
# POP LIFE

Daniel Thomas MacInnes

DT Media, Minneapolis, Chicago

If you enjoy this book, please take a moment to write a review on Amazon and other digital platforms. Your insights and opinions are greatly appreciated.

POP LIFE © 2017 Daniel Thomas MacInnes. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, recorded or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission by the publisher.

Published by DT Media, Minneapolis, MN

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### Dedications

This book is dedicated to Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael, who have inspired and influenced my understanding of movies and criticism more than any other writers. Thanks to Ebert's _Greatest Movies_ series, I acquired a vast knowledge of film history, as well as discovering the brilliance of Isao Takahata ( _Grave of the Fireflies_ ) and Hayao Miyazaki ( _My Neighbor Totoro_ ). Thanks to Kael's anthology _For Keeps_ , I learned how to write with wit and passion, and studied how movies affect our lives. They both taught me how to look at the world and express myself, and the crucial role of the popular arts in shaping our lives. This is where the imagination is born and nurtured.

To many people, being a writer seems an easy, effortless task. I assure you that it is not. Writing is nearly always a struggle, a battle to dig up ideas and emotions and the proper words to express them. I hope that I am starting to become good at this. I hope Roger and Pauline are looking down on me and are proud of their dutiful student. Thank you.

### Table of Contents

Introduction

**Side One: Thoughts on Film and Television**

50 Great Movies, 2017 Edition

A Charlie Brown Christmas

A Couple Spoiler-Free Thoughts About Wall-E

A Day at the Races

A Few Thoughts About Pixar's Cars

A Night at the Opera

A Night in Casablanca

Angel's Egg (Tenshi no Tamago)

The Boondock Saints

Bullitt

But You're So Much Fun: Thoughts on Satoshi Kon's Paprika

The Continuing Adventures of Bungalow Bill (or, Insert Your Favorite Beatles Titles Here)

The Corporation

Down on Skid Row

Dream On, Silly Dreamer

Gauche the Cellist: Another Look at a Masterpiece

Innocence: Ghost in the Shell 2

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

The Last Unicorn

Like the Clouds, Like the Wind

Love Happy

Million Dollar Baby

Napoleon Dynamite

"November 22, 1963" by Errol Morris

Osamu Tezuka's Metropolis

Oscar Nominations 2015

Overnight

Pixar, Wall-E and Rubber Soul

Pixar's UP: A Short, Short Review

Puss in Boots 3: Around the World in 80 Days

Ratatouille: A Few Rambling Thoughts Posing as Some Sort of Movie Review

The Running Man on LaserDisc

Ryan

Shinders to Shinders

The Simpson's Movie: A Review (or, My Eyes, The Goggles Do Nothing!)

The Stranger on DVD

Ten Favorite Animated Feature Films

The Triplets of Belleville on Blu-Ray

"We Doubt Younger Boys Will Be Excited by the Main Character"

What is going to happen to Pixar?

What's Wrong with Hollywood?

You Can't Put an Ohmu Stampede on a Happy Meal Box

**Side Two: New Adventures in Hi-Fi**

A Beginner's Guide to Your First Turntable

And Justice For All

Babes in Toyland

Black Sabbath Vol. 4

Buffy Sainte-Marie's Illuminations: Some Ramblings

Death Magnetic, a Review (or, When Did My Hair Turn Silver?)

Electric Miles Davis

Elvis Was The King

Fun With Plasti-Clay

Future of Vinyl in a Digital Age

Karman/Kardon 330c Stereo Receiver

Herbie Hancock - Sextant

Hovercraft - Been Brained

If I Were a Carpenter

Jack White's Lazaretto on LP

MCS 6603 Direct Drive Turntable

MCS 6700 Direct Drive Turntable

Memories of Sony PS-X5: A Short Hi-Fi Review

Metallica's "Deaf Magnetic" on LP: The Permanent Loudness War Comes Home

Miles Davis - Agharta/Pangaea

Miles Davis - Get Up With It

My Favorite Toy...OF ALL TIME

My First Stereo System, 2008 Edition: Starring Marantz and Pro-Ject

My Letter to Salon About Their Crappy Avril Lavigne Interview

DEVO - New Traditionalists

Oh, No! It's DEVO

Pearl Jam's Backspacer: An Essay That Reveals Absolutely Nothing About the New Album or Why it's Great

Playing Led Zeppelin IV on the Road to Damascus

Pro-Ject Debut III Turntable

Realistic LAB-420 Turntable

Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band on Vinyl LP

Some Thoughts About Miles Davis' Pangaea

Sony PS-X75 Turntable

St. Anger's Revenge: More Thoughts on D-Mag

The Greatest CDs Ever Made

The Return of the Sony Biotracer

The Thriller Zombies Come to Chew on the Corpse

Uncle Meat

We Need a New Houses of the Holy

When Rock Was Dangerous: Lou Reed's Lulu

**Side Three: Videogames of the Doomed**

Astra Superstars

Astronomy Domine: The Greatest Trip in the Galaxy

Atari 7800 Controllers (or, You Bastards Have Broken My Hands!)

Broken Sword: The Shadow of the Templars

Bust-a-Move DS

Cooking Mama

DJ Wars

Egg Mania

F1 2002

FIFA 2002

Frogger: Helmet Chaos

Gekido Advance: Kintaro's Revenge

Go! Go! Beckham!

Hyper Duel on Sega Saturn

I'd Still Rather Play NFL 2K1

Mario Kart Wii Musings

Metroid: Zero Mission

Monster Rancher 2 on Gameboy Advance

Moto GP

New Super Mario Brothers

NFL 2K2 on Sega Dreamcast

NHL All-Star Hockey

Nintendo Wii U: Darkness on the Edge of Town

Old School and New School

Pac-Man Collection

Pebble Beach Golf Links: Revenge of the Walrus

Polarium

Sega Dreamcast Day

Sega Saturn Shoot-Em-Up Roundtable, Vol. I

Sheep

Sonic Rush: Junkie's Crash

Space Invaders Revolution

Spoiled Rotten Brats

Ten Things I Love About Fire Shark

World Series Baseball 98: Still the Greatest Nine

Yoshi: Touch and Go

Zero Divide: Final Conflict

**Side Four: It's Life and Life Only**

Am I a Genius Yet?

Benediction

DanielThomas.org (2003-2010): Final Eulogy

Harvester of Sorrow

How to Survive a 30-Year Anxiety Attack

If I Stop Moving, I'll Drown in Grief: On the Account of My Aunt's Death

Ingmar Bergman and Tom Snyder

Ignorance is Strength, 2003 Edition

Iraq War 2003: Vote No

Jeffrey Miller

Life Inside the Overlook Hotel

London Struck by Terrorist Bombing

Made Their Myth, Now They're Trapped

Max Headroom

Patron Saint of Minnesota: Eugene McCarthy (1916-2005)

Pope John Paul II Has Died

Satoshi Kon Dead at 46 After Battle With Pancreatic Cancer

Sean Pettibone

Space Shuttle Columbia

The Day That Never Comes

The Man Who Walked Between the Towers

Timmy and the Giant Space Bug

Truth is the First Casualty of War

V: A History of the Fanzine That Gripped a Nation

Wisdom Teeth in the United States of Stupid

About the Author

### Introduction

_Pop Life_ is a collection of essays that cover a wide range of topics, which are assembled into four "sides": film and television, music and hi-fi audio, videogames, and political/personal. Most of these writings began as pop culture reviews and political commentaries on various websites during the years 2003-2012, while many others are more recent. Like my other book, _Zen Arcade_ , nearly everything has been revised and rewritten for this book. Because of this, I tried to avoid using calendar dates whenever possible. There are a number of instances, however, where using a dateline was necessary.

I like to think of this book as a collection of reviews and essays on current events, musings on the art and the times we inhabit. For lovers of film, television, music, videogames and politics, I hope these essays prove insightful, illuminating and entertaining. My critic's pen is strongly inspired by Roger Ebert, Pauline Kael and Hunter S. Thompson, which is evident in these chapters.

In my more sinister moods, I also like to think of this book as a nonfiction epic, where the narrator is struggling to make sense of a beautiful and nonsensical world, using the icons of popular culture to write the Great American Novel. I'm mashing together The Beatles' _White Album_ with Stanley Kubrick's _The Shining_. And why not? Is that not the world we find ourselves in? Be honest.

Once again, I suspect I wrote a rock album because I really wanted to be a musician. Doesn't everyone? And so I have crafted my own sprawling double album, my own _Blonde on Blonde_ , my own _Exile on Main Street_. I almost used the title _Superunknown_ for this book, which would have really driven the point home. In the end, I decided to pay tribute to Prince in using _Pop Life_ , which keeps the mood a little more buoyant and colorful.

The cover is a tribute to Gustavo Cerati's 1999 trip-hop album _Bocanada_ , a highly influential and successful work in Latin America and one of the best pop records of its day. More musical riffing. Always with the riffing.

Of the three books I wrote and published in 2016-17, this one is the largest, the most sprawling, the most complex. It's also my favorite. I hope it becomes a favorite of yours as well. Thank you for reading.

## SIDE ONE:

THOUGHTS  
ON  
FILM  
AND  
TELEVISION

### 50 Great Movies, 2017 Edition

1. _Citizen Kane_ (1941, Orson Welles)

2. _Casablanca_ (1942, Michael Curtiz)

3. _2001: A Space Odyssey_ (1968, Stanley Kubrick)

4. _Seven Samurai_ (1954, Akira Kurosawa)

5. _The Third Man_ (1949, Carol Reed)

6. _Vertigo_ (1958, Alfred Hitchcock)

7. _Star Wars_ (1977, George Lucas)

8. _Duck Soup_ (1933, Leo McCarey)

9. _The Shining_ (1980, Stanley Kubrick)

10. _Omohide Poro Poro_ (1991, Isao Takahata)

11. _City Lights_ (1931, Charlie Chaplin)

12. _Lawrence of Arabia_ (1962, David Lean)

13. _Ran_ (1986, Akira Kurosawa)

14. _Young Frankenstein_ (1974, Mel Brooks)

15. _My Neighbor Totoro_ (1988, Hayao Miyazaki)

16. _The Godfather_ (1972, Francis Ford Coppola)

17. _The Fog of War_ (2003, Errol Morris)

18. _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ (1981, Steven Spielberg)

19. _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_ (1989, Steven Spielberg)

20. _The Passion of Joan of Arc_ (1928, Carl Th. Dreyer)

21. _Pather Panchali_ (1955, Satyajit Ray)

22. _Spaceballs_ (1987, Mel Brooks)

23. _Mimi wo Sumaseba_ (1995, Yoshifumi Kondo)

24. _La Dolce Vita_ (1960, Federico Fellini)

25. _The Wizard of Oz_ (1939, Victor Fleming)

26. _Paths of Glory_ (1957, Stanley Kubrick)

27. _Network_ (1976, Sidney Lumet)

28. _Apocalypse Now_ (1979, Francis Ford Coppola)

29. _Floating Weeds_ (1959, Yasujiro Ozu)

30. _The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun_ (1968, Isao Takahata)

31. _The Big Sleep_ (1946, Howard Hawks)

32. _The Red Shoes_ (1948, Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger)

33. _Throne of Blood_ (1957, Akira Kurosawa)

34. _Modern Times_ (1936, Charlie Chaplin)

35. _Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie_ (1996, Jim Mallon)

36. _Blazing Saddles_ (1974, Mel Brooks)

37. _Elizabeth_ (1998, Shekhar Kapur)

38. _Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind_ (1984, Hayao Miyazaki)

39. _Pulp Fiction_ (1994, Quentin Tarantino)

40. _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ (1968, Sergio Leone)

41. _Fantasia_ (1940, Walt Disney)

42. _Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb_ (1963, Stanley Kubrick)

43. _Back to the Future_ (1985, Robert Zemeckis)

44. _Clue_ (1985, Jonathan Lynn)

45. _Beetlejuice_ (1988, Tim Burton)

46. _Metropolis_ (1926, Fritz Lang)

47. _The Searchers_ (1956, John Ford)

48. _Ben-Hur_ (1959, William Wyler)

49. _The Royal Tenenbaums_ (2001, Wes Anderson)

50. _Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon_ (2000, Ang Lee)

### A Charlie Brown Christmas

I often say _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ is my favorite American animated cartoon, and I mean that sincerely. I love the way the Peanuts characters are brought to life on the screen. I love the art style, especially those jazzy off-color backgrounds for the closeups. Most of all, I love the story, so simple and sincere. It's a story about the sacred purity of childhood and the need to preserve that innocence from the cynicism and commercialism of the adult world. It's joyous for the sake of being joyous. Moments come and go for no greater purpose than to depict daily life. I'm thinking especially of the terrific opening on the lake, the children skating joyously, catching snowflakes, sliding into snow banks.

In this regard, _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ is the American _My Neighbor Totoro_. For all the praise given to Hayao Miyazaki, I can't name a single animation produced in this country that strives to capture _Totoro's_ pastoral, slice-of-life feel. Childhood is made of moments, some joyous, some sad, sometimes filled uncertainty and doubt, sometimes filled with discovery and awe. The world is a magical place, one where imagination, beliefs and emotions compete equally with reason and logic. Children have not yet been trained to trust the eye above all other senses. Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang have yet to be corrupted by the adult world.

Charles "Sparky" Schultz succeed masterfully by embracing his sincerity and honesty. Observe how Charlie Brown struggles with doubt and depression; the holiday season only seems to focus his status as a chronic misfit. Happiness is an eternal struggle, and salvation remains elusive. In this sense, I suppose, Linus serves as the voice of Charlie's conscience, of Sparky's religious faith that always compelled and inspired him. Thankfully, he respected himself and his audience to leave these conflicts unresolved.

This is a personal story; Charlie Brown's worries and aspirations are genuine. Linus' simple religious message is one of wonder, gratitude, thankfulness, and celebration of living. It feels so much kinder than the cruel fundamentalism of our cynical age. I think that's why this humble cartoon speaks to me, just as it speaks to you. Such storytelling is very rare in a commercial medium.

Perhaps _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ , as the saying goes, comes from a more innocent time. Perhaps television was still new enough for more experimental content. Perhaps mass media has too much money attached to it in the 21st Century. I wonder, as I munch on my Dolly Madison's, could _Charlie Brown_ be made today, in the same spirit as 1964? How much freedom would its creators possess? What challenges would today's animators face? Or would networks and sponsors hold sway? One only need look at the many holiday-themed cartoons created in the last fifty years for answers. Some are good, some are dreadful. Hardly any are truly inspired.

Bill Melendez was the director of this, and all subsequent _Peanuts_ animated films until Sparky's passing in 1999. He and his team of animators wisely hold true to the look of the comic strips, embellishing in light strokes and brief moments. Movements are subtle and natural, avoiding the exaggerated movements of Disney's "stretch and squash," a staple of American animation theory. Instead, the spirit of this film lies in jazz. Its timing mirrors the wonderful music of Vince Guaraldi, who famously composed so many memorable _Peanuts_ songs.

I especially like the closeups, where the backgrounds are replaced with a solid color. This usually happens when Lucy or the other girls get angry at Charlie Brown. It breaks the rules of continuity but looks so good. It feels so right, jazzy and percussive. This stylistic approach became another series standard, and thank goodness for that.

_A Charlie Brown Christmas_ is one of the hallowed holiday traditions, like egg nog and Nat King Cole records and snowy days. I only wish I could still find some Dolly Madison snack cakes.

### A Couple Spoiler-Free Thoughts About Wall-E

I really loved _Wall-E_ from the very start. Most of it, anyway. I don't think Andrew Stanton was able to figure out a proper ending, so things change gears in the third act. But I'll go into greater detail another day. I am also firmly aware that, by all accounts, I'm being a picky baby. _Wall-E_ is without question the best American animated movie of the year. But it's a transitional film, a transitional work in all its good and bad overtones. Which means I'll end up firmly defending this movie and criticizing it at the same time.

So, to keep things short — okay, short for me — I'll list a couple things I really loved. I love the character designs. _Wall-E_ is a terrific little robot. It's very simple, very iconic, where the basics of the design are mastered first, and all that wonderful paint is splattered on later. There's an expressiveness to him, a tenderness and humor present. Scott McCloud would be so proud.

Eve, the futuristic robot, whose romance with Wall-E is the heart and soul of this picture, also looks terrific, and her iconic qualities are even more apparent. We're only dealing with basic geometric shapes here. When you're watching this movie, just think about the way they're both designed. Very simple, very basic, but yet extremely expressive. There's also a great contrast between the rusty cube-like robot and the sleek, shiny love interest from outer space.

I love the fact that so much of this movie is without speaking dialog. There are lots of bleeps and whirrs, but it's more in the Harpo Marx variety. When the two of them exchange their first words, it's a touching moment, a real breakthrough. The entire script for the two leads probably couldn't fill a single piece of paper, but it works, it works wonderfully. And all throughout the film, I'm wondering to myself, why don't more animated movies do this? American animation is rooted in the silent film era. That's where the old cartoon paradigms were birthed. Besides, I'm a great fan of Charlie Chaplin. And I really hate all these loud, gabby cartoons.

### A Day at the Races

Irving Thalberg, the legendary MGM wunderkind, took the Marx Brothers under his wing in the mid 1930's, and their resulting collaboration, _A Night at the Opera_ , was an enormous success; it is also a comedy classic and arguably the Brothers' best picture. It was quickly followed up with _A Day at the Races_ , which set to follow the formula that worked so well. Unfortunately, during the production, Thalberg suddenly died from a bout of pneumonia, leaving us with a movie that is both very entertaining and very flawed. This was the last great commercial success for the brothers; in the following years, their pictures at MGM would be saddled with formulaic plots, poor scripting, and a general sense of malaise (of their later pictures, only _A Night in Casablanca_ recaptured their magic). When Thalberg died, something in the Marx Brothers seemed to die with him.

For my money, the best Marx Brothers films came from the Paramount era: _Monkey Business_ , _Horse Feathers_ , and _Duck Soup_ , the greatest of them all. These pictures were short, barely over an hour each, but possessed with a freewheeling sense of anarchy. Like the best Looney Tunes cartoons, there was no need for anything beyond the barest of plots; only the manic comedy remained. Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo don't need an elaborate set-up any more than Wile E. Coyote. You just hit the ground running and make people laugh.

Thalberg changed all of this, and pairing the Brothers' madness with elaborate stories and romantic subplots. On _A Night at the Opera_ , this strategy proved successful, largely because the comedy was honed to perfection, and perfectly integrated with the story. There were as many great lines as in _Duck Soup_ , a number of routines that became instant-comedy classics, and time for a couple memorable song numbers.

By comparison, _A Day at the Races_ feels overweight, bloated. A running time of two hours? This is absolutely inexcusable in a Marx Brothers movie. If you cut half an hour out, it would still feel too long. Another key problem is that the comedy isn't as integrated into the plot as it could be. You feel as if Groucho, Chico, and Harpo have become bit players in their own movie, and appear every now and then for a classic comedy routine, before being shuffled off-screen to make way for another song-and-dance number.

The Marx Brothers should never be chained onto a conventional romantic comedy. In _Night at the Opera_ , the Brothers help two young lovers become Opera stars, and that had some pull, some emotional strength. In _A Day at the Races_ , the Brothers try to save a sanitarium from failing. Not exactly something to make you swoon.

Who in their right mind goes to a Marx Brothers comedy for the romantic leads? It's like watching _The Muppet Show_ without any muppets. Even poor Allan Jones, who could never fill Zeppo's shoes, lacks much of his boyish charm he demonstrated in the previous film.

I cannot say for certain if Irving Thalberg would have trimmed the fat had he lived, but I'd like to think so. His instincts have never failed him before, and the Marxes (Groucho especially) trusted him wholeheartedly. I'd like to imagine that he'd cut one or two of the extraneous dance numbers; they're very fine for MGM, but, again, what's the point?

Now, despite all this, _A Day at the Races_ is very good when the Marx Brothers are allowed to work their chaos. Margaret Dumont is again present as Groucho's romantic foil, essential as ever. And Sig Ruman demonstrates why he's perfect for playing comic villains; he reminds me a lot of Harvey Korman in _Blazing Saddles_.

For fans and comedy lovers, there is one genuinely classic routine: Chico's "Tootsy-Fruitsy Ice Cream" hustle against poor Groucho. It's wonderfully silly and ranks among their best; I don't think there's a comedy skit in any of their later movies that compares to it. Later on, there are antics with a racehorse, Chico and Harpo playing charades, and the laughably chaotic "inspection" of Margaret Dumont Dumont by all three brothers. There are a couple great Groucho gags here and there, but for me, that's about it. The rest of this picture can go jump in a lake.

Perhaps it takes a certain kind of dedicated Marx Brothers fan to be so critical and still think somewhat favorably of a movie like this. You have to battle the disappointment at the missed opportunities, the sadness that this is really the beginning of the end. Then you tell yourself to snap out of it and enjoy the good moments as they come. Just be sure to keep your trigger finger on the remote control.

### A Few Thoughts About Pixar's Cars

I have slightly mixed feelings about Pixar's new feature film, _Cars_. On the upside, the movie has a certain charm, the characters are memorable, and everything just gleams and shines. The second act features a number of favorite moments, including a touching scene where the car characters dance and sway across a newly-paved road. They're dancing for joy, prancing and weaving under neon lights and night sky, celebrating a moment of renewal, feeling alive. It's a perfect moment, one of Pixar's absolute best. The character designs are terrific, with many small touches that only car lovers will appreciate, and the voice cast is terrific, as always. This movie gets a thumbs-up just for having George Carlin in the cast.

On the downside, the script felt very formulaic. I don't remember the earlier Pixar movies relying so heavily on stock sitcom routines and predictable story structure. The first act had entirely the wrong tone; it was too loud, too fast, closer to Michael Bay than John Lasseter. And, as many critics have noted, it's all so eerily similar to the 1980s Michael J. Fox comedy _Doc Hollywood_ , down to simplistic preachy message. It's all a bit too Mayberry-ish for me, with a strong dose of deja-vu.

On the surface, _Cars is a movie_ about a hot-shot race car who learns the virtues of small-town values and develops a greater appreciation for others. On a deeper level, the movie serves as a metaphor for the Pixar studio. The film was made while the studio was ending their contract with Disney, and wondering what direction they should take. Could they break away, choose a fully independent path, and cut a distribution deal with one of the other major studios? Or should they stay with Disney, embrace the corporate behemoth with all its status and money and opportunity? This movie is really a self-portrait.

So we can forgive _Cars_ for offering an ending that's a bit of a copout. Lightning McQueen, the hero, must choose between the fast-rolling life where he's built his fame, and the small rural town that promises freedom from the rat race. And so he deliberately throws the big race, in an act of grace. He walks away from everything, like a cheerful Gary Cooper in _High Noon_ (or maybe it's Homer Simpson at Lollapalooza). But then the movie rewards him anyway, shunting aside the winner for no logical reason (it's as if the whole NASCAR world suddenly embraced small-town values), and it all feels so false. Yes, it's true that McQueen's rival is a jerk, but if we eliminated every star athlete who was a jerk, we wouldn't have any televised sports.

Lasseter and Pixar want to thread the needle, to somehow choose the best of both worlds, without the costs or sacrifice. I don't know if that's possible, or whether Disney's moves to sabotage the Pixar brand (by threatening to make their own deliberately-poor sequels to sabotage the Pixar properties they own, like a "Toy Story 3") tipped the scales towards the buyout. We don't yet know. The future is uncertain, the end is always near. And so the filmmakers choose optimism and hope for the best.

Lasseter-san and his studio are confident that they can thread that needle, that a Pixar fully owned by Disney won't become consumed by the corporate behemoth, but retain the quirky, original spirit that made them famous. We hope and pray they won't be forced to crank out soulless stinkburgers like _Home on the Range_ or _The Emperor's Groove_ in some dystopian future. Please don't turn into that. We already have Dreamworks for the soulless and cynical animation. Let Pixar be Pixar.

To his own credit, Lasseter was congratulated on _Cars_ by none other than Hayao Miyazaki. Is there anyone on Earth whose endorsement matters more? Of course not. The sensei has spoken, and nothing more needs to be said.

###  A Night at the Opera

The Marx Brothers: Groucho, Chico, Harpo, Zeppo. To anyone who loves to laugh, they are the masters. To aspiring comedians, they are mentors. To anyone with a funny bone and a rebellious streak, they are role models. For me, these are the greats. There are many wonderful movie comedies, and many wonderfully funny comedians, but the Marx Brothers tops them all.

You've done it, too, haven't you? Be honest. You've pulled out your favorite Groucho lines on your blind date. "But you know why I was with that other woman? Because she reminded me of you. Even you remind me of you." Hmm...maybe that's one to save for later in the relationship.

You've offered an annoying stranger your leg, and made silly faces like Harpo. Deep down, you wish you had his courage to chase after every pretty girl in sight. You wish you owned one of those magical trench coats that hide everything in creation.

I'll bet there are a couple times you played piano like Chico, with the funny expressions and trigger finger on the keys. What a perfect time to practice your bad Italian accent, wink at the girls, and tell that story about how you flew across the Atlantic Ocean.

And, finally, you identify with Zeppo, the straight man, the baby brother born into the family too late to properly fit in. You know he's really the funniest one in the family, just like all the quiet kids in the classroom. You'll get your chance, just like old Zep, if only for fleeting moments here and there.

There's something about great movies, in their wit and romanticism and imagination, that can make or break relationships. Everyone has a number of movies that are on their personal make-or-break list. The Marx Brothers are on mine, right up there with _Lawrence of Arabia_ , _2001: A Space Odyssey_ , and any number of classic sci-fi cheese roasted on M _ystery Science Theatre 3000_. The Marx Brothers are my heroes. They should be yours; if they aren't, well, I don't know. I'm not sure I could really trust you. Do you at least like Bugs Bunny cartoons or _Animaniacs_?

My personal favorite of the Marx's movies is _Duck Soup_ , but _A Night at the Opera_ follows closely behind. Laugh for laugh, the two are very nearly equals, and there are so many lines to memorize and add to your vocabulary. These are the role models for comic anarchy and total disrespect for authority.

_A Night at the Opera_ is notably different in tone than the earlier movies for Paramount, and this is where the friendly rivalry between Marx Brothers fans resides. Those first five films have about as much plot as a Bugs Bunny cartoon, and for many of us, this is sufficient. Once the basic situations is established - the Marxes stow away on an ocean liner, Groucho becomes President of Freedonia - we can get straight to the jokes and slapstick.

For many others, _A Night at the Opera_ is the pinnacle of that other style: the Marx Brothers in a Hollywood romantic comedy. Pure anarchy is replaced with a structured storyline, and romantic subplots between a pair of Hollywood starlets. The brothers serve a purpose beyond simply tweaking the rich and powerful; the anarchists reinvented as guardian angels.

The man responsible for this change is the Irving Thalberg, the young genius who possessed a Midas Touch during his years at MGM. While a fan of the Marx Brothers, he felt that their movies would be better served with more disciplined scripts, stories with purpose. The brothers had ended their contract with Paramount after _Duck Soup_ failed to become a hit (their earlier pictures were all enormously successful), and when Thalberg offered to take them under his wing, they jumped at the opportunity.

Under a watchful eye, _A Night at the Opera_ was assembled with Groucho, Chico, and Harpo (Zeppo retired from show business by this point) and a team of writers. Thalberg's best decision, and one that the Marxes no doubt loved, was to take the show on the road and rehearse the comedy scenes on the vaudeville stage circuit. This was a return to their stage roots, and enabled them to perfect their routines.

In this movie, you notice that the jokes are perfectly timed for audience reaction; you have time to laugh without trampling on the next punch line. Naturally, it helps that the comedy is first-rate, and so effectively integrated with the plot. Later Marx Brothers movies failed to succeed on this point, and it's one notable reason why they are so dull and witless ( _A Night in Casablanca_ being the sole exception for me).

Some of _Opera's_ funniest moments are among the funniest ever seen in the movies. Chico and Groucho debating the merits of a contract; Groucho's dinner date with Margaret Dumont, the great comic foil and de-facto fifth "Marx Brother"; the Marxes disguised as famous aviators, trying to bluff their way out of a speech; a mad scramble of furniture between two rooms, to the frustration of a policeman; and the climactic, chaotic scramble at the opera house.

And, of course, the greatest Marx Brothers routine of them all: the stateroom scene. Ah, the stateroom scene! Any aspiring comedian who professes ignorance deserves to be instantly gonged and send packing. The same goes for the rest of you.

### A Night in Casablanca

When Irving Thalberg died in 1936, the Marx Brothers were left at the mercy of a film studio that truly didn't care about them. You can see the collapsing quality of those final three MGM pictures — _At the Circus_ , _Go West_ , _The Big Store_ — for yourself, as Groucho, Chico, and Harpo were crippled with mediocre directors and worse scripts. It's heartbreaking for fans to watch, to see these masterful comedy anarchists essentially reduced to bit roles in second-hand B-movies.

After 1939's _The Big Store_ , the trio finally called it a day. Thankfully, they made something of a comeback in 1946 with _A Night in Casablanca_. This is a very enjoyable picture that plays very much like a reunion tour of a favorite band from yesteryear. It tends to be overlooked in the Marx Bros. canon, which is a little unfair, because it does deserve your attention.

We'll gloss over the exposition over the plot, which thankfully is over fairly quickly, and we'll forget about the poor romantic lead, which becomes almost completely forgotten by the time Groucho shows up. Let's just enjoy watching these aging greats bounce around and wreak havoc once more, for old times' sake.

_A Night in Casablanca_ is essentially a reunion of classic hits ("Don't worry, this isn't the first time I've been in a closet," quips Groucho, evoking a similar routine from _Monkey Business_ ), and our joy comes from watching our favorite comedians crack wise and mug for the camera. This is the proper farewell that they were denied in _The Big Store_. It's impressive that these brothers, pushing 60 years of age and certainly looking it, can still move at the crackerjack pace of their younger days.

This film plays very much like a collection of greatest hits, and what's here is spot-on: Groucho's barrage of wisecracks, Chico at the piano, Harpo munching on a teacup. The jokes come at a fast clip, full of that old spark, and there are a good number of punch lines that you'll want to memorize and try out on family and friends.

The script was written by Joseph Fields and Rolands Kibbee, who certainly were Marx fans, and director Archie Mayo was a veteran of studio comedies. They clearly enjoyed themselves, felt relaxed and comfortable with the material, and it shows. The plot is completely meaningless, as always, this time involving antics at the Hotel Casablanca (presumably next door to Rick's Cafe) and stolen Nazi loot. Thankfully, the serious bits are more in the background than the average MGM Marx movie, and waste little time. This movie plays out like a lengthy and very well-written episode of _Animaniacs_.

It should be noted that Sig Ruman plays a great comic foil as a Nazi on the run, just as he was great in _Night at the Opera_ and _Day at the Races_. I really enjoy watching him work, his comedic timing, his frustrated facial quirks. Lisette Verea does a decent job as his accomplice, trying to seduce Groucho, but, let's be honest, she's not in the same league as Thelma Todd and Margaret Dumont. She's basically there as a romantic magnet for Groucho's put-downs and one-liners, but little else. Daisy Dumont should have been brought back for this farewell movie.

No doubt it feels slightly cliched to point out that A Night in Casablanca is the best Marx Bros. movie since A Night at the Opera, and the trio's best comedy since Irving Thalberg died. It's a wonderful surprise, like a late-career surge from your favorite aging rock band. You don't really expect Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton or The Rolling Stones to deliver greatness in their old age. You're happy just to have them around and remember their glory days. Yet once in a great while, they surprise you, and remind you what made them great.

This movie is available on DVD for a ridiculously low price, roughly the price of a sandwich, which makes it a no-brainer for fans of classic movie comedies. Highly recommended.

### Angel's Egg (Tenshi no Tamago)

I must admit that this anime film has been on my "must see" list for years, but I've never found the time to watch it. One of these days, I must resolve this minor problem.

_Angel's Egg_ ( _Tenshi no Tamago_ ) is a 1985 art-house film that is a joint collaboration between cinema maverick Mamoru Oshii and prominent visual artist Yoshitaka Amano (of _Final Fantasy_ fame). The surrealist imagery, meditative pacing and sparse dialog — it almost qualifies as a silent film — have earned it cult status among animation lovers. Anime scholar Helen McCarthy hailed _Angel's Egg_ as a "masterpiece of symbolic filmmaking." What is this abstract movie about? I cannot say. I suspect this is the kind of film where every frame is subject to interpretation, and each viewer will have their own, unique perspective to share. Movies like this are more like mirrors into the soul than anything.

Certainly not for everyone, _Angel's Egg_ is a cult film and deservedly so. I don't believe it has ever been commercially released in the US. Mamoru Oshii is often a difficult character to crack, veering from animation to live-action, action spectacle to experimental brooding. When he says that this movie nearly wrecked his career in the 1980s, one can never tell if that's a complaint, or pride. "The Stray Dog of Anime" lives to suffer for his art.

A Blu-Ray is currently available in Japan, and screenshots reveal excellent, very sharp and detailed pictures. I wonder if a US release could be possible? Apart from digital streaming, the best candidate for a physical release would be Discotek Media, the humble indie label that takes pride in releasing slightly obscure, out-of-mainstream movies. I'm very interested to learn what today's anime fans think. Any takers? Any _Angel's Egg_ fans out there?

### The Boondock Saints

You know that _Simpsons_ episode with Mel Gibson? The one where Homer complains about how much he hates Mel's new remake of _Mr. Smith Goes to Washington_ , and then gets to completely remake it as a bloodthirsty revenge flick? Sometimes I openly wonder if today's kids understand satire. When Mel Gibson decapitates the President and impales a Congressman with the American flag, it's supposed to be a joke. They're making fun of violent, pointless action movies. Get it?

Sigh. We are churning out a generation of college students who expect nothing more from the movies than explosions, fart jokes and bullets. Ours is a generation that is remarkably spoiled, and we're turning fat and lazy, crude and stupid. How many have never seen a great movie in their lives? How many have seen a movie made before they were born ( _Star Wars_ doesn't count). When your diet consists entirely of junk food, you believe that junk food is all there is to life, and it makes for a very poor diet.

It's a primary reason why young adults in America can shuffle in front of television screens for a bloody action flick like _The Boondock Saints_. They're being served six-month-old leftovers from the same stupid action movies they've been raised on. What is on the menu tonight? Cheap gangster stereotypes? Pretty boys who pose with their guns? Revenge fantasies given some false veneer with religious imagery? Slow motion shootouts? Just what is the point here? It's as if Troy Duffy, the writer-director, is pouring the worst cliches of _Pulp Fiction_ , _Taxi Driver_ , and _The Matrix_ into a blender, and expecting us to ask for seconds. You could almost accept is as cheesy satire, and enjoy it like all those old Ed Wood movies, but _Boondock Saints_ is far too pompous and full of itself. Duffy shoots scenes as though he's reinventing cinema; he really does believe all this pointless violence is profound and meaningful. Spare me.

You know when your movie has lost all sense of respect? When poor Willem Dafoe is reduced to flailing about and walking around in drag. When a much-feared hitman turns out to be comedian Billy Connolly (alright, I'll admit this part was pretty cool). When three men, standing less than ten feet apart, start shooting at one another and no one gets hit. When Ron Jeremy shows up.

The background story of Troy Duffy is actually more interesting, as told in the 2003 documentary _Overnight_. Duffy was a bartender with a rock band and a screenplay, who in 1997 was courted by Miramax to make into a feature. Despite the fact that he had no filmmaking experience, he is handed everything he wants on a silver platter, including the director's chair.

One would expect him to be grateful and eager to prove himself, but Duffy proved far too brash and arrogant. His rock-star trip proved his undoing, causing friction with Miramax until they pulled out of the deal completely, leaving him with nothing. Eventually, _Boondock Saints_ was picked up by Franchise Films for half the original budget. The movie was submitted to Sundance, but failed to qualify, and eventually played on a handful of screens.

Which brings us back to the _Boondock_ DVD, which achieved cult classic status among our best and brightest who enjoy killing brain cells on a _Grand Theft Auto_ revenge flick. I don't want to be grouchy with the kids; I'm already sounding like a senile Grandfather already. that said, you should know better. Your lives are short, and your minds are precious. You must treasure them, and make them grow, not drown them in crude psychosis. Listen to some good music, read a few books. Travel the world and have exciting adventures. And discover some great movies; a really great movie that fills you with life, not one that drowns in death. Bang Bang Bang, Eff This, Eff That. You can do better.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to shake my fist at this passing cloud before it's time for _Matlock_. Maaatlock!!

### Bullitt

_Bullitt_ is probably best remembered as the Movie with the Cool Car Chase. This 1968 Steve McQueen film is famous for its furiously exciting chase sequence through the streets of San Francisco, and it's no surprise that countless filmmakers felt inspired to try and top it. When watching on a big screen, I doubt anyone ever has succeeded. I don't think action movie fans can die at peace until they've seen the _Bullitt_ car chase in a theatre.

