summer and then come back and laugh at them in the fall when I realize I didn’t accomplish anything. Actually, – and you should know this if you’ve been listening to my podcast recently – originally I was supposed to be in China all summer, but in the end that plan fell through. This was mainly because a) most of the other people going on the trip I didn’t know or didn’t get along with, and b) calculating in the rent for my stateside apartment, the cost of the trip would be in excess of $10,000, money I do not have and would rather put toward a semester in college. The only reason I am heartbroken about this is that, in the midst of  dilly-dallying with the logistics and paperwork for this trip, I missed a much more rare opportunity to travel to China on a separate trip this summer with one of my favorite professors and some really good friends from Point for a significantly smaller amount of money. One of my mottos in life is “no regrets,” but I can’t help but sigh when thinking of missing out on this for something else that didn’t even work out anyway.

Regardless, this summer still holds some interesting possibilities, and I think it will be better than last summer now that I’ve moved from working at a video store to working for a professional television station. It’s a better prospect given that my work in television affords me the luxury of not having to deal with irritating, annoying customers and offers dynamic, interesting work, as opposed to the video store, where I was doing the exact same thing every day I worked. This also means I can get my nights back, since working at a video rental store automatically entails working night shifts almost exclusively. You can probably guess that business isn’t booming for video rental at one in the afternoon, aside from little kids renting Halo when they should be outside amusing themselves. At least, that’s what my friends and I did back in “the day.” Oh, how the times have changed!

Anyway, enough rambling, here is my to-do list for this summer (sadly, this probably isn’t even comprehensive):

1. Three Months, Three Films – Making three films (one film per month) with my friends to make up for our lack of activity on the film front for the past few years. So far, we’re trying to make a sequel to our action film from 2007 as well as that romantic comedy we never made last year.
2. Mandarin practice – Over winter break, I didn’t do any language practice, and I was rusty at the beginning of second semester Chinese. Some self-study is called for over the next three months, be it learning dirty words, embarrassing myself by talking in Mandarin on the internet, or just listening to Pimsleur and practicing 写汉字.
3. Summer classes! I finally decided to do something academically productive over the summer and signed up for some distance learning courses through UW-Eau Claire, since they are substantially cheaper than most of the other UW institutions I looked at. I’m learning about international politics in June and microeconomics in July.
4. Writing and performing music – I’m always writing music, regardless of the season, so that will continue. Hopefully Central Plaza will release some more singles or perhaps an EP before summer’s end. Apparently I’ve also been conscripted into playing keys for my dad’s new cover band.
5. Podcasting and writing blog posts on the regular. Auspicious Objects often gets neglected (the last post on here was written months ago), which is sad, since I do enjoy writing, but rarely have the time or motivation to do so during the school year. Therefore, I would like to see to it that this site gets a healthy amount of posts over the summer and into the fall. Stationary Joystick and possibly The Gentlemen’s Agreement will have a steady output of episodes as well, I hope. I’m too much of a closet narcissist for them not to.
6. Journey to New York, D.C., and Maryland. Heading out to hook up with some friends I made this year at school, and of course Jackie of Twinkie Beyond fame and Aaron of Three Guys Walk Into a Bar fame.
7. Journey to Stevens Point. Naturally, an adventure (perhaps more than one) to Stevens Point is pretty much mandatory, to hook up with the old crew and get my fill of local favorites, those being Belt’s ice cream, Green Tea Chinese cuisine, Gyro House gyros, and Wooden Spoon sandwiches.
8. Reading a lot of books and watching a lot of films. My newfound appreciation for university interlibrary loaning has opened up an entire new world of books to read for free (!), and I plan to make good use of my Netflix membership this summer as well.

…That’s what I’ve got right now. Looking at it, perhaps it’s not so much, though finishing three films will be an interesting challenge. What do you, my three readers, have on the docket for this summer?

One of my favorite Hong Kong films is a little-remembered biopic from 1991 starring Andy Lau as the eponymous Lee Rock, a police cadet who joins the force solely for the purpose of being able to buy food. Initially righteous and morally upstanding, he refuses bribes and chastises his colleagues for accepting them. As Lee Rock climbs up the ranks, however, his attitude changes, and by the time the sequel rolls around, he is paying off gang leaders and divising an official system of  dividing bribes up amongst officers and detectives. The end of Lee Rock II sees Andy Lau’s character fleeing to Canada to avoid prosecution at the hands of the ICAC – The Independent Commission Against Corruption. It’s hard to discern how much of the Lee Rock saga is fictionalized (a question we have to take a hard look at with any biopic), but according to Hong Kong gweilo film critic Paul Fonoroff, the films are at least partly rooted in fact, similar to Casino Tycoon, another Andy Lau biopic made in 1992 about Macau gambling tycoon Stanley Ho. Actually, the two film franchises are eerily similar to each other in terms of plot structure, but that’s a discussion for another time. Prolific filmmaker Wong Jing produced Lee Rock (as well as directed Casino Tycoon), and in 2009, he decided to revisit the subject of corrupt policemen – as well as the ICAC, which only gets brief screentime in Lee Rock II – for I Corrupt All Cops, which also crafts a lot of fiction around a little bit of fact.

