Ramble On
I’ve visited Bethesda three times already this week.
Sometimes I just jog by. Sometimes I pause and stretch or whatever. And sometimes I snap a photo or two. As I’ve said before, I’m not quite sure what attracts me to her. But I thought you might like to know a bit more about her.
Designed by Emma Stebbins, the centerpiece of the “Angel of the Waters” was the only
sculpture commissioned as part of the original design of the Park naming her
the first woman to receive a commission for a major work of art in New York City.
Located on the lower level of Bethesda Terrace, this neoclassical
winged female figure symbolizes and celebrates the purifying of the city¹s
water supply when the Croton Aqueduct opened in 1842 bringing fresh water to
all New Yorkers. For this reason she carries a lily, the symbol of purity in one
hand while her other hand extends outward as she blesses the water below.
The stimulus for the idea of the “Angel of the Waters” comes from the
Gospel of Saint John, Chapter 5, the story of an angel bestowing healing
powers on the pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem. Beneath the eight-foot
gilded bronze statue are four smaller four-foot figures symbolizing Temperance,
Purity, Health, and Peace.
As architect Frederick Law Olmsted intended, Bethesda Terrace marks a transition in the park between the the more traditionally curated spaces downtown (Literary Walk, etc), and the more natural spaces uptown (The Ramble, etc) which reflect the wilds of upstate New York.
These 38-acres of wilderness called the Ramble are one of the true inspirations
of Olmsted and Vaux, the creators of Central Park. The unpredictably of the
Interlaced paths and hills make each visit to this area newly rewarding and
spiritually inspiring. Olmsted called his creation a “wild garden”.
With its countless trees, shrubs, meadows, rocky cliffs and a winding stream it truly lives up to that distinction.
I usually run through The Ramble. It’s a close to actual nature as I can find within the confines of the city. And usually, as close to actual tranquility — inside and out — that I can find in the crowded, crazy days.
Jesus & Mary
I’m back, and in a big way.
What I mean is, I’m back to the old familiar haunts — Central Park, The Museum of Natural History, EJ’s Luncheonette — and it feels like home. I feel like myself again.
Sweet Jiminy Cricket, that took a while.
I suppose it didn’t look like much to you, Dear Reader. Got home from the tour, seemed a little out of sorts, took a bit of time off, get back to work, went on a business trip and BOOM! He’s back.
But sweet Jiminy Cricket, it seemed like a while to me. A few weeks is a few years when you’re living it, and when you’re down.
Before I explain what myself feels like, lemme just say this: I harbor no illusions that this sense of congtentment isn’t fleeting. I harbor no illusions that a week in Los Angeles — a relentless period of celebrity coverage, broadband publishing, and pressure, pressure, pressure — won’t knock me off center. But at least I know what center feels like, if only for a moment. So presumably I’ll be able to find my way back.
Home, center, myself — whatever — feels good. It feels like appreciation. It feels like the ability to recognize beauty the little things. It feels like the ability to get teary from a beautiful melody, to be moved by a shaft of light through the trees, the smell of a woman, or the smile of a child.
I’m not sure what it takes to find this place, and I’m certain that it’s temporary. I think it has something to do with inspiration, and rest, and surrounding. I think it has something to do with family, and friends, and lovers. I think it has everything to do with home.
I’m leaving again on Wednesday. This time, the assignment is not so enviable. This time, the art to commerce ratio is woefully in favor of commerce. Yes, The Grammy Awards. Few of the “artists” have much to do with art. And many of my hours will be occupied by red carpets and “what are you wearing?”
But in the middle of it all, I’m going to steal away to Palm Springs all by myself. I’m going to sit in the raging sun by a refreshing pool, and I’m going to fill up on inspiration, hope, and all the goodness the desert has to offer. At night, I’m going to turn on my computer, fire up ProTools, and record a record for you. For us. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. In a big way.