Beyond that, the actual movie itself is far less satisfying for me personally. The plot centers on Steve McQueen as a cliched break-all-the-rules tough cop who is assigned to protect a star witness before his appearance with a top-level government inquiry. The plot is paper-thin and of little consequence; it is merely a vehicle for an assortment of fight scenes and chases and dumb violence. I could care less. It's the exact same storyline from practically every cop show made in my lifetime, recycled as _Dirty Harry_ and _Death Wish_ and _Lethal Weapon_ , as Sly Stallone and Governor Arnold, as Chuck Norris and Steven Seagal, as _McBain_ and _McGonagle_ and a hundred and one _Simpson's_ parodies. One could argue, of course, that _Bullit_ paved the way for the genre of renegade cop dramas, and deserves a measure of respect. This would be a reasonable argument. I just never found the premise very compelling or inspiring. Pioneering or no, _Bullitt's_ drama feels dry, devoid of passion, almost robotic. _Bullit_ is advertised as a sizzling pepper steak but really tastes like a lukewarm bowl of soup.

Paving the way for white man revenge fantasies is not a good thing. Director Peter Yates seems to inject a sense of social commentary among the violence. But it always struck me as a little odd, the lingering shots of death and devastation; it's in keeping with the social themes of the 1960s-era films. The movie enjoys to linger on its depiction of violence, but then wishes to scold you for looking. Steve McQueen cooly kills and then goes home, stars at his bathroom mirror, his eyes weary. He's like Clint Eastwood's _Dirty Harry_ infused with Catholic Guilt.

Is this a fair assessment of this movie. Perhaps, perhaps not. The simple answer is that I'm probably overthinking everything, and was probably in a grouchy mood the last time I watched the DVD. So, to stay optimistic and hopeful, here's the short, happy review: _Bullitt_ is the movie with the spectacular, must-see car chase. Everything else in the picture, meh. Your mileage may vary.

### But You're So Much Fun: Thoughts on Satoshi Kon's Paprika

#### I.

It probably helps you if you can go outside and walk for a while after seeing a good picture like _Paprika_. You'll need the time to sort everything out and figure out just where your loyalties lie. You'll certainly need to think your way through its mindbender of a story.

I saw Satoshi Kon's latest feature at the Lagoon Theatre in Uptown Minneapolis, which is the only independent theatre chain in the Twin Cities. Apart from the Landmark theater chain, it's nearly all multiplexes where I live. This is our sole source for any independent or foreign movie to protect ourselves against the never-ending assault of stupidity and crass swill we call American Pop Culture.

I'm pointing all this out as a reminder to myself not to get too critical, and also to remind everyone just how difficult it is when you're not living in a major city. You're at the mercy of big studios' summer cartoons: _Shrek 3_ , _Spider-Man 3_ , _Pirates of the Caribbean 3_ , _Fantastic Four 2_ , _Surf's Up_ (aka "Penguin Movie 3"), _Hostel 2_ , yadda yadda. The idea of an animation film that's not a franchise sequel, intelligent, provocative, or visually inventive — instead of sensory overload — is completely foreign to Americans. How did things ever get so bad?

Satoshi Kon is one of the smartest filmmakers around today. His are the kind of psychologically-driven character tales that great American directors once tackled. We used to make these sort of movies, albeit live-action. A whole generation of Americans are accustomed to expect movies to be little more than toy commercials, videogame demos, wall-to-wall explosions, and fart jokes. Mike Judge's _Idiocracy_ may one day be seen as prophesy, the way we now see Sidney Lumet's _Network_. Who wants some Big Ass Fries?! Oy vey, help us.

Kon's previous feature was _Tokyo Godfathers_ in 2003, and it was a spellbinding, poignant, and endlessly funny adaptation of John Ford's _Three Godfathers_. It was one of the year's best. And yet it was only shown in Minneapolis for one weekend, at the U of M Film Society, after being suddenly bumped from the Lagoon. When I attended, there were only three or four others in the seats of a tiny auditorium. And then we wonder why anime remains such a niche product, and why animation in this country will never grow up.

There's a reason you see nothing but junk food on the shelves, folks. Junk food is all that you consume. It's as simple as that. No corporatist conspiracy theories, no nightmare scenarios of Dick Cheney hacking into your brain for impure thoughts, no Ned Beatty howling about the primal forces of nature. You're stuck with _Shrek the Third_ because you shelled out good money for _Shrek the Second_ , and you didn't show up for _Tokyo Godfathers_. Or _Innocence_. Or _Triplets of Belleville_. Or _Osamu Tezuka's Metropolis_. Or _Howl's Moving Castle_. There are alternatives, but they've been ignored.

There's a thought, lurking somewhere in the back of my mind, that I could make a short movie about frat boys farting on a couch, and it would become a blockbuster smash hit. It's got all the ingredients: frat boys, lots of farting, lots of different sound effects for farting, and an old, beat-up couch. Heck, let's set the story at a college party, just to see how all the hot chicks freak out. It'll be the biggest thing since _Scary Movie, Part 6_. Or maybe that's supposed to be _Leonard, Part 6_. I forget.

Pauline Kael often extolled the virtues of trolling through the movie trash. What the heck would she say about the state of things today? I sincerely hope that, if her soul still lives somewhere in creation, she's far enough away so she can't see us.

All of which brings us back to _Paprika_. The movie arrived in town last week, and I didn't attend on the opening night as I usually do with foreign animated features, so I can't comment on how folks have seen it. But when I walked into the theatre this afternoon, I was practically the only one there. Only three or four others arrived at all. Again. I'm beginning to think our tiny group **is** the local anime scene.

This movie has, to date, grossed a little over $340,000. _Shrek the Third_ has raked in **one hundred times** that amount. Remember what John Lennon once said, kids: _War is over, if you want it._ Right now, that's a pretty big "if."

#### II.

Now here's my favorite moment in _Paprika_. It's not one of the dazzling effects pieces, or any of the surreal dream sequences. It's just a short confessional between two main characters. One is a computer geek, a comically overweight man who invents things with the mind of a child. The other is a woman who's the head of her department, all work and all business. Alright, she's the main character in the movie. The one in that screenshot up there. Like any of you will be able to see it in a theatre.

Anyway, the good doctor Chiba Atsuko has pulled the dreamy, chubby inventor, Tokita Kosaku, out of an elevator, a dream-world reenactment of an earlier scene in the waking life. She's always known of his affection for her, and she's remained friendly yet at a distance. But here she has finally let her guard down and chosen sides.

With her arms around him, she recounts all of her stock refusals, her excuses for resisting him. You're a slob. You eat everything. Looks aren't everything, but there is a limit. And through all this he nods and sheepishly agrees. Yes, yes, I know.

She exhausts her lines, her denials to herself, then leans in closer with a faint smile, and whispers out to him, "But you're so much fun." It's a sublime moment, the best damn line in the whole movie. If Charles Chaplin were still alive, bless him, he'd be leaving the theatre with tears in his eyes.

_Paprika_ deals with a lot of characters dealing with their own inner impulses and urges and repressed desires, and it's driven by an internal action that's only accentuated by the action on screen. This may surprise folks saw the trailer, and expected another action thriller, something on par with _The Matrix_ or Mamoru Oshii's movies. That's not really the case, which is to say that you're not completely off the mark. This is a deeply visual film, deeply surreal and stylized. But I don't think we're seeing another animated roller coaster ride. I think Kon's interest is in the psychology and emotions of the characters.

In that sense, Kon really is the successor to Isao Takahata, that greatest of all animation directors. I came away from _Tokyo Godfathers_ with that strong suspicion, and _Paprika_ , while a completely different kind of film, still confirms it. It's a psychological thriller in the purest sense, a mind-bender that really understands the mind.

#### III.

A bit about the plot, if just for formality's sake. A psychology institute develops a futuristic machine, the DC Mini, which enables one with the power to enter another's dream. The device is intended for therapy sessions, as doctor and patient travel through the REM landscapes, while other doctors watch all on their computer screens. Pass the popcorn, wait for the trailers. Have I mentioned that this dream has a sequel?

Things become complicated. DC Minis are used unofficially, for recreational purposes. One or more devices may be stolen, an act immediately blamed on "terrorism," but admitted to be an inside job. Dreams are invaded, stolen, and inserted into unwilling people. The lines between the dream state and the waking state becomes blurred, then completely shattered. And a growing collective dream threatens to overwhelm everything.

At this point, it's easy to say that most viewers — certainly in the case of the movie critics — will become lost on the story, and just enjoy the highly surreal animation. Take it all in as a post-millennial trip, loaded up on paranoia, conspiracy, and suppressed dreams. And I'm not one to be critical of that, if you enjoy yourself and have a good time. This is a spectacularly visual movie, after all; certainly at the peak of Japanese animation.

But I think you'll miss out on a lot of deeper ideas if you just expect pretty pictures. _Paprika_ is about as surrealist as any movie gets these days, but it's an honest surrealism, fueled by the ideas of Freud and Jung, one eye on the days of medical LSD experiments, the other on our modern obsession with escapism and fantasy. Wouldn't it be wonderful to share another person's dream, Tokita asks. Well, Kon responds, we already possess that miracle. It's called the movies.

What makes _Paprika_ work as an idea film is the way all these common motifs, of movies as a dream factory, the internet as a virtual world, dreams as a window into the soul, the realization of archetypes, and the inner selves that we never reveal to others in the waking world. It's extremely smart. Too smart? Eh, maybe, maybe not. I'd rather have too smart than too stupid.

One major subplot involves a middle-aged detective, himself something of a movie archetype. He's haunted by terrible nightmares, a fusion of Fellini and Kurosawa, brought upon by an unsolvable case, and his own repressed past. His whole life is wrapped in movies; when the dream and waking worlds melt together, he's the one who's most able to adapt, because he's been playing the role his whole life.

I'm reminded of the Howard Beale speech in _Network_ : you people have been watching the tube for so long, you're beginning to think the tube is real, and your own lives are fiction.

The title character is, likewise, an archetype avatar for the dream world, but she's also the idealized version the repressed Dr. Atsuko has of herself. Both are roles she plays to the hilt, and like everything else in this movie, you can't tell which one is real, and which one is the illusion.

Which one gave birth to the other? That's one of the central questions Kon poses, right up to the end. We should probably figure that answer out, before our fantasy worlds overwhelm us completely and we find ourselves turned into empty shells.

#### IV.

And now, finally, dear readers, the things I didn't like about _Paprika_. I'm still telling myself to go easy, and overlook the flaws, but we need some way to end this thing before it really gets out of hand. I haven't even gone into all the ways the movie mines Japanese culture, from the modern pop obsession with giant robots and monster attacks, to their traditional, ancient mythology, which is pretty damned surrealist, too, if you think of it. And why am I reminded so much of Takahata's _Pom Poko_ , which famously explored Japan's archetypal past?

Whatever. Here's my big beef. The last 20 minutes or so dissolve into a series of big-budget action scenes that never quite fit. Chases, loud music, big villain, lots of explosions. What's the deal with this? Practically every movie nowadays finds itself stuck in the end, and can't find any way to resolve it without resorting to that other movie archetype, the Death Star Battle. Let's just end it all on a big action scene, and all is fine.

Except it's not. The original _Matrix_ ( _Paprika's_ spiritual cousin) had this problem. _The Incredibles_ was saddled with it. You can't have an idea movie that ends on a Death Star Battle. Big huge chase, end everything with a bang, everyone is happy and back to normal at the end. Every movie turns into a videogame in the final 20 minutes, and frankly, I'm tired of it. Maybe it's just me. I'm due back at the nursing home, so I'm feeling a touch grouchy.

And I don't like the cheap melodrama of the bad guy. Why is there a "bad guy" in a movie like this? What was his whole point for causing trouble in the first place? Why couldn't he be treated as another screwed up human being, like the others? Shouldn't a movie that calls attention to the mechanisms of the movies not rely on those mechanisms as well?

That said, the surrealist scene of a girl devouring an old man, and growing in his place, is a really great image.

But that's _Paprika_. She's so damned complicated. Hardly anybody understands you. You're stuck between being an idea film and an action film. Nobody really buys into that villain. And that plot framework really was just an excuse to set everything in motion. If I try to think rationally, try to think critically, I could really spell out all of your flaws.

But you're so much fun.

### The Continuing Adventures of Bungalow Bill (or, Insert Your Favorite Beatles Titles Here)

(Author's Note: In early 2016, I was asked to write the prologue to the book _Antes de Mi Vecino Miyazaki: El Origen de Studio Ghibli_. Written by Alvaro Lopez Martin and Marta Garcia Villar, this book chronicles the animated films of Japanese anime masters Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata, specifically, the works created before the founding of Studio Ghibli in 1985 (a companion volume, _Mi Vecino Miyazaki_ , chronicles the Ghibli period). My essay was translated and the book was published in Spain to great success. I present my essay here in its original English.)

#### I.

Meeting a Studio Ghibli fan in the West is a lot like meeting a teenage fan of John Lennon who has never heard of The Beatles. You listen to him rave about how much he loves _Imagine_ , but when he describes it as "Lennon's First Album," you stop and look puzzled. You almost feel sorry for the poor kid who's completely missed out.

So let us start, briefly, at the beginning. In 1965, Japan's premier animation studio, Toei Doga, was busy producing their eighth feature film, _Gulliver's Space Travels_. It was their first movie created with an international audience in mind, drawing inspiration of Jonathan Swift's _Gulliver's Travels_ books.

Toei President Hiroshi Okawa founded the animation studio in 1956 with the dream of becoming "the Walt Disney of Japan," sharing his nation's rich cultural heritage with the rest of the world, and showcasing the innovative talents of his animators. These animators had studied the pioneers of Western animation, from Disney to Fleischer and all points in between, but they were slowly developing new ideas for animation theory, encouraging all staff members, regardless of status, to suggest story ideas.

One young man jumped at the opportunity, an inbetween animator who was hired two years prior and trained by the studio's teachers. Despite his entry-level position, the young animator was bursting at the seams with energy and ideas, and he had a bold idea: he wanted to change the ending to the movie.

_Gulliver's Space Travels_ is an outer-space adventure about a young boy named Ted who joins up with a grandfatherly Gulliver for an adventure to the stars. They discover an alien world where a race of robotic puppets are oppressed by a sinister race of evil robots from an adjacent world. Armed with a water pistol and an assortment of cartoon friends, Ted and Gulliver rescue the puppet princess, defeat the invading machines and bring peace to the realm.

This rookie animator had a novel idea: Instead of merely rescuing the world of puppets, what would happen if the princess, and all her people, were not puppets at all, but humans trapped inside by their robot overlords? When the princess is rescued, her shell could be cracked open with water, revealing a young human girl inside.

The young man's name, of course, was Hayao Miyazaki. The studio, and his peers, quickly took notice of his talents, and he soon rose to key animation, first with television, later on the classic Toei features _Puss in Boots_ , _Animal Treasure Island_ (a Miyazaki film in all but name) and _Ali Baba & the 40 Thieves_. All that was needed was a partner to whom he could bounce his endless ideas. He found that partner in another young man everybody cheerfully called _Paku-san_.

(ProTip: A shot from this climactic scene in _Gulliver's Space Travels_ would be directly quoted over twenty years later in _My Neighbor Totoro_ , in the shot where Mei pokes Totoro's tail. Such riffs are staples of these animated films, like endless Easter Eggs in your backyard, waiting to be discovered.)

#### II.

Isao Takahata was gifted with a prodigious mind: precise, logical, widely curious. He was courted by Toei Doga while still a university student, and joined the movie studio in 1959 as part of the director's department.

I have never understood fully why Takahata chose animation as his muse. He could have easily made a career as a live-action director, having worked on two of Toei's live-action television series during his assistant director's internship. He was clearly inspired by documentary film, the Italian Neorealists, the French New Wave. He cites the French animator Paul Grimault as a primary influence on his work and ideas. Perhaps he sought a greater challenge. His grand vision required nothing less than a transformation of the medium itself: a fusion of hand-drawn animation with live-action sensibilities. Such a thing had never existed before.

Takahata won the respect of the Toei bosses and quickly rose through the ranks. He earned his first directing role on _Wolf Boy Ken_ , Toei Doga's first television cartoon series (a direct response to Osamu Tezuka and Mushi Productions' _Tetsuwan Atom_ , aka "Astro Boy"), and also directed the opening title sequence for _Hustle Punch_. In 1965, after the completion of _Gulliver's Space Travels_ , animator Yasuo Otsuka was named the animation director for Toei's next feature animated film. Otsuka agreed on one condition: that his friend Paku-san would direct the picture. The studio agreed, the die was cast.

Takahata immediately set to work. As the president of the Toei animators union, he had built friendships with many notable talents, including Yasuo Otsuka, Yasuji Mori, Yoichi Kotabe, Reiko Okuyama, and Hayao Miyazaki. Paku-san revealed his master plan: to create a feature animated film that would inspire the rising youth generation, address the political and social themes of the times, and carry the banner for the union's values of democratic socialism. And they would create a thrilling spectacle never before seen in Japan.

Perhaps we are being romantic. Perhaps Paku-san didn't seek to spark a revolution. He certainly never wished to wage war against his studio bosses. But revolution was at hand, for the studio and Japanese animation. _And the war came_.

The movie we refer to, of course, is _The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun_. It is famous for its long and turbulent production, which lasted over two-and-one-half years, consumed over twice its original budget, and used 150,000 animation cels, an astonishing number for Japanese animation (that record would finally be broken by Katsuhiro Otomo's 1988 landmark _Akira_ ). The original running time was cut by one-fourth. The original title was rejected by the studio for being too controversial (Takahata changed the name but secretly kept the story intact). Several child-friendly cartoon characters were imposed into the story. Two action sequences were never animated.

The finished film was met with the worst box-office returns of any Toei Doga feature. In the aftermath, many staff members were demoted and reshuffled, including Isao Takahata, who was sent back to television to direct several children's cartoon shows.

#### III.

As we all know, this story does not end here. _Horus, Prince of the Sun_ emerged not as an embarrassing failure, but a groundbreaking masterpiece. It introduced the auteur theory of directing to Japanese animation, as well as complex characters, and adult situations. This movie introduced frame-rate modulation, richly complicated frame compositions, and a fully three-dimensional virtual "camera" that simulates specific lenses and shots. This movie fused psychological realism with an expressionist use of character and background art to show conflicted hearts and minds. This is the movie that liberated Japan from the Walt Disney archetype, creating a new and unique brand of animation known, simply, as _anime_.

Most importantly, _Horus_ marks the first real collaboration in the famed partnership between Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki, one that would continue across five decades. Their director-animator partnership was one of teacher and student in the 1970s; this would grow into a producer-director partnership in the 1980s and 1990s. Eventually, the two filmmakers' paths had diverged too far for collaborations, and they learned to respect one another's space. But they have always maintained their friendship and mutual respect for one another.

In 1971, Takahata and Miyazaki left Toei to join up with Yasuo Otsuka at A Productions studio, working as the "directors team" on another groundbreaking, ahead-of-its-time anime, _Lupin the 3rd_. This would be Miyazaki's directorial debut, and many episode ideas would later be incorporated into his 1979 feature film, _Lupin the 3rd: The Castle of Cagliostro_ (a movie which was a direct sequel to the original series).

During this time, Takahata (director), Miyazaki (layout, design, ideas) and Yoichi Kotabe (animation director, character design) joined together to create an animated series based on _Pippi Longstockings_ , a project which famously collapsed when author Astrid Lindgren refused to grant the rights. Many of the story and character ideas would find themselves incorporated into the joyous and endearing _Panda Kopanda_ short films in 1972 and 1973. The trio then carefully crafted together another animated series, one that not only aired, but became a worldwide sensation, finally realizing Hiroshi Okawa's vision of sharing Japanese animation with the world. It's name, of course: _Heidi, Girl of the Alps_.

_Heidi_ spearheaded what would become known as _World Masterpiece Theater_ , a beloved staple of Japanese television. The trio of Takahata-Miyazaki-Kotabe would return again in 1976 with _3000 Leagues in Search of Mother_ (aka _Marco_ ), a series that pushed animated character melodrama to its absolute limits. Its epic landscapes and large cast of characters, complete with interweaving storylines, and its wrenching emotional intensity, make _Marco_ a masterpiece. But it lacks _Heidi's_ enthusiastic optimism, as Takahata exerted greater creative control. The strains eventually caused the band to break up.

Interestingly, at this time, Miyazaki began character sketches and story ideas for a lighthearted children's tale featuring three large woodland animals who make friends with a young girl. The story would eventually be made into the Studio Ghibli feature _My Neighbor Totoro_.

By 1978, Hayao Miyazaki was ready to fly solo, and the result is one of his most enduring classics: _Future Boy Conan_. A continuation of the cliffhanger-serial adventure comic style of _Puss in Boots_ and _Animal Treasure Island_ , _Conan_ is thrilling, tense, endlessly funny. It shows a great maturation from his early period, both in the story pacing and its themes. The series aired on Japan's NHK network, beginning a partnership with the director that continues to this day.

In 1979, Takahata persuaded Miyazaki to return for _Anne of Green Gables_ , the third in their WMT trilogy. Young animator Yoshifumi Kondo, who began his career on the 1971 _Lupin_ series, replaced Kotabe as animation director. The series is a masterful rendition of Maud Montgomery's classic book, utilizing Takahata's trademark neorealism and psychological fantasy, with a heavy dose of romanticism.

After thirteen episodes, Miyazaki bowed out after being given the opportunity to direct an animated feature film, _The Castle of Cagliostro_. As with _Conan_ , Yasuo Otsuka served as animation director, and this movie played like a summation of the decade, with obvious influences and riffs from _Lupin '71_ , _Heidi_ and _Conan_. It's a terrific caper movie, perfectly lean and trim and without a dull moment. It also carries a weary mood, portraying a hero who feels trapped in his life of endless adventures. _La Dolce Vita_ comes to mind.

This mood becomes eerily prophetic as well; _Cagliostro_ , like _Future Boy Conan_ , was not a commercial success, and thus began a long and difficult period for Hayao Miyazaki, which includes the second _Lupin_ television series, the _Sherlock Hound_ series (which was famously scuttled after only six episodes were completed), and the US/Japan _Nemo_ film production. By 1983, the director's career appeared all but dead, and so he retreated to his first love: Japanese manga comics. Specifically, a weekly serial in Animage Magazine called... _Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind_.

Takahata, meanwhile, proved far more stable during this period of 1977-83. In 1981, he directed the masterful family comedy _Jarinko Chie_ , with Otsuka and Kotabe both serving as animation directors. The movie no doubt inspired _My Neighbors the Yamadas_ with its episodic structure and family drama, but Chie is more tightly focused, and is also a love letter to the city of Kobe. The success of the film led to a TV series, where Takahata served as "general director," which means he oversaw the production and guided the series, but did not direct any specific episodes.

In 1982, _Gauche the Cellist_ was released by the Oh Productions studio, after a long six-year gestation as a labor of love. It's a masterful, sweet, sparse film, one that fuses the music of Beethoven's _Pastorale_ to the poems of Japanese poet Kenji Miyazawa. The entire movie is the work of three men: Takahata, Shunji Saida (animation director, key animation) and Kenji Matsumoto (background art). Another trio. Another fusion of the arts. Another emotionally overwhelming masterpiece.

#### IV.

Hayao Miyazaki is a dynamic, emotional character, and I think that's why I enjoy his films so much. His turbulence is part of what makes him such a compelling storyteller. You're caught up in the whirlwind of his life and ideals and passions, largely because that drama fuels his personal storytelling style. He is the youthful idealist who becomes the disappointed cynic; the young _Horus_ who grows into _Porco Rosso_. He's the young comics artist who learns to ask deep, probing questions. He's the escapist who seeks complex meaning. And he's always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Paku-san, meanwhile, is always rock-steady, "walking logic," as Mamoru Oshii once described. He has met many hardships, particularly his early years, but we weathers them calmly. You can appreciate his patience in creating, for example, _The Tale of Princess Kaguya_ , when you understand just how difficult it was to create _Horus_ , or _Heidi_ , _Marco_ and _Anne_. True, he has strained the patience of many a producer with his deliberate, measured pace, his willingness to break budgets and schedules. But look at the results. Look at all the masterpieces.

When you gaze upon the Sistine Chapel, you never think to yourself whether Michelangelo was behind schedule or using too many paints or missing too many deadlines. All you can think is, "Good Lord, the genius of the man. What genius!"

If you are only familiar with the films of Studio Ghibli, then I am happy to report that you have missed half the symphony. An entire first half awaits your discovery, one whose works completely define and influence the second. Discovering each film forces you to reexamine the later ones in a new light, draw out new ideas or themes, illuminate new facets to the stories. Go watch _Horus_ and _Animal Treasure Island_. Go watch _Lupin_ and _Conan_. Go watch _Heidi_ , _Marco_ , _Anne_.

Studio Ghibli is a link in a long chain, one that extends back to Oh Pro, Telecom, Nippon Animation, A Pro, and finally Toei Doga. It's all part of a long conversation full of humor and tragedy and depths of meaning. What does _Imagine_ mean to you after you've finally discovered _Rubber Soul_? A lot. Welcome to Pepperland, Ringo. Glad you could join us.

### The Corporation

_The Corporation_ is doing surprisingly brisk business here in Minneapolis. By the time I finally managed to catch a show, I had already been turned away twice because the theatre had sold out, and once I was inside, I had to scramble to find a seat.

The lines around the block is good news for everyone who was overjoyed by the overwhelming success of Michael Moore's _Fahrenheit 9/11_. That film touched a nerve in America, and people are searching for an encore, for the next documentary polemic. Left-of-the-dial voters are angry and they're looking for alternative voices. This documentary seems to be striking a similar vein in the public consciousness.

Jennifer Abbott and Mark Achbar, the film's directors, are sure to be happy for their good timing. _The Corporation_ made a successful run on the film festival circuit (including the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Film Festival, where it won the top prize), and now Michael Moore's clout will enable it to reach audiences that otherwise would never have noticed.

I think this is a good movie, an important movie, but it isn't a great movie. It could have been if the filmmakers were more disciplined or more focused, and willing to let the audience draw its own conclusions. Watching this film is like listening to an impassioned preacher deliver a long sermon; you enjoy the sermon, you mostly agree with what you hear, but eventually you just become worn out. The preaching just goes on and on and on. You just want to wrap things up and get home in time for football, but the minister keeps pulling out another three chapters to read.

Perhaps the overall tone of the film brought this about. _The Corporation_ serves as a laundry list of corporate abuses and crimes in the name of relentless profits, and the damage wrought over the past century. We see Bovine Growth Hormones, pollution of land, air, and water, third world sweatshop labor, cruelty to animals, chemicals on the farms, chemicals in our hair, chemicals in our food, strip-mining, fossil fuels that cause global warming, genetic manipulation, genetic mutations, birth defects, the explosion of cancer.

We learn the history of corporations, from its humble roots to the infamous Supreme Court decision, argued in the name of the then-new 14th Constitutional Amendment, that declared corporations the status of "legal personhood." The catch: these "persons" have resources far beyond any flesh-and-blood humans, and far greater influence. And we witness global corporations evolve into the fiefdoms and robber barons of our time, looting resources, abusing workers, and always obsessed with profit, profit, profit.

One great moment — visually the best moment in the film — shows a stack of legal documents of corporate malfeasance in an office. The camera pulls back, and it slowly reveals row after row of boxes and documents. The room becomes a warehouse, and its sheer size overwhelms you The rows of shelves, the endless damning evidence of criminal abuse and recklessness, it just goes on and on and on, and seemingly never ends.

You watch all the evidence, and you listen to CEO's, activists, and progressive heroes like Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky, and one cannot help but feeling more than a little hopeless. The mood of _The Corporation_ is almost one of despair. There's that sadness and anger you felt when watching _Fahrenheit 9/11_ , but this time you feel so overwhelmed. What else can you feel when you realize that a handful of international businesses could someday own the DNA to all human life, even all life on Earth? Is literally everything for sale? When you confront poisons in our food, mass extinctions of species, depletion of natural resources, runaway global climate change...do we even have a future? Are we, as a civilization, truly doomed?

This, I think, is where the filmmakers felt a need to change the tone. They need to show something uplifting, something that can motivate the audiences and inspire them to their cause. Abbott and Achbar show us success stories and remind us of Gandhi and King; they show us activists and protesters around the world who have fought for living wages, clean water, and have resisted privatization of natural resources and genetically-modified crops. This helps. But it feels like cheering up the victims on the sinking Titanic: symbolic gestures, too little and too late.

I suspect you understand my fatigue with _The Corporation_. It isn't the length that wore me down, but the sheer repetition of it all. One of the basic rules of filmmaking is that you say what you need to in the shortest time possible. This picture is at least twenty minutes too long; I'd definitely drop the last two or three reels. I just felt like I was being clubbed over the head with a Wiffle Bat, and I sympathize with the directors. I believe in their cause. I just don't want to hear the Fire and Brimstone sermon any longer. It's all so overwhelming, like staring into an infinite abyss, like staring into the jaws of death itself.

I need a hug.

### Down on Skid Row

_Skid Row_ is a documentary movie that chronicles the lost era of downtown Minneapolis and its fabled "skid row" in the heart of the old city. It was filmed between 1955 and 1961 by John Bacich, a World War II veteran and successful real estate businessman who owned a bar and several "flophouse" hotels along Washington Avenue. He shot movies of his neighborhood patrons on 8mm film, and in the late 1980s, assembled his footage into a 30-minute short film, complete with running commentary of his memories.

This is a haunting documentary, deeply moving, and full of the human experience: tragedy, despair, misery, urban decay, but also humor, warmth, and the genuine compassion of Bacich, who was dubbed "Johnny Rex," the "King of Skid Row." It depicts an important part of American history that has now vanished. It is one of the most humane documentary films I have ever seen. Its power resonates and echoes in your heart and mind. I pray for the souls of these sad, lost men, as though they were here with me today, trapped in Purgatory and awaiting Salvation.

The Minneapolis Gateway district was the original heart of the old city, the merging of its three main avenues along the Mississippi River: Washington, Hennepin and Lyndale. Because its railroads lay nearby, this area became a source for cheap, easily exploitable labor — the "day laborers." These men would work for the rail yards and trains for a short period of time, days, weeks or even months. Their temporary status prevented them from joining labor unions, thus keeping them poor and powerless. Ordinances were passed to force all the city's liquor stores into the Gateway, and closed everywhere else. Police drove criminal elements — drugs and prostitution — into the growing slums, away from middle-class households. It was diabolical, brutally cynical, and highly effective. Soon, Minneapolis was home to the largest skid row in the American midwest.

In 1958, Minneapolis began a five-year crusade to reclaim the Gateway district, demolishing over 20 blocks and nearly 200 buildings. As the city's business core moved several blocks west, Washington and Hennepin Avenues' continued to decay. After World War II, a growing middle class embraced the new future of suburbs, with their clean and spacious streets, shopping malls, and luxurious cars. The age of the interstate highway had arrived. Edina's Southdale Mall ushered in the age of indoor shopping. Skyway tunnels moved people off downtown streets and into safe, climate-controlled environments. City planners envisioned a futuristic city with gleaming highways, polished skyscrapers, a future that was bright, clean, rational. A future world totally devoid of crime, poverty, pollution.

This was the city Minneapolis sought to build in the 1960s. An ambitious "urban renewal" strategy demolished over 20 downtown blocks, and nearly 200 buildings. Fully 40% of downtown Minneapolis was demolished, in preparation for that glorious Modernist future. We're still waiting for that future to arrive. So much of this city remains, to this day, a collection of empty parking lots, sealed-off fortresses (City Center is the worst offender), and a massive, unruly network of giant hamster tubes. It is a tribute to suburban banality and fear. So many magnificent buildings were destroyed. So much history was needlessly lost. There is a spirit that hangs over a place long after the people have died; this area continues to be haunted with sorrow and tragedy. It's heartbreaking.

Today, amazingly, it is the young Millennial Generation that is returning to the cities, reversing the 60-year migration to the suburbs and systematic demolition of once-vital urban cores. The Gateway, Warehouse and Mill districts are rapidly growing with new apartments, restaurants, art galleries, boutiques. It is the biggest building boom Minneapolis has seen in decades. But the ghosts still remain in the air, and the few older buildings that were spared destruction remind us of what once was, of what could be, of what might have been. Nostalgia, regret, mourning: all sides of the same gleaming cube.

The 1998 Twin Cities Public Television broadcast, _Down on Skid Row_ , includes Johnny Rex's _Skid Row_ film, plus an additional 30 minute film discussing the history of the city and reminiscences by Bacich. He died in December, 2012, at age 93, and is still fondly remembered for preserving a slice of lost history. Be sure to watch this movie, then maybe once more, and remember the lost souls who once built this city and paid such a terrible cost.

### Dream On, Silly Dreamer

Disney held its annual stockholders' meeting in Minneapolis on March, 2005, where I was fortunate enough to attend a free screening of _Dream On, Silly Dreamer_ , a 40-minute documentary about the rise and fall of Disney's traditional animation studio in the 1980s and 1990s. This is an angry movie, and it found a home among the many shareholders who were then gunning for Michael Eisner's scalp (they eventually succeeded).

I don't know, however, how effective _Dream On, Silly Dreamer_ is as a film. I managed to talk to Dan Lund, the writer and director. While I told him that I sympathized with his cause, I asked him how viable Disney animation could survive when budgets for movies like Treasure Planet exceed $150 million. He just swept the idea aside. "They've got the money," he scoffed. "They can afford it."

I am reminded of Dave Mustaine, who played lead guitar during Metallica's early days only to be unceremoniously sacked just before the band recorded their landmark debut, _Kill 'Em All_. Mustaine forged ahead with his own band, Megadeth, creating memorable fusion-tinged thrash rock and selling millions of albums. But despite earning hundreds of millions of dollars, countless awards and legions of diehard fans, he remained convinced that his life was a failure, and would frequently lament about that time he was fired in 1983.

I don't feel good making such comparisons to Dan Lund or the Disney animators. As an artist and lover of animation, I sympathize with these people. Disney's decision to downsize and then close their animation studio was both short-sighted and foolish. These are skilled artists and storytellers whose careers have no right to be cut short in favor of shoddy, straight-to-video sequels and spin-offs. They deserve to create great movies again.

Watching this movie, I want to see these fine people take their adversities and make something out their experiences. Sitting in front of a camera and complaining about "losing your dream job" isn't going to change anything. They behave like they're the only ones who've ever lost their jobs or suffered from corporate excess. Please.

I'll offer the same advice I gave to producer Tony West after the screening. Use this as an opportunity. Animation is regarded as legitimate cinema everywhere else in the world, except in America, where it is still treated as simple kiddie cartoons. There's a great untapped potential and it only needs to be exploited. Where's the American answer to _Porco Rosso_ or My Neighbor Totoro? Build that future; don't become dragged down by the past. This forward-thinking optimism is precisely why Pixar dominated American animation (and, in the years since this documentary was made, is now reinventing Disney as well).

_Dream on, Silly Dreamer_ was well-liked by the stockholders in the theatre, and it should, because they're really the target audience. It's an opportunity for everyone to vent. Cathartic, yes, but venting only takes you so far. Stand up. Stay positive. Get back to work.

### Gauche the Cellist: Another Look at a Masterpiece

When Isao Takahata secured his first Academy Award nomination for _The Tale of the Princess Kaguya_ , interest in the Japanese animation director's career has reached a new peak in the West. I thought this would be an excellent opportunity to discuss some of his masterful films, many of which have only been seen by the most diehard of fans outside of Japan. Here is one of his very best, the hauntingly beautiful and wistful 1982 animated film, _Gauche the Cellist_.

_Gauche the Cellist_ is based on the writings of famed Japanese poet, Kenji Miyazawa. His life was all too short, like so many brilliantly talented artists (he passed away at age 37 from pneumonia), but he crafted a body of literature that would stand the test of time. We could only hope to be so lucky ourselves. This story concerns a young struggling musician who is visited nightly by animals who live nearby. Gauche, the cello player, is gruff, dismissive, frustrated by his inability to master his craft, and some of the animals, especially a sharp-tongued feline, give as much as they get. Eventually, as Gauche's defenses weaken, he begins to listen and grow. He discovers the music inherent in nature itself.

In the hands of most Western animators, a story such as this could become hokey or preachy, or just plain silly. Takahata expands the story's original scope, as he very often does. The setting, 1920s rural Japan, is deeply nostalgic for the pre-WWII years. Its depictions of daily life, of growing vegetables and turning waterwheels, of children and musicians alike playing...it's a meditative tone. It's a glimpse into a Japan that became lost in its Westernization following the War, and it quietly questions modern values. These themes, in fact, are one of the most dominant in all of the Studio Ghibli movies, and it goes to the very heart of what makes an Isao Takahata or a Hayao Miyazaki tick.

And then there is Beethoven. Paku-san is always known for the masterful musical scores in his films. _Gauche the Cellist_ revolves around Beethoven's 6th Symphony, so much that the composer qualifies as a major character. Observe how _The Pastoral_ is used to realize the imaginations of the musicians in the orchestra. The strings roar, the horns flare, the drums rumble, all inside their studio, as a thunderstorm rages outside. Suddenly, the walls of the studio melt away, and the orchestra becomes one with the storm itself. The conductor directs the thunderclaps, and everyone is carried away by the winds.

We are brought into their minds, and this is one of Takahata's greatest gifts. He is the master of psychological cinema, and that he achieves such a feat through animation is astonishing. And he achieves this by breaking nearly every facet of the Walt Disney paradigm. It's taken me years to understand and appreciate the depth of this psychological realism, the use of silence and stillness, the fusion of character and expressionist backgrounds to reveal the inner mind. Here lies Exhibit A for why this director is hailed as a genius.