The film suffers from the same problem many Wong Jing films struggle with: a lack of focus. ICAC spends the first half of it’s 2+ hour running time setting up numerous subplots and developing the characters within them, but it seems readily apparent that Wong Jing is unsure of who to devote screentime to. Anthony Wong’s character is established in the first scene…then he disappears in favor of focusing on corrupt head police officials Lak (Tony Leung Ka-Fai), Gale (Eason Chan), and Gold (Wong Jing himself). By the time Anthony Wong comes back into the fold, it’s hard to remember what he was doing at the beginning and what purpose he serves the story now. Perhaps even more puzzling is the inclusion of an extensive backstory for Alex Fong’s character at the beginning of the film. Bong (Fong) is an upstanding student at the University of Hong Kong who ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting the shit beaten out of him by Anthony Wong and other police officers in order to extract a confession for crimes he had no part in. Bong is eventually released rightfully scotch-free, but he warns the officers that “one day, I’m going to put you all behind bars.” Anyone who has seen a film before will realize that this is blatant foreshadowing, and sure enough, in the second act of the film Bong applies as an investigator for the newly-established ICAC. Yet, in this capacity, he only acts as scenery, and his character has no effect on the story whatsoever. He barely even has any lines while investigating corrupt police officers and flashing his ICAC badge. Also, he ends up working with Anthony Wong in the ICAC. What happened to vengeance?

Oh shit, it’s the ICAC!

Thankfully, Wong Jing manages to restrain himself, and avoids putting in odd comic sequences that detract from the film’s serious tone. Still, there is one decidedly major subplot that is patently ridiciulous, even though it isn’t played for laughs. Gale acts as Lak’s right-hand man, and ends up taking the fall for Lak and company’s infidelity on more than one occasion – nine occasions, to be exact. Gale marries all of his colleague’s mistresses once they’ve been exposed, and by the time of the film’s narrative, he has nine wives. It’s an interesting and fun idea, but it’s nonsensical nature is highlighted all-the-more when seen in between plausible segments. At least it leads to someone getting a hammer to the face…

Eight of Gale’s nine wives.

Even though the film derives it’s name from the ICAC (I hope you’ve figured that out by now), there is a disappointingly small amount of screentime devoted to the organization itself. Besides the required montage of the team busting into police official’s houses and flashing their badges, very little of the narrative focuses on the ICAC. Maybe it was too dry for Wong Jing’s a-thrill-a-minute approach? I would have gladly taken more dramatization of the ICAC’s actual history over the painfully unnecessary and overly-drawn-out explanation of the murder of a dog. The problem is that over half of the film is spent on exposition. By the time the “action” of the story hits, it’s already time to wrap things up. Since the ICAC obviously isn’t around for the first part of the film, completing its story arch doesn’t seem to be much of a priority, and thus much of the ICAC story ended up on the cutting room floor. It’s a travesty for those who are interested in the factual background of Hong Kong’s struggle with police corruption. If you are willing to overlook the lack of attention payed to the ICAC, however, I Corrupt All Cops is an engaging and entertaining piece of cinema, especially when compared with much of Wong Jing’s other work. Perhaps we’ll just have to wait another decade or so for another stab at documenting the real story of the ICAC.

My discontent with students wasting paper goes all the way back (read: less than four years) to my high school days, when our school’s newly-instituted student paper had an illustrious run amounting to about one school year. I honestly don’t remember anything about the paper (not even it’s name), save that the only column anyone enjoyed reading was Heap of the Month (yes, so little happened at our school that the paper was published monthly), where a student would detail the idiosyncrasies and deficiencies with their car. The writer of the column was not gifted with expressive language (you can’t fault him/her though; this was high school after all), but the humor of the situation nevertheless shined through. The paper ceased production my senior year, although no specific reason was given. It probably had something to do with the general laziness of high school students, our school population’s collected loathing of the teacher who oversaw the paper’s production, and the fact that the paper was terrible in every regard. I’m not saying that we should hold high school newspapers to high journalistic standards, but the very least they could have done was prevent it from being little more than a sheet of biased gossip – which is exactly what it became.