P.S. Here are the articles I wrote in Park City, and a hub aggregating all of our Sundance coverage. Check out the “Sundance Rock Docs” show to see video excerpts from my Neil Young, The Edge, and Rufus Wainwright interviews, and to preview the films in question.
Neil Young’s ‘Heart Of Gold’ Concert Doc Glitters At Sundance
Challenging Discussions Keep Star-Studded Sundance Grounded
Marines, Matzo Balls, Porn Have A Place At Sundance Too
Challenging Documentaries And Discussions Keep Star-Studded Sundance Grounded
PARK CITY, Utah — The barrage of images beamed and blogged from the Sundance Film Festival of Lance Bass swagging it up with Lucy Liu might lead one to believe otherwise, but for every star-studded party and A-list premiere at the festival, there is a politically charged panel discussion and socially conscious documentary.
Following the logic that troubled times make for great art, filmmakers, actors and activists flooded the festival. Subjects as diverse as global warming, voter disenfranchisement, civil liberties and the casualties of war all found room to breathe in the rarified air of Park City.
“CSI: New York” star Hill Harper, on hand to participate in a Creative Coalition panel discussion on a wide range of issues dubbed “The Wild West Shootout,” was encouraged by the level of substantive dialogue at the festival.
“Sundance has gotten the reputation of being all about red carpets and premieres and free giveaways,” he said. “But there’s a whole number of young filmmakers and documentarians whose red carpet you never see. They’re here, and they’re doing real films.”
Political commentator (and son of former President Ronald Reagan) Ron Reagan was less enthused, but hopeful.
“Most people are here to do business, to see movies, to party and to swag,” Reagan said. “But even if a small percentage [of festival goers] are getting into meatier issues, well, you’ve got to start somewhere.”
“Like [author and media critic] Neil Postman says, we’re entertaining ourselves to death,” he continued. “We’re all into our video games and our televisions, but there’s a lot of very disturbing stuff going on.”
“And young people in particular feel like they’re going to live forever,” Reagan continued. “They don’t have a sense of their own future. But what we’re talking about is their own future. These issues will affect them directly in their pocketbooks, in the way they live and certainly in the environment. Take global warming. This administration actually would actually have us believe it’s just a hoax perpetuated by scientists who have nothing better to do!”
Director Davis Guggenheim followed Al Gore around the world as the former vice president (and, as he says in the film, “Once next president of the United States”) presented a highly informed and deeply felt slide show on global warming. The resulting documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth,” premiered Tuesday night. Having just recently emerged from being “in a bubble with Al Gore for six months desperately hoping that someone would like this film,” the first-time filmmaker was thrilled with the substantive side of Sundance.
“The reception here has been just terrific,” he said. “People have been grabbing me by the shoulders and asking, ‘What can I do — now?!’ I just feel so hopeful that people here are rallying around a cause.”
Director Ian Inaba, whose documentary, “American Blackout,” examines minority voter disenfranchisement in the 2000 and 2004 elections, said that audiences are hungry for films — documentary and otherwise — that tackle the big issues.
“The mainstream news has not been delivering the goods,” Inaba said. “It’s been left up to documentary filmmakers to tell those stories that haven’t been told. People want this information, but they’re not getting it when they turn on the TV.”
“There are forces out there that don’t want you to participate,” he continued. “It’s very strategic. Political parties operate by trying to increase their voter base and by trying to oppress their opponents’ voter base.”
“With our film, we try to offer a story of hope and show that when young people go to the polls and are disenfranchised, they shouldn’t be discouraged,” Inaba explained. “They have to fight and do everything they can to participate.”
But actor and Creative Coalition Co-President Joe Pantoliano said he feels overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of social and political challenges facing the world today.
“What I walk away with is just how depressing our reality is,” he said. “I don’t know what to do about it. I really am numb. … I am beside myself in fear [with] where are we going to be in 10 years.”
Patricia Foulkrod, whose documentary, “The Ground Truth,” illustrates the effects of modern warfare through the eyes of dozens of young Iraq and Afghanistan veterans, echoed Pantoliano’s sentiment.