_Gauche the Cellist_ is fairly short, little more than an hour. This makes it very accessible for new viewers, especially those who are still intimidated (if not puzzled) by Japanese animation. This movie doesn't even "look" like anime, but children's storybook illustrations. The background paintings were drawn by Kenji Matsumoto, and all the key animations and character designs were drawn by Shunji Saida (who famously took cello lessons so that he could accurately portray the movements of the players). Isao Takahata wrote the script and directed, carefully guided every shot. His inspirations lie not in Disney or Fleischer, but in Italian Neorealism, the French New Wave, and European animated films _The Snow Queen_ and _The King and the Mockingbird_. Hailed from the great Toei Doga animation studio in the 1950s and 1960s, he is best known for his life-long partnership with animator and director Hayao Miyazaki, with whom he created the anime masterpieces _The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun_ and _Heidi, Girl of the Alps_ , and jointly founded Studio Ghibli.

Takahata is an animation master, but he is not an animator. He is known in Japan as "the director who doesn't draw." He is also hailed as "the grand master of animation." I think either title fits.

At present, you cannot find Gauche outside of its home country. The film was released on VHS in Germany and DVD in France; both versions are now out-of-print. In Japan, it appeared on LaserDisc and DVD, first courtesy of Geneon, later on DVD under the Studio Ghibli label. A newly mastered Blu-Ray is currently available as part of _The Collected Works of Isao Takahata_ , a Blu-Ray box set released in late 2015, but at the time of this writing, no Western release has been announced.

Someone ought to bring _Gauche the Cellist_ to our shores. This movie deserves an audience; it is practically the textbook definition of a "hidden gem," and deserves to be known and admired for its brilliance.

### Innocence: Ghost in the Shell 2

Mamoru Oshii's film _Innocence: Ghost in the Shell 2_ has been making the rounds across various art house theatres in the country, and I'm glad that I was fortunate enough to see it while it played in Minneapolis. It's the sequel to a 1995 movie called _Ghost in the Shell_ , Mamoru Oshii's sci-fi anime that developed a cult following in America. I'm never sure if these fans admire that movie's reflections on humanity and life or if they just wanted to see the heroine take her clothes off every ten minutes, but I wasn't going to miss this sequel for anything.

_Ghost in the Shell_ was "adult" animation in the college boy sense, but _Innocence_ is an adult film because its intelligence requires it so. The clichéd anime sex-and-violence is either tamed down considerably or gone altogether, and what's left is Oshii and his thoughts. Imagine _Blade Runner_ made by Ingmar Bergman, with touches of Stanley Kubrick scattered about.

_Innocence_ plays out like a film noir police procedural, involving a cyborg detective named Batou and his young partner on the trail of several brutal murders. The murders involve sex robots, called "dolls" because they are supposed to possess no living souls. It turns out that may not be the case, and in the course of the investigation, the cops infiltrate a Yakuza den, a battleship, and slums set against decaying gothic buildings.

I've watched the movie twice, and I still cannot explain why all these murders are taking place, or why the parties ultimately responsible are doing this. Like all film noir, the plot seems almost secondary. I suspect that the filmmakers are merely using the conventions of a genre to share its ideas. The movie is far more interested in reflecting on and discussing the deeper issues of humanity. What does it mean to be human when machines are integrated into everything? Is anyone really human when they all have computer brains and electronic arms and eyes? Can you really prove you are living in reality and not a dream state? Can you prove that you are actually alive and not a simulation or computer program?

In this futuristic world, no one is truly human. Most people have had at least some cybernetic enhancement, be it mechanical limbs, robotic eyes, or more. The special police all have computerized brains that can be plugged in and accessed with the main computers and each other. Some robots have human souls. Even Batou's beloved dog is a clone. It's become so that no one can really define what "living" means anymore.

If your brain is essentially a computer, it can be hacked. The whole nature of reality can be openly questioned. This is one of the larger themes of the film, and Oshii offers a number of twists and surprises to challenge that reality, and a couple sequences that are just bloody brilliant. There is an almost hazy surrealism present, and it's quite a trip. This is what those lousy _Matrix_ sequels should have been aiming to achieve.

_Innocence_ is very much a thinking person's movie. It's very smart, and it seems half the dialog is composed of poetic quotes from Confucius and Milton and _The Bible_ and so on. Practically everyone is speaking in code, like deadpan beatniks quoting Kerouac and Philip K. Dick. Am I the only one who's disappointed that no one mentioned Bob Dylan? You'd think the characters in this movie couldn't get out the door without quoting "Subterranean Homesick Blues." In any case, this is something that will either impress or annoy you.

One of the problems I had with the first _Ghost in the Shell_ , I think, was that its visual style rarely matched its ideas. Everything just looked drab, clothed in browns and pale greens and overcast skies. This time, the art direction is more expansive and bold. There are many details that drift by, like the reflection on cars, or the sepia tones of a dark alleyway, and your imagination takes flight. Japanese animation is often criticized in the West because they usually animate at fewer frames than an American film, appearing "jerky." I'll always argue that this is a short-sighted critique, and an unfair way to judge the visual beauty of these anime films.

The part of the movie that best demonstrates this is the parade scene, which took over a year to complete. It is a parade of enormous boats that weave across narrow, metropolitan canals. The floats feature people, masks, and giant robots, all dressed in the costumes of Japan's mythological past. There are shots of spiraling skyscrapers and scores of birds overhead, and close-ups of masks that remind me of those swaying hands from the flashback scene in _Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind_. The crowds in the slums watch and are amazed, and we are too, because it's all so breathtaking.

The visual style of _Innocence_ is a mixture of cell animation with three-dimensional CGI rendering (largely for backgrounds). This allows for some truly dynamic camera work, and the dark, sepia tones add to that noir atmosphere. This something of a minor technical landmark for its time; there really isn't anything to compare, aside from the 2001 _Metropolis_ , and attempts to join hand-drawn and computer animation never fully succeeded with the public. Today, it is a struggle to keep traditional animation alive in the market.

And did I mention the basset hound? That dog is wonderful, and has more spark and spirit than anyone else in the picture. The dog is based closely on Mamoru Oshii's own pet, and you can tell how much he loves and dotes on him. Just watch the dog's reactions when Batou comes home from work, it's scurrying, and droopy-eyed devotion. He adds a dimension of humanity into all of these stone-faced soliloquies.

If you're lucky enough to catch _Innocence_ in your local theatre, by all means do so. It's one of those movies that must be seen on the big screen to be appreciated. The movie should look fine when played on your TV screen, but my guess is that you will be missing some of its sense of scale. Visionary pictures often require a large canvas, the kind only found in theaters.

I'm more willing to forgive the movie's flaws, especially the final twenty minutes (which basically crumble into an uninspired _Rambo_ shootout), because Oshii is clearly trying to say something, and there is a vitality often missing from his films. Most science-fiction movies are merely content to hurl a lot of effects and noise at the audience and leave it at that. It's what Pauline Kael called "bam-bam-pow filmmaking." It may have been fine when we were nine-year-olds, but I can't imagine anyone drawing any lasting satisfaction from something like that. _Innocence_ deserved a better coda. It's as though Oshii grew bored by the end, and just wanted to change the subject. He has many talents, but finishing a movie ain't one of 'em.

### It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

It's Halloween, which means it's time to partake in one of our defining holiday traditions, the Charlie Brown Special. Yay! It really isn't a major holiday unless there's a _Peanuts_ cartoon attached. Now all we need are some Dolly Madison snack cakes and McDonald's french fries and we're ready to go.

_It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ may possibly be the greatest of all the animated _Charlie Brown_ films. The art direction, color and animation are more refined and polished than _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ , the story more filled-out and lively, with any number of episodes will dance in your head for days. There's Snoopy as the World War I flying ace, there's the Peanuts Gang carving pumpkins, there's Charlie Brown's misshapen ghost costume, hehe hehe...and Charlie Brown with a bag full of rocks. Hah hah hah!

The heart of _Great Pumpkin_ , of course, is Linus and his unshakable belief among the skeptics. He sits alone in the pumpkin patch, forsaking tricks-or-treats, to await the arrival of the mythical "Great Pumpkin." Modern skeptics and atheists might see this as a satirical critique of religion, but one must remember that Charles Schulz was a devout Christian (the love and equality kind, not the warmonger or televangelist swindler kind). He usually uses Charlie Brown as his avatar, but I think he's speaking through Linus in this cartoon. It's an honest, heartfelt portrayal, never hiding from disappointment or unanswered prayers. Sparky Schultz did not fear "God's Silence" or creeping doubt; he embraced it, accepted it, an humbly understood his place in the universe.

I shouldn't have to point out how today's animated films are formulaic or openly pandering. We all have the ticket stubs and empty wallets and the disappointed feelings in our bellies. But that's to be expected from product created by international media conglomerates. Got to maximize the bottom line. Got to protect the franchise. Got to stick with the proven formula. And that means taking no risks. It's so very unfortunate, because the _Peanuts_ cartoons demonstrate, time and time again, how you can create a classic with little money. Such avenues and opportunities should be available for similar storytellers today. The audiences are out there.

Of course, when I was a kid, poisoning the Halloween candy was a serious scare, so rocks wouldn't be the worst thing to receive. I certainly would have prefered rocks over, say, apples or money. What kind of cheapskate hands out quarters to children on Halloween? Don't give me money! Use that money to buy me candy!

Halloween is the one great children's holiday. Despite its medieval gothic roots, which have always freaked out the fundamentalist Christians, in modern times, this night is about one thing only: kids in colorful costumes scoring six weeks' worth of free candy. It's a moment of pure innocence and wonder. Those dark skies and bare trees are not scary at all; they're enchanting, inviting. The ghosts have bags of Twix candies, and the owls are handing out candy pumpkins. Yay!

It really isn't the same thing when you're an adult, and can just buy candy at the store whenever you want. It's never the same. But I can still watch _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ , and for half an hour, become eight years old once more.

### The Last Unicorn

There's a great moment that takes place halfway through _The Last Unicorn_ , when Molly Grue, a sharp-tongued woman of middle age, discovers The Unicorn hiding in the forest. At first, she is stunned into silence; face-to-face with the mythical creature that all girls dream about. But then something remarkable happens. Her awe is turned into anger, and she starts shouting.

"Damn you! Where have you been?! Where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young maidens you always come to? How dare you? How dare you come to me now, when I am this!"

This is a remarkable moment, and a little unsettling, too. We aren't accustomed to having real life intrude upon fairy tales. Yet it is such honest lyricism that gives the story its strength.

Faithful readers of Peter S. Beagle have been enthralled by _The Last Unicorn_ since its publication in 1968, and they need no more proddings. They'll be more than happy to share their own experiences reading the novel. It's a story that has a very devoted following, and after watching the 1982 animated film, I think I can understand why.

The plot itself is fairly standard: an unnamed Unicorn leaves the comfort of her enchanted forest to venture the outside world in search of others like her. Along the way, she encounters friends who wish to help her, including a decidedly Semitic-looking apprentice wizard named Schmendrick, the aforementioned Molly Grue, and a noble prince named Lir.

I have never really been a fan of fantasy novels, and yet here I am, thoroughly engrossed with this picture. Beagle takes a conventional form and punches it with a poetic flair. I can't remember truly inspired writing from any Disney fairy tale, but _The Last Unicorn_ is blessed with dialog that floats and dances. It's truly inspired.

The key is that Beagle wrote the screenplay for the film version, and kept as close to the original novel as possible. Clearly, his emphasis is on the text above all else; most American animation treats the writing as an afterthought. To Rankin-Bass, this movie is a labor of love.

That love extends to the voice actors as well. There's the great anecdote regarding Christopher Lee, who arrived at the recording sessions, book in hand, with key passages highlighted. The man simply would not allow the directors to cut out his favorite parts. You can hear that dedication in his role of Haggard, an embittered old king who has imprisoned the world's unicorns under the sea. Lazy as I am, I want to make the obvious comparison to his roles in _Star Wars and Lord of the Rings_ , but I think Lee is better here. He's more emotionally involved.

Alan Arkin, Tammy Grimes, Angela Lansbury, and Rene Auberjonois all deliver more genuine conviction and emotion than almost any animated picture made in America. Having such wonderful dialog brings the best out of them. Arkin's Schmendrick and Grimes' Molly get all the best wisecracks; their banter alone is worth the price of admission.

Mia Farrow is very good in the title role, and she's perfect at projecting wonder, curiosity, and anguish. The less said of her singing in the film's second half, however, the better. We'll just use her song number as a chance to run for the fridge.

Also, the less said of the songs from America, an old soft-pop group, the better. I know many of you love the songs, and I don't want to take that away from you. I'll just kindly disagree and wonder we just couldn't have more dialog. What is it with American animation and song numbers, anyway?

_The Last Unicorn_ is a very haunting, melancholy picture; not "darker" as in violent or nihilistic, but sadder. Beagle wisely plays against the conventions of fantasy, as the characters point out the cliches. Everyone, including The Unicorn, must learn to deal with loss and regret. Is there really a quote, unquote "happy" ending to this picture? Probably not, if you think about it. Real life, again, intrudes.

The artwork of this film is remarkable, based firmly in the Japanese style of wonderfully detailed, painterly backgrounds with simpler, more iconic characters. The unicorns have a lean, slightly feminine look to them; the sequences where they are chased by the marauding Red Bull (ahem) should capture the heart of every girl under twelve. It's already captured the hearts of their parents' generation.

Post-Mortem: More than a few observers have made comparisons between this film and those by Hayao Miyazaki. They're more right than they know. _The Last Unicorn_ was animated in Japan by a studio named Topcraft. Rankin-Bass had used Topcraft for their earlier television productions of _The Hobbit_ and _The Return of the King_ , and this was their most ambitious collaboration. After this movie, Topcraft's next project was with Miyazaki, who was directing the film version of _Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind_. You may have heard of it.

In 1985, Miyazaki, Isao Takahata, and Toshio Suzuki brought much of Topcraft's staff under their wings, in their new animation studio, Studio Ghibli. You may have also heard of Ghibli; they made a few pictures here and there over the years.

A final piece of Ghibli trivia: Topcraft was founded by Toru Hara, a Toei Doga alum who worked on the production team for the landmark 1968 anime film, _The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun_. He later reunited with Takahata and Miyazaki at Studio Ghibli as producer of several films, including My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki's Delivery Service, before retiring from the business in the early 1990s.

### Like the Clouds, Like the Wind

I finally had a chance to sit down and watch a thoroughly enjoyable, but overlooked, anime made-for-TV movie from 1990 called _Like the Clouds, Like the Wind_ ( _Kumo no You Ni, Kaze no You Ni_ ). The story is set in China, and centers around a teenage girl who, almost on a whim, decides to compete for the chance to become the new Emperor's wife. Ginga has a salty tongue and an independent disposition, much like the Hayao Miyazaki heroines; she ruffles feathers and makes impressions with everyone she encounters, and is an endless joy to watch.

This film is often mistaken in the West for a lost Studio Ghibli production, thanks largely to the character designs (which remind me a lot of Yoshifumi Kondo's drawing style, as well as Miyazaki's) and strong feminist bent. If that's your guess, I'll give you half-credit. _Kumo Kaze_ (as it's also known) was the work of Studio Pierre, but the Animation Director and Character Designer was Katsuya Kondo (no relation), who a leading animator at Studio Ghibli ever since its inception.

I think the 80-minute running time is a little short, as there are so many characters, and so many different episodes; halfway through, a pair of comic thieves decide to start a rebellion (again, almost on a whim), and wind up leading a successful revolution that overthrows the Chinese Emperor. It tends to clash with the first half, and the final act becomes needlessly rushed. Another 20 minutes would help tremendously.

Perhaps I'm being picky. _Kumo Kaze_ tries to tie together multiple anime genres — comedy, historical drama, shoujo romance, coming-of-age — and for the most part, it's successful. And it still manages to stand apart in its own little space after all these years. That's not a bad achievement.

Currently, the only DVD available is the Japanese Region 2, and I'm unaware of any efforts to bring it Stateside. So for the time being, your options are to import the DVD (which, as far as I know, doesn't include subtitles), or track down a fansub copy on the internet. Calling Discotek Media! Grab this title now!

### Love Happy

This little-known 1949 movie marks the final appearance of the Marx Brothers on the big screen, and while it isn't very good when compared to their classics, it isn't that bad, either. I would have to say that I prefer _Love Happy_ to the later MGM pictures like _At the Circus_ or _Go West_ or _The Big Store_ (sorry movies, all). What largely disappoints is that, for the most part, only Chico and Harpo are seen; Groucho only appears in an occasional monologue, and doesn't even appear with his brothers until the very end of the movie.

Why this was done, we can only speculate, but it's too bad, because this would have been far more enjoyable if the three were actually together. A little more involvement would have made for a dramatically improved picture. Oh, well.

The plot, like pretty much all the plots after _A Night at the Opera_ , is completely forgettable and meaningless, largely a vain attempt to mimic the formula that Irving Thalberg used so successfully. I don't know why anyone would go to a Marx Brothers movie to watch some faceless romantic couple overcome some hardship. Who cares about these people, anyway? I don't watch Bugs Bunny for a dignified reading of _Henry IV, Part I_. I want screwball comedy and lightning-fast one-liners.

Needless to say, I prefer the Paramount Marx Brothers movies like _Horse Feathers_ and _Duck Soup_ , which had about as much plot as your average Road Runner cartoon. Yet even so, I honestly can't remember a single thing about the plot to _Love Happy_ , except that I wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.

_Love Happy_ is remembered largely because it marks the first screen appearance of Marilyn Monroe, but even here, you're bound to be disappointed. Her cameo is little more than a momentary walk-on with Groucho, one that has absolutely nothing to do with anything, and you've completely forgotten about it five minutes later. It's a moment for diehard fans and trivia freaks only.

I don't want to make it seem as though this movie is a total loss. There's enough here to enjoy if your favorite Marx is Chico or especially Harpo. It's always such a joy to see these old boys perform, and for some it may be worth sitting through all the dead wood to see Harpo one last time. And, again, where's Groucho? The man was obviously still funny; if you doubt me, then go watch DVD releases of _You Bet Your Life_.

If we actually had the three of them together for more than just one scene, things would be completely different. As it stands, we're left with something that's incomplete; practically the gold standard of mediocrity, and dull, dull, dull.

The Marx Brothers belong to the days of vaudeville and 1930s comedies, where the pacing and tempo were fast fast fast. By the end of the 1940s, audiences prefered formula pictures with a slower speed and more standard structure. Isn't this the reason why so many comedies from that decade were so dreadfully boring by comparison?

_Love Happy_ was reportedly made to pay off Chico's gambling debts. It shows. This work feels like an obligation, a requirement, not a labor of love, and certainly not the proper farewell for the Marx Brothers.

### Million Dollar Baby

If ever a movie deserved its Oscar for Best Picture, it's _Million Dollar Baby_. I absolutely adore this film. I treasure this film. It carries an emotional honesty and depth of character that is endearing, touching. It is moving without ever becoming maudlin, humorous without becoming hokey. Here is a movie that celebrates the joys and sorrows of life.

The greatness of this picture is its simplicity, its focus. This could easily have been a boxing movie in the tradition of _Rocky_ , and indeed it does work upon many of the conventions of underdog sports movies, but this isn't a movie about boxing. It's about three complex human beings who have lived hard lives, learned difficult lessons, and faced painful decisions.

Who could have ever guessed that Clint Eastwood would grow and mature into one of our greatest filmmakers? I am truly amazed with the skill and grace Eastwood has developed over the years. This is his 25th film as a director, and one of his best, and it feels as though he is only beginning to hit his stride.

Eastwood plays an aging fight trainer named Frankie Dunn who runs an old gym and has worked in boxing his whole life. He is a man with a deep conscience and deeper emotional scars; the priest at his parish wisely notes that any man who attends mass every day for 23 years must be carrying a lot of guilt. We are never given the details of his past, as many movies would do; instead, we see glimpses, captured moments and moods. We see the toughened, gruff man he is now.

Consider Hilary Swank, whose magnificent presence resonates throughout the entire film. This woman has amazing talent, and endless reserves; I think, if she chooses roles wisely, she will be remembered as one of the finest actors of her generation. She portrays a waitress named Maggie with a stubborn insistence and firebrand spirit that covers a lifetime of suffering. She is 31 years old and dreams of becoming a professional boxer, but has little experience and fewer skills, and is keenly aware that her time is passing.

Her sense of determination is tempered with a sorrow, a sense of desperation. "If I was thinking straight I'd go back home," she says to Frankie. "Find a used trailer, buy a deep fryer and some oreos. If I'm too old for this then I got nothing." She believes it in her bones, and why not? Her family is both stupid and cruel, and she earns so little as a waitress that she must feed on the table scraps.

She plants herself in Frankie's gym and refuses to accept anything resembling a 'no.' Boxing is the one thing in her doomed underclass life that fills her with a sense of purpose. Finally, the old man relents, and agrees to take her under his wing, teaching her the necessary skills. Eventually, she finally gets her chance in the ring.

Here is where we part company. Most sports movies would follow the beaten path, and one could make a good picture that way. But it wouldn't be truly great, it wouldn't be Clint Eastwood's picture. He prefers to pay attention to these two lonely souls, who eventually see in each other a lost opportunity to repair their broken father-daughter relationships. There are a number of fight scenes which are skillfully staged, but what resonates with me are Frankis and Maggie's quiet moments together: sitting together in a small country restaurant, talking over home-made pie; travelling by car to visit her family, and the long, hard ride back in the night.

And then we have Morgan Freeman, The Man With the Golden Voice. I remember reading Pauline Kael hailing him in the early 1980s as America's finest actor, and I believe that's very true today. He has always been great, never more so than here. As a former boxer nicknamed "Scrap-Iron," he works the gym and verbally duels with Frankie. They both share the kind of long friendship where they can be brutally honest, sometimes with humor, sometimes not. Their banter provides some of the best dialog in the movie, and it snaps and bounces with rhythm. They share a past colored by broken dreams, but continue to live each day with defiance.

Freeman narrates, invoking the spirit of _Shawshank Redemption_. Both movies take place in a kind of purgatory, but this time the events that transpire are more tragic, the progression more and more sorrowful. I wouldn't dare give away _Million Dollar Baby's_ big tearjerker shocker in its final act (unlike some guilty parties who shall remain nameless...cough, Medved), and I'm actually reluctant to describe more than the most basic outline. I want you to experience everything fresh, just as I have.

I will say that these are three of the best actors today, giving some of their most heartfelt, intimate work. These are people who share joy and hope, but also know a deep sadness. I think I'm somewhat partial to these kind of stories, perhaps because they're so rare in recent years. Our culture is obsessed with the idea of always being happy, of never having to confront difficulties or loss. I think that's the real reason for the controversy regarding the ending, and the final decision Frankie must make. He's at a point where he must choose between limbo and hell. It's heartbreaking and it's haunting and it's beautiful. We can't pack a smile into this Happy Meal box.

So many movies do nothing but waste your time and kill precious brain cells. It seems Hollywood just becomes dumb and dumber, piling insulting dreck onto the laps of ignorant, stupid or snobbish audiences. But a great movie like _Million Dollar Baby_ restores my faith in an instant; it inspires me. I just want to grab the nearest camera and start shooting.

### Napoleon Dynamite

Here's my problem: I don't care much for _Napoleon Dynamite_. I don't think it's a very good movie, nor do I think it's a very effective teen comedy. This is one of those movies you enjoy if you can identify with the main characters, but its humor seems to come from a certain meanness, without the insights that comedy requires.

Napoleon is a nerdish teenager whose personality is a mixture of aloofness and indifference. In other words, a cranky, unpopular teenager, an antisocial one at that. He makes no effort to be liked, and if he enjoys anything in life, it's reveling in his unpopularity.

Personally, I'm quite worn down by such personality types, because there are far too many of these souls in Minneapolis. I don't like that Comic Book Guy arrogance one damned bit; it permeates the air like a flu virus. This explains, to a great extent, why I'm not enamored of Napoleon Dynamite. Everyone in this movie just seems to shuffle along in a half-asleep daze. For some, it may be their idea of acting cool, but for me it just looks like Ritalin abuse. Jimi was right: there ain't no life nowhere.

_Napoleon Dynamite_ is the creation of Jared and Jerusha Hess, a husband-and-wife writing team who filmed it during their studies at BYU. The script has something of a Ned Flanders quality to it, a vanilla plainness amidst its sincerity. But there's a strange detachment to everything. Why can't there be any physical contact between anyone? What are we afraid of? Each character in the story — Napoleon, brother Kip, Uncle Rico, exchange student Pedro, arty girl Deb — exists in an impenetrable personal space. The end result is less a movie about teenagers than a movie about people who try to look like teenagers.

This kind of ironic detachment is fairly common today, in commercials and television shows, and in recent movies like _Garden State_. I think our generation uses irony as a way of avoiding real emotional connections. I believe this stance is mistaken, and I fear we're missing out on the marrow of life. Perhaps that's just me. I probably just need a strong drink and be sent to the old folks' home.

There are some funny moments, and a couple jokes that I enjoyed, but for the most part, these represent missed opportunities. At one point, Pedro decides to run for class president, and his unpopularity makes it a losing cause. But it sets up the funniest gag in the picture. Napoleon builds recruits by going to harassed nerds and saying, "Pedro asks for your protection." The next time the school jock (apparently there's only one in this school) taunts a small boy, Pedro's tougher, gangster cousins drive up in their convertible with mean eyes.

What a great opportunity: a nerd mafia! I laughed my head off. Then the whole idea is dropped and never mentioned again. Huh? This sort of thing happens more than it should. _Napoleon Dynamite_ almost feels like a pilot episode instead of a movie; I think this story would work better as a television show than a feature-length movie. The kinks need to be ironed out, the characters need to find their groove, the emotions warmed up a little.

I really don't know what else to think. As stories about high school and teenage years, _Dazed and Confused_ was far better, coming from a genuine sense of passion and warmth. You could point to the characters in those movies and say, "I know her. That's me." _Napoleon Dynamite_ is a cool cartoon, a collection of the ironic and detached and cool. It doesn't connect with me.

### "November 22, 1963" by Errol Morris

Errol Morris is one of America's finest documentary filmmakers, and I consider his 2003 film _The Fog of War_ one of my all-time favorites. He has a remarkable talent as an interviewer, in knowing how to draw details out of his subjects, of bringing us closer to the truth...or the "truth," which is often evasive, elusive, dark. No other subject matches that description better than the JFK Assassination, which continues to haunt our nation half a century later.

I have no patience for conspiracy theories, which Terence McKenna once denounced as eschatological cartoons; "As soon as I hear the words, 'ex-NASA scientist,' I reach for my revolver." If you try to sell me on Area 51, Bigfoot, or how Courtney Love shot Kurt Cobain, I'm heading for the exits. If you bring up the 9/11 conspiracy, I'll probably hit you with a rolled-up newspaper. But JFK, that's something else altogether. Something ugly happened that morning in Dallas, something dark and sinister, yet murky and unsolvable. Who killed Kennedy, and why? I couldn't answer those questions to save my life. All I can state is that the "official" story — Lee Harvey Oswald as the lone assassin from a sixth story window — is illogical, riddled with errors and endless questions, and one smacks of propaganda. And the way this story ends, with Oswald himself being assassinated, by a mafia hitman, no less, borders on the surreal. Did I just see that happen with my own eyes? Did that really happen, or did I imagine it? Well, maybe, yes. Or maybe not. Nobody really, truly knows. Reality has become bent

The JFK Assassination is the heroin of conspiracy theories. It can send the bravest and wisest souls into an infinite morass. That way lies madness — "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Morris' short film, a "doc-ed" for _The New York Times_ website, discusses that fateful day in Dallas with noted author Josiah Thompson, of "Six Seconds in Dallas" fame. It does not entertain conspiracy theories or offer fantastic solutions to the great puzzle. It quietly reflects a few basic facts, contemplates their meaning, and meditates on the mystery. The more one examines a crime, the clearer the events that transpired become. This crime, however, has only become murkier, _darker_. We witness a titanic shift of history, but cannot explain it.

### Osamu Tezuka's Metropolis

I'm a great fan of the 2001 anime _Metropolis_. This movie arrived in American theaters in August, 2001, and was not only a thrilling, dazzling spectacle, it eerily prophesied the terrorist attacks of September 11. The films images of the towering Ziggurat in ruins, the very symbol of modern human civilization, cut a little too close to the bone.

We are reminded of the urban apocalypse of _Akira_ , the landmark 1988 anime film written and directed by Katsuhiro Otomo, and its depictions of urban corruption and decay. This is no small coincidence, as Otomo wrote the script for this new _Metropolis_ , which was directed by the skilled veteran Rintaro, an old Toei Doga alum who gave us such hits as _Galaxy Express 999_ , _Harmagedon_ and _X_. A freelance director by trade, Rintaro specialized in dystopian science-fiction, and added with his animation experience working on Osamu Tezuka's _Tetsuwan Atom_ ( _Astro Boy_ ), makes him a perfect choice to helm _Metropolis_.

What makes this _Metropolis_ so compelling is how freely it mashes together its varied influences, creating something new in the alchemical furnace. It's original inspiration, of course, lies in the 1927 Fritz Lang masterpiece, not only with the Ziggurat and the main characters, but the underlying political and social themes. When Tezuka created his manga comic adaptation, he famously claimed to take nothing from Lang's work but the image on the movie poster. That is a slight exaggeration, but fairly close to the mark. Rintaro fuses these two sources together nicely, giving us the thick, rounded character designs with a gritty urban environment, combining story and character elements and adding new influences and ideas to the recipe.

The movie's strong cyberpunk design owes much to _Akira_ , and we can spot how seamlessly Otomo's world integrates with the Lang-Tezuka-Rintaro mashup. We almost expect to find motorcycle gangs lurking around the underground stations, although a thrilling chase scene involving rickshaws fills the void.

In the world of _Metropolis_ , the disgruntled masses inhabit several layers of cities underneath the streets, living in state of tension and barely-contained rage. Protesters march through the streets against not only the repressive ruling class on top, but the robot workers who have taken their blue-color jobs. We can read these elements as a commentary on race and immigration relations very easily. You almost expect to find John Lennon or Bob Marley in the streets. A group of rebels is clearly inspired by Che Guevara and various 20th Century revolutionaries. Citizens love in fear of repressed robots who could rise up and stage a revolution. Society is held together at the barrel of a gun.

The towering Ziggurat represents the glory of the civilized world, or perhaps a symbol of America or Rome or number of empires come and gone. The opulence of the upper classes is completely alien to the world below, whose inhabitants can only witness through steel bars and sewer gratings, while Dixieland jazz plays in the background. It's like a sci-fi Harlem painted in lush watercolors.

Like Fritz Lang's _Metropolis_ , the ruler of this world, here named Duke Red, employs a mad scientist who fashions a robot double for his dead daughter. This Maria, a doll-like girl named Tima, is intended to sit on the tower's throne, integrating her with the computer circuitry and giving her enormous powers. The father hopes to use her for his own ends, but she escapes into the outer world, where she is exposed to the outer world and all its beauty and corruption. She is also not aware that she is a robot, which as we all know is a recipe for disaster. This will not end well.

Tima also serves as a female caught in an unusual love triangle of sorts. She is rescued and befriended by a boy named Kenichi, the nephew of a gumshoe detective who is pursuing the criminal scientist. They are the audience's eyes in this alien nation, and Kenichi becomes smitten with the girl as he tries to keep her free from Duke Red, who pursues her obsessively.

Now here's where it gets interesting. The ruler's adoptive son Rock, the head of the political party that doubles as the secret police, is fiercely jealous of Tima. Emotionally dismissed by his father (who refuses to return the boy's affection), and deeply prejudiced against the machines, Rock becomes obsessed with destroying her at any cost.

Is this movie really a love story between these two characters, Rock and Tima? That's a good question. We obviously think of the boy, Kenichi, as the romantic hero. But be honest. Isn't he a bit of a drip? He's really too bashful to do anything. His relationship with Tima is surprisingly passive. If he wasn't chasing around everywhere with the girl in tow, I really don't know what he'd be doing with her.

Rock, on the other hands...now, Rock has passion. His drive stems from his feelings of rejection by his adoptive father, so he sees Tima as a rival instead of a lover. But at least he feels something, and acts upon those feelings, ruthlessly, without fear of consequence. Rock possesses the animal heart that Tima only imagines she had. They're the true couple of this picture.

Frankly, I would have been preferred seeing that wimpy wet blanket Kenichi hop on the plane with his detective uncle. He's the Paul Henreid of this movie, and, as always, I'm rooting for the girl to run off with Bogey instead.

_Metropolis_ looks absolutely fantastic, clearly a landmark for anime feature films. We hardly ever see lush visual spectacles like this anymore (even Studio Ghibli cannot afford these expensive productions anymore, surely a sign of the coming apocalypse). Color designs range from clinical and pristine to colorful and gritty. The use of CG animation integrates nicely, limited mostly to the enormous tower and its machinery. This approach is a bit different from the way Ghibli integrates CGI and hand-drawn animation, and it probably dates the film, but I don't mind.

Sony released _Metropolis_ on DVD in 2002, and it's an excellent package, and even includes a miniature disc which includes the bonus material. The Blu-Ray version, released in Japan in 2008, has never been released in the West. I have no idea why this is. This isn't the first time Sony dropped the ball; Satoshi Kon's masterful anime feature _Tokyo Godfathers_ was released on Blu-Ray in Japan but not here. Worse, neither BD includes English-language subtitles, making importing a useless gesture. Your only option is to download a fan-translated copy online. But this option means watching with a highly compressed and pixelated picture (as the download file is only a fraction of the BD size), and omitting bonus features entirely.

This is absurd. _Metropolis_ is a fantastic movie that deserves to be seen, and deserves to be seen in the best possible condition. There is no excuse for this. Sony should either release the BD in the United States, or allow another publisher to pick up the rights. But don't sit on it. You'd think these guys had some unresolved Daddy Complex and decided to take it out on us instead.

### Oscar Nominations 2015

The 2015 Oscar nominations have just been announced, and there are a lot of surprises, some good and some bad. I've scribbled down a few notes of my initial impressions.

**1)** **The Grand Budapest Hotel rides high with 9 nominations** , covering all the major categories. It was the surprise winner at the Golden Globes, and now that momentum has real steam. It's also a nice rebuke to the "awards season," where contending films are all packed into December and January. This could be Wes Anderson's year; he's one of my favorite young directors, and I'm sure he's also a favorite of yours. He deserves an arm full of Academy Awards for any number of his great films.

**2)** **Birdman also scored big,** which makes me happy because I really loved this movie. It's funny and irreverent, it's jazzy and funky, the dialog is snappy, Michael Keaton, Ed Norton and Emma Stone are terrific, and the editing is absolutely dynamite. If it wins Best Picture, I'll feel very happy indeed. I'm tired of comedies being ignored by the Oscars.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, my two favorite movies of 2014 are Hayao Miyazaki's _The Wind Rises_ , and Isao Takahata's _The Tale of the Princess Kaguya_. I'll put _Birdman_ right after those two. I really had a lot of fun watching this, even though it's probable that I'm really just a sucker for these sort of theatrical melodramatic foibles. I stand by my choice.

**3)** I honestly did not expect **Takahata's Princess Kaguya to get nominated for Best Animated Feature**. Thank God it did. This film has received tremendous praise from critics; for once in a great while, America cracked open the door to sneak out of Walt Disney's closet, and discovered a genuine alternative. _The Boxtrolls_ and _Song of the Sea_ are also excellent movies, but Paku-san is a true master of the cinema, a Renoir or an Ozu for our time. He operates on a higher plane.

I think there's a chance that _Princess Kaguya_ will win the Oscar, however small. Heck, both Takahata and Miyazaki deserve nominations for Best Picture and Best Director. But Hollywood's unbreakable phobia of animation, especially from Japan, always gets in the way. There are a lot of animated feature films worthy of Best Picture. You have your favorites, I have mine. I think we can all agree on this point. Let's agree on this year's Best Animated Feature Oscar. Paku-san! Paku-san!

**4)** **Meryl Streep will always be nominated.** Is there ever a year when Meryl Streep doesn't get nominated? We should just give her an award every year, just for being herself. The Meryl Streep Award For Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence! Seriously, though, she was really fantastic in...wait, what? _Into the Woods_?! Is this a joke? Okay, who hacked the servers again?

**5)** **This was not a good year for "Oscar Bait" movies.** Perhaps the voters are wising up to what has become an extremely stale formula? One can only hope. _Foxcatcher_ , _The Theory of Everything_ , and _Selma_ all underperformed. Speaking of which...

**6)** **Selma got robbed.** I suppose the recent negative buzz over the film's portrayal of LBJ (he was, in fact, a driving force behind the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act) should have tipped us off. Perhaps the recent racial tensions over police shootings of unarmed black men spooked Academy voters? Despite its "liberal" image, Hollywood is, in fact, a very timid town. They're terrified of controversy. Because of this, _Selma_ was kept at arm's length, when it clearly deserved better. Conversely, I also think because of this, _Selma_ is a lock for Best Original Song. That's another thing about Hollywood: they love to hand out consolation prizes.