But that’s all in the past. We can’t expect a team of high school students looking to pad their college applications to write Pulitzer Prize material, but isn’t it reasonable to demand that a team of college students – who are, for the most part, majoring in journalism – rise above those high school inclinations towards biased, emotionally charged, and/or narcissistic writing? Apparently that’s asking too much. Here I would normally insert a quip about no one caring about this problem because of no one reading the papers, but I know that’s not true; every college campus I’ve been to is populated with students reading their school’s publication(s), and every college campus I’ve been to also has a problem with students discarding issues of the student newspaper on the ground rather than in proper trash receptacles. Obviously, people are reading the papers, and that’s also part of the problem. If a good portion of the student body is reading the student newspaper and simply shrugging off the numerous flaws on the printed page, they are doing nothing to advocate change. Also, the staff of the paper take notice of how many people around campus are reading their work, and their ego automatically inflates itself.

If student newspapers are so bad, though, why are students reading them? The answer is simple, especially if you are or have ever been a college student: boredom. If you have some time in between classes, reading a newspaper – regardless of it’s quality – is a good way to kill time. When I was a student at Point, I had a small gap of time in between my philosophy class and psychology class, which I would regrettably spend reading The Pointer. Even just hearing that name makes me livid to this day. I’ve already said this publicly, and I don’t mind throwing it out again: The Pointer is an absolute piece of garbage. It was before, and it is now. I know that it still has a chance for redemption, as do all student newspapers; we just have to wait for the paper staff to completely change as current members graduate and move on (hopefully not to a career in journalism). The problem, of course, is that the staff does not completely turnover all at once, and this gives current staff time to corrupt new staff and bully them into conforming to shitty journalistic standards. It’s a vicious cycle.

So, why do I loathe The Pointer as much as I do? The biggest problem they have had for the past few years is a completely obvious bias towards the Student Government Association; the two are practically in bed together. For the entirety of the 2008-2009 school year, every week’s front page was either entirely dominated by a cover story detailing some SGA affair, or at the very least, featured a quote from an SGA official on a topic that had nothing to do with SGA. Why would this be the case? As it turns out, many of the current staff have served on SGA at some point in time or have friends in SGA. Look, you’ve got to at least try to maintain a neutral viewpoint when you’re a journalist. My friend Scott Asbach is now the president of SGA. Hypothetically, if I were a journalist for The Pointer and I had to be critical about something stupid SGA did, I wouldn’t hold back, because it wouldn’t be about Scott and I as friends, it would be about Scott and I as SGA president and journalist, respectively. Save your feelings for the op-ed page, where they belong.

Sadly, The Pointer has proven time and time again that they are very bad at maintaining a neutral viewpoint, and this deficiency can be felt even in the executive editorial decisions of the paper. Last year, UWSP suffered the tragic death of a student on-campus. Instead of doing some actual journalism and writing the in-depth article the situation was worthy of, Pointer staff member Justin Glodowski slapped together some official details sloppily and included a quote that sounds like it came from the first person he found anywhere near Thomson Hall:

“I had only met Andrew a few times during the semester, so I couldn’t really call him a good friend of mine because I barely knew him, but he was a nice guy every time I did see him. I know he had a bright future ahead of him and it’s sad his life was taken so soon,” said Ashley Tabaka.

Thanks for that, Ashley. You really offered some insightful perspective into Andrew’s life. Now just stick that quote in between a few paragraphs poorly rephrasing the official coroner’s report, and Justin is out of the office by five. But wait, let’s not be too harsh on our friend Justin just yet! He is the same guy who wrote this article – which took up the front page of the paper – about a former student at UWSP who went missing in California. It even has pictures! But why would we give so much more attention to an alumni who went missing on the other end of the country from Point’s campus? If you guessed that it was because she had friends in SGA, you are growing wise to the ways of The Pointer. Like most articles in the paper last year, this one starts with a quote from Katie Kloth, then-president of SGA. I’m not saying this shouldn’t warrant press coverage – certainly the disappearance of a person is tragic and important – but the imbalance of coverage between these two events is not only unprofessional, it’s downright insulting.

The Pointer has cleaned up it’s act a little bit this year, revamping it’s front page design and losing some of the SGA love (though I’m not sure if that’s due to a change in writing staff or a change in SGA presidency), but it’s still not as good as it could – nay, should – be. I am not quite sure what is holding it back, but I think it may have something to do with the person who wrote the worst student newspaper article ever now running the paper. Go ahead, click on that link, read that article, and I defy you to not shake your head in the process. There is no substance to it whatsoever. It does not even attempt to masquerade as journalism. It’s simply naval-gazing of the lowest form published in the completely wrong medium (it should be on blogs like this, if anywhere), and nothing more. My favorite quote:

I chose to write with a pen name because of the high profile I hold on campus.

It makes me laugh because this “high profile” is largely self-imagined (as I can tell you from being on campus when this was written), and perfectly sums up the vein, narcissistic nature of many college journalists. I have a lot more to say on this subject – and really, I think I could go on for days – but I’m getting way too angry to continue, so I’ll just leave you with that.