“We’re numb with what happens with drunk driving,” she said. “We’re numb to people that we know who O.D. We’re numb to all the terrible things that happen until it happens to us.
“But at the end of the day, it’s not about whether you join or you don’t join — it’s about whether or not you show up.”
Sundance Institute founder Robert Redford, the elder statesman of the film festival, amplified the message to reporters at the premiere of “An Inconvenient Truth.”
“What’s really going to make these issues work is the people who see these films and decide to do something,” he said.
This article first appeared on MTVNews.com.
Get Lost
The world looks pretty uniform from 36,000 feet at midnight: inky black, and punctuated by distant points of light.
Not that I could really tell. I woke from my Xanax and Full Suspension Pale Ale slumber, wedged between two other fellas my size (practically spooning with the fella in 21A) somewhere over eastern Wyoming. I struggled to finish my last article for MTV News, a thought piece on artistic reaction to these politically troubling times, then retired to my iPod, currently in heavy rotation with me new hero, Neil Young.
I departed for my second trip to the Sundance Film Festival with some trepidation. Last year’s festival had felt awefully close to the red carpet, A-list, entertained to death worlds of New York and Los Angeles, allbeit with better scenery.
But this year’s festival was restorative. I participated in numerous meaningful discussions of creativity and social justice. And I found a space there, somewhere between the Tony Kushner and Al Gore’s “An Inconvenient Truth” documentaries. Sure, Paris and Justin were there. But there was a whole lot more going on, and it was inspiring.
I’m happy to be home, to be sure. But I’m glad I got a little bit lost on my way here. And I’m grateful that Mr. Young reminded me that I have to go anyway — to leave the safe places, to find myself in a vast, unknown wilderness — even if I might get lost. Because in the end, sometimes getting lost isn’t such a bad idea.
I’ll remember that moment forever, there in the old Union Pacific rail station, shafts of golden sunlight pouring through the windows, his eyes gleaming brightly…
“Go anyway,” he said, looking me straight in the eye and smiling.
“You might crash,” he continued, nodding to Jonathan and laughing just a little bit.
“But … it’s gonna be at least fulfilling to you.”
And anyway, how else is one to find one’s self?
Neil Young’s ‘Heart Of Gold’ Concert Doc Glitters At Sundance
PARK CITY — When rock icon Neil Young was diagnosed with a life-threatening brain aneurysm last spring, the grandfather of grunge and legendary singer/songwriter responded as only he could. In the weeks between the diagnosis and lifesaving surgery, he wrote and recorded Prairie Wind, a plaintive, cohesive song cycle of love, death, family and friends.
When Oscar-winning director Jonathan Demme (”Silence of the Lambs,” “Philadelphia”) received an advance copy of the album, he was jolted into action.
“I went, ‘Oh my God, this is a masterpiece!’ ” Demme said. “I called Neil and I suggested that we do something, anything, to give cinematic life to this great group of songs. Very quickly it started evolving into the fact that these songs are born out of Nashville, that their home is the Ryman Auditorium, the most beautiful, mother church of music in all of the country.”
The two decided to stage and film a “dream concert” at the Ryman. The result, an amber-hued performance documentary, “Neil Young: Heart of Gold,” stands out in a crowded field of Sundance music-doc premieres.
The film captures Young with a full stage of musicians, including longtime bandmates Rick Rosas, Ben Keith and Spooner Oldham, old friends like Emmylou Harris, plus the Memphis Horns and Fisk University Jubilee Choir. They performed 18 songs spanning Young’s extraordinary career; alongside Prairie Wind tunes, Young played some of his most well-loved numbers, including “Old Man,” “Heart of Gold” and a chilling solo performance of “Needle and the Damage Done.”
Beyond the extraordinary songs and setting, though, Young and Demme set out to shoot a visually unique, aesthetically distinct film. Lush sets, period costumes, warm lighting and patient pacing create a filmgoing experience that is utterly out of time.