**7)** _Birdman_ got jacked in **the Best Film Editing category.** If any movie deserves an Oscar for editing, it's this one. Right? I can't remember the last time a movie impressed me with its editing, its cheerfully clever way of fusing scenes together to create the illusion of one gigantic take. It becomes a bit of a parlor game to spot the edits. One can argue that Best Director covers this base, leaving this category open for someone else. Perhaps that's a valid point. The omission still stinks.

**8)** **The Lego Movie got robbed.** Here is where frustrations over the Academy's archaic views of animation will boil over. Did they even watch this movie, or dismiss it upon one glance of the movie poster? This movie is no saccharine toy commercial, but a wicked satire with one of the smartest "Hitchcock" surprise endings I've seen in ages. C'mon, Mark Mothersbaugh worked on _The Lego Movie_ , automatically bestowing the "DEVO Seal of Approval." He likes sunsets, what more do ya want?

**9)** **Life Itself** , the Roger Ebert documentary, **got screwed.** This is one of the more astonishing oversights. I can't even begin to explain it. How many movie critics carried as much influence as Ebert? Pauline Kael? Andrew Sarris? Stanley Kaufman? How many writers have shaped and influenced our love of the movies with such aplomb and grace? How many movie writers have made you a better and wiser person for having read their work? It's a very short list. Oscar owes us one heck of an explanation for this oversight.

Finally, speaking of which...

**10)** **Bill Plympton Got Royally Screwed**. Repeat again after me, animation lovers: Bill Plympton Got Royally Screwed. Why is this man not winning more Oscars? Find whoever is responsible for this crime and throw them in the dungeon.

### Overnight

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to capture the right screenshot to use for the review of _Overnight_ , and after some time I finally found what I was looking for. It's a short moment when the subject turns, after a long-winded tirade, and glances at the camera.

The subject is Troy Duffy, an LA bartender and musician who has been offered the chance to direct his first screenplay. He is overly confident, confrontational, a schoolyard bully and and an aspiring alcoholic. But in that momentary glance, I saw something else: a genuine sadness, a weariness behind all the shouting and the boasts.

Duffy is responsible for making a movie called _The Boondock Saints_. It is a movie that, like its creator, is brash and violent, vulgar, obnoxious, almost cheerfully so. The DVD has become a cult favorite among teenagers and college students. Young adults who have clicked with its _Grand Theft Auto_ -styled revenge fantasy. As for me, I am not a fan. It did not click with me.

_Overnight_ is a documentary about the rise and fall of Troy Duffy, filmed on digital video cameras by two collaborators, Tony Montana and Mark Brian Smith. In 1997, Duffy had a screenplay, played in a band, and worked as a bartender in Los Angeles, which, really, describes half the population of Los Angeles. One day, Harvey Weinstein and Miramax buy his script, agree to produce it, and hand him a $15 million shooting budget, complete with total creative control and right of final cut. As an added bonus, Duffy's band would record the soundtrack, and Weinstein even promised to buy the bar Duffy worked in, and make him a full partner.

This is manna from Heaven. It is every aspiring filmmaker's dream come true, and Duffy and his friends are ebullient, drinking it up night after night and making endless boasts of becoming Hollywood legends. The young men are about to conquer the world.

It's very clear that Miramax was looking to capitalize on Quentin Tarantino's sensational success with _Pulp Fiction_ , and saw in the _Boondock Saints_ script a potential next-big-thing. It's also very clear that Duffy has no experience whatsoever making movies, and his writing skills appear largely limited to endless cursing and belligerent swearing.

Montana and Smith are there every step of the way, capturing everything they can. Critics will point out that these former friends filmed and edited _Overnight_ as a revenge piece, and there's certainly truth in this accusation. They're very clearly amateurs at this, but at least they show a genuine enthusiasm for what they're doing; more importantly, they demonstrate a willingness to learn and grow.

You don't get that from Duffy, and you can tell within the first five minutes how it all will end out. The long, exhausted faces by everyone in attendance — family, band members, friends in the entourage — spell it all out, too. They're used to this braggart puffing out his chest and issuing demands and threats to the whole world.

_Overnight_ was meant to chronicle Duffy's rise to stardom, but ultimately becomes the story of his fall. It's a live-action version of all those Road Runner cartoons, where Wile E. Coyote gets pummeled by his own ACME traps. After dealing with a hung-over blowhard one too many times, Miramax effectively shelves the project, sending it into the dreaded "turnaround" status. This brings out Duffy the bully, Duffy the crybaby, Duffy the fool. He's proves to be the worst kind of fool: the kind that believes his own hype.

I don't gloat in his self-inflicted misfortune. The whole saga is a tragedy for everyone, including Troy Duffy. The ones I most feel sorry for are his bandmates, and his younger brother, Taylor, who plays guitar. He's the one I sympathize with in this picture. He offers his older sibling love and support, only asking that this dedication spent on _Boondock Saints_ be equally devoted to the music, Taylor's one true love. And he is repaid with scorn and broken dreams. You're reminded of the Bob Dylan song, "I Am A Lonesome Hobo," and it just breaks your heart.

Eventually, _Boondock Saints_ is made for a fraction of the original budget, lumbers through production, in spite of the presence of decent acting talent and the great Willem Dafoe (we'll just forget about Ron Jeremy altogether, please). It is screened at Cannes in the wake of the Columbine shootings, and, understandably, no one makes any offers (the movie's suggestion of a vast Weinstein conspiracy is patently ludicrous, easily this movie's greatest failing). It eventually plays on five screens, then disappears to home video.

As a final act of Troy Duffy's fall from grace, he is never given royalties from sales of the DVD, which, in a great irony, becomes a cult hit. The final shot of Duffy barreling off a roof into a large pool couldn't be more appropriate. Which brings us back to my earlier question: is this movie really a revenge hot-job by disgruntled former friends? Cinema is truth at twenty-four frames per second, and every cut is a lie. Who is the true villain of this story, the main character or the storyteller? I'll leave that for you to decide.

### Pixar, Wall-E and Rubber Soul

Reader "Oswald from Switzerland" sent me the following message to _Ghibli Blog_ , which started my mind spinning:

"Your describing _Wall-E_ as a kind of 'Rubber Soul' movie is about the most original way of exactly telling me what to expect without any spoilers (although I love _Sgt. Pepper_ , I was always more interested in _Rubber Soul_ and _Revolver_ )."

Thanks for all the kind words, as always. The thought popped into my head somewhere during the first act, and it really does describe where Pixar's heads are at now. _Ratatouille_ was the first real step away from the old formulas, in a lot of ways, and _Wall-E_ cements that trend. So maybe, in a sense, _Ratatouille_ was Pixar's answer to "Help"? Oy vey, me and my endless music analogies.

This is to be expected; after all, how much longer can you just push computer graphics? Pixar has always had an edge over their rivals with the technology. Goodness knows the artists are without peer. But that means reaching a plateau sooner or later. The only other direction to evolve is through the story and characters. And this is the arena where American animation so desperately needs to evolve.

The Pixar artists have already mastered the computer technology. That was the focus of their first two evolutionary phases. Phase One would cover their early years, the experimental short films of John Lasseter and company, under the umbrella of George Lucas and then Steve Jobs. There's a certain charm to these first early films: _The Adventures of André and Wally B_ , _Luxo Jr_ , _Beach Chair_ , _Red's Dream_ , _Tin Toy_ , _Knick Knack_ ; while the technology is constantly being developed, there's an iconic quality to the characters. These are simple, fun little stories, charming and endearing. And it was nearly all unchartered territory. Younger kids today have no idea how brand-spanking new computer animation in the 1980's really was. The computer graphics in the movie _Tron_ were a revelation to kids hooked on Atari and Intellivision (it may have been light on story, but it was definitely fun and a worthy time capsule of its era).

Pixar blew open the boundaries of computer graphics animation with _Toy Story_ , and this is where their Phase Two begins. This movie is the archetype that all CGI cartoons still model themselves. Really, is it possible to imagine any Hollywood animated movie without _Toy Story_? Heck, they'd be forced to come up with some original ideas themselves, instead of shamelessly stealing from Lasseter. Why are all these movies still obsessed with buddy road trips and stand up comedy acts? For the love of Elvis, please don't make me watch another cartoon with Robin Williams.

All of those great Pixar movies — _A Bug's Life_ , _Monsters Inc_ , Finding Nemo, _The Incredibles_ , _Cars_ — continue to refine and perfect these formulas. The focus is still largely on the technology, pushing computer graphics farther and farther, and each picture reveals another important barrier broken. It is notable that no significant rivals emerge for a great many years. This is all trailblazing stuff.

There's a lighthearted sense of fun to these movies, and it would be unfair to expect more. It's all bright colors and dazzling sights. Story is always touted as the main focus, but I find that notion doesn't sit well with me, never really has. The two _Toy Story_ movies have the best stories and the most developed characters, and that's probably why these are my favorites of the period. There's a spirit of childhood nostalgia, both cheerful (the first movie) and sad (the second movie). Too often, however, Pixar's movies rely upon formulas, melodramatic plots and happy endings for all. These are very tightly structured songs, following the established conventions of the day.

Perhaps this reflects the studio's continuing growth and maturation, perhaps it reflects their tight relationship with Disney that made their worldwide success possible. Who knows? In any case, that relationship is really what defines this period, and it's the anticipated breakup that leads us towards the next evolutionary leap.

This may have been forgotten now, but Steve Jobs had soured on Disney over the years, and was openly threatening to break free completely after the studio's sixth feature, which marked the end of the distribution contract. I think the studio kids were becoming restless, too. They've always been the obsessive, geeky kind, not the sort of mindless corporate suits which have completely ruined Hollywood. They've always dreamed for better things. Not that I have any opinions on the matter.

The politics of what eventually became the Disney merger was pretty dramatic itself. Edward Jay Epstein chronicled much of it online at Slate. Pixar had searched around for a new partner, but was frustrated because of one clause in the Disney contract: Disney held the rights to all the Pixar characters. This became their trump card; they announced the building of their own CGI movie studio, where they would crank out an endless supply of Pixar clones, sequels and knock-offs. In short, Disney was out to dilute and destroy the rival brand, and negotiations impossible for the other major studios. How could you compete with an unknown movie against a _Toy Story 3_ and the Disney brand? Would moviegoers even tell the difference?

Doesn't this come back to the primary issue with American animation? In our country, "animation" means "babysitter," and that's all it's expected to be good for. It's just a simple distraction for the kiddies, to get them out of your hair, while you collapse on the bed or couch after a long day at your useless jobs. Most parents will stick their kids in front of anything.

So, as I've said, if we're going to make better movies, we need to start making better audiences. But I rant enough on that topic. It's damn near the thesis of the Ghibli Blog at times. This brings us, and Pixar, back to the only place anyone could turn: Disney. And this is where Steve Jobs pulled off one of his greatest business deals: the multi-billion dollar merger of the Pixar and Disney studios.

This is the atmosphere where _Cars_ and _Ratatouille_ are born. I've argued before that _Cars_ was really a movie about the studio itself, caught between its past and future, caught in the crossroads between the independent artist and the corporate (Disney) limelight. You could see that movie ending three different ways. In the end, being good artists, they chose the hardest route available: to create their art through the machine itself.

_Cars_ was once envisioned as the final movie with Disney; _Ratatouille_ was to be their first as true independents. This is why it was such a crucial test. Would the Disney merger mean hedging their bets? Would it mean creative compromise? Taking the safe route? Sticking to the old predictable, if profitable, formulas? For me, at least, this was the grand drama of Brad Bird's movie. Impressive, isn't it, that Bird is the one chosen to lead the Pixar studio into uncharted territory? He also has the knack for being inventive and subversive, for pushing the boundaries, within the formulas of the system.

It is true that there's nothing new with animal characters, wacky slapstick, and cartoon chases that go all the way back to the silent era. What is new is a deeper impression of the emotions, a need to go below the surface. _Ratatouille_ isn't a movie about the goofy outcast proving himself and achieving fame. In this movie, fame is not only elusive; it is spurned outright. The "success" of the climactic meal before the food critic does result in the restaurant's triumph. Then it is shuttered because of the rats. In this world, the hero can never become a success, certainly not in the way the heros of _Toy Story_ or _A Bug's Life_ could. Remy the Rat is free to pursue his art, but he must be a guerilla artist. He must work in the shadows. The movie's final shot, of the new restaurant's sign, carries a double meaning - a pun to its patrons, a sly wink and a nod to the viewers. I promise you that those diners have no idea their food will be prepared by rats, or knowledge of that second "restaurant" above the ceiling boards.

Notice, again, how Bird was fully aware of the squeamish nature of rats — many people are honestly repulsed by them — but this is a fact he gleefully accepts. He throws it in your face, with succeeding stampedes that remind me of all those Ohmu stampedes. Recall, again, those cooks who walked out when it is revealed Remy is the Svengali of their kitchen. The cliched plot requires them to all return in time for the movie's climax, where all is forgiven and friends are made. This event never takes place. Those cooks walked out for good.

With _Ratatouille_ , we can clearly see that Pixar is moving into a new era. The computer technology is beyond reproach; no other movie studio save Studio Ghibli can match the skill of these artists, and Ghibli has famously kept CGI at arms' length (apart from the short films of Yoshiyuki Momose). Pixar are the uncontested masters of their art. But the marketplace is cluttered with cartoons like never before. It's becoming harder and harder to retain those audiences. Those parent's we've mentioned, the ones looking to Buzz and Woody as surrogate babysitters, now have a whole menu of choices. Sticking to the formula simply won't work anymore. For if the day comes when Pixar is just another cartoon studio, churning out lifeless drones set for the lowest-common denominator, they'll be finished.

For the true artists, there is only one direction to go.

So now it's the year 2008, and Pixar's newest movie is a sincere, heartwarming romance on par with Charlie Chaplin...and the most wickedly whip-smart picture of the year. These guys and gals at Pixar are hungry. It's almost as if they're beginning all over again, and they are driven by the deep need to prove themselves. This is exciting to watch.

Pixar are now firmly into Phase Three, their _Rubber Soul_ period. It's much like the Second Miles Davis Quintet, which spanned the middle to late 1960's. The period when Miles, the great American artist, kept pushing himself, driving his art into new and uncharted territory, desperate to outrun the competition, desperate to outrun his own famed reputation. And he was backed by the best band in the world, save one (The Beatles). The resulting albums evolved rapidly from the hard bop of _ESP_ , to the abstract rock of _Filles de Kilimanjaro_ , and finally to the great paradigm shift, the great break: fusion.

So where is Pixar taking us? What is our end goal? I always point to the Japanese masters, Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki, but these are our teachers. The new paradigm will be something different, something new. I would die happy if Pixar could create something as sublime and masterful as _Gauche the Cellist_ , _My Neighbor Totoro_ , _Mimi wo Sumaseba_ , _Omohide Poro Poro_. But when Pixar finally breaks the barriers imposed upon American animation, the new paradigm will prove a surprise. It will be different. How? In what way? I can't say. They must be willing to push themselves further than ever before, and push the audiences further than ever before.

It is altogether possible, and very likely if history is any judge, that future Pixar masterpieces will be ahead of their time. The parents will be completely lost, and maybe some of the kids, too. But some will get it. They will become the artists of the next generation, the new trailblazers of the year 2028. For evidence, closely examine the following: _Pet Sounds_ and _Ramones_ ; Miles and Coltrane; _Citizen Kane_ ; _Horus_ and Heidi.

That is the promised land for American filmmaking and animation. That's where we need to go. And I believe _Wall-E_ is the next crucial step. Certainly helps a lot that it's such a great movie. I'm already itching to see it a second time, and maybe a third. If you're a believer in the new paradigm, in the promised land, you'll drag friends and family back with you for repeated viewings. It's always said that art is a two-way conversation. Which means it's up to you to carry your load. Rubber Soul, man. Rubber Soul.

### Pixar's UP: A Short, Short Review

Time for me is short, of course, but I thought I should churn out a very quick and short impression of Pixar's latest movie. I'll compile one of those extra-long essays as soon as I am able. Anyway, we're gonna take no more chances. We're gonna do the short, short version.

The first 20 minutes were wonderful, brilliant, perfect. Loved it. The story of the marriage should have been the entire picture. The rest of the movie, not so much. I loved the image of a house floating under a thousand children's balloons. I didn't like all the noisy chase scenes. I really liked the talking dog. I didn't care much for that bird, a walking MacGuffin. I liked that kid, the boy scout. I didn't need to know his family history. I thought Kirk Douglas and Spencer Tracy looked nice. Did somebody pump them full of Flintstone Vitamins? By the end, indifference consumed me. I didn't want another _Star Wars_ climax. I wanted the husband and wife. They were the heart and soul of this movie. Very uneven movie. Miraculous in its best moments, cliched and formulaic in its worst. Not one of Pixar's best, but an admirable effort. The end of an era? Sniffle. Next up for Pixar: franchise sequels and Disney fairy tales. Sob.

### Puss in Boots 3: Around the World in 80 Days

I'm a great fan of the original 1969 _Puss in Boots_. In fact, I think it's an anime masterpiece and one of Toei Doga's crowning achievements. It benefited greatly from the immense talent at the studio, including Hayao Miyazaki, Yasuo Otsuka, Yoichi Kotabe, Reiko Okuyama, and Yasuji Mori. Within a couple years, however, they would begin the migration away to other studios and projects like _Lupin the 3rd_ and _Heidi, Girl of the Alps_ , and the quality of Toei's movies deteriorated as a result.

_Puss in Boots 2_ ( _Nagagutsu Sanjuushi_ ), made in 1972, was a weaker sequel, but it still had some charms, thanks to Mori and Okuyama. At least the Wild West theme was a bold change of pace. Most sequels aim to repeat the exact formula, so you have to admire the studio's willingness to take risks. I think it's an alright movie and is worth watching at least once.

_Puss in Boots 3_ , however, is a disaster. If there was ever an example of Toei's decimation as a great movie studio, it's this picture. It's amazing that this was even considered a feature release at all. It has the look and feel of crude television, some low-budget mess that was probably green-lighted as a result of some executive losing a poker match.

I will say this in the movie's defense: I really like the setting. "Around the World in 80 Days" is a terrific idea for a movie; in fact, it happens to be a terrific movie. That's a movie you watch with the grandparents at holiday gatherings. So it makes sense to give it a try with Pero the Cat. It's a pity the whole thing is such an unimaginative mess.

I found it a bit weird that _Puss in Boots 3_ completely rips off the 1968 anime masterpiece _The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun_. How did that come about? Was Toei finally feeling remorse over letting that movie tank at the box office, sacking the director, Isao Takahata, only to see him steal away the studio's best talent and revolutionize anime with _Heidi_ and _Marco_? Strange. Personally, I chalk it up to a lack of ideas. The filmmakers who made this picture couldn't find a decent idea if it bit 'em on the....eh, whatever. You get the point.

I also wonder if Hayao Miyazaki had seen this movie? How strange is it that a movie that steals from _Horus_ features a climactic chase through a clock tower, one that Miyazaki seems to steal for _Lupin the 3rd: The Castle of Cagliostro_? Yes, it's true that the clock tower motif first appeared in an episode of _Lupin Series One_ , but, still. I came away with the impression that Miyazaki ripped this scene out. You can't blame him for being cranky, in any event.

Let's see, what else is there? The animation is stiff and crude, barely television quality, as I've mentioned before. Pero is certainly likable, but dull and witless. You can tell this isn't the same whip-smart anti-hero from the original 1969 classic. The villains are likewise boring. Just why are we seeing that fox character yet again? He was first a character on the television cartoon show _Hustle Punch_ , and then a pirate in _Animal Treasure Island_ (another of my all-time favorites). Why is he in this lousy picture? And why doesn't he get to do anything interesting or fun?

An animated movie version of _Around the World in 80 Days_ should be wildly funny, colorful, full of life. This should be a movie for Pixar, not the creatively bankrupt Toei. This is an absolute clunker. I can't think of any redeeming qualities for this movie....except for the movie poster. That's a really terrific poster. Everything else stinks.

### Ratatouille: A Few Rambling Thoughts Posing as Some Sort of Movie Review

#### I.

I've been following the box office numbers for Pixar's _Ratatouille_ on Box Office Mojo, hopeful that the movie's fortunes turn out to surprise us. It's a common assumption that this movie would not be a big hit with audiences, certainly not when compared to Pixar's other hits. I've kept my hopes up that people would defy the suits and marketers who run Hollywood, and turn out in solid numbers. It hasn't really happened, and at this point I don't know if those numbers will ever arrive.

I'm really not sure why this is the case. Pixar is about as reliable a brand you can find for movies today. They've never made a bad picture, and many dedicated fans will insist that they never will. But you have to struggle to explain what could become Hollywood conventional wisdom: that Pixar is now a fading brand. Heaven forbid.

I'm not eager to accept such a pessimistic view just yet, but there's no denying the numbers. Ever since _Finding Nemo_ reached a peak, every Pixar movie since has grossed steadily smaller numbers; first with _The Incredibles_ , then _Cars_ , and now (almost certainly) _Ratatouille_. Surely this would be a concern, but add in the immensely expensive Disney buyout from last year, and you can see the stakes involved. The knives will be out for John Lasseter and Pixar's generals, and that battle is really only just beginning.

So what's wrong here? Is it simply that the market is oversaturated with CGI cartoons? Are parents reaching the burnout point, tiring of having to drag their children to more and more animated animal movies? Has the public become burned from an endless dirge of second-rate movies, cheap cash-ins and cynical sequels? Or is it the rats? Are folks really just turned off by rats? Maybe it's everything, maybe it's nothing.

I don't know, I really don't. I have my own pet theory, which also happens to be a running topic on _Ghibli Blog_. And here it is, in case you've missed it: Americans don't think of animation as an artform or a facet of the movies; they primarily see animation as a babysitter. The idea that the medium could be capable of anything more, or serve any greater purpose, is embraced by artists and animation enthusiasts, but for the general population, the medium serves a more utilitarian purpose. Cartoons exist to keep our children quiet.

The explosion in mass media over the past generation, no doubt, has been a factor. When I was a small child, there were four television stations and maybe a few UHF channels. Then cable arrived and the number of stations rose to 30. Today, there are literally hundreds of stations across cable and satellite providers. Home video has made thousands of movie and TV titles available within reach. The rise of digital streaming services like Netflix and Hulu only accelerates this momentum. And let us not forget the ten billion websites, all clamoring for our attention. American families have never felt so overwhelmed with entertainment options. Does this mean the loudest movies — the biggest explosions, the loudest fart jokes, the simplest plots — will rise to the top? Where does this leave thoughtful or nuanced movies?

Because of these reasons, I can understand the challenge in making a smart movie like _Ratatouille_ a big hit. It's so difficult to be heard over the noise. Even Pixar must sometimes struggle to be heard. This is going to be a major challenge for our beloved animation studio.

#### II.

Brad Bird is among the smartest filmmakers in America today. If you were really perceptive, you were likely telling anyone within earshot about a little movie called _The Iron Giant_ , a charming and humane movie that no one ever saw. And you likely had a difficult time explaining why it was a better form of animation than, say, the latest Disney picture. That's largely because it's strength lies in its heart, in its storytelling, not necessarily in the moving drawings themselves.

Again, I really don't have answers. I'm just scrambling for understanding. Bird seems destined to become one of those gifted filmmakers who earns great respect and praise, without really connecting to the greater public. Yes, _The Incredibles_ was a great success, and it's a terrific movie, but sometimes I wonder if that success had to do with its aping of superhero comics and James Bond spy movies. Did people register with the human emotions of the characters, or were they just conditioned to watch yet another Bond spoof with big explosions?

Maybe that's the challenge of _Ratatouille_. It's a movie that continues to push the human drama we saw in _The Incredibles_ , but without the enormous, action blockbuster set-pieces to keep the kiddies from becoming distracted. It's more than a little subversive of movie conventions. It's almost as though this movie were Bird's gambit. _Okay, folks, you say you like my movies for their heart; have a load of this._

This is not to suggest that I believe he's being confrontational. But he does show a great confidence, a willingness to take the audience's preconceived notions, including their anxieties, and challenge them. The basic framework of what became _Ratatouille_ was already in place by the time Bird took over the project. It's the story of a rat who dreams of becoming a famous French cook. That premise was already in the public consciousness, but no one knew how he would handle the material. It is, after all, a delicate subject, mixing two ideas together that are polar opposites, rats and cooking.

The temptation, I suppose, would have been to turn Remy and his fellow rodents into another batch of cuddly, wuddly cartoon animals, just like old Mickey, just like every other animated cartoon to hit the pike this decade. But that doesn't happen. Bird knows our squeamishness about rats, and he doesn't shy away from it. He faces it head on. There are some sequences in the movie, particularly at the beginning and the end, when packs of rats overwhelm an environment. In these moments, what we see are essentially rats. They swarm and scuttle with a fluidity that is downright alien, and a little unsettling, too.

I'm reminded of the way Isao Takahata stylistically changed the appearances of the tanuki in _Pom Poko_ , from real-life naturalism to cartoon caricature. Brad Bird achieves something like this in his movie, but without the visual shifts. His rats pretty much look the same, apart from the necessary lighting and compositions. I don't think the goal is to unsettle or scare us. If anything, Bird shows a great deal of respect for his audience, by acknowledging those fears. But he likewise doesn't shy away from being honest. This is the story we've chosen to tell, and these are they players. They are who they are.

For me, this approach — more subtle, more honest — is just what makes Remy such a likable character. It makes him more believable. It helps, of course, that he isn't banding about the screen, shouting at the top of his lungs, or offering yet another batch of lazy movie quotes to keep the stupids happy.

_Ratatouille_ isn't merely the story of a character with a crazy dream, but a portrait of an artist, a character who pursues his muse wherever it leads him. Conventions be damned. It takes any old cartoon rat to be zapped by lightning while cooking on a rooftop. It takes an artist to get zapped, and then rush back for an encore. That's dedication.

#### III.

I don't want to spend forever retelling everything in _Ratatouille_ that I enjoyed, because we'd be here all day, and I'd be reciting the entire show. I just want to share a couple thoughts and impressions that have stayed with me this past week.

I think that emotional honesty, that respect for the audience, is Brad Bird's best gift. I hope the movie business never beats it out of him. American animation needs his sensibilities, and the art form is better for it. It seems that he and Pixar met at just the right time. The studio has been steadily growing, pushing the boundaries of computer animation. And now, it seems as though they've finally mastered the tools. They're finally making animation that is as expressive, fluid, and emotional as the hand-drawn style. This is a tremendously beautiful movie, full of subtle hues and shades and textures. All that is needed for great art is a capable mind, a director with the humanity to match, and I think that's just what has happened here.

I'll be honest, I was tremendously moved by this movie. It felt as though a new plateau had been reached, especially in the character animation. Animators always talk about "acting," from their perspective, and apart from a few notable moments ( _Pinocchio_ , _Bambi_ , Fantasia), their ideas have been lost on me. _Ratatouille_ shows what is really meant by " _acting_ " in animation. There's a gracefulness to movements, large and small. The characters don't move; they dance, like Fred Astaire in all of his wonderful movies. I remember reading how Fellini would play music for his actors while filming, to set the proper mood. In _Ratatouille_ , you can hear the music in everyone's heads, because it's playing in yours as well.

What's striking is that this rhythm translates to the chase sequences so effectively. Brad Bird has always been a great student of the classic cartoon chase, as his 1987 _Family Dog_ series demonstrates. For me, those were the cartoons I loved the most: Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Wile E. Coyote. Not Disney. Disney cartoons were stale and lifeless and preachy, always so puritanical. Even by the time I was eight, I felt embarrassed by them. Give me _Tom & Jerry_ and _Rocky & Bullwinkle_ instead. And where, I lament, is today's answer to those great American cartoons? Hardly anybody does it anymore; perhaps, to be fair, hardly anybody knows how to pull it off. Well, Brad Bird sure knows. He knows better than anyone.

The problem with everything post- _Star Wars_ is that every movie treats action like an assault on the senses, an array of endless explosions and rapid-fire cutting. Every multiplex blockbuster is afflicted; even _The Incredibles_ was shackled needlessly with a loud action sequence in its final 20 minutes. Everything comes down to the Death Star Battle: Boom Boom Boom show's over. Maybe I'm just getting old? What time does _Matlock_ come on?

_Ratatouille_ is loaded with terrific action sequences, but a wonderful thing happens in the movie's final act. It stops. The conclusion is not dependent upon anything but it's original premises: food, cooking, the passion of pursuing one's art. I was overwhelmed by the final 30 minutes, because it just felt so right. It felt honest. I wasn't being mugged by the theatre's sound system. I wasn't being manhandled by the movie for cheap, preachy moral lessons. I wasn't being suckered with a cheap, happy conclusion. Instead, something a little more quiet, a little more respectful, a little more honest. Have I mentioned this is a beautiful movie?

#### IV.

I want to finish with a couple observations from _Ratatouille_ that have stayed with me. It all relates to what I've been saying and writing about. There's a scene near the end when Linguini, the shy, lanky cook who is both Remy's collaborator and puppet, has to give the big rousing speech to his fellow cooks. This is the big pep speech at the climax of so many movies, one where the hero wins back the respect of his peers, and they all roll up their sleeves for the big fight/big game/big finish.

This time, Remy's secret role as the restaurant's star talent is revealed, and poor Linguini appeals to his chefs to come together, not to abandon him in their hour of need. And then something remarkable happens.

The cooks walk out. Every one of them.

And the movie stays with that. Sure, Colette, the tough romantic lead, does return to Linguini's side, but the rest? They're gone for good. There is no cheap reconciliation, no tired cliches to be played out. The conclusion to the movie will be performed without them, and they will never be heard from again.

My second observation is a moment that was horribly misread by the audience I sat with in the theater, which comes back to all that dumbing down. It's the moment when infamous and dreaded food critic Anton Ego (voiced by Peter O'Toole masterfully, as a character who is not villainous, but plays the part) is handed the titular meal, the Ratatouille.

When he takes his first bite, the camera quickly zooms forward, and Ego is immediately hurled back into his childhood. There, as a young boy with tears in his eyes, he is comforted by his mother with a hot meal. The old man is reminded, in a flash, of what it was about food that he loved so much, and why he pursued a career as a food critic. It's probably the most touching and humane and deeply personal moment in the entire film.

How did the mostly college-age audience react? Bowling laughter. Haw haw haw haw!!! It was enough to make me want to throw things at them, for being so crass and so damned clueless.

This is why I don't like watching movies with college kids much anymore. They can't react to anything on the screen except with laughter, especially violence. Fast camera movement equals laughter. I've witnessed this watching a number of movies, equally misread, equally. It's like dangling keys in front of a baby sometimes.

Which came first, the smarter movies or the smarter viewers? Remember the words of John Lennon, dear readers: _War is over, if you want it_.

### The Running Man on LaserDisc

I only saw _The Running Man_ once on VHS back in the 1980s, and while I can barely remember any of it, I do remember that it was well liked by friends, and it was one of Arnold Schwarzenegger's more popular pictures. It's a goofy comic-book action movie with enough brains and wit to keep me smiling.

Marcee and I were currently working through our stack of LaserDiscs, and I really only threw this movie into the player because I wanted to save _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ for later. I enjoy _The Running Man's_ '80s cyberpunk vibe, which clearly evokes the imagery of _Blade Runner_ and _The Road Warrior_ , and anticipates _Akira_ (but thankfully avoids that film's despair or nihilism).

Richard Dawson easily steals the show as the corrupt game show host; he was a joy to watch from beginning to end, and this was probably his best role (he was essentially playing a satire of himself). I know I'm in the minority here, but I'll rank this movie above _Predator_ in the pantheon of Arnold films (I'm a sci-fi kid at heart).

The laserdisc, a 1995 letterbox release, looks terrific for its format, very vivid and colorful with good use of light and shadow. The picture is sharp and detailed, close enough to DVD, and retaining that magical "film-like" quality that makes LD shine. And there isn't a pixel or digital compression artifact anywhere in sight. Yay!

For most of my readers, this discussion is purely academic. A few of you might be curious or nostalgic for LaserDiscs, but most everyone can be satisfied with the quality of Blu-Ray discs. _The Running Man_ is available on BD for roughly the cost of your morning coffee and bagel, which makes it an easy purchase. Why are you even reading this? Go grab that movie!

### Ryan

Chris Landreth won this year's Oscar for Best Animated Short for his wonderfully thoughtful and sad _Ryan_. This computer-animated film pays tribute to Ryan Larkin, a famed Canadian animator who burst on the scene in the late 1960s and inspired a generation of animators. Larkin's animated shorts revealed a sharp creative mind with the soul of a poet, and his future was assured with an Academy Awards nomination in 1969. Tragically, however, he became ensnared in drug and alcohol addiction, which not only ended his career but destroyed his life. -

At the time of this documentary in 2005, Ryan Larkin was an alcoholic, reduced to begging on the street to survive. He died from lung cancer in 2007.

Landreth's documentary approach, including conversations with Larkin and clips from his short films, is heartbreaking. To watch this gifted, soulful artist completely abandon his former life and quietly beg — "Spare any change, sir?" "Thank you sir" — is almost unbearably sad. I'm reminded, of course, of Isao Takahata's great pathos, but this is a living human being behind the animation.

Landreth draws people as a mix of surrealism and x-ray photography. Faces and bodies are withered and decayed, reflecting their inner turmoil. Ryan Larkin's face is barely visible, almost completely eaten away; it's a magnificent metaphor for the damage this man has done to himself. Then Landreth points the mirror at himself, suggesting his fears that his own inner turmoils could one day meet the same fate.

Computer animation is typically created with modeling software and may involve live actors for either video footage or motion-capture. Yet everything we see in _Ryan_ was crafted by hand. Faces have such a photorealistic quality that you will swear you are watching the actual person on screen. It's amazing to watch.

The special edition DVD release of _Ryan_ include several of Landreth's other works as well as Larkin's classic short films, as well as a 50-minute documentary and audio commentary track. This movie is hailed as a masterpiece of the animated documentary. The master of the form, of course, is Isao Takahata, who pioneered psychological realism in animation. I don't know if Chris Landreth was inspired by Paku-san's masterworks, but it's great to see someone continue the tradition.

### Shinders to Shinders

_Shinders to Shinders_ , a 1982 short film directed by (then) 27-year-old photographer Daniel Polsfuss, is a surreal fantasy tribute to the notoriously daring, dark and sleazy "Block E" in the heart of downtown Minneapolis. Much like a parallel to Prince's _Purple Rain_ , this film serves as a time capsule to the early 1980s, with its dance choreography, hip-hop, funky hair and dirty streets.

It's probably hard to imagine that Minnesota — the "wonder bread" capitol of dull, safe blandness, consumed by terrified white suburbanites — could have a sleazy city block straight out of 1970s Manhattan. But Block E was such a place. Its businesses included a Shinders bookstore (one of two on Hennepin Avenue, hence the title), a McDonald's, a record store, an avant-garde art gallery, a famously dangerous dive bar called "Moby Dick's," and various sex shops that once populated America's downtown streets. In time, the wrecking ball, and the internet, drove everything into extinction.

In 1988, Block E was demolished, viewed by the city as an embarrassment and an eyesore. Like much of Minneapolis' urban planning schemes, this lot was replaced with nothing, and sat empty for the next dozen years. What finally emerged on Block E was a dull and soulless suburban shopping mall, filled with a number of equally dull and soulless franchise restaurants, encased in a large building that must have been designed by drunken circus clowns. Hideous. The suburban experiment failed miserably, and the "Disney" version of the block languished, again, for years. Today, in 2016, the site has been rebuilt again, this time as a Mayo Sports Clinic and practice space for the Minnesota Timberwolves and Lynx basketball teams, and home to a couple sports bars. The block isn't exactly bustling with life (aside from the Kieran's Pub in the back), but at least it's not a damned circus tent.

The history of downtown Minneapolis is replete with such stories, of crazy, dangerous, but fully alive blocks demolished to make way for the wonder bread suburbans, who hide inside the Skyway hamster tubes, looking for another franchise chain that sells microwaved food in plastic bags. Ooh, another TGI Friday's...joy. We look to the young Millennial Generation to turn the page once again, as they flow back into downtown, reviving districts that have been all but abandoned for decades. We remain hopeful for a true urban renewal, after decades of broken promises and empty parking lots. I certainly wouldn't want to see the sleazy sex shops return, nor the drug dealers. But I also wish for something more than just another indoor mall, packed with boring franchise stores, boring junk food chains, and boring suburbanites. And don't get me started on those hamster tubes.

Ah, well. Be sure to catch this movie if you find it floating around the internets. It's a fascinating little time capsule, part fact, part fiction, from a lost era of gritty urban streets.

### The Simpson's Movie: A Review (or, My Eyes, The Goggles Do Nothing!)

Good Lord, this movie stinks.

I had high hopes for _The Simpson's Movie_ , and, indeed, it begins on a high note, with a great _Itchy & Scratchy_ sequence that ends with Scratchy eating hundreds of nuclear warheads. Hah! Then the camera pans back to reveal we're watching a movie, where Homer Simpson stands and berates the audience for paying money to see a show they're already getting on television for free. Haha...more funny.

Homer wasn't kidding. The jokes in this movie are good for about, oh, 20 minutes. Twenty minutes, the length of one decent TV. Then the writers lose any sense of creativity or wit, and plod along for two unbearably dull hours. _The Simpson's Movie_ is such a slave to Hollywood formula that I was looking behind my couch for a paperback copy of "Screenwriting 101."