Next time (if there is a next time) on “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Klug!“, we’ll look at sex columnists, Burnellgate, terrible attempts at impersonating The Onion, crappy newspaper comics, and we’ll also take shots at both The Daily Cardinal and The Badger Herald. Oh boy.

But there is a first time for everything.

My esteemed colleague Matt (whom you may know from his acting career in short films or from certain podcasts) asked to borrow my mixing equipment for a school project, so I walked down the street to his apartment, expecting to stay for only an hour or two; after all, I still had homework to finish before the next day. While I was over, another friend texted me, certifying the unthinkable: We were going to have a snow day. Now in a celebratory mood, and with newly extended deadlines to finish that homework by, Matt and I cracked open some beverages from Point Brewery and enjoyed an absolutely terrible film starring Dolph Lundgren (I know, I know, it’s redundant to put the words “Dolph Lundgren” and “terrible film” in the same sentence) entitled Dark Angel (alternatively I Come In Peace). It’s basically an early ’90s action film about an alien from outer space who comes to earth and says “I come in peace” before injecting random innocents with a lethal dose of heroin and then sucking endorphins out of their head. It’s almost as good as Showdown in Little Tokyo, another Dolph Lundgren classic. After the credits rolled on that cinematic masterpiece, we decided to hit the snow-filled streets at midnight on foot.

The weather, although inclement, was unusually comfortable for a Wisconsin winter; it was not too cold outside, and there was almost no wind. Although the streets were eerily quiet and devoid of life (even for midnight on a Tuesday evening), it didn’t take long before we stumbled upon a group of strangers crafting large snowmen in the parking lot across the street from my apartment building. We observed right away that the snow already on the ground was perfect for packing, easily allowing for the creation of perfectly symmetrical snowmen and giant snowballs.

While the atmosphere of camaraderie felt good, we decided to move on, as 1) people were only marveling at the snowmen they had already made, not creating new ones, and 2) no one was talking to us anyway. So we headed up towards the lake and onto Langdon Street, the “Greek row” of the campus. Before we had even gotten close to the epicenter of action, we could already hear the sound of people yelling, cheering, and just making noise in general. As we got closer, we saw large crowds on either side of the street hurling snowballs at each other.

It almost felt like a war zone. People did not seem good-natured about their artillery firing, but instead rather malicious, as though they really wanted to hurt someone on the other side of the street. This impression was confirmed when a guy emerged from the crowd and ran up to Matt and I. He tried to sway us to his cause with this utterance: “Look, I don’t know if you guys hate Sigma Chi or not, but FUCK THEM! Help us hit their flag!” After we feigned interest and told him we would help him, he seemed appeased and quickly ran away, probably to “persuade” more neutral parties. Sigma Chi is best-known on campus for things other than philanthropic work, but I myself am neutral in my opinion of them, because I don’t really care about Greek life – unless, of course, we’re talking about PCU (great movie, by the way). Since the environment was so hostile, we decided to move on and head towards the center of campus. Neither of us had experienced the traditional snow festivities on Bascom Hill, and there was no better night to see what it was all about.

Luckily, Bascom Hill was a lot more fun to be at than Langdon Street, as everyone was just out to have a good time, not pelt a frat house with tightly-packed snow projectiles. All along the hill people were engaged in a light-hearted snowball fight, and thankfully, sticking to the sidewalks on either side of the hill ensured you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to try that college tradition of tray-sledding for the first time, using an abandoned tray Matt had picked up while we were on Langdon. In spite of Bascom Hill being frighteningly steep, there was too much friction on the sidewalk for the tray to slide effortlessly, and I ended up doing that pathetic motion where you try to give yourself momentum by scooting on the “sled.” But still, I can now at least say that I tried tray-sledding.

My fingers started to get bitterly cold, so we made our way away from campus and back home, but not before stopping for some Silvermine Subs at 1:30 in the morning, which were delicious, as expected. It was especially entertaining to watch people pelt each other with snowballs right outside of the restaurant the entire time we were eating. Matt and I got back to his apartment at 2 AM, and, after watching some episodes of QI and Look Around You, finished a successful evening up with warm apple cider and Christmas music courtesy of Pandora Radio. We also went outside again to help a girl park her car in the snow. Since her car battery was dead, however, there was more pushing than parking going on, and even though the car was still sticking out into the street when we were finished, one of the other good Samaritans who helped pointed out, “if someone manages to hit your car in this weather, they’re just a douchebag.” I can think of no better situation to illustrate human kindness than a couple of dudes helping a damsel-in-distress with her car troubles at 4 AM on a snowy Wisconsin street. Even after witnessing incident after incident that evening of hateful snowball throwing and gratuitous use of homophobic slurs, this philanthropic act left me with hope for the human race. Snow days help bring people together.