“When the curtains part,” Demme said, “that’s it. The musical journey begins. If people wandered in after the show had started, we want them to ask, ‘When was this filmed?’ With the quality of the music, the outfits that everybody was wearing, and the old-fashioned, beautifully expressive backdrops we had, it could’ve been filmed in the ’30s.”
“We wanted to make it a concert that treated every song like a scene in a film,” Young said. “Every song had its own care and its own staging.”
And in the Ryman, the fabled home of the Grand Ole Opry and host to legends from Hank Williams to Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline, Young and Demme had an additional, less-tangible contributor.
“I’ve heard about how great the Ryman is,” Demme said, “but you’ve got to walk in the door and see this breathtaking room. It was a real church before it became the citadel of music. And not only is that visually interesting, but it brings all the ghosts and spirits to life in there.”
“It’s a very revered place,” Young added. “So we were trying to pay homage to our roots and to our heroes: Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, George Jones and all those great songwriters who are at the heart of country music.”
The film’s conclusion, a rousing performance of “One of These Days,” creates the distinct sense that the film is some sort of a love letter to Young’s fans, and, as importantly, his bandmates, friends and family.
” ‘Heart of Gold’” is really about the interplay between my family of musical friends, my family of songs and my immediate family,” Young said. “That’s what it’s all about.”
“And that’s the best version of [’One of These Days’] I ever did,” he concluded. “I’m glad it’s on the film.”
“Neil Young: Heart of Gold” hits theaters February 10.
This article first appeared on MTVNews.com.
One Of These Days
I’ve met a hero or two, but never an icon. Today I interviewed two of each.
Our call time was 11:50 at The Spur, an old saloon at 350 Main Street. Joah and I showed up at 11:15. The saloon was locked up and empty. I was wound like a top. I felt like I feel before a marathon: short of breath, a little nausious. I called our contacts. No answer. Finally, at 11:45, they called. “We had a loaction change. We’re at Zoom at 360 Main.” Josh and I ran down the street, camera, light kit, and tripod in hand.
I had a full page of carefully thought out notes, questions on the making of “Prairie Wind,” the film, “Heart of Gold,” lyrical passages I found salient, and even one on whether politics is responding to these troubling times. Neil Young and Jonathan Demme were already on hand speaking with Entertainment Weekly. We set up, sat down, I poured over my notes and took a series of deep breaths.
When Neil and Jonathan approached, I looked them in the eye, and shook their hands slowly, patiently, and confidently –just like mom taught me). I don’t know what I said first, but I know that Neil laughed. His eyes sparkled. And I thought to myself, ‘We’re going to be fine.’
Twelve minutes later, it was over. Josh told me I “knocked it out of the park.” Alyssa told me it was a “time stand still moment.”
I’m not sure. I just know that it felt right. It felt paced, and patient. It felt substantive.
I asked Neil about his lyric, “If you follow every dream / You might get lost.”
“Neil,” I said, “You’re a man I’ve looked to to help me find mine, so that lyric is such a curious almost reversal for me to hear you tell me, “Hey, caution, beware…”
And he said, “You might just be ready. Go anyway. You might crash. And it might not be something everybody else thought was great. But if you follow, it’s gonna be at least fulfilling to you.
Afterwards, I paced down Main Street trying to catch my breath. The sky was bluer, the air was clearer, and the temperature was warmer than it had been all week. And I began to understand what he meant.
It’s allright to get lost. That’s where you find out who you really are.
Falling Off The Face Of The Earth
My head is heavy. My body aches. My eyes are sore. But I know that I am alive.
Just a few weeks ago, I felt lost. I was bone tired. I felt like I had fallen from the face of the earth. I felt like “Heartland” had failed. If not the music, then the message. If not the message, then the spreading of it. I didn’t know what to do next. Give up the music? Put on a suit? Resign myself to being a media executive? Worse, I felt empty. I wasn’t sure I had any art left.
