We (Americans) seem to have a fascination with dangerous times, past, present and future. And it could be that all times have been dangerous. Are, and will be dangerous. All times.
The Year of Living Dangerously, a 1983 Mel Gibson film about Sukarno’s Indonesia comes immediately to mind. Great atmospherics and Linda Hunt (everyone’s favorite badass shadowy leader of NCIS Los Angeles) who won an Oscar for her portrayal of a streetwise (male) photographer in the Gibson film. Mel, Sigourney, Linda, story, intrigue, technicolor noir. I recommend it. Not that it’s streaming anywhere; you may have to get the DVD.
VICE (2018) is on Netflix. It’s weird. Of course so were the real people, Cheney, Bush, Rumsfeld et al. Dangerous times again. Portrayed in almost comic book fashion. One rather clumsy (to me) pairing of scenes that tried hard for some kind of visual symbolism took me out of the movie completely; one scene showed Bush’s ankle and foot moving like a sugared-up teen’s, and that scene suddenly changed to a family in Iraq under a dining room table during the “shock and awe” attack, and zoomed into a closeup of the man’s foot and ankle moving the same way, though obviously in terror. See it for Carrell’s hilarious portrayal of Donald Rumsfeld—it’s great. Or to watch Bales’s chin-on-his-chest Cheney. Pretty good.
And, a more recent ‘dangerous times’ movie, The Stars At Noon, deals with the 1980’s Contra/Sandinista/CIA mess in Nicaragua. I’ve not seen this much-lauded movie but have to note a couple of odd synchronisms: Claire Denis is screenwriter/director. Denis Johnson, also with one s, wrote the book in 1986 and the Vintage Contemporary version of it resides in my shelf of VC books, a valued collection of sorts. I pulled it the other day and found I’d not ever read it. Well-written, of course, because Denis Johnson. But I got impatient with it. A prostitute (with bad teeth, she keeps telling the reader) posing as a journalist (or vice-versa) gets involved with a dorky Englishman. Both are stricken soporific with the heat, filth, and bureaucracy of their surroundings and they make a series of dumb moves when they move at all. That’s the book. I imagine the film will be somewhat more Hollywood-palatable. Good teeth, less sweat, less dorkage for the main love-interest guy, and the female will be a beautiful stranded journalist. A leftist periodista. Just a guess, no spoilers.
But I’d like to share this; one of the loveliest songs to come out of that Reagen-years saga. It’s by Bruce Cockburn who was, as they say, on the ground in Nicaragua. Give it a listen here. The lyrics are below.
Battered buses jammed up to the roof
Dust and diesel the prevailing themes
Farmer sleeping on the truck in front
Feet trailing over like he's trolling for dreams
Smiling girl directing traffic flow
.45 strapped over cotton print dress
Marimba-brown and graceful limbs
Give me a moment of loneliness
Dust and diesel
Rise like incense from the road
Smoke of offering
For the revolution morning
Headlights pick out a fallen sack of corn
One lone tarantula standing guard
We pull up and stop and she ambles off
Discretion much the better part of cars
Rodrigo the government driver jumps out
He's got chickens who can use the feed
We sweep the asphalt on our hands and knees
Fill up his trunk with dusty yellow seeds
Dust and diesel
Rise like incense from the road
Smoke of offering
For the revolution morning
Guitars and rifles in blue moonlight
Soldiers stretched out on sparkling grass
Engine broke down -- they took us in
now we make music for the time to pass
Tired men and women raise their voice to the night
Hope the fragile bloom they've grown will last
Pride and passion and love and fear
Burning hearts burning boats of the past
Dust and diesel
Rise like incense from the road
Smoke of offering
For the revolution morning
The album, Stealing Fire, is full of revolutionary songs that are as fascinating as they are musical and poetic. Some are angry. All are well-produced and listenable. I recommend it without reservation, here. Coincidentally, one of songs is “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.”
And one more book. They say to start peddling your book months before it comes out. Here goes. It’s been in the works for a couple of years—covid and coastal fires did the first publisher in. Then I found another publisher who liked it, and I finished galley edits, first round, yesterday. It’s called Chickens One Day, Feathers The Next, and here’s its new cover, by Jessica Bell. She’s a singer/songwriter, artist, all around marketing person and talent-whirlwind.
“Chickens” is a book of essays and memoir pieces, and, as one of the blurbs says, “a rollicking Harley ride down a vibrant Route 66 of American culture.” It should be available in October, 2022. It’s had a long journey; are we there yet? Almost.
And I wish for us all, less dangerous times, more laughs, joy and fine fettle. (That’s either a skateboard or Croatian soup) xo G.