Side Note: Although I am often very critical of The Badger Herald (as I am with other student newspapers), writer Carolyn Briggs penned a nice front-page article today about the annual snowball fight on Bascom Hill, which is written as though the fight were an epic military battle. It’s amusing, and worth a read.

While taking a course in French film can be a fun and culturally-insightful experience, it can also be a trip to Hell. The syllabus inevitably will include at least one black-and-white film longer three hours, which is horrifying when your class meets at night in a dark lecture hall. Oh, the hours I spent over the semester fighting to stay awake while films were screened that moved at a snail’s pace…Our class had to watch a few such “classics,” but one that comes to mind in particular is the 1945 film Children of Paradise, best summed up by one of my classmates as “a three hour long movie about a mime.” It’s about as engaging as it sounds. The character of Frédérick Lemaître – a narcissistic and headstrong but likable actor on his way to the top – is interesting, but he isn’t given enough screen time to save the film.

2. The French New Wave movement kicked ass.

The term “new wave” gets thrown around a lot these days to refer to a lot of things, but when reading a film studies textbook, it typically refers to the French new wave, a film movement in the ’50s and ’60s pioneered by a few friends who were film-critics-turned-filmmakers. The reason why the French new wave is so important to film history is because the films that came out of it were, well, awesome. Their directors also had the good sense to throw convention to the wind and play around with the medium, leading to strange stylistic touches such as abrupt jump cuts and tracking shots created by using shopping carts as dollies. Perhaps the most well-remembered directors from the movement are founding fathers Jean Luc-Godard (Breathless) and François Truffaut (The 400 Blows).

3. When you say Criterion Collection, you’ve said it all.

Sometimes I wonder why the Criterion Collection isn’t better known by the average DVD-buying folk, being that they’ve been around since the days of Laserdisc and have a pretty varied and prolific output. I’m thinking the relative obscurity of Criterion – at least where I live – is due to both economical and geographical factors. For one thing, most of their DVDs are upwards of $30. If you think that’s a little absurd, you should look at their boxsets (Side note: I recently managed to pick up the brand new Nikkatsu Noir set for $15, thanks to Best Buy RewardZone points – score!). The other problem is that I live in Wisconsin, and most of the people around me are a bit closeminded in terms of the films they will watch. Something I learned from working at a video store for way too long is this: If it is not in English and requires the use of subtitles, they will not watch it. When you factor in that a large portion of Criterion’s catalogue are foreign films, it seems obvious why the average Midwesterner doesn’t know about Criterion. Of course, the Midwest does have it’s share of pretentious film snobs, present company not excluded.

4. Paris, je t’aime isn’t really a French film…but it’s still awesome.

One week in class we ended up watching Paris, je t’aime, a recent omnibus film bringing together the visions of 21 directors. Despite the filming locale, it seems a bit dubious to place this film on a French film syllabus, as people from all over the world contributed to the shorts that comprise Paris, je t’aime; American viewers will probably recognize Natalie Portman and Steve Buscemi, among others. Vincenzo Natali, the man behind Cube, gets in on the act, as does Wong Kar Wai’s cinematographer of choice, Christopher Doyle. The film is a hodgepodge of cultures, blending dialogue in multiple languages and showcasing actors of different heritages, so…is it really a French film? No, of course not. Is it entertaining? It most certainly is.

Frankly, failure to recognize this woodblock print should be declared “unamerican.” Of the many woodblock reprints adorning my apartment walls, The Great Wave never fails to elicit a response from visitors. I knew Hokusai’s legacy was far-reaching when a tipsy friend attempted to hug my framed reprint, saying “I loooove this.” There is, of course, a lot more to the world of ukiyo-e (yes, I did just say “the world of the floating world”) than just Hokusai, but he’s a good starting point given his popularity with Westerners. Still, the COFAC series will look at the broader picture, and even includes some related film showings and a Kabuki (!) workshop. Here’s a brief overview of the event schedule:

October 26: Exhibition opening reception

October 29: Drew Stevens, Curator of Prints, Drawings and Photographs at the Chazen Museum of Art Lecture: Printmakers in Edo

November 1: Japanese Film Festival: Kwaidan (1965) Masaki Kobayashi

November 5: Dr. Larry Ball, Art Historian, Department of Art & Design, UWSP Lecture: Admiring the Sunrise: Japanese Woodblock Prints as seen by 19th century Europeans

November 6: David Furumoto, Associate Professor of Acting, Department of Theatre and Drama, UW-Madison
Lecture Demonstration: The Path of The Onnagata-Male to Female

November 7: David Furumoto, Associate Professor of Acting, Department of Theatre and Drama, UW-Madison
Interactive Workshop: A Kabuki Primer-A,B,C’s of Performing Kabuki

November 8: Japanese Film Festival: Double Suicide (1969) Masahiro Shinoda

November 11: Dr. Julie Davis, Art Historian, Department of the History of Art, University of Pennsylvania
Lecture: Appraising Desire in Ukiyo-e: Representations of Courtesans in Late 18th-century Japan

November 15: Japanese Film Festival: Ugetsu (1953) Kenji Mizoguchi

November 17: Junichi Semitsu, Adjunct Professor of Law, University of San Diego School of Law
Lecture: The Race to Erase: Reflections on a ‘Post-Racial’ Society.”