Do I really have to write more? I don't feel like it. You've had more than enough time to see this movie if you're so inclined. I'm really the last one to the party. I think the problem here is the same as the TV show: _The Simpson's_ has run out of gas. After 25 years on the air, every conceivable joke, story, and scenario has been played out a dozen different ways. The series is now reduced to the level of a simple gag show that sputters through tired routines and worn jokes, and has been so for years.

There's no reason why a _Simpson's Movie_ couldn't be clever, witty, biting, recapture some of that old magic. I could imagine a wacky comedy like one of Mel Brooks' classic films — _Blazing Saddles_ , _Young Frankenstein_ , _Spaceballs_ — or any number of screwball farces. No such luck. What's here is just a standard-issue formula picture that has been used on about a billion summer blockbusters.

About the only good thing to come out of this movie is the animation, which is much fuller than on TV. The production team definitely put a priority on animating _The Simpsons_ as they never could on the small screen. For the most part, it works very well. They didn't turn this movie into an overdrawn Disney cartoon, but augment the in-between animations whenever necessary. Everything looks very nice, if still a bit bland, but that's largely due to the art design of the series itself, and it's far too late to do anything about that now.

The second half barely had any good jokes, aside from the very rare punch line. I just didn't care. Why should I care about some serious plot (Springfield sealed off from the outside world), especially when these "plots" have been played out a dozen times on the idiot box? Why am I supposed to care? Homer is impulsive and dumb? He's an inattentive father and husband? Springfield is going to be destroyed? Matt Groening and his writers had years to write a decent script; in the end, they just recycled the leftovers of leftovers.

Other bad choices: why is Bart suddenly drinking hard alcohol in the middle of the picture? When did he start doing that? And why did he suddenly stop five minutes later? What's the deal with that? And why the need to show "adult" content that couldn't get past the censors? This is another bad cliche of television-to-film adaptations. Homer shouldn't flip the bird, and Marge shouldn't swear; it doesn't fit their characters. The scene where Bart is buck naked is well-known, but the writers forgot that what makes those kind of scenes funny (the opening to _Austin Powers_ being the prime example). Not flashing the audience is the key to the joke. Show everything and the comedy is lost. But, let's be honest, the comedy has been missing on _The Simpsons_ for years. Going the Full Monty is all they have left.

This movie ruins a lot of jokes. Most everything in the script is just one simple throwaway line after another, all subservient to that damned stupid plot. Spider Pig was funny, yes. Hearing the Spider Pig song for the third time: not funny.

Seriously, people, lose the _Screenwriter's Handbook_. I was always skeptical of the idea of a _Simpson's Movie_ , but I still wanted to discover a good movie. When you think of the heights reached by this series in its 1990s Golden Age, your heart just breaks. I've seen washed-up rock bands age more gracefully than this. This is a major disappointment.

### The Stranger on DVD

I'm a great fan of Orson Welles. I always have been ever since I heard the infamous 1938 _War of the Worlds_ broadcast as a child, and then years later when I discovered _Citizen Kane_. Heck, I was even a fan of all those television commercials he was forced to do in his later years.

A decade ago, a local DVD rental store in Minneapolis had stocked all of Welles' films that were available on DVD, frequently import releases of dubious quality, owing to the legal molasses surrounding so much of the director's work. It's the only way I was able to discover _The Magnificent Ambersons_ , _The Trial_ , _Chimes at Midnight_ and the 1946 film noir _The Stranger_. Imagine my surprise, then, so see the title reissued some years ago under MGM's Film Noir label.

Popular opinion regards _The Stranger_ as one of Welles' lesser works, essentially a studio picture for hire. Poor Orson, already in exile from the Hollywood establishment despite making the greatest movie of all time ( _Kane_ ) and the first of many butchered classics ( _Ambersons_ ), trying to prove that he can work within the rules of the system, that he could be a good "team player." He remarked years later that he could have had a very steady, successful career had he followed this route. Fortunately, his genius could never be controlled nor contained. We are all the better for it.

Even though I am in the minority, I think _The Stranger_ is a terrific movie, a masterful piece of noir. It's always a thrill to see the young Orson Welles on the big screen. We have so few opportunities to see that boyish face from _Citizen Kane_ , before age kicks in, the weight comes on, and the portly, bearded Welles takes over.

You could say this is a standard-issue, formulaic genre picture, a story of a Nazi war criminal (Welles) hiding in small-town America, being hotly pursued by the great Edward G. Robinson, but I think that says more about Welles' greater achievements than anything. His movies were so unpredictable, so unexpected, and so dark. He was film noir before noir existed. So perhaps that skews our expectations here. A movie like _The Stranger_ wilts in comparison to many other classics. I would suggest that we put that aside, and appreciate this film on its own merits.

There's one moment in _The Stranger_ that really stands out for me, and it's the final chase sequence at the end, located in a church bell tower. Movie fans will draw the obvious, menacing parallels to Alfred Hitchcock's _Vertigo_ , and Tim Burton's first _Batman_ , hailing back to Fritz Lang's _Metropolis_ , but I think Welles' take is the definitive one, the darkest, the most exciting. I'm amazed at how quickly he absorbed Gregg Toland's groundbreaking cinematic style from _Citizen Kane_. It's in evidence here, and points to the purely visual style that would mark Welles' gothic European period.

In the end, what you have is a really entertaining movie, loaded with suspense, intrigue, a little bit of humor here and there, and some excellent performances. I do hope this movie's obscurity won't last with a prominent DVD release such as this. It deserves to be admired and enjoyed by audiences today, and stand proudly in your movie library among the well-known classics.

### Ten Favorite Animated Feature Films

(Note: I submitted this short essay to Time Out London for their 2014 issue commemorating the greatest animated films. I was chosen because of _Ghibli Blog_ , which has a following in the UK and across Europe, as well as the United States. It was an honor to be included, and I'm always thankful to be published.)

1. _Omohide Poro Poro_ (1991)

Isao Takahata's emotionally-overpowering tone poem is a work of genius, Ozu painted with watercolors. It is a masterwork of a style that literally does not exist in the West, but should: a naturalist animation that blends documentary neo-realism, surreal pop art, and every director's trick in the book. The scene of a sunrise peeking over a mountain range, illuminating fields of safflowers, may be the single most beautiful moment in all of cinema.

2. _Mimi wo Sumaseba_ (1995)

Stunningly beautiful coming-of-age story, one that treats its characters (and its audience) with respect and honesty rarely seen. Hayao Miyazaki's personal touches abound: the value of hard work, the awareness of loss, his romanticism. But director Yoshifumi Kondo is the real star, the director whose quiet pacing perfectly pairs Miyazaki's dynamism with Takahata's realism. His 1998 death remains a tragic loss.

3. _Fantasia_ (1943)

Terence McKenna once defined art as "showing other people the inside of your head." I like to image that _Fantasia_ is what Walt Disney and his brilliant artists imagined when listening to classical music, showcasing every animation technique they pioneered. What an inspiring, bold fusion of image and sound! What mad genius to create such a spectacle! Also, dancing hippos.

4. _Pinocchio_ (1940)

_Pinocchio_ is the work of great artists at the peak of their powers, and they're showing off their skills with smiles on their faces. It's easy to forget that animation was a young medium, and the animated feature film an untested idea. Grand Hollywood spectacle at its best, full of wonder and excitement and terror. That giant whale could still give children nightmares.

5. _The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun_ (1968)

The most revolutionary Japanese animated feature ever made, _Horus_ shattered the Disney mold and firmly established the modern anime era. This is the moment when "anime" becomes a unique species of the form. A new vocabulary is created: animation theory, formal composition, morally complex characters, biting social commentary, and thrilling, stylized action sequences that would make the world envious. The creators read like an honor roll of animation all-stars: Isao Takahata, Hayao Miyazaki, Yasuo Otsuka, Reiko Okuyama, Yoichi Kotabe, Yasuji Mori, Akemi Ota.

6. _Mononoke Hime_ (1997)

I could easily choose any of Hayao Miyazaki's directorial features for this list; they're all masterful, brilliant. _Mononoke_ represents the moment when he became an international star in his own right, and achieved unparalleled blockbuster success in Japan. A meditation on violence and the failure of communication, bloody, brooding, dark, wisely avoiding "preachy moral lessons" or simple melodrama. This is tragedy in the best Kurosawa tradition.

7. _Gauche the Cellist_ (1982)

The story of a young musician who struggles against, then grows to understand, his craft and his animal neighbors. Isao Takahata's mastery of music is demonstrated through his integration of Beethoven's 6th with the Kenji Miyazawa tale. Beautifully drawn and realized, a true labor of love.

8. _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ (1985)

Why must Western Animation aspire to be nothing more than glorified toy commercials and theme park rides? Is there nothing more? Gisaburo Sugii adaptation of the Miyazawa novel aims higher. It is a surrealist Journey of the Soul, a religious pilgrimage that grapples with the twin mysteries of life and death. Also, talking cats.

9. _The Beatles' Yellow Submarine_ (1968)

I like to imagine that The Beatles actually inhabit some parallel universe as living musical cartoons, spinning endlessly silly puns and conjuring majestic music from the skies. _Yellow Submarine's_ endless palettes of 1960s psychedelia dazzle, surprise, inspire. A joyous celebration of music and pop art.

10. _Waking Life_ (2001)

_Waking Life_ is my perfect definition of an "idea" film: deep philosophical musings on life and beyond, all set to wildly imaginative and varied animation styles. To ask great questions, to dare to dream, to laugh and discover...isn't this what the movies are all about?

### The Triplets of Belleville on Blu-Ray

Sylvain Chomet's brilliant 2003 movie _The Triplets of Belleville_ is now available on Blu-Ray in France. The reviews have been glowing and the picture quality, judging from screenshots, is fantastic. I don't know if or when this title will be released in the US, UK or Australia, but I'd like to think somebody would pick it up for release. This is an inspired movie that deserves to be enjoyed by all.

I've seen this movie only once, at the Lagoon Theatre in Minneapolis during its theatrical, and I loved it. I laughed my head off and had a great time. Unfortunately, while the theatre was packed, it was full of Uptown movie snobs who absolutely refused to show any emotion or reaction to anything happening on the screen. I even had some guy shush me down for — heaven forbid! — laughing at the funny jokes. What a snobbish, passive-aggressive bunch. If you can't react to a movie, then why bother watching? I'm not expecting _Mystery Science Theater_ wisecracks, but we're not at a funeral, folks.

There are some wonderfully inventive and inspired moments: a dog who dreams of passing rail cars, a boy who is thrilled by the sight of his first bicycle; the grandmother who only speaks with a coach's whistle; the many visitors and onlookers along the Tour de France raceways; the diminutive gangster with his giant, blockish henchmen; the professional bicyclists with their scrawny frames and enormous leg muscles, the elderly triplets and their love of eating frogs (eww). The best gag is reserved for the climax: a group of kidnapped cyclists, drugged and connected to giant machines to believe they are racing, break loose from their prisons, racing down the streets of Paris, their bikes still connected to the giant video machines.

_Triplets of Belleville_ is a rich and wonderfully inventive movie. Best of all, it's confidently, defiantly French. Chomet has no interest in following any country's animation style, not the Brits, nor the Americans, nor the Japanese. This doesn't feel like anybody else's work, and for that I am extremely grateful. Animation has never been so profitable, yet is has never been so predictably, formulaic, like so much mass-produced plastic. I'm not at all surprised that Chomet tackled Jacques Tati in _The Illusionist;_ in my mind, both filmmakers are very closely related. If Tati were alive today, I think he'd be making cartoon movies like this.

### "We Doubt Younger Boys Will Be Excited by the Main Character"

"Younger boys and their toys." That's pretty much the only demographic Hollywood pays any attention to anymore. They've successfully managed to focus on the 13-year-old audience so exclusively that the rest of us are nearly always tuned out. I can't imagine the last time my grandparents went to see a movie in the theater, or the last time the movie theaters tried to attract their attention. Sorry, Grandma and Grandpa. No boys, no toys, no dice.

This is a very good riff on Pixar's _Up_ , but haven't I read this before already? It's the Pixar Narrative, in which the plucky artists square off against the corporate businessmen in suits. Despite enormous successes in the past, the small studio continues to grow and stretch and push the boundaries of the medium, commercial concerns be damned. Their stories are becoming more nuanced and emotionally complex, the characters moving further away from the cliches of the Hollywood animation feature, the animation medium in this country is finally growing up to the level of the world's masters. And audiences have attended in smaller and smaller numbers.

This will always be a concern, given the $7.4 billion Disney paid for Pixar. It goes without saying that all eyes will be peeled on those box-office numbers. The movie business is a cruel money game, and at the end of the day, money is the only thing that matters to executives and investors.

It's such a bizarre notion, really. A studio movie — both _Ratatouille_ and _Wall-E_ — breaks $200 million in US theaters and is considered a "failure." Pixar makes gobs of money. Disney makes gobs of money. But the suits were expecting the pile to be a bit larger, a bit taller. So, in their world, it's a loss, and the pressure builds and builds to make the next feature a "safe" hit for the studio investors.

This situation Pixar finds itself is interesting, even though it's the same tut-tutting that we've heard twice before, preceding the releases of _Ratatouille_ and _Wall-E_. The stakes this time are especially high, for it may determine the creative future of Pixar. That's really the concern for me.

Let me explain. Right now, Pixar has a trilogy of films in which they seriously tried to break the mold of animated movies in America. This is a period of creative growth and maturity, first with _Ratatouille_ and _Wall-E_ and now _Up_. I've called this "Pixar's _Rubber Soul_ Phase." I still think the phrase works, and I'm a great supporter of these movies, not just because they're entertaining themselves, but because of the future they promise for American animation.

At this point in the story, we would be leading from _Rubber Soul_ , to _Revolver_ , and finally to _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_. Paradigm shift. American animation free from the toddler ghetto. That would be fantastic if it was allowed to happen. Our popular culture is long overdue for another revolution.

But this future lies in doubt. It simply may never happen. It's quite possible that, years from now, this moment will be seen as Pixar's creative peak, the moment when the rising tide of possibility and hope finally crested and fell back.

Hollywood is a business. Never forget that. They are in business to make money, and lots of it. And Pixar hasn't been meeting expectations. Declining box office returns over many years ( _Finding Nemo_ was their box-office peak), declining ticket sales, and fears of alienating the audiences? These have become problems to the suits. And through it all, the artists continue, with gleeful defiance, to continue to make the movies for themselves, not the suits.

"Merchandizing! Merchandizing! Where the real money from the movie is made!" That's the problem for a quirky animated movie like _Up_. How in the name of the Almighty Dollar to you sell toys for a movie starring a grumpy old man? Where is the Happy Meal in that? Where is the Nintendo Wii spinoff? What five-year-old will be asking Santa for the _Up_ toys? Santa, Santa, I wanna be an old man when I grow up!

So whether we like it or not, after 2009 there will be a reckoning. And it all rests on the success of Pixar's latest left-of-field experiment. You wanted to hear teenage John and Paul sing "Love Me Do?" John and Paul are young adults now, and they're going to play, "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" instead. Are you game, or will you balk and stay home? Your decision may very well decide the future of animation in our country.

After this movie comes the next phase, the "greatest hits" era. Pixar will release _Toy Story 3_ next year, with sequels to _Cars_ and _Monsters, Inc._ following close behind. You want the old hits? Well, kids, you're getting the old hits.

The need to strike a proper balance, between satisfying the audience and expanding the artform, will be Pixar's great challenge from now on. The merger with Disney has many animation lovers worried: what if the corporate giant swallows the little studio that could? What happens if Pixar becomes trapped in a nostalgia loop, only cranking out franchise sequels at the expense of original stories? What happens if the fans are no longer interested in the new songs, but want the band to only play the classics? "Boo! Get off the stage! Play _Free Bird_!"

Don't get me wrong, I am as happy as everyone else to see another Toy Story or Finding Nemo. But Pixar cannot survive on nostalgia alone. They cannot lose that creative spirit that defined their greatness. I loved _Ratatouille_. I loved _Wall-E_. I loved the first act of _Up_ (even though the rest of the movie felt uneven). And I want to see what's next. The Magical Mystery Tour doesn't have to end, not yet. There are still new discoveries to be made.

### What is going to happen to Pixar?

Disney's Oscar win for _Big Hero 6_ was a massive upset, and firmly resurrects the company's fabled animation studios to greatness. With a solid string of critical and commercial hits, including _Wreck-It Ralph_ , _Tangled_ , and _Frozen_ , and now two Academy Awards in a row, it leaves an unsettling question lingering in the background: What is going to happen to Pixar? Does the studio have a future?

This sounds like an odd question, but hear me out. I think there are solid reasons for asking. Let's consider the recent accumulation of evidence:

1) Ever since Disney bought the Pixar studio, John Lasseter and Ed Catmull have thoroughly transformed Disney's own animation studios, changing the corporate structure to away from the older, every-project-for-itself ethos, and adopting Pixar's own "brain trust" model of cooperation and teamwork. Creativity is encouraged from all people, regardless of who works on which movie. The Pixar model is now fully transplanted at Disney.

2) The quality of Disney's feature animated films has skyrocketed since 2008. I think the success of these films speak for themselves: _Tangled_ , _Winnie the Pooh_ (2011), _Wreck-It Ralph_ , _Planes_ , _Frozen_ , _Big Hero 6_. Some of these could easily pass for Pixar films. And _Frozen_ became an all-time global blockbuster. With five Academy Awards in three years (two Feature Film, two Short Film, one Original Song), there can be no question that Disney Animation is back.

3) While Walt Disney Animation Studios (WDAS) has surged, Pixar has struggled creatively. Yes, their movies are still highly successful with the global box office, and the studio's string of box-office hits has yet to be broken. But they're relying far too heavily on sequels - _Toy Story 3_ , _Monsters U_ , _Finding Dory_ , _The Incredibles 2_ , _Cars 3_ ...And another _Toy Story_ directed by Lasseter-san himself (you didn't really believe _TS3_ was the last one).

Meanwhile, _Brave_ and _The Good Dinosaur_ both struggled in production, resulting in delays and shakeups in the director's chairs. And be honest: weren't you disappointed that Pixar's first original movie since the buyout was a princess fairy tale? _Brave_ may be a good movie, but it just felt _wrong_ , like somebody swapped it with _Wreck-It Ralph_ by mistake. What happened to Pixar's "Rubber Soul" phase, the era that gave us _Ratatouille_ , _Wall-E_ , and the first act of _Up_?

Pete Docter's latest feature, _Inside Out,_ is a welcome return to form, but this only highlights the length of the studio's current drought. Anyone can see that most of the creative energy has been invested in the Disney side of the aisle.

4) The _Cars_ franchise has already made the jump from Pixar to Disney, with 2013's _Planes_ and 2014's _Planes: Fire & Rescue_. The series is immensely popular with children, especially in regard to the toys. Every time I walk into the Disney Store at the Mall of America, the _Cars_ & _Planes_ toys are everywhere. It is not inconceivable that more movie franchises will see sequels or spin-offs appear on the Disney side.

5) The lines between Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios are blurring. Eventually, the lines may disappear completely. Both siblings feature the same bosses, the same brain trust, the same creative spirit, and more of the same franchises. Pixar has become effectively cloned. How much longer until the "Disney" and "Pixar" brands just become "Disney"? To the general public, the two are the same, and always have been ever since _Toy Story_ back in 1995.

6) Pixar has suffered a brain drain. This is arguably the most troubling development. Founding "Pixar braintrust" member Joe Ranft was killed in a 2995 car crash, and fellow director Andrew Stanton left the studio to pursue live-action films. Same goes for Brad Bird, arguably Pixar's greatest director, and the closest thing we have to an American Takahata. Their loss leaves a void that has yet to be filled.

Again, notice how two Pixar directors, Brenda Chapman ( _Brave_ ) and Bob Peterson ( _The Good Dinosaur_ ), struggled with productions and were eventually replaced. And what's that? Stanton and Bird are coming back? Terrific, thank God that...Oh, wait. More sequels. Sigh.

These are the questions that are roaming freely in my mind. I'm a great fan of the Pixar movies, like most of you. I think _Toy Story_ was a revelation, daring and fresh and wildly innovative, openly willing to ignore stale convention and cynical corporate meddling. It felt exciting, new. And that feeling was reinforced again and again. No more. That mojo lies in Pixar's hallowed halls. It lies in Disney's. And so, we must ask the questions again: What is going to happen to Pixar? Does the studio have a future?

My own personal hope would be that Pixar continued to push the boundaries of American animation, breaking with Disney conventions and commercial expectations to thoroughly as to create a new paradigm for the medium. Why couldn't Pixar create its answer to _Hedgehog in the Fog_ , or _The Man Who Planted Trees_ , or _Heidi, Girl of the Alps_ , or _Omohide Poro Poro_ , or _Night on the Galactic Railroad_? Today, sadly, that dream seems more distant than ever, if not impossible. Today's conglomerate-dominated movie business simply doesn't allow for it.

The most likely future for Pixar, in my humble opinion, is that they continue as a legacy/sequel factory in the short term, eventually becoming fully absorbed into the WDAS brand in the long run. I certainly hope I'm wrong about this one. Stay tuned.

### What's Wrong with Hollywood?

**Thursday, June 23, 2005 - 11:25 pm cst:** I've noticed there have been a number of news reports about the current Hollywood slump. Simply, people aren't going to the movies, at least not as much as the past few years. Now, if you're a teenage boy, all this talk of falling attendance may seem baffling. American Pop Culture has worshipped at your feet for most of your lives; certainly ever since _Jaws_ and _Star Wars_ began the Blockbuster Era. Everything in America is geared towards 14-year-old boys. Everything.

Now, for the adults among us, American Pop isn't a lot of fun. It stinks. The music is lip-synched, the television shows are banal, and the movies are terrible. Right now, mainstream Hollywood movies are just awful.

Of course, we've always experienced slumps; the summer months are left solely to dumb blockbusters, but the fall and winter seasons allow for more literary, cinematic fare. Yet this balance appears to be tilting worse with each passing year. We're getting to the point where the only time we see movies aimed at grownups is during the three weeks leading up to the Oscar nominations. The rest of the year, it's back to shaking down Beavis and Butthead.

Why aren't we going to the movies? Because Hollywood isn't making anything we'd like. Two hours of endless explosions, ear-popping sound effects, Ken & Barbie doll posing, and shameless product placements do not a movie make. Call them what they are: car commercials, music videos, and videogame demos.

BOOM! BAM! BOOM! BAM-BAM-BAM! Dude, I'm gonna kick yer ass! Brawndo has electrolytes! Yeah!

Last week, I went to the new Block E multiplex in downtown Minneapolis to see _Batman Begins_. When I sit down in my seat and the lights go down, I don't get a movie. What I get are commercials. Twenty minutes of television commercials.

Did I mention that movie tickets still cost $10.00 a pop? Did I ask for this? Did anyone? I remember that commercials are the trade-off we make to have free broadcast TV. And now that these same ads have invaded movie theaters, does this mean my tickets will be free or notably reduced? Hah. Fat chance.

So I have to sit here, captive in my seat while loud, stupid advertising blares over the speakers. This is why I don't have a TV, kids.

After that, we get to watch another twenty minutes of movie previews, which used to be a lot of fun. Used to be. Now, all we get are hyper-condensed, hyper-loud versions of the complete movies. More explosions. More cameras that shake around and cut faster than your mind can process. More of those annoying voice-overs. "IN A WORLD WHERE..." More giving away ninety-five percent of the plot. You know the kind.

Hollywood assumes that you are a drooling idiot — God Bless America, land of the gullible and dumb — so the plot to the entire movie must be spelled out loud in Candyland colors. Cut-cut-cut-cut. Boom-boom-boom-boom. Cut to untalented actor attempting a bad joke. Cut to more computer-generated explosions. Boom-boom-boom. Coming soon to a theatre near you.

Sigh. I sat through half a dozen previews, and they were all for the same stupid kind of movie, the mutant grandchildren of George Lucas and _Star Wars_ , but without any of the wit or imagination. It's insane how anyone can even comprehend any of this. I suppose it works for children and young adults who honestly don't know any better. Most of them have never seen a really great movie in their lives, and almost never anything before they were born. Certainly not any movies that are foreign or black-in-white, because, uh, you know, that's like, uh, old and stuff. Huh-huh.

By the time the movie starts, I already have a splitting headache. Apparently, I can't pay attention to the movie unless the speakers are blaring at 80 decibels. How many of you spend the better part of a movie with your fingers in your ears? It's getting to the point where you need earplugs.

Perhaps that's why I ended up not enjoying _Batman Begins_ in the theater, a movie that in any normal circumstance would become a favorite. It's really a great _Batman_ movie, and a welcome change of direction after so many years of creative drift (the less said of _Batman & Robin_, the better). It's just so hard to compete with throbbing ears and a splitting headache. It certainly doesn't help when the action scenes are impossibly noisy and terribly shot. I've never seen more incompetent camera work; it's nothing more than recklessly shaking the camera in every direction, based again on the notion that the audience cannot sit still for more than a full second (thanks a lot, _Jason Bourne_ ).

The Bruce Wayne segments, which delve into the character and psychology of Batman, are especially rich and meaty, and in this regard, this movie is the best in the series. But then there's another LOUD action scene with that twirling camera, and a climax that's nothing more than EVEN MORE EXPLOSIONS!!

The problem is that every Hollywood movie is like this. It seems there's a generation of filmmakers who don't even know the basics of the craft. I see this all the time, and there are so many problems than could be easily solved, but I suppose as long as the money's rolling in, then what's on the screen is working. At least, that's the Hollywood mentality. That's business,

Well, they better start taking some classes and paying attention, because the last time I checked, people aren't buying tickets like they used to. And we can either blame it all on outside forces — home video, videogames, the internets — or we can grow up and start dealing with reality.

### You Can't Put an Ohmu Stampede on a Happy Meal Box

Bad news for animation fans here in the States: Cartoon Network has canceled Genndy Tartakovsky's _Sym-Bionic Titan_ , not for low ratings, but lack of tie-in merchandising. According to The Animation Guild's TAG Blog, network officials had privately disclosed that " _Titan_ got competitive ratings with other action shows, but what shut it down was it didn't have enough toys connected to it. If you don't have that, the studios don't want to renew for another season."

This echoes a point I had made over a week ago, just around the time the Japan earthquake hit. People are under the assumption that Hollywood is in the movie business. It's not. The corporate conglomerates who own the Hollywood studios aren't in the movie business, they're in the toy business. And this is never more true than when you're dealing with animation.

Remember that Pixar's stock price took a hit because of _Up_ , not because it was a box office disappointment or a failure with the critics, but because 8-14 year old boys weren't about to swarm the toy stores of America in search of Carl Fredricksen dolls.

George Lucas is always the guy who gets blamed for "Ruining Hollywood," as Star Wars muscled out the rebellious, personal movies of the 1970s and ushered the era of popcorn escapism. That's not really the case. What really changed the business of making movies, what caused the paradigm shift, wasn't Star Wars itself, but the mountain of Star Wars toys and merchandise. That's where Lucas really made his fortune. And once Hollywood was gobbled up by conglomerates, the game was over: the relentless drive for massive profits overwhelmed everything in the movie business

This is why you get the same fake, formulaic junk out of movies and television today. This is why you see the same five movies being made over and over. This is why animation in this country, for the most part, stinks. Pixar, as always, has been the exception to the rule, but have you noticed that even they have now succumbed to the game? Three sequels in rapid order? _Cars_ merchandising pulls in $2 billion a year for Disney.

People think the movie business involves teams of writers and artists sitting at a large desk to conjure a great story. The truth is that those writers and artists each have producers and executives hanging over their shoulder, musing silently on whether those drawings can be turned into a thousand disposable plastic products. That's a deciding factor in whether a movie is allowed the chance to become a blockbuster hit, or remain half-buried in the alternative-pop culture underground.

I'm bringing up this topic because Michael Barrier had a few things to say about a satirical Cracked article entitled, "5 Hollywood Secrets That Explain Why So Many Movies Suck." Barrier uses this as a springboard into his billionth Pixar critique, and you are perfectly free to love or hate him for it, but he does make a very interesting point which I'll excerpt below:

"Hollywood Secret #1 is "Merchandising Supremacy," with Pixar (and _Cars 2_ ) as Exhibit A. Just a couple of days after Milt sent me the Cracked.com link, the _Wall Street Journal_ ran a story titled "Sequels Come Fast, Furious As Studios Aim to Cut Risk." Accompanying the article was a chart comparing Disney's take from _Toy Story 3_ with its take from Tim Burton's _Alice in Wonderland_ (which I liked, by the way). Both movies took in more than a billion dollars at the global box office—but _Toy Story 3_ had much greater "ancillary retail sales," $8.8 billion versus $600 million for _Alice_.

"The _Journal_ noted that Disney executives had just "told a gathering of investors that the company would spend 80% of its production budget this year on franchise films [like _Cars 2_ and the fourth _Pirates of the Caribbean_ ] versus 40% in 2010. ... Disney says that focusing on films that can spawn sequels and lines of merchandise allows it to generate revenue from multiple businesses, multiple geographic region and over multiple years. Disney Studios Chairman Rich Ross said a franchise movie 'starts with the human connection to the story and characters, but downstream there are opportunities to own the DVD, see live stage versions, buy apparel, toys, or other licensed products.' "(1)

How much money from merchandising does Studio Ghibli make in America? Nada. Zilch. You can't put an Ohmu stampede on a Happy Meal box. And Hayao Miyazaki will never allow Disney the merchandising rights to Studio Ghibli's movies, or the rights to spin those properties into direct-to-video, create direct-to-video spin-offs, or cross-pollination like _Totoro Meets Buzz Lightyear_ , _Ponyo on Ice_ , or _Nausicaa Meets the 1950's Stepford Princess Housewives_.

This was a key source of tension in the Ghibli-Disney relationship, and a key reason why Studio Ghibli will, at present, remain an underground sensation in the United States. And the same goes for anyone else who doesn't play the game. You don't have enough toys to sell? Your show's been cancelled. Here's your pink slip.

  1. <http://www.michaelbarrier.com/Home%20Page/WhatsNewArchivesMar11.htm#assortedshorts>

## SIDE TWO:

NEW  
ADVENTURES  
IN  
HI-FI

### A Beginner's Guide to Your First Turntable

When you decide to explore the world of vinyl records, you'll be asking lots of questions about turntables, and you'll likely be swarmed with a million different answers. This may seem overwhelming at first, but it's perfectly normal. Analog music (which is what records are all about) is far more nuanced and tricky than simply popping a CD into the tray and hitting the play button. There are many different turntable brands, many different designs, and many different price points. And everybody has their own opinion, which contradicts everybody else.

The great example of this is the "turf war" (I say that half-jokingly) between Technics and Rega fans. In a broader sense, this is a battle between the defenders of belt-drive turntables and direct-drive turntables. In truth, both designs have their advantages and weaknesses, and great tables can be had on both sides equally. But passions are fierce among the devoted, and it can be confusing to newcomers.

Here is my advice for every one of you. At the end of the day, you need to dive in and just get your hands dirty. A first turntable is like a first car. You don't expect perfection, just a reliable clunker that you can tear apart and destroy as you learn and grow.

Over the past two years, I've gone through half a dozen turntables, starting with a $99 Numark PT-101 portable, then moving up to a Pro-Ject Debut III, later followed by a series of vintage 1970s direct drive models: Sony, Technics, MCS, JVC. My current setup — Sony PS-X600 Biotracer, Dynavector 10x5 phono cartridge, Pro-Ject Tube Box SE II phono preamplifier — is one of the best I've yet heard, and paired with my Marantz 2235b stereo receiver, it's an excellent sound system. I learned everything the long and hard way, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

In the process of learning, I've become a more skilled listener. I've learned to listen critically, something I never really did before. I've learned much about the science of turntables, of their designs and the various theories of replicating that perfect sound. And I've wrecked my share of parts and ruined my share of records.

If someone wants to discover the world of analog LPs, then I'd recommend searching local rummage sales and want-ads. Find a cheap turntable that costs next to nothing, get a cheap cartridge, and start spinning records. Then learn as much as you possibly can about them, so when it comes time to upgrade to the next table, you're on a stronger footing, and hopefully you won't be spending a small fortune in the process.

Another key goal is to keep costs down as much as possible. More money does not equal better performance. I spent a lot of money to fully upgrade my 2008 Pro-Ject Debut III, only to see it bettered by a 1978 Realistic LAB 420 direct drive. My grandfather's ancient MacDonald 510 idler drive sounds far better than it has any right to. The Sony PS-X tables are very solid. The MCS 6700, a rebranded Technics/Sansui hybrid sold by JC Penny's in the late 1970s, is both sophisticated and stylish. Thorens and Dual still maintain a cult following. There are many such examples. Do modern $1500 turntables sound that much better? Yes, actually. But it's not something to lose sleep over now. Save the expensive audio investments for later.

For an amplifier, my advice is get a great stereo receiver from the 1970s, any of the great brands like Marantz, Pioneer, Sansui, Sony or Technics. A great stereo is the foundation of your sound system. You can find a stereo receiver and a pair of speakers for under $200. Then proceed with the turntable and phono cartridge, and you're ready to experience the bliss of vinyl records. Start with a cheap, used table, then work your way up the chain. Or, you could just copy my current system and skip a few steps. It's all up to you.

The best advice I ever read about turntables came from a Michael Fremer review: "If you're thinking of taking the analog plunge...get a Bellari VP129 (tube phono preamplifier) and a budget turntable, and I promise that your CDs will start to gather dust." If that doesn't inspire you to collect vinyl records, I don't know what could.

### And Justice For All

What happened to the low end on Metallica's 1988 _...And Justice For All_? This has always been a controversy among rock music fans for the last three decades, as some argue the bass is lost in the mix, while others believe it's missing entirely. While I once spent many years in the former camp, by 2008, I became firmly set in the second.

I could never really tell when listening to _Justice_ on cassette tape (oh, how I love my old tapes) or CD. I was pretty happy with the album regardless, being a diehard Metallica fan since beginning college in 1991. But last year I finally found _Justice_ on LP. When you listen to the tape and CD, the mix is too muddled and messy. On vinyl, everything is clean and clear...and I can clearly tell that there is no bass guitar to be heard.

In my mind, I visualize a horizontal line; on the top go the vocals and rhythm guitars, on the bottom go the bass drums and kick drums. There's nothing in that lower half except the drums. You can hear the echoes and the space on the recordings. It's empty and open, more spacious on vinyl than the other formats. It's pretty clear to me that the bass guitar is missing altogether.

I've done a lot of digging around since my discovery. Jason Newsted clearly believes that his bass was turned off deliberately. This was a claim he made after quitting Metallica in 2001, and was still clearly upset years later when discussing the topic. I would expect so, especially after his excellent bass sounds on the _Garage Days Re-Revisited_ EP.

According to some accounts I've read in magazines and books, Lars Ulrich had a falling out with Newsted at some early point. It's never been specified when, but it went far enough where Ulrich wanted Newsted replaced altogether. This move was blocked by Cliff Burnstein at Q Prime (Metallica's longtime managers), who observed that the band would only be changing players on every album. You made your choice, now you have to stick to it.

I wish I remembered where I read that, because it was very revealing. Might have been foreign press, as Metallica has always been far more open over there than here in the States. But such things are always the equivalent of reciting high school gossip. Truth is fleeting and elusive.

This brings us all back to _...And Justice For All_. According to the high school gossip hounds, what happened is that Lars turned the dials to zero and simply switched off the bass. Remember that they went back to Flemming Rasmussen after recording sessions with producer Mike Clink didn't work out (Clink went on to produce Megadeth's masterful comeback _Rust in Peace_ ). Rasmussen essentially was a hands-off guy, so _Justice_ was the first album where Hetfield and Ulrich were in the producer's chair, in charge of the dials on the mixing board.

So the theory that Lars Ulrich would switch off Jason Newsted's bass as a personal payback is fascinating. It's baffling why such a thing could happen, since losing that lower end practically ruined the album. _Justice_ sounds so flat and two-dimensional. You could see the mix as ultimate rebellion against the commercial hair metal of the time (worst music ever, btw), but there's no question that _Justice_ was notably damaged, and for no good reason. It's the ultimate case of cutting off one's nose to spite the face.

It's interesting to note that when Metallica enlisted Bob Rock for their fifth studio album — what became the 1991 _Black Album_ — Rock and his team squirreled Newsted away to themselves. This time, the bass would be protected from outside interferences. The result is that brilliant, heavy, deep sound on _The Black Album_ , the sound that defined Metallica in the 1990s.

I will offer another theory in defense of James and Lars. We must remember that _Justice_ was created in the wake of Cliff Burton's tragic death. As we all know, they had never dealt properly with their grief and loss, and this affected band relations for the next fifteen years. Cliff Burton was also a major creative force in Metallica; Rob Halfin once noted, "Cliff ran that band." He was the musical giant, the true master while everyone else was still learning on the fly. His influences are obvious; just listen to _Kill 'Em All_ , then _Ride the Lightning_ , then _Master of Puppets_.

Losing Cliff Burton meant rebuilding the power structure of the band itself. James Hetfield, humble and shy behind the scenes, was thrust into the role of public frontman; Lars Ulrich, the laser-focused control freak, was let loose to conquer the rock world. For obvious reasons, they were very unsure and ambivalent about the role of the bass. They never touched it; there lay the holy domain of Saint Burton.