I am alone now with just the whirl of the DV decks and the buzz of laptops. I am exhausted from six days in Park City. I am exhausted from a steady diet of Emergen-C, white bread, Rice Crispy Treats, and Uinta beer. I am exhausted from eighteen hour days, relentless reportage, writing, editing, filing.
But tonight, I know that I am alive.
I know that I am alive because today, for the first time since summer, I picked up my guitar. For the first time in months, I liked how it felt in my arms. It felt new. It felt solid. It felt full of possibility. I felt like I have something left to say. I felt like I have songs in me yet.
“Neil Young: Heart Of Gold” is a beautiful, moving film. It is a deep and simple document cast in warm amber glow. It is a triumph: a man, his music, and the friends he makes it with. The performances are beautiful, perfect and real, but the glanses the performers share that tell the story.
Sitting there in the Park City Library, tapping my foot, rocking my head, alternating between joy and tears, I felt something rising in me. It was song, my songs, like angels flying just out of reach, returning. Right there in the audience of the old Ryman Auditoriumq, right there in beneath the stained glass, I began to see what I’m going to do next. I began to hear it. I began to remember how to do it. And for the first time in months, that was all I wanted to do. To sing, and to play, and to look at my friends and smile.
That’s how I know I’m alive.
Neil Young: Heart Of Gold
I interviewed Mr. Young and Mr. Demme at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival on their involvement in the forthcoming film, “Neil Young: Heart Of Gold.” The interview occurred at Zoom, a restaurant in the old Union Pacific rail station, on Wedneday, January 25, for an MTV News article, “Neil Young’s ‘Heart Of Gold’ Concert Doc Glitters At Sundance”. the interview is reprinted here in its entirety.
BW: Jonathan, catch us up on the circumstances in which you created this extraordinary, amber-hued film.
Jonathan Demme: Every since I saw “Greendale: The Movie,” Neil and I started talking on the phone a lot about film in general because I’ve liked the film’s Neil’s done over the years previous years a lot. In fact, when we did “Stop Making Sense,” as far as David Byrne was concerned, if we could get close to the quality of “Rust Never Sleeps,” then I’d have something we can be proud of. I know about him as a filmmaker and after “Greendale” came out I saw how he’d taken the ways to present music on film in a whole new direction. And because we’d gotten to know each a little bit after Neil did this song for “Philadelphia,” I just had it in my mind that I wanted to collaborate and I felt that I might have an opportunity to do something that was really different if I was able to team up with him.
So I was floating out around there, calling Elliot Roberts every once and a while going “Think Neil would like to do some movie type of thing?” And Elliott would say, “Yeah, yunno, one of these times.” And then, as fate would have it, I called up, not knowing anything of the fact that Neil had discovered that he had an aneurism and had this incredible creative rush of songwriting and recording between the time he found out that he had to have a procedure to remove this aneurism and actually having the operation to do it he did these amazing songs and I got to hear these songs before anybody. I got a CD of these songs and I went, “Oh my God this is a masterpiece.”
So I started suggesting that we do something, it could be an animated film, it could be anything, something to give cinematic life to this great group of songs. Very quickly it started evolving into the fact that this is born of Nashville, these songs, it’s home is the Ryman Auditorium, the most beautiful, mother church in all of the country. Let’s put on the definitive dream concert of these new songs at the Ryman. So that’s what took flight. So my thing was all creative, and Neil was living that drama, which he channeled into this brilliant album. And then we hooked up and went down there and did it.
BW: Neil, to what degree was the Ryman, as football fans would call it, the “thirteenth player” on the field?
Neil Young: The Ryman and Hank William’s guitar and Emmylou Harris and the audience itself was a very musical audience, the audience was invited from musical people in Nashville, people who understood the history of the Ryman Auditorium, and the history of country music, and where the roots of country were. You know, it’s a very revered place. We were trying to pay homage to our roots and to our heroes: Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, George Jones, all these great songwriters who are at the heart of country music and that’s not all of em, that’s just a mess and a few. So, that was the place to do this, and we wanted to make it a concert that treated every song like a scene in a film. Every song had its own care, it’s own staging.