November 18: Yuji Hiratsuka, Professor of Fine Arts, Department of Art, Oregon State University
Lecture: “Persona Perspective: Prints by Yuji Hiratsuka”

November 20: Exhibition closing reception

There is something for everyone here, and I think the diversity of events will help draw in even students and members of the public that aren’t particularly interested in or familiar with ukiyo-e; exposing such people to Asian culture is one of the cornerstones of East Asian studies. My hope is that, if the series goes well (and I expect it to), it will lead to increased interest in the creation of an East Asian studies department at Point – talented faculty in this field are already teaching in diverse subjects (art history, history, geography, etc.) there, so it seems only natural to begin offering a degree program some time in the future. Were I still a student at Point, you can bet I would have been at every event listed, but now that I live in Madison, I’m unfortunately going to have to be choosey. I have a night lab on Wednesdays, so the Julie Davis and Yuji Hiratsuka lectures are out. I’d certainly like to see the Drew Stevens lecture, but I’m not sure it would be worth driving an hour and a half on a Tuesday night to see someone who works at the Chazen, which is 15 minutes walking distance from my Madison apartment. It would be worth it just to be in the company of good friends, I suppose. I was excited to hear that the film selection and screening process is being handled by my old film professor, Leslie Midkiff Debauche, who has an eye for good cinema. On a related note, I recieved a message on my Facebook wall yesterday from a friend and coworker at the video store who is currently in her freshman year at the University of Minnesota:

When you started taking film, did you go through the silent ones? I’m to my mid-term and we’ve only seen one film with sound.

Here is my response, worthy of inclusion on this blog simply because of how overwrought it is for a Facebook wall post:

Unless you’re specifically taking a “classic film” class, I think an intro course should be more encompassing than that. Film has evolved, of course, and it’s important to think about all of the elements and methods modern films are composed of and made from – mise-en-scene, cinematography, colors, lighting, sound, etc, and also how different cultures affect how these are used. If I remember correctly (this was two years ago), we didn’t watch any silent films in our class. Some of the ones we watched included “North by Northwest”, “Strangers on a Train”, “Rear Window”, “Casablanca”, “Apocolypse Now”, “The Mission” (a Hong Kong film), “The Birds”, “Shadow of a Doubt”, “The 39 Steps”, “Broken Flowers”, “Goodfellas”…They are pretty varied from each other in a lot of ways (even though a lot of them are Hitchcock productions), and each one helped our class explore different facets of film.

I will have to go more into my freshman “Introduction to Film” class sometime, but if you are still in college and need a humanities credit, give some serious thought to enrolling in a film studies class. A good professor will be able to assemble a syllabus featuring films that broaden your understanding of cinema worldwide and captivate your imagination. And if you have a bad professor who can’t do this, you still get to watch movies in class. You win either way!

Before I wrap this post up, I thought I’d share another ancedote about learning Mandarin, because I’m sure my poor foreign language skills are fodder for hilarity. I showed up to the UWSP Chinese Culture Club’s Moon Festival last weekend with hopes of eating way too much moon cake and watching a play where guys played girls and girls played guys (no explanation was ever given for that use of artistic liscensing). Unfortunately, by the time I got there things were wrapping up, and while I still got some moon cake, I missed out on most of the night’s festivities. Bummer. I sauntered over to a table where CCC members were writing people’s names on paper with calligraphic brushes and requested that my Chinese name, 八大山人 (Badashanren), be written. My name is taken from a famous Chinese painter of the Ming/Qing dynasties, so I thought it’d be pretty easy for them to understand my bad Mandarin accent. For those who aren’t aware, Mandarin is a tonal language, and how you say words affects their meaning. Thus, tones are very, very, very important. The guy behind the table asked me to repeat my name a few times, and I realized that this probably meant there was a problem with my pronounciation. Props to him though, because he soldiered on and struggled to write out what he thought I said:

After he finished, all of the other Chinese students gathered around the table looked quizzically at the paper. One girl said, “Hmm…that doesn’t make any sense.” This “name” is a noble interpretation of what I said (even though it’s gibberish), and I fully attribute the misunderstanding to my poor Mandarin skills. The problem here is that these characters – “巴”, “上” ,”文” – are homophones that correspond to words in my name. See? Tones are not to be underestimated! Luckily, this incident didn’t involve me accidently offending anyone by unintetionally saying something bad. I asked if I could try using the calligraphic brush, and the students running the table were awesome enough to let me. Here’s my actual name in my calligraphy:

As I produced each stroke, everyone gathered around the table spoke out each syllable as I finished writing them – “Ba…da…shan…ren!” The Chinese students seemed impressed, and congratulated me on my writing. Of course, “Badashanren” is composed of really simple characters with only few strokes, so the real challenge is going to be doing some more complicated calligraphy next time.