To complicate matters, yet another theory has emerged, one that suggests that Jason Newsted's bass parts for the _Justice_ album were either poorly recorded or played out of key. Newsted himself had admitted that he wished he had more time to record additional takes. Such mistakes would have required the producers (in this case, James and Lars) to bury the bass guitar deep in the mix. There must be some truth to this story. Yet this raises more questions. Why didn't he record his parts again? Nearly all the bass lines were recorded over a few days for an album that required months to fully assemble. Surely somebody in the Metallica camp took notice before the master tapes were sent packing to Warner Bros for publication. Is this a case of miscommunication? Is this a case of inexperience? Did this episode contribute to deteriorating relations between band members? Did frustration and unresolved grief take over in the control room? And why was this issue never properly resolved? Why have we never received a "Justice Restored" album featuring properly recorded and mixed bass tracks?

The intrigue continues. It is impossible to say which theory, or which combination, led to the fateful decision to excise the bass guitar from the _Justice_ mix. We have little more than rumor, innuendo and faulty human memory to solve the puzzle. A true Rashomon dilemma emerges, where each party remembers (and misremembers) the story differently. It is a mystery I would like to see solved one day, if only for the sake of understanding an important moment of rock 'n roll history.

### Babes in Toyland

I once read the perfect description of the Minneapolis and Seattle music scenes of the 1990s: Seattle was Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, Minneapolis was Neil Young and The Rolling Stones. While Seattle had the great rock bands of our generation, towering dinosaurs like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains and Mudhoney, the Twin Cities followed the fuzz-tone punk of Warehouse-era Husker Du and the country-tinged guitar pop of The Replacements.

Babes in Toyland were always misfits for the Land of 10,000 Suburban Shopping Malls. They were enormously loud, fiercely aggressive, openly defiant. They didn't care if the locals would rather listen to the Gear Daddies and The Jayhawks, or if Minnesota's unique blend of passive-aggressive politeness — "Minnesota Nice" — never suited their style. This band came to make noise and shock the neighbors. They came to rock.

Babes in Toyland — vocalist Kat Bjelland, bassists Michelle Leon and Maureen Herman, drummer Lori Barbero — created a punk rock sound that was ferocious, richly textured, deeply passionate, full of sound and fury. They were clearly the heaviest and most aggressive band in Minneapolis, then or now. They played rock music on the boys' terms. They were following the tradition of Blue Cheer's _Vincebus Eruptum_ and The Ramones' _Road to Ruin_ , of Sonic Youth and Bauhaus and early Velvet Underground.

With their 1990 debut album, _Spanking Machine_ , the band became a local staple and earned considerable respect within the indie-rock world. Lori Barbero's Uptown home famously became a regular hostel for every band visiting Minneapolis. Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore invited the Babes to join them on tour. British music maven John Peel declared the album the best release of the year.

If memory serves, _Spanking Machine_ was the first Babes in Toyland CD I bought in the early '90s. It's a smashing album, a punk-rock assault with tinges of blues and rockabilly. The band's technical inexperience was on display, but their passion and drive more than compensated for any shortcomings. And, besides, the whole DIY ("do-it-yourself") aesthetic of punk demanded as such. Chops don't matter. Heart matters. The Babes have heart.

In 1991, Babes recorded and released their second album, the seven-song EP _To Mother_. I blared my cassette tape copy through my car stereo day and night at maximum volume. Its sound retains the thunderous tribal rhythms, but joined to more intricate, complex arrangements. The loose, bluesy elements of the first album gives way to sleek, refined and swaggering guitar rock. Every song is perfect. Every moment a miracle. The closing instrumental track, "Quiet Room," is sublime. The CD sounds great but has become vanishingly rare. The LP sounds too bright, scratchy and unbalanced, which is annoying. Somebody really dropped the ball there. The cassette version sounds best, like most alternative rock; I really need to find another copy.

On April 1, 1992, another EP, _The John Peel Sessions_ , was released on the Strange Fruit Records and Dutch East India Trading labels. The recordings came from two sessions at the legendary BBC Radio program. An extended version would be released in 2001, but this disc is worth owning for fans.

In 1992, Babes in Toyland were signed to Warner Bros. Reprise Records label, given a large signing bonus (probably the only time the band was ever really paid), and unleashed their next full-length LP, _Fontanelle_. It's without question the most raw and visceral album the Babes ever made: shrieking vocals, primal guitars and bass, thunderous galloping drums. Your opinion of this album will depend largely on whether you can withstand Bjelland's screaming. She screams a lot on this one. But I defy anyone to ignore "Bruise Violet" or "Mother."

The success of _Fontanelle_ would become the band's biggest success, leading to a short stint on the 1993 Lollapalooza music tour. Another EP followed, _Painkillers_ , which included only four new songs, a reworking of "He's My Thing" from _Spanking Machine_ , and a thirty-minute concert recording. It's far too short, and there's no excuse for that. Another three or four tracks would have been ideal. Oh, well. The songs that are available just slam, especially "Laredo," which captures the blues-metal vibe three years before Metallica.

Question: Is _Nemesisters_ the greatest Babes in Toyland album? Let the debates begin, as they say. Released in 1995, this album is clearly the most evolved form of the band, the most mature, the most complex. This is a band at the peak of their powers. And this is most definitely a band of equals. Kat Bjelland may have had the upper hand in experience at the beginning, but Lori Barbero and Maureen Herman have grown to match her by 1995. And you can hear it on these songs. "Sweet '69" is the best rock song Babes in Toyland ever recorded, end of line. Several other tracks, including "Oh Yeah," "22," and "Middle Man" would also qualify.

Kat Bjelland's lyrics on _Nemesisters_ are loaded to the hilt with cheesy puns. "I will not follow stupid sheep/I will not bow, I will not peep." I always got a chuckle out of that one. Bad relationships, childhood trauma, rivalries that may or may not involve Courtney Love; this was her lyrical bread and butter, and she very rarely strayed away from those sources.

To be completely honest, I never did fully understand what Bjelland was screaming about half the time. But I always understood the vibe. I always tuned in for the music, the riffs, the drumming, the aggression, the energy and the excitement.

I think the _Nemesisters_ album cover is remarkable, definitely the "statement" cover of the band's library. I don't know if they're attacking stereotypes of women in general as much as stereotypes of themselves; this was one of the most polarizing rock bands of the '90s, and gender had a lot to do about that. There were many successful women in music that decade, but none as aggressive or extreme. The Riot Grrrl bands are the closest kin, but none of those groups were nearly as successful.

That was then. Now, the waters have since receded. Women are back to playing Barbie dolls and sanitized pop singers rule the airwaves. Rock is dead for all but aging Baby Boomer and Generation X holdouts (and we all know Keith Richards will outlive us all). Even the indie rock world has become far too safe and toothless. And there still remains an unspoken boundary that female musicians are not allowed to cross. It's like Baseball versus Softball. Babes in Toyland came to play baseball and rally all the other girls playing softball. They came the closest to actually succeeding.

I can't wait to see future generations grab the reins and drive ahead. Where is it written that there couldn't be an all-female answer to Metallica, or Radiohead, or U2? Why is everybody auditioning on industry-manufactured no-talent shows for approval? Why should you care what Simon Cowell or Paula Abdul thinks? Why should you care if _American Idol_ or _The Voice_ came to your town? You don't want to buy what they're selling.

It is the duty of teenagers to disregard and disobey their parents. You didn't pick up a guitar or drumsticks so you could become a shill for television commercials, or crank out auto-tuned pop songs that offend no one. You came here to rock. You came here to make noise, shock the neighbors, and change the world. It's 2016, kids. The clock is ticking. Pick up your Babes in Toyland mixtapes, memorize those songs and get to work.

### Black Sabbath Vol. 4

It's not something I ever planned to do, but I've been lucky enough to hear several versions of _Black Sabbath Vol. 4_. This is the fourth LP by the famous pioneers of hard rock and heavy metal, best known for their sludgy, downbeat music and a very preachy Catholic worldview (a textbook case of image versus reality). "Paranoid" and "Iron Man" are classic rock staples, and while _Vol. 4_ contains no radio hits, it is nonetheless a very fascinating and influential album to future generations.

The first LP version I bought was an Earmark reissue, which was pressed on clear vinyl. The sound was pretty good for me, and I enjoyed it more than either the standard CD or the _Black Box_ reissue set. Unfortunately, the Earmarks were all digitally sourced, most likely from CD, an inferiority that becomes obvious when you compare to 24-bit digital or analog. I grew tired of this release for its watered-down sound.

My second _Vol. 4_ was the 180 gram NEMS "reissue." Copies of this album and _Paranoid_ were regularly stocked at the Uptown Cheapo in Minneapolis for the very low price of ten dollars. When I bought my copy, I never knew who was responsible for that pressing, whether it was even a new reissue or some old stock pulled from a forgotten warehouse. In any event, that never mattered much to be, because this version completely kicked and became one of my favorites. I was also very fond of the album cover, draped in a red-orange tone, much nicer than the yellow found on most other versions.

The guitars just growl, the drums kick and thump all over your walls, the dynamics are terrific, and of course there's that mysterious tape echo that follows guitar riffs. The album cover is red-orange, instead of the usual yellow, and I think that sums up its sound. It's more colorful; it has more grit and texture. And yet the music is also much "brighter" than the original recordings, at attempt to "modernize" the album's famously swampy sound.

Now here's where things get interesting. This "NEMS" record came with no source material or identification of who mastered or cut the album. The only clue was a gold-and-black "180 Gram" ge sticker, one that was originally created by Rhino in the 1980s and eventually found itself on the bootleg black market. Today, those stickers are a guarantee that you're listening to a bootleg. After much investigation, the source for these _Vol. 4_ and _Paranoid_ LPs were revealed to be the UK Castle remasters, which appeared on CD in 1995.

Vinyl record fans will always insist on an analog source for LPs, which is, after all, the whole point. We already have CD, SACD and 24-bit downloads for digital music. And so this peculiar pressing will probably be rejected. But I would consider buying a copy if you find one at your local record store. You might be pleasantly surprised. Of course, you could also track down the Castle remasters instead. Oh, well.

Next up, I found an American Warner Brothers _Vol 4_ , a late 1970s "palm tree" pressing. The sound is more mellow, a little bit more watered down. It's in keeping with the other WB Sabbath albums I've heard (not counting the excellent Rhino Vinyl reissues). Once again, we have a different pressing with a different album mix. Why is this so? Here's my personal theory, and I'll throw it out there so you can debate it:

_Vol. 4_ was the first time Sabbath was completely in charge of the production. It was in keeping with their move to California and the expansion of their sound beyond the early sludge rock style. They were really working to evolve and grow, and specifically to put greater effort into the production (the first three LPs sound excellent, but are austere, low-budget, almost like garage-band recordings). However, it's pretty clear with the fourth album that Tommy Iommi and company don't have much experience behind the soundboard. They commit what I expect is a rookie mistake: the sound of the album isn't properly equalized.

I'm not sure if that's the right term, but I mean that the finished album has to balance its sound across all the songs, so it's all on an even level. That didn't happen here. The volume levels of the songs, the guitars especially, vary from track to track. "St. Vitus' Dance" is the perfect example. Or maybe "F/X" would be another. I'm sure the band took a lot of flack for this at the time, but funny enough, I think this unbalanced sound is one of _Vol. 4's_ greatest strengths. It gives a real dynamic style to the sound. It shows that an album can be greatly varied in tone and volume, even if they're all guitar rock songs. For me, this is a great revelation, because of its influence on my favorite music period of my lifetime, the Seattle grunge rock scene.

To my ears, _Vol. 4_ is one of the cornerstones of the Seattle sound. _Master of Reality_ would be another; alongside Led Zeppelin, The Stooges, The MC5, David Bowie and Neil Young. That famously heavy, swampy sound created by Alice in Chains, Mudhoney, Nirvana, and Soundgarden all flow from this source. That wonderful 1990s obsession with guitar tones, so varied and wild and free, owes its very existence to this album. The songs, filled with personal lyrics detailing suffering and loss, rejecting the conformity of the outside world, resonated deeply with disaffected teenagers and anyone who never quite fit in. At least, that's how it sounds to my ears.

Listening to the US Warner version of _Vol. 4_ seems to confirm this theory. To my ears, it sounds as though the Americans tried to balance out the volume and tones across the tracks, and it does sound more even as a whole unit. If that's your definition of a good sounding rock album, then you'd be happy. But I think the crazy anarchic spirit of the original recordings is compromised. Why did the American record labels always insist on making edits and changes to these albums? They always tried to "improve" those old records, and the results were so often the same.

Anyway, that's my take on _Vol. 4_.

### Buffy Sainte-Marie's Illuminations: Some Ramblings

Here, this time I made sure to take photos of my copy of _Illuminations_ on vinyl, front and back sides. I'll actually have time to go into detail on this album, one of the true lost gems of the 1960s folk-rock era.

A bit of a backstory. I've been curious about Buffy Sainte-Marie, since I see her albums at the Uptown Cheapo every time I visit, smack in the middle of the "folk music" section, just past Peter, Paul & Mary. I also remember her from _Sesame Street_ many eons ago, but for the life of me I could never remember any of her music. I'm one of those cranky Gen-Xers who came of age on a steady diet of hip hop, punk and beloved Seattle Alt-Rock. Acoustic folk singers from the 1960s are a tough sell to kids like me; we want lots of noise and lots of attitude. The only folkies I could listen to during my 20s was Ani Difranco (and Bob Dylan, of course, but he hasn't been classified as "folk" since Kennedy was president).

It's only now in 2008, in my 30s, that I opened up enough to appreciate good ole folk: acoustic Dylan and Joan Baez, Peter Paul & Mary and Joni Mitchell and Gordon Lightfoot. Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, that sort of thing. But, still, my heart lies with Led Zeppelin, Nirvana and Pearl Jam. My ideal folkie remains Ani; that's my idea of a folk singer, all passion and punk DIY attitude. She's just at home with an old guitar as with, oh, The White Stripes.

Which brings us to Buffy. Not that cult TV show about the blonde vampire hunter. I'm talking about the Buffy with the dark hair and mean, pissed-off, take-no-prisoners vibe. She is the angriest protest singer I've ever heard. Clearly, in the folk music realm, Buffy Sainte-Marie was the Black Sabbath of her field.

On Friday, I found a website that offered samples from her albums of the '60s and '70s, and this was really my first chance to check the songs out. I was pretty thoroughly blown away right from the start. After work I scoured past the usual record store haunts and ran away with four albums. Sooner or later, I'll go back to complete the heist. If you live in the Twin Cities, you better move fast or you'll miss out.

This album we're looking at is Buffy's sixth studio LP, _Illuminations_ , from 1969. Like many of her peers, she began with acoustic folk and evolved to embrace the electric rock sound of the '60s. Experimentation was the rule of the day. Even so, I can't imagine too many fans expecting this sudden shot out of left field. Heck, Buffy's fifth album from 1968 was pure-country. How does she follow that up? With a wild, eclectic, and surreal post-psychedelic LP.

_Illuminations_ is the only album in BSM's catalog that sounds remotely like this. It is a swirling magic storm of sounds and hums, electronic pulses and wailing guitars and fluttering ballads. It's easy to think of it as a psychedelic rock album circa 1967, but I think it cuts much deeper than this. It's much more like an art-school project, with one foot in rock and folk, the other in Pink Floyd.

The electronic effects are all processed from Buffy's voice or guitar. It's a remarkable feat as you travel through the album; the goal apparently was to pull as many different sounds as possible from the keyboards. _Dark Side of the Moon_ comes to mind. 1990s trip-hop and electronica also comes to mind. This doesn't feel like an album that's 40 years old. It sounds new. Very new and very much ahead of its time.

The songs on _Illuminations_ veer back and forth between acoustic folk and balls-out-loaded heavy rock. It sounds less like Jefferson Airplane and more like Babes in Toyland. Yeah, that's the ticket. Buffy definitely has that punk attitude. She doesn't dance around things. She doesn't address militarism, oppression, or reckless consumer capitalism with pretty metaphors and sugar-coated melodies to sucker the grown-ups. Naw, this isn't PPM by any stretch. It's more like a punch to the gut. It's totally Sabbath. Buffy Sainte-Marie is the folk singer headbangers can get into. She is the equal to Neil Young, Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez; she is the spiritual mother to Rage Against the Machine.

I've had this thought in my head all weekend long: BSM really should cut an album with Rage. That is the perfect fit, I swear. Buffy was never really part of her era; she was too raw, too honest, too emotional, too loud. Her true peers hail from the punk rock generation: Patti Smith...Ani Difranco...Riot Grrls....Seattle Grunge....Rage...The White Stripes...Somebody in the know seriously needs to bring Tom Morello over to her house with a pair of guitars, one acoustic, one electric.

I'm not sure if I'm making the right case for _Illuminations_. It's not a heavy metal album. It's definitely in the folk-and-rock vein, and there are many many quiet melodic moments to be found. It's just that her attitude, her willful defiance, is the thing that stays in my head. It's what follows me all through her work. I don't know if you can really cram an album like this into any box. It floats freely from one genre to the next, blurring all distinctions until nothing remains except the music itself. _God is Alive, Magic is Afoot._ Those six words that open and close _Illuminations_ are really the only guide you'll ever need. You'll travel through the misty forests on the ride of your life.

Why this album was not a hit in its day amazes me. I'm reminded of a lot of classic music from around 1969 — Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, The Velvet Underground — that irked the hippies and the suits back then. Now they are the giants. The posers and the fakers have been swept under the rug. I don't see anyone clamoring for those old Sonny & Cher records, do you? _La, la, la, let's live for today_ .....nuts to that. Gimme some attitude and gimme some truth. It's like nobody else could foresee the rise of Nixonland or know how to handle it. Whatever. If that's your take on the last 45 years, then BSM is your new hero.

### Death Magnetic, a Review (or, When Did My Hair Turn Silver?)

The New York Times wrote an excellent in-depth article on Metallica last week that every music fan should check out. I always prefer these more evenhanded, emotionally detached stories to the die-hard fans of the music press. It gives me a better chance to see my favorite musicians from an outside view, one that is still musically informed and respectful. I should also confess to complete burnout on the endless fanboy complaining over Metallica's career since 1991's _Black Album_ propelled them to rock superstars.

As I'm sure you know if you plow through my writings, I've been a dedicated fan of Metallica since starting college way back in '91. I've been the loyal fan who has loved everything, or at least liked and respected everything, that has come down the pike. Still, there's no denying that the world's most successful hard rock band has struggled for the past decade. There has only been one studio album in ten years, the 2003 garage rust of _St. Anger_ : an album that has become an unnecessary whipping boy for many of the frustrations built up against Metallica over the years.

The last burst of creativity were the dual '70s rock albums, 1996's _Load_ and 1997's _Reload_ , and those albums will always be lightning rods for frustration and criticism over just what the "Metallica sound" should be, and just why the hell they have to creatively wander around so much. Perhaps this is attitude due to my generation's cliquishness and cultural segregation. Maybe I just heard something different in their music. Strangely enough, I heard the same musical landscapes in _Load_ that I heard years earlier with 1984's _Ride the Lightning_. Perhaps you only heard speed metal riffs and ignored the mellow or strange parts. I tuned in for the mellow strangeness.

Still, it's easy to appreciate why so many see Metallica as a band in decline, or certainly past their prime. It's a great frustration considering the brilliance of their music, a legacy matched only by Led Zeppelin. The "Zeppelin of our generation" has been adrift for a very long time, and I don't think many of us are ready to say goodbye to our youths just yet. Enter another round of "sellout" bashing, of having to deal with the fact that we're now in our thirties and forties.

This is why I believe Metallica's tenth studio album, _Death Magnetic_ , will be hailed as a triumph. It certainly will be seen as a comeback, a return to form, the sleeping dinosaurs roaring again, shaming an entire generation of rock 'n roll groups that weren't even alive when they started. It also achieves the same feat as U2, in that the musical wanderings are brought back into the fold, fused with the classic early sound. In this sense, _Death Magnetic_ is past, present and future all at once. The hardcore old-schoolers will love it. They damn well better, provided they can bring this endless civil war to peace.

Metallica has been defined by tabloid fodder for so many years — Napster, Jason Newsted's departure, the documentary film, rehab — that we've almost forgotten what the music sounded like. I've almost forgotten what it felt like to listen to a new Metallica album. Those were cherished experiences, putting the CD into the Discman and throwing on the headphones. My first listen with _Load_ back in 1996 was a revelatory excursion, an astonishing trip of ups and downs. I've forgotten that feeling, that sense of surprise, that thrill and excitement. It's the excitement of youth, of the future, of endless possibility.

I expect many Metallica fans feel the same way about their favorite albums, whichever those are. And I think we all share the sadness that it's been so long since we shared that thrill. And there's nothing wrong with that; it's all part of growing up and growing old. Most of the bands and musicians who upturned the pop world in 1991 are gone. We still have the Red Hot Chili Peppers, we still have Pearl Jam. Dave Grohl still carries the torch for our dearly departed Saint Cobain. Most everybody has moved on, gone grey, raised families. Me, I'm still wondering how and when my hair turned silver. Forget grey. We're long past that.

But Metallica is different, dagnabbit! That's my stubborn resistance, and that's where I draw the line. If one band of my era deserves to be playing into their old age, ala Rolling Stones, it's this band.

So where does the new _Death Magnetic_ fit in? I happen to think it's a solid album. You don't expect veterans to create solid work this far into the game; you just root for a solid base hit. _Death Magnetic_ is an easy triple, just like U2's _How to Dismantle a Nuclear Bomb_ and Pearl Jam's "Avocado" album. You are remind you why these artists are important; you are reminded you why these are the giants, the living legends.

I don't yet know whether this is my own personal nostalgia talking. I'll need a year or so to sort things out. This may just be hopeful thinking, an emotional need, like a high school reunion. It's nice to see old friends again, but it's clear there's no going back. Heck, I was just about the only one who liked _St. Anger_ (particularly the live DVD performance), playing its songs incessantly for months and fiercely defending those trashcan drums. So I'm not the best critic. I'm a fan. I'm family.

### Electric Miles Davis

Miles Davis' electric period is where my head is stuck at now. It's just fantastic. I've listened to a number of great albums — _In a Silent Way_ , _A Tribute to Jack Johnson_ , _On the Corner_ , _Big Fun_ — but it wasn't until I purchased _Get Up With It_ that everything gelled for me. I finally was able to see the trajectory of Miles' crazed, dark street music. Every album is just a stepping stone for the next one.

It's amazing to me how far into this musical realm Miles ventured into. "Bravery" is an apt word. He pushed deeper and further into the darkness than anyone, then or now. In a sense, it still feels like we haven't yet caught up. There are some bands of my generation that I could point to — Sonic Youth, Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, the thrash metal of Metallica and Megadeth, the tribal metal of Roots-era Sepultura — but it still doesn't match everything. Heck, Miles eerily predicts the rise of hip-hop, trip-hop, and the whole of DJ culture. Teo Macero, if nothing else, was the first DJ remix artist.

And to think this was in the 1970s! That blows my mind. At the same time kids were digging _Houses of the Holy_ and _The Yes Album_ , Miles is returning from the Nonlocal Bell Space with _Get Up With It_ and _Dark Magus_. Good Lord, _Dark Magus_ is heavy. It's the kind of extreme heavy music that shames today's metal bands. It's angry, and it's violent ( _Bitches Brew_ is shocking to me when played just after _In a Silent Way_ ; it's a boxer's album), and it's mysterious and otherworldly.

This music just doesn't come from this world. It originates from out there, out in that mysterious, spiritual realm where all creative genius resides. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll get to experience a tiny shard of that realm. Miles seems to have fully immersed himself in it, and the heavy backlash he faced from the jazz world only made him angrier, more determined. Miles Davis had become the Mad Prophet, pushing himself to to his absolute limits, then pushing just beyond that.

What amazes me is how each new step makes the last one seem tame. _Dark Magus_? Good Lord, that makes _On the Corner_ feel like child's play. No wonder so many people back then freaked. There's no way in hell this music could be understood, not in the days of Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, Neil Young, Cat Stevens and Joni Mitchell. We can get a better picture today, because our generation's artists have brought back shards and pieces of this sound. But nobody has dared to dive in all the way, and really take a look at the big picture. No one is willing to risk their sanity in this way. Not in the age of corporate Brittney clones and _American Idol_.

Can it be that Electric Miles is even more shocking in 2016 than 1974? Is that even possible What does that say about us? Who is willing to step up? Who is willing to take the sound to that next level? I can't think of a single musician who plays electric trumpet, surely not like this, like Jimi Hendrix from beyond the grave.

We seriously need to be sharing the Electric Miles albums with musicians: the clubbers, the hip-hoppers, the trip-hoppers, the headbangers. This is some seriously heavy stuff.

Anyway, those are my thoughts at the moment. I'm still working through all of this while blasting _Dark Magus_ through the headphones.

### Elvis Was The King

Children, there is one simple lesson you must learn in life: Elvis Presley is rock & roll.

You can find Elvis' early television appearances on YouTube. Watch his first appearance on the Dorsey Brothers _Stage Show_ in early 1956, which is fantastic, memorable, instantly iconic; three or four songs with Elvis and his band just rocking out his rockabilly blues jams.

Next, tune in for **the** Elvis Presley performance, probably the greatest rock performance of all time: _The Milton Berle Show_ , singing "Blue Suede Shoes." His blues, and his hips, brought down the nation. It's quite something to see segregated America incinerated on live television.

Finally, go watch Elvis on _Ed Sullivan_. Notice the camera desperately trying to keep him above-waist. On one song, the camera cuts to a close up of the guitar player. Damn, to think that this young man was freaking out the nation like this, causing hysteria and excitement and panic, and knowing that, unlike everything in this century, it wasn't manufactured or assembled by the corporate marketing department. This was just Elvis being Elvis, _thank you very much_.

It's weird to think that Elvis became a national sensation and was then drafted into the Army barely 18 months later. Don't believe for a second the government wasn't trying to shuttle him away. He was guilty of causing Too Much Trouble, inspiring Impure Thoughts, teaching children to Challenge Authority. The civil rights movement may have swept the nation like a holy fire, but Elvis was like gasoline poured across amber waves of grain, exploding racial and sexual mores from coast to coast, and all so effortlessly, all with a smirk and a grin. And so Elvis Presley was disappeared in a flash of parochial panic, shuffled out of the country, out of sight, out of mind.

When Elvis returned to civilian life, he was never the same, apart from one spectacular album — _Elvis is Back!_ — that became criminally overlooked, followed by year after year of terrible movies. Ow, those awful pictures! The _1968 Comeback Special_ was electrifying, a rebirth. His next album, 1969's _From Elvis in Memphis_ , was the greatest triumph of his career. Get the newer CD, with all the hit singles from that period, or find a vintage LP for that perfect analog sound. He was absolutely at the peak of his powers, and it's all so glorious.

Yes, it's easy to pick on his latter 1970s Las Vegas years, when he retreated within himself to drown in food, drugs and sorrow (I believe that was McDonald's ad slogan once). But, hey, be careful, kids. You don't know what fate Life, the Universe, and the Supreme Being have in store for you. You might wake up one day and discover that you've become Fat Elvis.

Man, if only he could have escaped from that hell, escaped all the pirates and vipers and leeches, hidden away for a few years, found himself again. He could have returned just in time to see rockabilly make its big 1980s comeback. You could point to The Stray Cats, and say, "Hey, Elvis, check this out. Show the kids how it's done." You wish he could have lived long enough to enjoy the same great renaissance as Bob Dylan. All he'd have to do was survive disco and jumpsuits and prescription drugs. Damn. Guess God Almighty needed him a little more.

Elvis was the king, kids. His fusion of black and white music, of sacred and secular, of blues and country, changed the popular culture. His music changed minds in great and small ways. He taught generations of teenagers how far one can go with a guitar, a pair of swinging hips, and a cool smirk. He was always very humble and shy about his status, but you kids know the score. Hail to the king, baby.

### Fun With Plasti-Clay

ProTip: one very easy tweak to perform on vintage turntables, especially the cheap ones, is to pack the innards with modeling putty. Plasti-Clay is a perfect example of this. As the era of vinyl records gave way to compact discs in the 1980s, the market became flooded with low-quality plastic turntables. These were nowhere near as well built as the classic models of 1977-1983, and they probably did as much to cement the death of vinyl records as anything from the digital side. Still, there are many great turntables to find for little money, under $100 on Craigslist and neighborhood rummage sales.

Plastic is a terrible material for turntables, because of their resonance and vibration problems. It's clearly the bottom of the totem pole, below fiberboard, hardwood, and other exotic materials such as marble and metal. All these vibrations compromise your sound, and result in a poorer turntable. It doesn't help that most of these models are hollow and empty, which increases the resonance issues. But observe how you can change this problem only with a few pounds of modeling clay.

When working with one of these hollow-shell turntables, I carefully fill the empty spaces with at least five pounds of modeling clay, packing tight, covering the entire chassis where possible. When doing so, one must be very careful to avoid any wiring or circuitry, so as to avoid interference with the turntable functions. The clay is applied evenly along the sides and around sensitive areas. Be careful not to overpack the turntable, as the bottom plate should fit snugly into place when completed.

The results of this modification are dramatic and shocking. The increased mass will greatly reduce unwanted vibrations or resonances, whether mechanical or merely the sound of feet stomping around the room. The music will sound cleaner, more quiet. Background noise will be reduced, revealing greater musical detail and dynamics.

I have performed this mod on many vintage direct drive turntables, from humble Technics and JVC decks to the mighty Sony Biotracers. All have seen a notable improvement in sound quality. This is best applied to the "hollow box" models, especially those with plastic frames. You will likely spend around $40 for five-to-seven pounds of modeling clay, and the operation should take three or four hours to complete. You should also wear plastic gloves to protect your hands from wear and tear. Modeling clay is hard to scrub out.

Is this a substitute for a top-line modern turntable that sells for a thousand dollars? Of course not. It does, however, greatly improve the performance of any budget deck for very little money. Add a quality phono cartridge, such as Denon DL-110, Ortofon 2M Blue, Audio Technica AT440ml, or Shure M97xe, and you will have a stereo system worth enjoying and sharing. You'll play music for friends and family with a big smile on your face.

One final piece of advice: use the "non-hardening" modeling clay, which contains oils that prevent the clay from hardening into brittle chunks. Think of this as the "Gumby" clay. The "hardening" clay is used for pottery and sculpture, and should never be used for turntable insulation. Believe me, I learned this lesson the hard way. You don't want dried, solid chunks bouncing around the inside of your old-school Technics deck and making a wreck of things.

This modification has been around since the early 1980s, but remains very obscure and somewhat unknown. Consider it a well-kept secret that ought to be shared. Enjoy!

### Future of Vinyl in a Digital Age

I discovered this excellent survey, "The Future of Vinyl in a Digital Age." This survey is being conducted as research for a dissertation on the music industry. I gave my typically over-lengthy answers to the questions, so I decided to share a selection with you. Enjoy:

Q: Do you buy it at an online record shop or a real record shop or both? and explain your choice.

Minneapolis is blessed with a number of excellent vintage record stores, such as Uptown Cheapo, Hymie's Records, Roadrunner Records, and Treehouse Records. The circulation of rare and pristine albums is quite excellent, so with enough patience and dedication, you can find almost anything. There's a certain joy in searching for records, like digging through buried treasure. The discovery is as much a joy as the music itself. Also, there are many wonderful discoveries in the cheap "dollar aisle."

Q: Why do you buy vinyl instead of MP3 or CD?

Analog music on LP remains the gold standard for recorded music. Think of analog as "high definition" music; and note that I specify "analog" because digital music is often pressed onto records today, which really makes little difference over CD. The analog sound waves are the key to the format's dominance. Dynamic range, depth of sound, the 3D space: these are what analog LP offers. A natural, lifelike reproduction of sound is possible, and this really becomes evident with more powerful turntables, phono cartridges, and stereo equipment. Finally, analog music feels more integrated; digital (CD/MP3/Lossless) has a clarity that emphasizes separate instruments. It's like a car engine whose parts have been individually cleaned and polished. It's clear and precise, but lacking that sense of the whole. Does that make sense? Bottom line: analog is superior to digital, at least for me. The world does not consist of zeros and ones. Life exists in the subtle spaces between the digits. Music is what happens between the notes.

Q: Do you think there's a future for vinyl in this digital age? If yes, what is your vision on this? If no, explain why not?

You'll have to read my long answer to the previous question, which addresses this issue. Everything depends on the mindset of the music industry, which is to ask of them, is this a genuine LP revival, or a temporary and cheap cash-in? The analog LP is not just another market to dump the same digital files as CD and MP3. This truly is "high definition audio," and that must be respected.

Ironically, the futile arms race of the "Loudness War" is a golden opportunity for LPs. Compared to the horribly crushed, compressed low-fi haze of digital, high-definition analog has never sounded better. Simply sit someone down on the couch and play a Robert Ludwig press of _Led Zeppelin II_ , or Jimi Hendrix's _The Cry of Love_. Play some classical or jazz, something with the depth and vast spaciousness that records are known for. Then compare against the crushed, painful mush playing on the iPod.

Simply put, the format must be respected. Keen musicians are aware of this, and are creating albums in a purely all-analog format ("AAA"), even mastering exclusively for vinyl. The days of simply dumping a 44.1k CD master onto records are coming to an end. Such cheap cash-ins sound terrible on any decent stereo system, and the market is discriminating enough to demand quality.

I don't expect the analog LP to ever be more than a niche market, a realm of the lucky few who know better. But this is how our Long Tail internet culture is evolving. Predictable TV sitcoms will always be more popular than Lenny Bruce or George Carlin or Bill Hicks. _American Idol_ will always be more popular than Tom Waits or The White Stripes. This is a part of life. Hopefully, this Long Tail will remain profitable to sustain its niche scene for the foreseeable future.

Q: Do you think the real record shop will keep existing? If yes, why? if no, why not?

As long as there is a market for vinyl records, there will be a market for record shops. The major question is how long this current trend will continue. Sales of LPs are rising, and it's now expected for musicians to release their albums on LP (the smarter ones will continue to record in analog). However, pressing plants have not built new equipment since the dawn of CD. The machinery is 30 years old, and that's going to become a greater concern, as repairs and maintenance become more and more expensive. Will demand for records increase to the point where new pressing equipment is built? Will a long-term commitment be made by the music industry? Or will the "vinyl revival" fade in the face of rising maintenance costs? And what will happen when the Baby Boom generation retires and fades away? Will the medium be embraced by younger generations in the long term, or will Millennials regard LPs as an outdated fad, and return to digital?

Another concern is the hi-fi audio market. Manufacturers of audio gear continue to skew the wealthy upscale market, aging boomers who think nothing of spending $2,000 on turntables and carts. What does that leave the young college student, who's curious to discover LPs? The used market remains a fertile ground, and smart buyers can score excellent vintage tables for $100. On the down side, you're buying a 30-year-old turntable; the fact that these machines still perform is a miracle of engineering. But you're going to deal with aches and pains.

Today's modern turntables are horribly overpriced, and there's no excuse. Unlike digital music, analog LPs depend greatly on the proper equipment to unveil their brilliant sound. A cheap, plastic USB turntable will sound like junk. A vintage turntable, like my Sony PS-X5 (1977-79), will smash it to pieces. If you want a comparable sound from new hi-fi, you'll have to spend $700 for a Technics SL-1200 mkII, or $900 for the Rega Planar 3.

Since most audio equipment is imported from abroad, the US market is vulnerable to price and currency fluctuations. Prices across the board have shot up in the past two years. This will be the major challenge to vinyl LP's long-term survival. The industry must nurture the younger generation, and respect the hi-fi audio realm. This is the challenge before the music business.

### Karman/Kardon 330c Stereo Receiver

My Marantz 2235b stereo receiver began misbehaving this week, with the signal to the left speaker almost cutting out completely, so I pulled it off of the shelf and moved my second stereo into rotation: the Harman/Kardon 330c. I'm having so much fun listening to Miles Davis and The Beatles on this unit that I'm keeping it on the shelves.

I picked up the HK 330c a few months ago at Minneapolis' Hymie's Records, just after they changed to new owners, who began pulling out many vintage turntables and stereo equipment out of the basement. I've had less luck with a couple old turntables (an MCS/Technics and a JVC, both vintage direct drive models), but the stereos have been terrific.

The price for the HK? $12.50. That's twelve dollars and fifty cents, an astonishing deal for one of the classic 1970s stereo receivers. I'm certain the new owners didn't know how valuable this machine truly is; they could have sold it on Ebay for a tidy sum. I am fortunate to benefit from their kindness and generosity.

This is a terrific stereo, somewhat compact and humble in appearance, but powerful in its performance. Music is clear and sharp, with very strong and confident bass. FM/AM stations come in clearly, the headphone jack works perfectly, and Miles Davis sounds warm and sharp as always.

I'm a great fan of 1970s stereo receivers. I love the way they look and I love the way they sound. The '70s were a golden age for hi-fi audio, and as far as I'm concerned, the quality just dropped off a cliff in the 1980s. I have no idea what happened, but stereos in the '80s suddenly became plastic, flimsy, and cheap. They were hideous back then, and 25 years of dust and grime has only made them uglier. Yuck.