So as we went through the performance, the crowd had to wait for a minute and a half or so when the totally rehearsed set change happened in record time every time with these guys and all their marks and everything moving around so that every time the lights came back up after a song there was a slight shift in the way that everything looked. And in that way, it’s totally different from any concert film and it leaves the realm of concert documentary and becomes a film that creates a concert.
JD: We cut out all those re-arranging parts so the music just flows. And once and a while Neil tells you something about the song you’re about to hear, or about the Ryman, or about Nashville. We wanted to create a dream state, a musical dream state that took you on an emotional journey with great song after great song. And with the Ryman I’ve read the literature, and I’ve heard about how great the Ryman is and it’s the mother church and I know how cool that is but you’ve got to walk in the door and see this breathtaking room, and see that the audience isn’t arranged in regular seating, but in circular pews, because it was a real church before it became a citadel of music. So it’s utterly unique. And not only is that visually interesting, but it brings all the ghost and spirits to life in there.
NY: They were all with us when we were doing that. There was this whole ambience going on. And we were all dressed from a period that was somewhere back from the heyday of the Ryman and that whole thing. So we were all going there. And the audience was more than ready to go there. I mean, all those people were dying to go back in time. So we were able to take them there without much effort.
JD: We wanted, if people were to walk in once the performance part of the movie starts cuz we start [the film] setting the atmosphere of Nashville, and the Ryman, and the musicians and what have you. But when the curtains part, that it. The musical journey begins. But if you wandered in after the show had started, we wanted people to go, “When was this filmed?” It coulda’ been filmed in the Thirties with the quality of the music, the outfits that everybody was wearing, the old fashioned beautifully expressive backdrops we had. We wanted — again, I keep going back to dreams — we wanted this to be a dream concert.
BW: Which comes up numerous times in the lyrics of “Prairie Wind.” In fact the lyric that struck me the most was, “If you follow every dream / You might get lost.” Neil, you’re a man I’ve looked to to help me find mine, so that lyric is such a curious almost reversal for me to hear you tell me, “Hey, caution, beware…”
NY: You might just be ready. Yeah. Go anyway. You might crash. And it might not be something everybody else thought was great. But if you follow, it’s gonna be at least fulfilling to you. Yunno. I feel like following my ideas no matter what they are has been fine for me so far.
BW: You speak of the song cycle, and the ebb and flow of the performance. Certainly you worked that out well in advance.
NY: Ten straights days of rehearsal, twelve to fourteen hours a day in this room that must have been ninety degrees and we just kept on going. The re-do list just kept getting bigger and bigger. We just drove everybody to the limit to get ready for this, to make sure that we could perform the songs and do the justice to them. A lotta work went into that. And during that musical rehearsal time, also the whole staging happened, we decided where everybody was going to be for every song, and then everybody would make the marks, the crew was supposed to know where everything was supposed to go, and then we started running through the whole thing. And it took five to ten minutes between every song for them to get everything in place, and get it right. And then we had it down to one minute between every song. So it was important that every song get treated completely like its own song. It didn’t have to live with any of the trappings of the previous or next song in the way it was staged. That makes a difference. You don’t see that but you feel it watching the film. It’s eye friendly. You don’t get used to things like you do in a normal documented concert.
BW: And in concluding with “One Of These Days” there was this distinct sense that this was some sort of a love letter, both to me, as a fan, and your audience, but more importantly to your band mates and friends.NY: Yeah. It’s all about the musicians. “Heart of Gold” is really about all the people up there playing and the interplay between the family my family of musical friends, my family of songs, and my immediate family: my wife, and my kids that’s what it’s about.
JD: I think you’re right. Hearing Neil up there makes me think about the beauty of being in touch. It makes me want to run out and call my cousin Bobby with whom I haven’t spoken in three months.
NY: Stay connected.