This post, however, will be a little mix of film talk with diary talk. The fall semester started last week and the transition back to school life has been slightly tumltous, being that I’m at a new university, but adjusting has been easier than I originally predicated, thankfully. Since I have some new gen-ed requirements to take care of, I have a few classes that are mostly made up of freshmen students, and I feel a little old. It’s hard to believe I am a junior already! I think, now that [most of] my friends and I are twentysomethings, we have reached the start of the stage in life where time passes you by without you realizing it. Time is a constant, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way when you look back on your memories. Maybe time just goes faster as you get older because you wax philosophic about it more than when you’re young. Not that I think I’m really that old, but situational factors sometimes make me feel ancient. For instance, last Thursday evening my friend Jess had a party in her apartment to celebrate her turning 19. I’m a stone’s throw away from being 21 (in October), but I was, of course, surrounded by freshmen a few years younger than me who were still green to the dorm experience and college life as a whole. They were donning gowns for graduation only a few months ago…

As for the classes themselves, I can’t comment too much on them so far. We started the semester a week before labor day, which screwed things up schedule-wise. Being that I have Mandarin everyday, however, I already have proper expectations for what it will be like all semester. We’ve been having fun, but there is an air of precariousness looming over everyone, which is well summed up by this conversation I had with some fellow classmates yesterday:

Classmate #1: So, we’ve lost a few people since we started.
Classmate #2: Yeah…
Me: I remember a dude who was here in discussion and lecture the first day. I haven’t seen him since.
Classmate #1: He must have dropped.
Classmate #2: Smart guy.

Besides the fear factor, Mandarin has robbed me of a Friday without classes. It’s a small complaint, but when all of your friends have Fridays off and hang out well into the night on Thursdays, you can’t help but feel left out. It will be the same situation next semester. Maybe I should try to convince my friends to take Friday classes. Misery loves company.

That’s about all I have to report, but I’d like to start sharing some “great moments in cinema” on here. I figure that even if you don’t get anything out of my foreign film reviews, you might be able to appreciate small clips of what I find to be memorable moments from the foreign films I partake in. Most people walk out of the theater after a movie and have a few distinct scenes stuck in their mind – I’d like to share these types of sequences. And, when we’re talking about film, images and sounds are always going to be more emboding and impacting than words.

To kick off this informal “series,” here is the “40 Steps Murder” sequence from the 1999 South Korean picture Nowhere To Hide. Nowhere To Hide is not only an archetype of the Korean New Wave movement, but also a complete embodiment of the “style over substance” mentality – much in the same way that the later City of Violence is. While Nowhere To Hide is devoid of a plot (try finding one if you watch it), it’s action and montage sequences are thoroughly entertaining and make up for the lack of things like character motivation and logicial story progression. In particular what stands out in the minds of many viewers is, in fact, the opening sequence of the film, where the murder that fuels the rest of the film is committed.

While the entire film oozes style of this sort, the 40 Steps Murder is memorable for it’s vivid color scheme and the underscoring provided by the Bee Gees’ early melancholic hit “Holiday,” which is an interesting and powerful choice since the song seems neither happy nor sad. “Holiday” is used again (in orchestrated form) to score the climactic fight at the end of the film, but sadly it’s magic is not replicated in that sequence, and it’s use comes off as a weak and forced attempt to make it seem like a leitmotif of the serial killer. Still, the hindrance of the ending does not in retrospect dilute the awesomeness of the opening.

Anthony Wong and Herman Yau, the dream team behind such exploitation classics as Ebola Syndrome and The Untold Story, teamed up before both of those movies to make Taxi Hunter. While one could still file “Taxi Hunter” under the exploitation label, it’s not nearly as tasteless and grotesque as Wong and Yau’s later efforts.

Wong plays an average insurance salesman who seems to be living a great life: He is moving up the corporate ladder in his career and also has a good wife who is soon to give birth to his child. Things aren’t bad. That is, unless there is a taxi around. Evidentially, Wong’s picture perfect life frequently gets disrupted by Hong Kong taxi drivers, who are apparently the scum of the earth. One such driver swerves in front of Wong and abruptly breaks to pick up some passengers. Wong rear-ends the taxi, and the driver promptly bullies him (with help from other taxi drivers) into paying a large sum of money for pettily damages.