Silver-and-wood '70s stereo receivers are where it's at. A good solid cleaning, and the Harman/Kardon 330c is just like new. I'll need to continue scrubbing down the metal dials and buttons, which have become caked in dust. Like so much audio gear, this baby has spent years in someone's dusty cellar for many years. Why is that? Why did so many people lose interest in their glorious stereo systems? In the heyday of Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and Stevie Wonder, a stereo system defined _cool_.

Somewhere along the way, everything in America just turned sour.

### Herbie Hancock - Sextant

I actually stumbled onto this album a few months ago at the Uptown Cheapo Records. Having really no idea what it was, or where it fit into Herbie Hancock's career, I passed it up, only to see it quickly disappear. For whatever reason, I just wasn't in the mood that day. Now, of course, this style of highly abstract, surreal, off-the-cuff electric jazz is all I can stand to listen to. My current obsession over Miles Davis's 1974 album _Get Up With It_ , for example.

I've long been a great fan of Herbie, and I was also thrilled to see him win the Grammy for Best Album last year. He seems to have a knack for creating very diverse and adventurous music, while still seeming commercial and accessible. He surely learned from Miles those early excursions into the dark side during the late 1960s.

It's also certain that Herbie never went into the depths of the darkness like Miles had done. But Miles was the trailblazer, furiously, almost fearlessly digging out strange, exciting music that proved to be decades ahead of its time. Herbie surely followed his own abstract path in the early '70s, but he never pushed himself as far, never dove as deep into the waters, into that mysterious alien realm where all creative energy resides.

I'd have to say this album, _Sextant_ , is the most far out of Herbie's career. This comes from his fertile electrified jazz period, which would soon be refined into the funk masterpiece _Headhunters_. But _Headhunters_ , while fantastic (it's just about the greatest funk album ever made), feels very safe. There's none of the sense of danger, the darkness, that Miles was increasingly forging with _On the Corner_ , _Big Fun_ , and _Get Up With It_. But Miles was on his own obsessive pursuit into genius or madness or whatever realm lies beyond the reach of mortal men.

Anyway, I'm rambling a little. I'm only trying to assemble all of these pieces together and understand the music of the era. I'm trying to understand why such crazed, adventurous, alien music is never found today. In 2009, "safe" means formulaic fakery. It means mindless Ken and Barbie dolls mouthing along to the computer recording. What's the use? Is our culture so fearful, so clamped down, so repressive? Is this mysterious, surreal, psychedelic music so dangerous to the social order? This adds fuel to the fire of my inner conviction that all creativity resides beyond ourselves. The bravest souls, the ones we call "genius," dive deepest into that realm, somewhere through the Bell Non-Local Space, to hear the music of Dimension X, or perhaps the mind of God Himself.

It's hard to say. Wherever that realm of inspiration lies, precious few have dared to explore it, face it with open eyes. I think Miles Davis did that throughout the 1970's. I think Herbie also did this on _Sextant_. He couldn't swim deep for very long, but he did bring back these jewels. He couldn't dive as deeply, for as long, as Miles. But, then, nobody could. Today, nobody is even interested in knowing this realm even exists. Arrogant Fundamentalism and Godlessness rule our discourse as a consequence. Vanity of Vanities.

### Hovercraft - Been Brained

_Been Brained_ is a five-song EP released by Minneapolis power-pop trio Hovercraft in 1994. Its sound is filled with jangly guitars, grungy guitar tones and catchy singalong hooks, and quickly became a favorite among music lovers. If you're a fan of Teenage Fanclub or My Bloody Valentine, you'll be perfectly at home with Hovercraft.

Unfortunately, the enormous popularity of the '90s alternative rock revolution spawned a crowded market of aspiring groups and musicians. It is inevitable that many would fall through the cracks into obscurity. Jay Hurley became one of these casualties. It's a damn shame. His music deserves to be heard.

What made _Been Brained_ so perfect was its short length and perfect variety between songs. Each of the album's five songs inhabit their own space in tone, rhythm and tempo, yet fit together as a whole. Hurley's skill at crafting dreamy distortion pop — with the aid of scene veterans Rob Robello and Steven Nelson — drew the interest of the mainstream music press, who praised "the best unsigned band in the country." And the major labels came courting.

In 1995, Hurley and company signed with MCA's newly christened boutique label Fort Apache (named after Paul Q. Kolderie's famed Massachusetts recording studio). The future seemed bright and limitless. Then a series of tragedies struck.

First, Hovercraft were forced to surrender their band name to another group by the same name. This new band was fronted by Beth Liebling, who just happened to be Eddie Vedder's first wife. As this was the peak of Pearl Jam's commercial success and influence, Liebling won out, and her experimental noise-rock band was allowed to keep the Hovercraft name. Hurley settled out of court (reportedly for the price of a single touring van), switched his band name to Shatterproof, and began work on the full-length album.

A series of lineup changes followed. Drummer Steven Nelson is replaced by Jeff Jara, and guitarist Jon Hunt is added to fill out the band's sound. The album _Slip It Under the Door_ was released in 1996 but failed to chart any hit singles. In Minneapolis, the buzz from Been Brained failed to carry across to the new CD, stalling their momentum. Shatterproof dust themselves off and begin work on their next album in winter 1996.

Then the bottom fell out. Conflicts erupt between the Fort Apache label and MCA. Many bands on its roster are cut, including Shatterproof. The boutique label itself soon collapses. The band soon discovers that they are forbidden to release any of the music recorded under MCA, leaving their new album _Splinter Queen_ in legal limbo. Another major recording label offers to release the album but, also, goes bankrupt.

Shatterproof breaks up in 1997, and will have to wait another ten years before their "lost album," _Splinter Queen_ , is officially released on the indie Catlick Records label. Hurley, Robello and Hunt went on to form a new band, Landing Gear, recording and touring for a number of years in relative obscurity. Today, Hurley fronts a band called The Seeks and may still be seen around Minneapolis if you dig deep enough.

Hovercraft's _Been Brained_ remains one of my favorite albums from that glorious year of 1994. Shatterproof's _Slip It Under the Door_ is equally inspired; its catchy rhythms and electrified chords stay in your head for hours, and you only want to hear more. To a great extent, we were denied that future, and it's a damn shame. Jay Hurley deserves recognition and success as a skilled pop songwriter from a golden age of guitar pop.

Today, only _Splinter Queen_ remains available, thanks to Catlick Records; the previous albums remain out-of-print and are difficult to find, even in Minneapolis record shops. In a perfect world, I remain hopeful that Hurley has carefully saved and stored his master recordings all these years, and that we could re-release these albums on digital and AAA vinyl. This music, and the golden age of indie pop, deserves a new audience today.

Can somebody look into that? Also, can I have some money to make that happen?

### If I Were a Carpenter

This is one of my favorite albums from the last Great Year in Music, 1994. The idea of a Carpenters tribute album might seem snarky or bizarre, but that sense of irony was absolutely perfect in the year that saw the deaths of Richard Nixon and Kurt Cobain. 1970s revisionism was at the heart of Generation X and '90s alt-rock, especially with the Seattle bands that brought us out of the dark abyss of phony hair metal and processed pop. An album like this little gem fit in perfectly.

That's probably why _If I Were a Carpenter_ was the best tribute album of the '90s. These songs weren't merely retreads or simple cash-ins; they mattered, they had a point, a showcase for the sheer diversity of pop and rock of the era. History may only remember grunge, but this album lays testament to how wide and free the music was. It was a fantastic time for all music, and 1994 was the fantastic peak to the decade.

Thank goodness for Torrents, I say. This CD is impossibly hard to find anymore, and I've long ago sold off all of my discs (to my eternal regret, despite my devotion to vinyl LPs). Once again, the internet gives life to the Long Tails of the music world.

My favorites on this album? I really can't pick one. They're all terrific, every one of 'em. Sonic Youth did a bang-up job, as did Shonen Knife, Buffalo Springfield, Matthew Sweet, and 4 Non Blondes. Hey, even Babes in Toyland contribute a song, the goofy and carefree, "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft." You'd never expect such a fiery band to record something so silly, but it works perfectly. Just like this album.

This is the best kind of compilation album: the kind that makes you want to seek out all the bands and performers. Everyone on _Carpenter_ were entering their glory days of success, and they all deserved their fame. Some persevered, some eventually faded, and some never got their chance. But this is the way of things. We all start out full of energy and hope when we're young. We don't yet know who will still be standing 15 years down the road. I can't believe it's been 15 years since that great, fateful year. Joy and sorrow, life and death, creating something new in the shadow of the old. And above it all, the death of Saint Cobain, whose rise and fall marked our era. Every rock album in 1994 after April 8 was a Cobain tribute album, and don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

### Jack White's Lazaretto on LP

I finally picked up Jack White's new _Lazaretto_ LP yesterday. The gimmicks are...interesting, to say the least. The angel hologram was cool, as well as the repeating runout grooves. The acoustic/electric intro at the beginning of side two, and the "hidden" tracks on the label, are inventive touches, and add to the experimental quality of this disc. It's all very impressive and bound to grab the attention of vinyl record fans.

The downside? The sound quality, especially on the A side, is horrendous. I'm a bit shocked, but probably shouldn't be, given how all of these traits compromise the grooves and available space. The backwards grooves on side A are especially interesting. What appears to be happening is that the cartridge diamond proceeds normally, in an inward direction, but is then "pushed" outward, into the next groove. This results in a very strong "bobbing" on the tonearm. Normally, unless your records are wrecked, the tonearm shouldn't move at all; it should remain calm and stable. On _Lazaretto_ , the tonearm is bobbing and weaving dramatically: forward, back, forward, back.

I think this is the reason why the sound quality on side one is so terrible. Piano tones are especially wobbly, vocals and bass tones are unstable. The mix sounds like it's had the top and bottom ends chopped off. The stereo separation is truncated, the mix is strangely flat, and the music sounds, well, like an old 78rpm record. It sounds like a cheap transistor radio, far below the quality that I expect from LPs.

Thank goodness I have a Sony Biotracer deck, whose legendary tonearm works like an active suspension system. It's made to handle wobbly records just like this, as its computer sensors observe variations in the record grooves and adapt on the fly. I can only expect that standard tonearms will fare worse, and resulting in a much poorer sound from the turntable. This album is like the "endurance" track on Test LPs.

Side B, as you'd expect, sounds better, because it's not running backwards, but the sound is still less than ideal. The high and low end are still truncated, although the warbly tones have, thankfully, disappeared. Probably doesn't help that I also bought a CTI jazz album recorded by Rudy Van Gelder today, which sounds fantastic. An audiophile recording, _Lazaretto_ is not.

As for the music..meh. It's okay, pretty decent, probably sounds better in digital formats (which is a rarity in the era of crushed, brickwalled music). I'll have to download my digital copy to find out. But for the LP, these gimmicks just ruin everything. I do appreciate the experimental nature of this, but we're not spinning records for the novelty of watching spinning discs. We listen for the sound quality (I've often said that if it weren't for the Loudness War, there would be no Vinyl Revival). And the sound quality of _Lazaretto_ just stinks.

Ideally, I'd like to see a "standard" LP without the gimmicks and better audio fidelity. This isn't likely to happen, unfortunately, which means you'll either have to enjoy this record for what it is, warts and all, or buy the digital versions and go back to the "good ol' days" when CDs sounded better than scratchy old' records.

The White Stripes' 2008 album, _Icky Thump_ , sounds fantastic on vinyl LP, and remains a standard for the format. if you haven't purchased a copy, I highly recommend doing so. Your turntable will love you for it, as will your ears. Give _Lazaretto_ a pass.

### MCS 6603 Direct Drive Turntable

Back in the day, department store chains would re-brand popular electronics goods, offering their own versions of more expensive, name-brand products. MCS (Modular Component Systems) was JC Penney's house brand for hi-fi audio products, mostly Technics, but occasionally other brands as well. I've also shared a few opinions of the MCS 6700, an excellent turntable based on the Technics SL-1950, one of their better models. Here is one of the lesser models.

The MCS 6603 is a rebadged Technics SL-D2, one of the low-entry decks from the early 1980s, an assembly of cheap components surrounded by a hollow plastic frame. These turntables became common once the industry moved onto Compact Disc, which was hailed as the "next generation" of home audio.

I picked up the turntable in this photo from a local record shop for $70 or $80, I can't remember exactly how much. It was nice to play for a while, and it spun a mean Led Zeppelin, but it shortly developed a serious problem with the power supply cutting out. Unfortunately, my repair skills were sorely lacking, so after numerous attempts to repair the device, it was sent into the closet, and then the garbage bin. Oh, well, can't win 'em all.

I'm not a fan of Technics' SL-D2, and while the MCS model has a more stylish chassis (retaining the motor, electronics, and tonearm), it's still a cheap plastic turntable. Packing the insides with eight pounds of modeling clay made a difference by adding mass and reducing unwanted vibrations; if you find yourself with a cheap Japanese direct drive with plastic box frame, I recommend this modification. However, nothing could salvage the needlessly thick and heavy sound, or the crummy rubber feet, or the cheap tonearm, or the worn out power supply that died.

Looking at my old photo, I remember that I was using a heavy Sumiko headshell, which was a poor match for that light tonearm; there's no doubt it threw the tonearm resonance way off. These low-to-medium mass tonearms require light headshells, especially when Ortofon 2M phono cartridges are being used. I really don't know what I was thinking at the time; perhaps "heavier" equaled "better" in my mind at the time, and I chose the heaviest headshell in the store. I had things completely backwards. Ah, well, live and learn.

Prices on old turntables are rising across the board, and while the MCS 6603 was once a decent $50 buy, you'll probably now spend $100 at least. That puts this table in the same league as much better models, ones that look and sound much nicer, so there's really no point in wasting your time on a low-end record player. Look for the MCS 6700 instead, add a Denon cartridge, and you'll be far happier with your music.

### MCS 6700 Direct Drive Turntable

As I mentioned in the previous essay, Modular System Components, or MCS, was JC Penney's house brand for consumer electronics, including hi-fi stereo components and turntables. Their products were usually rebranded from Japanese manufacturers, including Hitachi, CEC, JVC and Technics. We've already taken a look at one of the weaker models; now here is one of their very best: the MCS 6700 Direct Drive Turntable.

The MCS 6700 is a hybrid of parts from Technics and Hitachi turntables. The direct drive, circuit board, computer chips and tonearm are taken from the Technics SL-1950, one of the company's mid-level decks of the mid-1970s. The frame and knobs are taken from one of Hitachi's decks.

Visually, the MCS is striking. Its large black frame and stylized buttons, complete with rubber grips, are quite impressive among its '70s peers. The platter rests partially inside the frame, with an orange light (used to help the user judge turntable speed) nestled inside. A smooth plastic trim surrounds the platter, and the aluminum tonearm offers a contrast of colors. The size of the turntable is fairly large and heavy, yet is also sleek and unimposing.

In terms of performance, MCS 6700 can run with any turntable of its day, as well as any modern budget model under $500. Speed is remarkably stable, with that trademark slam-and-bass that Technics is known for. The tonearm lacks vertical tracking adjustment, which will limit your choice of phono cartridges (anything with a Shibata stylus is out), but this should not become an issue for the average music lover. I doubt anyone who owns one of these tables will ever use anything more expensive than a couple hundred dollars. The MCS used by my family is equipped with a Denon DL-110 moving coil cartridge, which is an excellent match, very musical and spacious and dynamic.

This turntable was originally designed to stack up to six records at a time, which was a standard feature in those days (this is the reason why many classic double albums are arranged "Side 1/4" and "Side 2/3"). For best audio quality, this is less than ideal, so I recommend playing only one record a a time. A thicker platter mat will be necessary to ensure the tonearm is level when playing music.

As always, when buying a vintage turntable, some maintenance or restoration may be required. Usually, this will only require a good cleaning and polishing, and a few drops of oil into the motor bearings. As the motor and main components are Technics parts, you can rest assured that they are virtually indestructible and will last a lifetime if treated respectfully.

The MCS 6700 uses a servo engine, not the later Quartz-lock, which I consider the superior design. This is a minor issue that most folks will never notice, but you may have to adjust the deck's speed every now and then. In any case, this turntable will compete against any model in its class. I'd also recommend placing a set of Vibrapods underneath the feet, and adding five pounds of non-hardening modeling clay to the inner chassis, which will help to reduce unwanted outside vibrations and internal noise. Combine the turntable with a budget phono cartridge such as the Denon DL-110, Ortofon 2M Blue, Shure M97XE or Audio Technica AT-440, and an external phono stage such as the excellent Bellari VP-130, and you'll have a sound system everyone will enjoy, at a budget price anyone can afford.

### Memories of Sony PS-X5: A Short Hi-Fi Review

In January, 2009, I purchased not one, but two, Sony direct drive turntables. My main goal was, of course, a PS-X75 Biotracer, "The Battleship," which I scored from Ebay for $300. I also had my eyes on a second deck, and when the dust was settled, I paid $100 for a Sony PS-X5 turntable. As fortune would have it, this is the deck that arrived at my apartment first.

I snapped these photos the evening I received the package. I was thrilled to have this exciting new toy to play. The Sony's size immediately jumped out at me; next to my Pro-Ject Debut III (my turntable throughout 2008), the PS-X5 was the size of a tank, heavy, metallic and shiny. This was a marvel of an ancient relic, from an age when the world's greatest Japanese engineers spent millions to build the perfect record players. My humble Pro-Ject was just swallowed whole.

As a mid-fi turntable, the PS-X5 was, and remains, a solid deck. It launched Sony's vaunted "X" series, introducing a number of key features, including a "BSL" (brushless-slotless) motor, Quartz Lock/Magnedisc, a non-resonant frame design called "SBMC" (Sony Bulk Mould Compound), and gel-filled feet designed to block outside resonances. Sony's PS-X6 model would replace the mechanical buttons and gears with touch-sensitive electronics, and the PS-X7 introduced a carbon-fiber tonearm. All in all, a very impressive design from Sony's most creatively fertile years.

The Quartz/Magnedisc system is especially impressive. The quartz lock became the new standard for direct drive turntables in the late 1970s, with greater speed stability than the older servo designs. The magnetic strip under the platter is by a magnetic head, monitoring the speed, telling the computer to make necessary adjustments. Sony's engineers were so obsessive, they even aimed to compensate for stylus drag with this system.

Unfortunately, there are a few negatives against this deck. The PS-X5 I purchased arrived with a broken automatic play system, refusing to even play records until I manually disabled everything by removing a gear from the tonearm mechanism. This is a very common problem with this series of decks, owing to plastic parts that have decayed over time. In addition, I was never very fond of the tonearm, certainly when compared to the later PS-X50/60/70 series and the Biotracers. But I treated mine terribly, either by attempting any number of silly "hacks" (damping the tonearm), or mismatching with the wrong headshell or cartridge. If you find one of these turntables, be very careful not to lose the original Sony headshell.

This is an important lesson that all turntable junkies must learn: you will always have maintenance issues with vintage decks. I can personally testify that every classic deck I bought has required repair work, usually minor, but sometimes more serious. This is true for any consumer electronics built over 30 years ago. Welcome to the world of growing old, kids.

The sound of the PS-X5 is highly impressive. Compared to the Pro-Ject Debut III, there was far greater bite and growl from the music, greater detail and resolution. Bass and drums are punchy and clear, as one would expect from a quartz lock deck. The slim BSL motor doesn't appear to suffer as badly as other direct drive turntables from the dreaded "cogging effect," which can give a harder edge to your music. I think the only limitations come from the standard-issue 1970s aluminum tonearm; again, compared to my Pro-Ject Debut, there's really no contest. The Sony stomps it flat.

Using a Denon DL-160, I was surprised to hear the cartridge "open up" in a way never heard on the Pro-Ject. The sound became more spacious, more clear, as though it finally had room to stretch its legs and breathe. But it also seemed to lose a little color, a little of that warm, romantic sound coming from the fully decked-out Debut (Speed Box II, acrylic platter).

I think the Biotracer deck spoiled me. A few days after the PS-X5 arrived in the mail, the PS-X75 Biotracer Battleship appeared in a very large box. Angels descended from high with a Robert Ludwig press of Led Zeppelin II, and that was the end of that debate. Thus entered the greatest turntable I have ever owned...for four months, before a sudden financial crisis forced me to sell it. Oy, let's not revisit that tragic loss, shall we? These things happen.

The PS-X5 stayed with me for four years, my constant tinkering and attempts to "improve" the sound usually making things worse. I never could get the automatic functions to work properly, and there was an issue with flickering lights that I couldn't solve (worn capacitors were to blame). Eventually, I broke the anti-skate by mistake and knocked the tonearm loose from its chassis. Whoops. By that point, in Spring of 2012, I was deeply frustrated with my budget-minded stereo system, which was nowhere near as good as what I had in 2008 and 2009. And so, I ended up selling or junking the entire stereo system, saving only my Marantz 2235b stereo receiver, and began the slow process of rebuilding.

So that's my story of the Sony PS-X5. On a 1-10 scale, this deck rates a solid 7, maybe an 8. This depends on whether everything is working properly and whether you can fix what's broken. But, again, that's true of all vintage hi-fi gear. If you see one, check it out, but move fast! Sony turntables are becoming more expensive, and more rare, on Ebay these days. Time waits for one, kids. Hustle, hustle.

### Metallica's "Deaf Magnetic" on LP: The Permanent Loudness War Comes Home

Ow, ow, owww!!!!! I'm so very upset, I can't see straight.

I headed down to Best Buy at the Mall of America and scooped up Metallica's _Death Magnetic_ on vinyl LP. I was thrilled, happy, bouncing around. I've been listening to these songs online for a week now, and I've ranted about it enough. I finally hop on the bus home, switch on the stereo, warm up the Pro-Ject Tube Box, clean off the records a bit, then start playing at the beginning.

Ow, ow, owww!!

What the bloody hell is this?! This LP sounds horrible! Within minutes my ears are hurting, like someone is jabbing needles into my ears. There's no dynamic range whatsoever, no depth of sound....hell, there's no damned music. All I'm hearing is white noise; all my mind's eye sees is static and haze.

The sound of the music on side one is extremely thin, with no depth and no punch at all. But it sure as hell is quote-unquote, "loud" - not loud in any real sense, just some hack engineer's idea of noise. Everything is so horribly compressed and squashed, and the soundstage is so tiny, as though one is listening through a transistor radio.

I somehow managed to make it through the first three songs, but I immediately threw the record off my Pro-Ject Debut and bundled the album back on the bookshelf. Playing sides two through four will be a brutalist endurance test, and I honestly don't know when, or if, I'm up to the challenge.

As far as I'm concerned, _Death Magnetic_ is just about the worst vinyl LP I've ever heard. Listening was actually painful. I've listened to countless "loud" rock albums since I was a teenager. I've never hurt my ears, and certainly not when spinning records and sitting ten feet away on the couch. What is this scam?! The sound is nothing but static and foam, like a giant sponge floating in between my speakers, and it triggers a strange prickly sensation inside my ears. It is not a pleasant sensation, but mildly painful. Something is very wrong.

I tried messing with my stereo knobs (bass, midrange, treble) without any luck. I suppose I could completely cut out the midrange and make _D-Mag_ almost listenable, but what's the point in that? I don't need to do that with any of my other albums; that sweet midrange (courtesy of the Tube Box) is why I love my stereo system so much. Besides, that's not my job. That's supposed to be the job of the producer and engineers, who have clearly failed.

So, at this point, I am clearly upset. I'm shocked, stunned. What the hell ever happened to quality control? I hope I'm not sounding over-the-top; this album genuinely sounds terrible on vinyl, and as far as I'm concerned, it isn't even listenable. I have no explanation for why this is. My other Metallica albums sound fantastic. _...And Justice For All_ sounds fantastic, has great rumbling, has depth in the lower end (such as it is). _Garage Inc._ sounds terrific, full of life. Heck, poor, beleaguered _St. Anger_ sounds much better on vinyl than _D-Mag_ , and that album was pretty badly compressed. This new album sounds so much worse. We're entering a new phase of hyper-compression and brickwalled music, the epitome of everything that's wrong with the Loudness War.

If this is the state of popular music, then to hell with the music industry. You can keep your deliberately lousy, low-fi fuzz. Why is everything in America crumbling into pieces all at once? Because the morons in charge want it that way, that's why.

In my experience, the only vinyl LPs that have sounded this bad was Sony's Pearl Jam _Ten_ reissue from last year (ugh, avoid that one like the plague), and — cruel irony — the 2007 Metallica reissues (I purchased the 45-rpm _Ride the Lightning_ LP, which sounded dreadful). I have heard digital masters on vinyl records that have sounded good. Most of the ones that sound terrible are just cheap bootlegs. The _D-Mag_ LP kills 'em all. Ow! Bad pun!

Now for a couple updates. I needed to run a couple tests, so after rubbing my ears and getting my eyesight back (I really do see music in my head, like an extra filter over my eyes), I pulled out my beloved Robert Ludwig pressing of _Led Zeppelin II_. Let's try rock's loudest album. Zeppelin sounds fantastic, amazing, musical. It's a warm world you want to jump into and play with. And the music is loud as hell. Bonham sounds like he's about to smash my walls down. Jimmy Page is melting my candles. But my ears are fine. I want to crank the volume even higher. Thank God for Led Zeppelin.

So now I'm here in my computer room, writing this report for everyone's benefit. I'm also listening to the _D-Mag_ songs that are freely available on Metallica's website. I need to hear the songs again and see if I was just being hopeful and nostalgic for the band I loved as an 18-year-old. Would I hear the same wall of painful static I heard on the vinyl LP?

Actually, no. These songs sound pretty good. I'm surprised, and maybe a bit relieved. I have my headphones on, a good pair of Sony mdr-150's that have served me well. These songs have color to them, and I can make out guitar riffage; the vinyl LP was almost incomprehensible to my third eye. Everything is still insanely compressed, but at least it's tolerable. Don't even get me started on how the vinyl version sounded with the headphones on.

As for the CD version, forget it. No matter how terrible the sound of the LP, the CD is a hundred times worse: far harsher, more brittle, more painful on my inner eardrums. Even when playing at a whisper volume, my ears begin itching and ringing. This surprised me. Something is happening to music when it is hyper-compressed and smashed into a cube, something that is affecting the lowest or highest frequencies, and it's messing with our ears. And it does not sound "loud." It sounds massively compressed and brick-walled. There is a difference.

Being a diehard Metallica fan, I want to bang down the doors of Metallica's HQ and demand a refund. This is a damned outrage. Is this the state of the music business today? No wonder all these record companies are crumbling so badly. No wonder I can't stand of these new bands (Jack White remains a brilliant exception to the rule).

My conclusions? Do not buy _Death Magnetic_. The more advanced your stereo system, the worse it will sound. It's like a small photo, optimised for a web page, which is then stretched out to a much larger size. All you can see is a frustrating mess of pixels and digital artefacts. That's exactly what awaits you with _D-Mag_ on every format.

What the bloody hell went wrong? Did Metallica not listen to their finished product? Do they just listen through iPods or car stereos, or do they listen through a proper stereo system? Goodness knows they have the money, and Metallica didn't become the heirs to Zeppelin's throne with tin ears. Somebody in the chain of command royally screwed up. We've got to start quizzing the old men on every opportunity. "What the heck happened? Have you even listened to your album? Who the decided this was acceptable? Was there nobody in the studio except yes-men?"

Perhaps it's something as simple as hearing loss? Three decades of loud rock music are bound to cause some damage. Perhaps the only thing Lars Ulrich can hear anymore is subwoofer rumble and bloated bass. Who knows? It's puzzling and frustrating. Whatever. I want a re-mix. _D-Mag_ is supposedly a great rock album. It's a pity I can't hear any of it. All I've been given is static and mud and haze that sounds hideous.

Alright, that's enough from me. End of rant.

### Miles Davis - Agharta/Pangaea

In 1975, Miles Davis and his voodoo-fueled jazz band recorded two massive live albums from Japan. The double-LP _Agharta_ is taken from the afternoon concert, while the double-LP _Pangaea_ is taken from the evening show. These would become Miles' final recordings of the 1970s; crumbling health, illness, and the stress of fighting his decade-long "fusion" war forced him to finally retreat from public view. Miles Davis would not return to music until 1981, older and weaker, and searching for new sounds once again.

_Agharta_ was released in the US in 1976, but _Pangaea_ only appeared in Japan in 1977. This was fierce, heavy, dense music far ahead of its time. The sound of Miles' final electric band more closely resembles a Millennial funk-metal hybrid, with trip-hop and ambient leanings. Think about that for a moment. It's the year 2016, and we still haven't caught up to what the Miles Davis band was doing. But at least my generation, and the younger kids who grew up on Radiohead, Sonic Youth, Public Enemy and the Red Hot Chili Peppers can understand the groove. The rock and jazz scene of the early '70s? Forget it. Not a chance.

Anyway, here are some photos of the rare vinyl LP version of _Pangaea_ , which was released only in 1977 in Japan. It completes the quartet of Miles Davis funk-jazz albums (and I'm really only using that term loosely, since the music roams across so many landscapes), that darkest, heaviest, and most dense period of Miles career. Thankfully, these albums are all available on CD and LP, so everyone can discover the music for themselves. It's bloody fantastic music, soulful, expressive, sorrowful, very, very funky.

Miles Davis' heavy "voodoo hip-hop ambient jazz funk metal" period (whatever we call it...never before has the term "fusion" been so apt), which completes the second half of his electric era — _Come Up Get It_ , _Dark Magus_ , _Agharta_ , _Pangaea_ — remains his least-understood, largely due to the endless battles over the direction of his music from acoustic jazz into electric fusion. This music was simply too far ahead of its time. While kids were busy absorbing _Houses of the Holy_ and _Exile on Main Street_ , Miles and his gang suddenly crash down your door with Public Enemy and Soulfly in tow. Good heavens, the 1970s was dancing its way towards disco, while these cats were running in the opposite direction, into uncharted alien waters.

Today, I think the situation is much different. We're still catching up to the music that Miles discovered three decades ago, but we're a lot closer. And let's face it, kids, our music is angry, really angry. Miles Davis angry.

In any case, the smartest thing any of us could do is to drop the four Miles Davis voodoo-funk albums into the hands of every musician and DJ we find, then just wait for new sounds, new bands, to emerge from the streets. I think it's high time the Brittney and _American Idol_ clones were swept away, don't you? Aren't we ready for the next musical innovation?

### Miles Davis - Get Up With It

The 1974 double-LP _Get Up With It_ is the final studio album of the Miles Davis electric "fusion" era, and contains the funkiest, hardest, and wildest music of his career. It is also one of my absolute favorites.

This wasn't conceived as a studio project per se, like 1972's _On the Corner_. Miles was rushing in and out of recording sessions with regularity throughout the 1970s, and while the bulk of the album features the "Pete Cosey lineup" (that's the easiest way for me to remember this voodoo funk period), some of the tracks are recorded a bit earlier.

No doubt, at the time, this gave the impression that the album was a collection of leftovers, like numerous post-retirement Miles Davis albums of the '70s like _Directions_ , _Circle in the Round_ and _Water Babies_. But like the 1974 release of _Big Fun_ , which was composed of tracks recorded 1970-72, _Get Up With It_ has a cohesion to its sound. To my ears, it sounds very much like a modern album...and, by that, I mean a 1990s rock or electronica album.

1990s rock was defined by a lot of experimentation, and it was common for the great artists to jump across genres every couple of songs. It's not quite the same as the musical brew of the late '60s, but more of a channel-surfing thing. Maybe everyone was just taking cues from Nirvana and Pearl Jam. Who knows? My favorite '90s albums — Gustavo Cerati's _Bocanada_ , Soundgarden's _Superunknown_ , Stone Temple Pilots _Purple_ , Hole's _Live Through This_ , R.E.M.'s _Monster_ , Radiohead's _The Bends_ and _OK Computer_ , Metallica's _Load_ & _Reload_ — have that jukebox attitude. _Get Up With It_ carries that very same vibe, and I think that's the reason why I love it so much.

The two epics, which fill sides one and three, couldn't be more different in mood and texture. And the shorter songs range from boogie blues to trip-hop dance to dissonant noise. And yet it all feels so similar. There's a similar plan of attack from Miles and his bandmates, and to my mind it comes down to two things:

One, Miles on the keyboards. While piano and keyboards were always a staple, at this point Miles takes the keys himself, but he uses the instrument almost purely for assault. It's there to bludgeon you, shock you, to hit you upside the head until you're kissing canvas. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that Miles did little more than just punch the keyboard, or mash his forearm down for dissonant effect. Which brings us to...

Two, these songs are angry. Very angry, passionate, violent. The street-fighter side to Miles Davis was in full evidence on the 1970 landmark _Bitches Brew_ , even though the spirit of the early fusion years was one of exuberance and discovery. But genius does come with bits of madness, and it's that darker side that emerges. The move into fusion split the jazz world down the middle, and when _On the Corner_ dropped, the conflict just exploded, and the furious backlash over that album has become the stuff of legend. It's famously said that _On the Corner_ baffled, frustrated, and angered the entire music world, and while I'm sure there were genuine fans who "got it," Miles' disappointment was very real, and his music continued its angry, dark funk descent.

This isn't to say that _Get Up With It_ is a "dark" or "heavy" album. There are so many moments of beauty to be discovered. But that's my own judgement, based on the music of my generation: hip-hop, grunge, punk, thrash, electronica. 1970s Miles Davis was the heaviest cat on the planet. Today? He's just another one of us. Good Lord, the dissonant noise and chaos on some of these songs are enough to melt the walls, certainly more than the hippies or disco kids at the time were willing to tolerate.

Anyway, I'm rambling on here, as I often do when I'm still figuring things out. This is such an astonishingly deep and layered album that I find myself having to sit and reflect after playing each side (yeah, even when playing my digital "needle drop" copy). It's very difficult to play through start to finish, not because it's difficult listening, but because there's just so much to absorb. And I'm remembering different moments each time. That is the hallmark of a great album, a truly great album.

_On the Corner_ is widely regarded as Miles Davis' most overlooked, least understood album, but I don't believe that holds anymore. I think _Get Up With It_ holds that honor now. This final phase of Miles Davis' fusion era was pretty much dismissed out of hand. I don't think anyone but the diehard fans (whoever they were back then) and the truly brave were willing to give this album its proper due. And the younger generations, those of us who discovered Miles after his death, well, we're a bit backlogged at the moment. Do you know just how many albums this man released during his lifetime? Do you have any idea how intimidating it is to wade through all of this?

Yes, _Kind of Blue_ is the universal touchstone. In college, it was the default jazz album in everyone's CD collection. But just try to work your way past that without devoting several years as a music scholar. I don't think older folks appreciate this. When I told my wife Marcela that my Miles Davis library had reached 25 albums, she was stunned; then I told her I was only halfway finished. We are talking about an immensely deep musical legacy.

So is that enough for now? Good Glavin, I've barely touched upon the music. "He Loved Him Madly" is atmospheric, haunting, otherworldly genius. Just wait until "Rated X" hits your ears — did Miles and Teo Macero invent Industrial music? There's probably a half-dozen new musical mutations on this album that have yet to be discovered by the rest of us. On some days, I play this album and am convinced this is the best thing ever created. Whatever. Just get your hands on this album, especially on LP. It's a monster.

### My Favorite Toy...OF ALL TIME

WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME VINYL SOUNDED THIS GOOD?!!

Today, after much searching and research and planning and hoping, I did something that I never thought I would do in January, 2007: I bought a turntable. A record player! How crazy is that?

This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, and thanks to the local Cheapo music store, I've been slowly stocking up on classic vinyl records. At first, my plan was to frame and hang the album covers on the wall (I had seen this in a number of places, including local coffee shops). Eventually, curiosity and temptation became too strong; I needed to play them, at least once. So I picked up a Numark Portable Turntable from Fifth Element in Uptown Minneapolis (a serious hangout for the city's vibrant hip-hop scene).

I also made one last trip to Cheapo, before I became completely broke, and picked up the one album I've sworn to myself to finally listen to on vinyl: The Beatles' _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_. I've never heard it on vinyl before, ever. Isn't that a horrible shame? I also grabbed a mint copy of _Led Zeppelin IV_ for — get this — three bucks. Seriously, you can get everything in this place for three bucks. It's insanely great.

I get home, fix some sandwiches, sit down, plug the Numark in, and pull out my records. I'm too nervous and eager to go for The Beatles. I'll throw in _Zeppelin_ and see how it compares. So here's a few random thoughts off the top of my head, after listening to both sides of the album once.

Number 1: Astonishment. Shock. Stunned disbelief...

Number 2: I'm beginning to feel like Dorothy in the land of Oz. Why didn't anyone tell me vinyl sounded this good? The sound quality is outstanding. It's beyond outstanding. I'm overcome with emotion through the whole thing, on the verge of tears. I'm well and truly awestruck by the beauty of _Led Zeppelin IV_.

Number 3: I've listened to the Zeppelin albums on standard CD, the "greatest hits" CD box set, and on the silver 10-disc box set that sells for a hundred dollars. This is the very first time I've listened to this album on a turntable. _Zeppelin IV_ on vinyl blows everything else away. There's no comparison. We're in a completely different world; it's as though the gates of Heaven were opened up, and you suddenly felt the hand of God on your shoulder.

Number 4: By the time I get to "Stairway to Heaven," my head is dizzy and 'm on the verge of having outright hallucinations. I may have broken the time-space barrier. This is becoming a transcendent experience.