BW: You capture so eloquently the smiles and glances that, were I in the back row –NY: You’d miss it, yeah.BW: And that’s the stuff. Yunno, I heard you say people were crying, it was so moving.
JD: When were filming, I was up watching a bank of little tiny monitors, talking to the camera operators. So I knew what the compositions were, but I didn’t know what was going on with everybody’s faces. And when I got into the cutting room, and when Andy Keir, our great editor, designed all those cuts to reinforce what we’re talking about, I sat in my own cutting room with the tears running down, yunno? I was much more moved by that incredible intimacy than the string section, or…
NY: Yeah, yeah. That was amazing.
JD: That’s a deep song, man.
NY: That’s the best version of it I ever did. I’m glad it’s on the film.
BW: Gentlemen, I could listen to your stories for hours, but I’m getting the wrap sign. So thank you.
NY: Thank you.
There Is A Crack In Everything (That’s How The Light Gets In)
“For me, it’s really about clearing my head of anything that’s of a trivial day to day nature and looking into something that’s timeliness, something that in some way I’m not even conscious that I know,” he tells me. “But sometimes quiet is the worst thing. I think it was Bukowski who said, ‘Nothing worth a shit was every written in peace and quiet.’”
That’s The Edge talkin’. And he’s talkin’ to me. And we’re talking about songwriting. And it’s barely eleven o’clock in the morning. And quite frankly, I’m beside myself. I’m trying real hard to sound calm. And I think I pulled it off.
The occasion is the Sundance premiere of “Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man.” Matt Paco and I are at The Motorola Lounge on Main Street. It’s all brushed steel and hot pink upholstery. It’s kind of classic Sundance: faux brick, shag rug, closets of swag. There’s a gaggle of publicists. Everyone’s chattering into his or her cell phones. And I’m trying to keep calm, cool, collected, and on point.
Edge is slighter than you’d think. He looks great: fit, rested, and healthy. His handshake is firm. His eyes sparkle. He is — in a word — cool. I, in contrast, am not. Well, that may not be quite true. In contrast to my first interview ever with Michael Stipe way back in the summer of my freshman year of college, I’m steady.
Edge talks about Leonard’s work ethic, of how he will spend years at a time on a song (click here to read the entire interview). It’s maddening to consider. But when I hear lyrics like these, I get it.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
That’s Rufus Wainwright’s favorite lyric, or so he tells me (click here to read the entire interview). It struck me too when I heard it performed in the film. And now more than ever, we gotta’ look for the light through the cracks. Cuz it’s dark out. I’ve had tons of conversations about the cultural darkness, the global peril, we’re all in.
I interviewed Ron Reagan Jr. today. And Joey Pantoliano (our editor, Pat Deriso’s cousin). The occasion was a Creative Coalition panel. Harry Shearer was there too. They were talking about first amendment stuff, Iraq, Iran, North Korea. It was a sound bite feast.
Someone asked how long it would take America to get back on track. Ron said, “We’ve gone off the rails on multiple tracks. If you’re talking about the Supreme Court, it could take decades. If you’re talking about administrations telling the truth, it could happen tomorrow. The Bush Administration just has to decide to tell the truth. And the thing is, the powerful usually know the truth. They just don’t want to share it.”
Afterwards, he drove his point home with me. “We have an administration that wants to deny global warming, I mean, as if scientists have nothing better to do than sit around and make up lies about the earth overheating.”
Joey Pants was exasperated too. “One last question,” he said, “Then I’m gonna blow my brains out.”
Later he told me, “Man, I don’t even know what to do. I’m just numb.”
It seems to me that there’s a healthy dose of dialogue and art going on here at Sundance that really illustrates an awakening to the discord echoing throughout the globe. So I asked him if he was at all encouraged by all of the conversations going on here at Sundance.
“No, man. This place is all about buying and selling and swag.” And I thought, ‘Well, there goes my thesis.’