However, this isn’t enough to upset Wong, so he shrugs it off and goes home. After his wife goes into labor, he calls a cab, which promptly ditches him in favor of a higher fare. Wong stops the next taxi, but that driver too refuses to take his wife, as he doesn’t want blood all over the seats. Unfortunately, this driver closes the rear passenger door with part of Wong’s wife’s dress caught in it, so she gets dragged down the street and eventually dies because of this.

Since Wong is an average white collar guy, he copes with his grief by crying and getting an extended vacation from work. While eating outside, Wong notices a taxi driver attempting to extort extra money from a passenger. Upset, he walks across the street and, in what is perhaps the film’s funniest moment, impulsively punches the taxi driver in the face, prompting applause from the surrounding crowd. Later that evening, Wong gets drunk with his brother-in-law (who happens to be a cop) and takes a taxi home alone. Wong is harassed by the driver, who he eventually strangles with a seatbelt buckle. Thus begins a murderous rampage on taxis and the people who drive them.

While the premise sounds rather nihilistic, the film shies away from violence in all but a few scenes, which may put off fans of Wong and Yau’s later collaborations. The film’s exposition takes up the first forty minutes of the running time, during which little happens (apart from an opening action sequence). Not to say Taxi Hunter is a bad film; it’s decent entertainment, just don’t expect a bloodbath. The only complaint I have is that Man Tat Ng (sans Stephen Chow) plays a cop, and it’s quite obvious that the film tries to play him for laughs. The juxtaposition between his bumbling character and the grave seriousness of the rest of the film doesn’t quite work out, which ruins the atmosphere at points. Still, Taxi Hunter is an above-average offering from the exploitation genre, which may be well-suited for those who couldn’t stomach The Untold Story or Ebola Syndrome.

Two years before Poltergeist III came out, Hong Kong made their own film about a haunted skyscraper entitled The Ghost Snatchers. While The Ghost Snatchers was not directed by Wong Jing, the prolific (and often hated) filmmaker wrote the script and stars as one of the principal protagonists; his trademark irreverence is also reflected heavily in the film’s story and narrative structure. And really, I will tell you up front that this is not a quality film. As far as storytelling is concerned, the script falters in the typical Wong Jing way; every character is unashamedly one-dimensional and tangential subplots randomly manifest, disappear, and reappear later in a confusing manner. What this film does have going for it are the special effects. In fact, the story seems to be nothing more than a convenient way to link one effects-laden scene to the next, and while that approach will never qualify as quality filmmaking, it is unabashedly fun to watch. The effects aren’t all crafted well, but they are exceptionally possessive of the fun 80’s kitsch factor (think Ghostbusters) and are very cartoony in an amusing way.

Oh, you want to hear the synopsis? Well, I’ll be honest, I’m not even completely sure what the story is about, but basically Wong Jing and Stanley Fung are security officers who work in a skyscraper that turns out to be tainted by bad feng shui and haunted by the spirits of angry Japanese soldiers. Also, some girl gets possessed, but her subplot doesn’t seem to matter much, since the film devotes little screen time to her and her plight. Anyway, Wong Jing’s girlfriend (Joey Wong) enlists the help of a spiritual medium (Joyce Godenzi) to rid the building of it’s problems. In typical Wong Jing fashion, it seems that every idea that came up during the brainstorming session for the film shows up in the final product. Consequently, the tone continually shifts between low-brow comedy and light horror.

Besides the mix of funny and unfunny jokes, we get a special effects bonanza; haunted TV sets walk, skeletons attack, a giant guillotine cuts a room in half, and a dude even blows up without much warning or reason. Most of it isn’t genuinely scary, but the film makes up for this by providing plenty of “Did that seriously just happen?” moments. All in all, if you can get past the complete lack of a storyline, there are many amusing moments and diversions to be found in The Ghost Snatchers. Of course, for further Wong Jing hijinks in a skyscraper, be sure to check out High Risk with Jet Li and Jackie Cheung, released nine years later in 1995.

After that overwrought last post, it seems I’ve been unmotivated to write in this online journal of mine. But after the denial of service attacks on Twitter yesterday and John Hughes dying, I felt there was only one thing I could do: dance. And then come on here and write a little bit.

This past weekend, my cousin Matt got hitched, and at the reception, I realized something about myself: I do not enjoy dancing when other people around me are also dancing. As hard as I tried, I could not rouse myself to go crazy on the dance floor at the reception, though that probably also had something to do with the DJ playing terrible music the entire time. Still, I was complimented on my performance during “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” by Dead or Alive.

This epiphany led me to appreciate one of my favorite past times, dancing at work, much more than I used to. The music video for “Canned Heat” by Jamiroquai has been playing on the TVs in the video store this month, and while my dancing is not as crazy as Jay Kay’s, I’ve been busting a move every time it comes on. Dancing is so much more rewarding when everyone around you finds it either confusing or inappropriate.