But I wanna believe the conversation and the art and the movement to create some awareness, to get people involved, to incite some action, that it’s vital. Maybe there is a groundswell. Maybe there is a little light sneaking through the cracks. There has to be.
Beyond The Red Carpet: Marines, Matzo Balls, Porn Have A Place At Sundance Too
PARK CITY, Utah — The Sundance Film Festival isn’t all about A-list parties, celebrity sightings and flashbulb-frenzied premieres. There are plenty of events that don’t involve a red carpet.
Twentysomething Marines Robert Acosta, Paul Reickhoff and Herold Noel are half a world away from their tours of duty in Iraq. The soldiers are in Park City to support Patricia Foulkrod’s chilling documentary, “The Ground Truth,” an unflinching examination of the war in Iraq and the psychological and physical toll of modern warfare.
“This war is more important than these guys snowboarding, or Paris Hilton, or any of this other crap,” Reickhoff said. “People gotta understand that it doesn’t just affect politicians, it affects people.”
“This is a war that’s affecting people your age,” Foulkrod said. “Get involved. Get active.”
Photographer Lauren Greenfield’s documentary, “Thin,” focuses on four women trying to overcome eating disorders in a South Florida treatment center over a six-month period. Greenfield had unprecedented access to both the women and the center itself, filming everything from weigh-ins to therapy sessions.
“One teenager came up to me afterwards and started crying, almost hysterically,” Greenfield said of her first Sundance screening. “I was kind of overwhelmed by the emotional response.” The film premieres on HBO in the fall.
Filmmaker Tiffany Shlain’s short film, “The Tribe,” premiered on Main Street, but she opted for a more intimate setting for additional screenings. The San Francisco filmmaker hosted fireside screenings of her “unorthodox, unauthorized history of the Jewish people and the Barbie doll” in her mountainside chalet, complete with hot chocolate and homemade matzo ball soup.
“The whole goal is to have a dialogue outside of the flurry of the festival,” Shlain said. “What I really wanted is dialogue with other filmmakers and the audience. So as soon as I got in, I thought, ‘I’m going to rent a house right off Main Street and invite people over every day to talk about it.’ It’s been really good.”
Byron Hurt’s “Beats & Rhymes: A Hip-Hop Head Weighs in on Manhood in Hip-Hop Culture,” takes on the genre’s “hyper-masculinity, sexism, violence and homophobia” head-on. “We gotta demand a lot more from hip-hop,” Hurt said.
“I want this film to be the talk of Sundance,” the first-time filmmaker continued. “But what I really want is for somebody with a lot of money to fall in love with this film.”.
“Destricted,” which should someday screen alongside “El Topo” and “Schizopolis” in a Strangest Movie Ever Made film festival, played to a packed house at a midnight screening. Six filmmakers (including controversy lightning rods Matthew Barney and Larry Clark) created the compilation using two rules: None of the films could be longer than 20 minutes, and the subject matter was pornography. The results are as shocking as they are indescribable: a naked, moss-covered man whose semen fuels a 50-ton truck, and a wannabe porn star auditioning his leading lady are among the choice moments.
And of course, there’s plenty of music all over Park City. ASCAP’s Music Cafe featured sets from Augustana, Rufus Wainwright (in town to promote “Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man”), Mike Doughty and Michael Penn. The Starbucks Salon hosted Sonya Kitchell, Imogen Heap and Tyler Hilton (who was spotted ducking out of Self magazine’s gifting suite with armfuls of swag just prior to his performance). The Salon’s hottest ticket was to a Saturday night performance by “Entourage” star Adrian Grenier’s band, the Honey Brothers. “It was the first time we played in about a month,” Grenier said after the show. “But I’m feeling great.”
But the lingering question for snowbound music fans is whether Police members Sting, Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland — all of whom are in town for the premiere of Copeland’s documentary, “Everybody Stares: The Police Inside Out” — will reunite onstage. If that were to happen, perhaps starstruck festivalgoers would finally turn their attention away from Paris Hilton.
This article first appeared on MTVNews.com.