Number 5: I can finally understand what music turntable junkies mean they say, when comparing vinyl to digital, that vinyl sounds "warmer." It's very true. It's more organic, more natural. There's a wealth of sounds that I've never heard before, sounds that are diminished or somehow lessened on compact disc. After finishing "When the Levee Breaks" on the second side, I clicked on my digital copy of _Zoso_ on my computer hard drive, where I store all my old CDs and MP3s. The digital version does sound "cold." It sounds mechanical, robotic. You can hear the notes, but the warmth just isn't there. There isn't as much color.

I'm sorry if this sounds a little weird. I really don't know how else to describe it. _Led Zeppelin IV_ on vinyl just sounds a lot warmer. You can almost smell the wood on the walls of haunted Hedley Grange mansion. Also, I should point out that I'm not listening to a newly-released, 200-gram reissue; this was someone's old, beat-up copy of Led Zeppelin IV (the words "Pecko Duck" are scrawled on the deadwax).

Number 6: I know, it really has to be said, and it's common knowledge, but still: it's awesome having a big record album in your hands, unfolding it to see the hermit illustration. We really do miss a lot of the scale on CD. Heck, the move towards a purely digital world, iPods and smartphones, will take the album covers away entirely.

The player I'm using is a Numark PT-01, and it sells for about $100. It runs on batteries, or you can plug into a wall. There is a small speaker built in, but you'd be far better off with a good pair of headphones or some stereo speakers. There are also plugs so you can hook up to your computer, and you could make digital backups of your vinyl record collection if you wanted. Right now, I'm not sure I'd even sure I'd want to.

I'm having a blast with my new toy. It well and truly is the Coolest Thing Ever. You should seriously think about getting one yourself. For the price of one new CD, you could score five or six records, depending on where you get your music. Also, many of the classic albums — Beatles, Stones, Dylan, Zeppelin, Sabbath — and a lot of modern music is still being issued and reissued on vinyl. I've heard this is making a bit of a comeback with the younger kids, the ones who are too young to experience record albums before CDs took over. I sure hope so.

Okay, time for a shower, and then it's time for _Sgt. Pepper_! I fully expect to see the walls melting by the time I'm done.

### My First Stereo System, 2008 Edition: Starring Marantz and Pro-Ject

I've had a busy weekend, folks. My obsession with vinyl records jumped to the next level, as I've finally hunted down and bought a new stereo system. Yay!

For the past year, I've been using a Numark PT-101 Portable Turntable. It's been great fun, it's a great little toy, and the price was dirt cheap at only $100. My current vinyl kick would never have happened without it. But I always knew that this would be a temporary fix, until I collected a complete stereo system. And this past weekend's record hunt confirmed this.

I visited a vintage record shop in Minneapolis called Hymie's Records. It's a terrific place, loaded with records of all genres and stretching back decades. It's here that I found another copy of Black Sabbath's _Paranoid_ , a 1976 NEMS pressing, with a label printed onto the vinyl label, "Made in Holland." I already had the NEMS "reissue" (the LP is, in fact, digitally sourced from the 1995 Castle remasters) and I'm quite happy with it. But I was too curious about this older version; would it be the same, or different in some way? I scoured around for the store's demo turntable, threw on the disc....and I was completely blown away.

What a fantastic experience! The sound was so much deeper, the guitars far more liquid. The music blasted out like fog and shadows rising from a boggy swamp. The record included new sound effects I've never heard before, such as a guitar echo on "Iron Man," and several instances of tape echo. When I was finished with side one, I finally realized just how ominous and heavy Sabbath were in their prime.

This dark, swampy groove was never present to me before, and I became obsessed with finding answers. I bought the album, of course (one can never pass the opportunity to collect classic rock albums); but when I played it on my Newmark, that swampy groove was missing. In its place was something familiar, but somewhat watered down. The portable deck just couldn't deliver. I decided that what was needed was one of those old, beat-up 1970s stereo receivers, the kind I remembered from my childhood. That's the way the music was heard back in the day, after all, and music was far better then. There must be a connection.

So back to Hymie's the next day. The store also sells vintage stereo equipment. I found a Marantz 2235b stereo receiver: wood grain, metallic knobs and dials, electric blue lights. It was perfect! Today's blackened digitized receivers look so inhuman, so unfriendly. The Marantz wants to be your new best friend. Oh, and did I mention that it only cost $65?

Kids, that's a steal. Turns out that this model was the top of the line 30 years ago; I'd be paying hundreds for the same or similar stereo today. This was a great find. I also scored a pair of RCA bookshelf speakers for $30, another nice bargain. Another example of the value of the vintage audio market!

Hauling my prized possessions home — courtesy of an older man who traveled back and forth to Texas and collected 78-RPM records — I installed the new sound system and was immediately impressed. It's great to have a stereo again. I haven't seen one of these things since I was a teenager, I think. Listening to the classic rock station, KQRS, in all its warm, booming glory, I was immediately brought back to my younger days, to the tunes of Tom Petty and Led Zeppelin, Temple of the Dog and Pearl Jam. You haven't heard good music until you've heard it through a classic stereo receiver and some fairly large speakers.

A strange thing then happened, as I connected the Numark portable turntable to the stereo's "phono" connection. For some reason, the music was just _off_. Something was very wrong with the sound. These two musical friends of mine (the stereo and the record player) were not getting along. I tried to mess with the knobs and settings, to make peace with what was obviously an inferior, overpowered and muddy sound. But No luck; I knew things had to change and change fast.

When I get into one of my impulsive moods, I'm not one to sit and wait things out. I want my music, I want it right now, and I want it to sound just right. Searching through the internet brought me into the realm of the audiophiles, and their massive collections of hi-fi stereo machines. This scene is just like car junkies, and now I am one of them, learning how to piece together and hack everything, always tinkering and experimenting with this turntable and that phono cartridge, this platter mat and those vacuum tubes.

Ah, well. This was the life I chose. I could have stayed with my free MP3s off the internet, but I had to insist on hearing _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ on vinyl...just once. Once was enough to hurl me through the Land of Oz, there was no going back. It's too late for Kansas.

Which brings me back to today. I wandered into a local spot in Dinkytown, a place called Needle Doctor. Seems they have a reputation online for bringing the goods. I walked in to see what they'd offer, expecting nothing. I came away with a brand new $300 turntable, a little beauty called Pro-Ject Debut III. The guy who helped me recommended it as a budget turntable; these babies start at five hundred and only get meaner. Ouch. Analog music can quickly become very expensive.

Thank goodness for the clerk and Needle Doctor. This turntable is relatively cheap, but has won numerous awards, and widely impressed those in the know as a record player that's far cheaper than it has any right to be. Good for me.

I will say that putting the damned thing together was a trial in itself. Have I mentioned that you have to basically put these things together when you get to this level? You're long past the realm of mere plug-and-play. You have to attach a belt to the motor and platter foundation, attach the platter, and then fiddle around with the tone arm, adjusting a series of weights that remind me of high school science class. All this is done so that arm and the needle won't carve up your precious records. Also (I'm sure you'll see this coming), the phono cartridge can be replaced and switched around. More tinkering with the cars. In fact, just about any component of a turntable can be mixed and matched. Some junkies will use one cartridge only for mono records, then use another specialized cart for the 78s. Oy, froynlaven.

I'm not quite there yet. But I am already planning my next move: a quality phono preamp, preferably one with a lot of vacuum tubes sticking out. And maybe a subwoofer for the Stevie Wonder records. There goes my next several paychecks.

I suppose I should finally get to the point of the story, which is how it all sounds once I put it together. My new stereo system sounds....absolutely amazing! I've never been happier, at least not since I came back to the Dinkytown Pizza Hut in September 9, 1999 with a brand-new Sega Dreamcast. That was another highlight. This is only the latest technological fix for the hunter-gatherers in cyberspace. There will be more.

So, if you're curious, Project's Debut III is an excellent budget turntable at a reasonable price. I'm thrilled with it, and it didn't break my wallet. Only dinged it a little. You'll be more than happy with one. But good luck figuring out how to put it all together if you're a rookie, you'll need it.

### My Letter to Salon About Their Crappy Avril Lavigne Interview

Salon posted a front-page interview to manufactured pop singer Barbie Doll #3247, otherwise known as "Avril Lavigne." I was in a grouchy mood at the time, so I fired off this letter on the site. Enjoy the read, kids:

So...Barbie Doll #3247 has been upgraded to perform interviews. Big freakin' deal. What is it with Salon lately? It is not your damn job to promote and sell pre-packaged, manufactured "pop stars." Avril Lavigne is not a musician, and she sure as hell isn't punk. She is a consumer product.

What's next? An interview with a two-liter bottle of Pepsi? A Subway sandwich? A shiny hubcap?

Salon owes its readers and the general public better than this manufactured corporate drivel. This is nothing more than glorified advertising. Perhaps this is the new phase of the daily site pass: watch this paid commercial before moving on to the real website.

I try not to be so hard, since I've always been a Salon fan. You should not be in the business of hyping consumer goods...er, excuse me, "pop stars."

This is the reason this is the worst decade in the history of popular music. Everything has become a manufactured, fake, plastic product. Everything is exactly the same, every Ken and Barbie doll looks exactly the same, and all the "songs" sound exactly the same. We're dealing with interchangeable machine parts, folks. You can plug one part out and replace it with another without missing a beat.

Why is Barbie Doll #3247 — otherwise known by the informal title, "Avril Lavigne" — given a credible interview on her latest pre-packaged CD? What's the point? Why don't you interview Ms. Pac-Man next? It would be the same thing. She has no influence upon what she does. It's all created and built from the top: marketing executives, corporate tie-ins, flashy producers armed with Pro Tools and Auto Tune. We all know this. This little Barbie clone is no more _punk rock_ or _riot grrl_ than a pair of shoes. Let's hope and pray your next interview isn't with the pair of shoes.

You know what would be really great? Interviewing some actual, real-life musicians. You know, the ones who play musical instruments and' stuff. The ones who actually write their own songs, and create all the melodies and words. You know, words, and' like...uh, stuff.

But, then, you probably won't be hanging out with the Beautiful People. It's much more important to be seen with Ken and Barbie, because...uh, like, being good-looking and popular is, like, the most important thing in the world. Like, ya know, whatever.

What the heck has Ani Difranco been doing lately? Go send a reporter out to find out. Make yourselves useful for a change.

### DEVO - New Traditionalists

Since I'm on my major Devo kick at the moment, I thought I would just go through all their albums. Today's killer Devo record: _New Traditionalists_ from 1981.

_New Traditionalists_ took more than one listen for me to really click with it. On first listen, it sounded a little flat, a little dull, sandwiched between the quasi-industrial sound of _Oh, No! It's DEVO_ and the guitar-synth pop hooks of _Freedom of Choice_. I wrote this first impression off as exhaustion from listening to too many Devo records at once. Also, it was 4:00 am. Everything turns to mush in your head by that time of night.

So a couple days later, I came back with fresh ears, and was hooked. The first song, the single, "Through Being Cool," sounds a little off, but it's really just different, and it gets stuck in your head before long. You'll notice that singing duties are split among band members on _New Traditionalists_ , giving a real variety to the singing (Mark Mothersbaugh, skilled as he is, always sings in the same high range).

The balance between guitars and electronic synthesizers has begun to shift away from the guitars on this album, clearly foreshadowing where the next album would go. This has always been Devo's plan, to get away from the guitar-and-drums sound, and into new territory. So perhaps there's less of that punkish vibe, and more of those magnificent hooks. So what?

Still, there are some absolutely killer guitar leads on this album. I'd wager that U2 were big fans; you can almost hear The Edge taking down the notes for U2's foray into electronic rock in the 1990s. They even seem to have captured Devo's sense of satire and cynicism, which cuts sharper on _New Traditionalists_ than any other album save their first. These guys were grouchy and not ready for happy-go-lucky, singalong pop.

Maybe I'm just nostalgic because this all sounds like the music from those early Sega Genesis videogames. Remember videogame music? I miss that. I truly love the amazing electric sounds coming from the speakers, and the satirical, smart-ass lyrics (clearly designed to throw off anyone who jumped on the "Whip It" bandwagon, expecting a cheeky novelty act). This new wave pop bears claws and teeth.

Aside from the original vinyl LP, the definitive version of _New Traditionalists_ must be the late '90s CD release on Henry Rollins' record label, Infinite Zero. This version, which went out of print far too soon, includes the single, "Working in a Coal Mine" (recorded for the _Heavy Metal_ movie soundtrack), a crazed, surreal sonic assault called "Mecha Mania Boy," and "Nu-Tra Speaks," a short comedy skit involving a space alien plugging the new album. Sadly, these three tracks are missing from the current CD release. What justice is that? Your best bet is to score the Infinite Zero disc on Ebay, download a copy over the internet (ahem), or score the Rhino Vinyl LP reissue, which sounds crazy good.

As a boy, I once saw this music video on MTV where people dressed up as giant bugs were kicking each other's butts. I have no idea who created that, but it's just the sort of thing you'd expect Devo to do. The only difference, of course, is that they would also send some kicks to the Moral Majority and Reagan's America, and then laugh at the audience for being so easily taken in by grifters, the ninnies and the twits.

End of sermon, kids. Get your grubby paws on _New Traditionalists_ by any means necessary.

### Oh, No! It's DEVO

I don't honestly know if you have to have lived through the New Wave era of the early 1980s to really appreciate how cool _Oh, No! It's DEVO_ is. Probably not. This is one of those rare albums: a perfect snapshot of its era, and somehow ahead of its time. You have to keep one eye on Weird Al's _Dare to be Stupid_ , the other on industrial music.

I think I'm feeling nostalgic for those days, the early days of MTV (back when MTV played nothing but music videos, all of them good), Atari, _Pac-Man_ , _E.T.,_ Rubik's Cube, the Space Shuttle. It was a great little point in history, so filled with the joy of life and the energy of youth. Well, I was in early grade school, the early part of "youth." But it was a fun time, the New Wave era. It's been completely swept under the tide of corporate-sanitized history, desperate to sell brainless 12-year-olds on some vapid saltwater consumerism.

Ugh, today's pop music sucks. It hasn't been this bad since the hair metal days of the late '80s. It might be worse; I don't know if another Saint Cobain could come along and smash it. If there was ever a time for a band like Devo, it's here and it's now. If such a band is truly out there, somebody needs to unlock them from the garage and set them loose.

There's always been a great degree of subversive attitude from Devo. Essentially an art-house band, they sought to criticize the modern culture and the devolution of our civilization, but wrap that within some killer pop music. There are a lot of souls who listen to Devo songs, never suspecting just what is going on. They'll toss aside as mere fluff. Even critics, who should know better, look upon it as a big joke. Generation gap, children. The spuds are smiling, but they're baring the fangs, and they're laughing at you.

Devo's first five albums remain their best by a long shot, their "classic period" that everyone remembers and love. There's _Q: Are We Not Men?_ , from 1978; _Duty Now For the Future_ , in 1979; _Freedom of Choice_ , in 1980; _New Traditionalists_ , in 1981, and _Oh, No! It's DEVO_ , in 1982. Each album carries a different sound, and you can chart the evolution and refinement of their sound over the years. You can chart the mutation from a punk sound with electronic gadgets, to New Wave fusion, to full-blown techno-pop.

The sound of _Oh No!_ , heavy on synths and samples, sounds terrific. But the lyrics are hard. It's arguably the most charged and thematically focused of their career; there ain't no novelty nowhere. It's definitely in its own league. The fangs are out and blood is in the air.

It's a great sounding record, with pounding beats and rhythms, sly hooks. If you want a perfect example of what the early 1980s New Wave thing was about, you can't do better than this. But, again, listen a little harder, and you'll find something else. A harder sound, a sharper sound. It's the coming sound of Industrial dance music. I don't think even Devo saw it, but it's there.

Oh, if only they could have seen ahead a few more years, and plowed ahead into the new industrial realm, instead of creatively floundering for years in a soulless decade. _Oh, No!_ is the last great Devo album. After this, they just ran out of steam. How and why that happened remains a mystery for scholars and holy men to figure out. The moment was over, and it was gone for good.

### Pearl Jam's Backspacer: An Essay That Reveals Absolutely Nothing About the New Album or Why it's Great

Pearl Jam's newest album, _Backspacer_ , has been released this week. I waited until today to get the vinyl LP version, where the cover design truly shines. Tom Tomorrow's surreal pop collage design perfectly evokes the spirit of _Vitalogy_ and _No Code_ , and that's where the heart of the music lies.

Back in 1991, I owned only two CDs: Van Halen's live album, _Right Here, Right Now_ , and Pearl Jam's debut _Ten_. I've been a devoted fan ever since the beginning, and Pearl Jam has always been the greatest rock band of my generation. Yes, even more than Saint Cobain, but had he lived, everything would have been different. You see, it's really Cobain's fault that Eddie Vedder hurled his band into the wilderness for a decade. Had April 8, 1994 passed by without incident, the incendiary and masterful _Vitalogy_ — Pearl Jam's true masterpiece — would never have happened. It certainly would have been a very different beast, and maybe Vedder and crew would have continued their uneasy alliance with rock stardom. It's impossible to say, really. That direction points towards an alternate universe.

Saint Cobain took one last fix, pulled the trigger, and we have felt the shock waves ever since. Pearl Jam rebelled with shock and horror, then escaped into the wilderness. I still remember how truly shocking _No Code_ sounded in 1996, the band's first major work since the tragedy. It took me several years to finally accept it on its own terms. A masterful collection of songs, true. There's brilliance in its confusion, brilliance, and sense of discovery. The kings renounced the throne and entered exile — now what do we do?! That question haunted their next three albums, _Yield_ , _Binaural_ , _Riot Act_. All three are uneven, confused, and occasionally great.

Perhaps this is a challenge only time can solve. Wait for middle age to settle in. Wait for the musical tides to roll everything away once or twice. Of course, their 2006 album had to be simply called _Pearl Jam_. Like that other great mid-career eponymous album, _Metallica_ , the Great Rock Band of My Generation renewed and rediscovered itself. Pearl Jam finally came back home. When you reach a certain age, you truly love and appreciate the miraculous power in these comebacks. Most of your youthful idols have withered away, grown fat or lazy, drifted away into "respectable work," or died. When you're old enough to say you've outlived your best friends, everything changes.

That's why Pearl Jam's 2006 "Blue Avocado" album is so powerful. That, and the fact that it totally kicks. It's a spectacular rock album by any stretch, and it's the kind that seasoned veterans must conjure to prove to the kids who's really in charge. Have I mentioned how much this album kicks? Hoo boy, three years later and _Pearl Jam 2006_ has never sounded better. It's intense, angry, emotive, and fiercely passionate. It's such a rush to hear Eddie Vedder sing with his mouth open again, no longer mumbling within the shadows of his early greatness.

On my best days, I'll argue that _Pearl Jam 2006_ is the band's greatest album, or certainly deserving to sit alongside the first three, which were deified into a Grunge Era Holy Trinity long, long ago. That first album, _Ten_ , is simply untouchable, and there simply won't ever be another rock album that topples it from the minds of Generation X. That's just the way these things roll. But I always thought _Vitalogy_ was better, and I think _Pearl Jam 2006_ rivals it in its best moments.

Which brings us to the end of this lost decade, a decade when America was gang raped by criminal vampires who now howl about the black man with the funny name who usurped their throne. This was the decade when the music business we once knew died, murdered by their own shortsighted greed and a computer revolution quietly initiated by '60s computer nerds. This was the decade when turntables became fashionable again. Remember when Pearl Jam released _Vitalogy_ on vinyl two weeks before the CD? That was an act of anarchic rebellion, wasn't it? What the heck happened to the "aughts" decade? Where did its history become all bent?

I'm rambling, excuse me. So what does any of this have to do with the brand-new Pearl Jam album, _Backspacer_? Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Other than this is a smashing fantastic album by the Great Rock Band of My Generation. Eddie Vedder once feared that he'd meet the same end as Saint Cobain. Now he's lived long enough to bury all the Nirvana Wannabes, all the poseurs, all the fakers. He's lived long enough to bury the music industry itself. Buy the black t-shirt at your nearby Target and download the songs to your iPod. Or pick up the vinyl LP and really mess with your parents.

The moral of this story: Just get _Backspacer_ , already. Get with the program.

### Playing Led Zeppelin IV on the Road to Damascus

I've been on a remarkable journey of self-discovery with the recent purchase of a Numark PT-101 portable turntable. I haven't touched a vinyl record for over 20 years, and even then, the only records I really listened to was Michael Jackson's _Thriller_ and Duran Duran's _Arena_. I stuck with cassette tapes throughout the 1980s and then migrated to CDs only in 1995.

I decided to start collecting vinyl records so I could frame the album covers and hang them on my wall. But there was some distant, quiet voice speaking inside my gut. Call it intuition, or The Voice of God. I always told myself that I needed to hear _Sgt. Pepper's_ on vinyl at least once. My unplayed record collection was slowly building, including a few that I didn't have on my computer or CD, so I made the jump and grabbed the turntable.

I'm a great music lover, in addition to playing guitar and sometimes trying to sucker myself into thinking I have some sort of career as a folk singer or something. To me, music is sacred, the language of the soul. So I can speak with some degree of knowledge.

The first record I put on was _Led Zeppelin IV_. Haven't heard it in a long time, and I've heard all the CD releases. I know what to expect. Turn on the turntable, take the record out of the sleeve; immediately I'm impressed with the whole ritual of it all. I'm holding this giant gatefold album of _Zeppelin IV_ , instead of a postcard-sized CD booklet. The real deal. How cool is that? I imagine holding the more inventive Zeppelin albums, the ones like _Zeppelin III_ and _Physical Grafitti,_ where Jimmy Page really went insane with the cover designs. You just never see those things anymore.

Anyway, back to the record itself. I put the needle to the groove, threw on the headphones, and cranked up the sound. The sounds of Page's guitars warming up for the trip grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. Then Robert Plant starts wailing, and I'm being grabbed by the seat of my pants and hurled — not pushed, but hurled — into the Land of Oz.

Welcome to Technicolor, Dorothy.

Needless to say, this is an astonishing experience. I'm beginning to think that this could qualify as a psychedelic experience all by itself. I'm being hurled into a world of heavy, booming, and deep — DEEEEEP — sounds. The real sounds of Zeppelin. For the first time, I realize what they mean when they say that digital is "polished" and "cold." It really is. It's like looking at a picture of a dirt pile, and then being thrown head-first into the actual dirt pile. That's what this is: analog dirt.

There's so much sound, little bits and fragments and snippets of real life buried in the mix. So much that I never heard before. I really am hearing this album for the very first time. It's like falling in love with your first love all over again. I'm beginning to feel a little like St. Paul on the road to Damascus.

Then _Stairway to Heaven_ kicks in. Heard a million times. Sick to death of hearing it a million times. But now, I'm overwhelmed. The whole scope of it all, the sheer beauty of it all. It's so transcendent, I'm out of words to explain it away. The walls are just about to start melting. By the time Jimmy Page's guitar kicks in, I'm weeping at the sheer beauty of it all, trying to figure out what the heck is going on.

And then I have to turn the record over, after pausing for a moment to catch my breath. Another ritual. And another side on the magical rollercoaster. Rinse and repeat, another sonic assault that I never even realized was there, in front of my eyes and ears all this time.

What the hell have we been missing out on? Who sold us out? The bad guys ripped the soul out of the music, just like our culture is ripping our very souls out of us. Hell, now modern science aims to tell us that mind and soul, our very personality, doesn't even exist. We're nothing more than ants, robots, machines too stupid to know we're machines, only good for breeding and killing and churning out reality shows. And we wonder why our civilization is crumbling, and why there's no more good art anymore.

There are no great artists, no _new_ ones. Television is a wasteland of banality. The movies are a wasteland. The music is a wasteland. How many shitty plastic people are the kids supposed to consume? You call that rock 'n roll? You call that talent? American Freakin' Idol? Is this some kind of cruel joke? And, oh, hey, get your kids hopped up on Ritalin and Zoloft and Paxil. Those are the good drugs. They'll make you compliant and quiet and submissive. And your soul will wither and die. Not that your soul exists, Antboy. Now watch this drive.

So, okay, as I've said before, this virtually qualifies as a psychedelic experience. The colors seem brighter, the world seems more alive. Heck, I feel more alive. Try not to swing your booty to _Misty Mountain Hop_ and _Rock 'n Roll_. It can't be done! There's probably scientific studies to prove it: robot ants who can boogie.

Remember that feeling you had as a teenager that all the grownups were lying to you, trying to sucker you with one colossal scam after another? You better start getting those feelings back, kids. You want to feel the walls shake? Step into the Land of Oz, Dorothy, and your little dog, too. You got to get your soul back; it's the only thing in this fake world that's real. Everything else is an illusion or a con game.

All of which just goes to say that I'm really loving my vinyl records. Don't even get me started on _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_. Or _Abbey Road_. Or _Blonde on Blonde_. Or _Innervisions_. Or _The Unforgettable Fire_. Or that Fonzie record I scored for two bucks. Oh, yeah. Did I mention that you can score a perfectly good record for three bucks? My copy of _Led Zeppelin IV_ , the one that reads "Pecko Duck" in the runout groove? Three-fifty. The 1990s "remastered" CD cost fifteen dollars and came from the depths of hell. Do the math.

The Voice of God was right all along. You would be wise to heed that inner voice.

### Pro-Ject Debut III Turntable

Today, I'm writing about my current turntable: the Pro-Ject Debut III, a popular entry-level model I purchased for $300 new, which is a steal when you're talking about hi-fi audio. Most turntables don't start to become interesting until you pass $1,000. And that's just the table itself; a good phono cartridge is essential, as is a good phono preamp, and various tweaks and upgrades. Analog music is a pricey hobby, truly a labor of love.

I've made a few upgrades to the Debut III. The standard-issue steel platter has been replaced with a clear acrylic platter, which deadens much of the outside sound and significantly improves sound quality. It also happens to look terrific — I really need to attach some blue lights to the back, so it can glow in the dark. You'll also notice all the gold, one of my personal alterations, purely for style. I used a can of gold spray paint, which has been the secret weapon in my artist's arsenal for a decade; much of my artwork from 1998-2001 revolved around using cans of gold spray paint.

The phono cartridge is another major upgrade. Pro-Ject Debut III comes with an Ortofon OM-5E cart attached, but it's barely adequate. In fact, it's a pretty boring cartridge, enough to make you question why you didn't save up for a pricier table like the Pro-Ject Xpression III or RM-5. If you buy this turntable, upgrade the cart as quickly as possible. Have your dealer attach a new one in the store if you have no experience switching carts.

My new cartridge is a Denon DL-160, a moving-coil cartridge that sells for $180. Sounds expensive? For a quality phono cart, this is still squarely in the "budget" range. It may seem like a lot of money, especially if your idea of playing music is switching on your iPod. In the world of analog music, you get what you pay for. And the Denon DL-160 is a fantastic cart. It will bring out details and depth of sound you never knew existed, and the sound is warm and silky smooth.

As music formats go, you'll want to be able to show off your analog stereo system your skeptical friends; a Debut III deck, the acrylic platter and DL-160 cart may very well win your friends over. Pop, rock and jazz classics have never sounded better to my ears. Music lovers of all stripes will debate which format is superior, LP, CD or high-resolution digital. Few will come to any consensus, but most everyone will have fun along the way.

It is true that you will find an even better sound — more depth, larger soundstage, greater range — with more expensive turntables. And all these wonderful turntables require more expensive cartridges, phono stages, amplifiers and speakers. The upgrade game never really ends when dealing with analog.

You get what you pay for, but you also have to be a real dedicated audio junkie before you shell out that kind of money. At some point, you have to be practical about playing that _Led Zeppelin IV_ that you found at the vintage store for three bucks. So if you're curious about vinyl records, than the Debut III is a good place to start the journey. You'll discover in time if you catch the "tinkering bug," if the sound of analog speaks to you, and if you truly enjoy scavenging through used record shops like a pirate.

If you really get hooked, a whole universe awaits for you to discover: tweaking, upgrading...and have I mentioned vacuum tubes? My future upgrades for my table will include Pro-Ject's Speed Box, which regulates the speed of the motor (tightening the sound) and allows me to play 33/45 speeds at the touch of a button; and Pro-Ject's Tube Box II, a phono pre-amplifier which includes two vacuum tubes to enrich the sound. After that, time to purchase a pair of speaker stands and a new cabinet that can fit all the components of my ever-growing entertainment system.

It never ends, does it? Of course not. But it's worth the effort, I think.

### Realistic LAB-420 Turntable

It's another weekend of analog music fun over here at the apartment! A couple nights ago, I picked up a vintage turntable from beloved Minneapolis record store Roadrunner Records. I'm getting it for my Dad as a Christmas present. The table is a 1979 Realistic LAB-420, a fully automatic direct drive turntable from the late 1970s. This table was manufactured by CEC in Japan (a behind-the-scenes player that built decks for many of the major brands) and sold by Radioshack in the USA, and is today regarded as a minor classic. I paid $125 for the unit, which is a steal for anything in high-end audio, and thankfully everything works perfectly.

I took the table home and cleaned it out as best I could, even giving the wood a solid waxing. Then last night, the fine crew at Needle Doctor gave me a terrific deal on a new phono cartridge and headshell. For $150, I received a Technics headshell (in black), and the celebrated Audio Technica 440mla Moving Magnet cartridge.

I took everything home and started to play some albums. The sound, unfortunately, seemed to be off. There was far too much bass, the sound was too muffled and heavy, and for the life of me I couldn't discover the cause. Was this just because the turntable is old? Is it because it's a direct drive? Is it because the cart needs time to break in? After some time, I finally discovered what the problem with the sound is, and it's one of those stupid rookie mistakes: my Pro-Ject Tube Box II phono preamp was set to "MC" mode! D'oh! I had completely forgotten about that. The "MC" (Moving Coil) setting has a gain of 60db, while the "MM" (Moving Magnet) has a gain of 40db. I clicked the button to the correct setting, and instantly everything was transformed.

The Realistic Lab-420 is my first immersion into direct drive turntables, after using two belt drive decks. I'm completely blown away. Now I must rethink everything I've been taught about direct drives being inferior to belts. This really is a terrific table, and it's going to be very hard for me to give it away on Christmas.

The AT-440mla is a stunning cartridge: clear tones, sharply detailed, excellent dynamics, tracks like a dream. Needle Doctor gave me a great deal. They had the cart already mounted onto a Technics headshell, and they sold the package to me for $150. Once again, the Needle Doctor crew delivers!

Right now, I have my Pro-Ject Debut III alongside the Lab-420. This way I can spend a few days testing one against the other. It's here that I wish I had a preamp with more sockets (the Tube Box only has one pair). So far, it's been illuminating and a bit humbling.

The short, short version is that the Lab-420 kicks. The Debut III is pretty much even, maybe even very slightly ahead. But this is due to three crucial upgrades: 1) the Speed Box II, 2) the acrylic platter, and 3) the Denon DL-160 cartridge. With all these weapons, it's an equal race. I strongly suspect the only difference at this point is the difference between the carts. The DL-160 has more muscle and is super-smooth, while the 440mla has the clarity and crispness. Perhaps I should try switching carts for a full comparison, but I'm still inexperienced in changing carts.

And this is with a fully decked-out Debut III. The stock unit — no Speed Box, steel platter, Ortofon OM5E cart — would just get steamrolled. No contest. The Lab-420 would just kick its hide. That's the humbling part for me. I paid $125 for the Lab, the Debut much more so.

The Lab-420 still delivers the better bass, richer and fuller. My Debut performs brilliantly, but that's really the Denon doing all the work. The 440mla is a strong contender, though, and even if it's a dryer sound, everything is so detailed and sharp that pretty soon I'm singing along to Neil Young just the same.

Then there's style. On that front, no contest, Realistic wins hands down. It's a fantastic looking machine. I miss the days when stereo components were made of wood. The tonearm is sleek and shiny, the platter is unbelievably smooth, everything carries size, gravity, presence.

The best thing to come from this experience is that my mind is open to direct drive tables. If this is what the DJ scene raves about with their Technics decks, then I must believe them. I don't know how the Lab-420, or the Technics 1200, would compare to a $1,000 belt drive. I would expect the more expensive machines to win out. But it's the fact that you have to spend so much more to win that contest; that's the thing that always gets to me, nudges me in my ribs and drives me half-bonkers.

I think if anyone is lucky enough to score one of these vintage tables, they'll have something to cherish for years to come. Heck, just get a couple more phono carts and headshells (a mono cart would be killer), and you're set for life. You'll never want for anything.

Like I said, I'll have a hard time giving the Lab-420 away for Christmas. But my dad will have a fantastic turntable that will keep him happy for life. And anytime I see another one of these tables, I'll snap them up without hesitation. Everyone should. You can always give them to friends and family, and they'll be able to experience the thrills of analog music.

Anyway...whew. That's my report. Not a bad way to finish out 2008.

### Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band on Vinyl LP

Here's the "short, short" story about The Beatles' _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ : the vinyl LP version absolutely destroys the CD. The compact disc that my generation has been listening to all our lives...how do I put it? It stinks. Absolutely, royally sucks in comparison. Seriously.

Long-Playing Record was how _Sgt. Pepper_ was meant to be heard. There's a tremendous amount of depth and subtlety to the sound that's either suppressed or lost entirely on the CD. Were The Beatles' CDs ever properly digitally remastered back in the 1980s? On my virgin voyage with _Sgt. Pepper_ on vinyl, I'm picking up all these sounds, little bits and pieces, that I'm hearing for the first time.

I'm a great devotee of The Beatles. They're my absolute favorites, just ahead of Dylan and Jimi. I feel like I've just discovered them again for the very first time. It's a wonderful feeling. Like falling in love for the very first time. It's a miracle that lies under our noses, and we're too suckered by commercialism and technology to ever notice. iPod? Puleeze. Sony should have stuck a turntable instead of a Blu-Ray drive on their Playstation 3. Would've saved them from oblivion. There's a lesson to be learned here, folks.

Good heavens, I can hear the audio engineer counting off in "A Day in the Life." I can't hear the dog whistle, though. It's pretty evident on CD, so perhaps that sound effect was bumped up to an audible range. I'm noticing, after going through my new stack of records, that CD remasters often mess around with the original mixes. You're not getting the real deal. Someone's picking your wallet and selling it back to you, sans cash.

Here's a good comparison if you don't have a turntable handy. Go listen to the 2003 Dylan CD remasters, then compare them to the older '80s releases. Get _Blonde on Blonde_ , with the cardboard fold-out just like the gatefold record. Then get that old single-disc version, where whole chunks of the backing instruments were blurred out. That's a pretty good comparison to the difference between the LP and CD versions of _Sgt. Pepper_.

This has been the best night I've had with music in years. I was beginning to fear that my days of explosive, ground-breaking musical discoveries — the kind you have as a teenager or in college — were behind me. I feared I had already mapped the globe, and all that was left was to fill in the blanks. Check out that final Doors album made after Jim Morrison died, even though you know damned well it stinks. That sort of thing.

So, the moral to the story, kids: YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST LISTEN TO SGT. PEPPER'S ON VINYL OR YOUR ENTIRE LIFE WILL BE A FAILURE. It really is that simple.

P.S. Here's one more thing I really love about vinyl, and analog recording in general: the way that sound bends during the fadeouts. It's the same thing as hearing the ambulance siren warp slightly after it passes you and drives away. I love that. It's something that's lost entirely on many digital recordings. The march of technology, I suppose, but I still miss that old sound. Sounds more natural. There's more to life than ones and zeros — am I the only one who sees this?

P.P.S. Why haven't any of the stoner or acid kids told me how psychedelic records are? Just look at your record when it's playing. Even if it's perfectly flat, there's this slight distortion in the reflections. I never remember seeing this when listening to records as a child. Another discovery, just tonight, just as I was listening to _Sgt. Pepper_. I think it was during "Fixing a Hole," which is one of the more blatant wink-wink drug songs on the album. Hell, the whole album is on psychedelics. That's probably why I'm getting a contact buzz. Bill Hicks would be proud, I'd hope. Trippy music for your eyes and ears, heart and mind. It's enough to make you want to dress in colorful costumes and take photos with Marilyn Monroe.

### Some Thoughts About Miles Davis' Pangaea

_Pangaea_ is the final fusion album from Miles Davis, the second in a stunning double bill in Osaka, Japan, on February 1, 1975. The afternoon concert was recorded for the _Agharta_ album, and the evening show became _Pangaea_. Shortly thereafter, Miles finally retired from performing music, and disappeared from public view. He would not return for nearly six years.

I'm a great fan of Miles' 1973-75 acid-funk band, which was captured on the 1974 studio LP _Get Up With It_ , and three live albums: _Dark Magus_ , _Agharta_ , and _Pangaea_. All four were double albums and were immensely long. We must remember that the double-LP was a rare event in pop music of that time. It was something rock bands did once, to prove their chops and their musical output, but largely to follow in the footsteps of The Beatles' _White Album_. The Rolling Stones had one, Led Zeppelin had two. Stevie Wonder even unleashed a triple-LP (the puzzling _The Secret Life of Plants_ soundtrack). In the 1970s, Miles Davis unleashed eight.

It's stunning when you realize that Miles Davis hurled out so many double albums, and in such a short period of time. His fusion era only lasted seven years, if you begin at 1969's landmark _In a Silent Way_. In that short period of time, Miles had thrown the music world on its ear, revolutionized popular music, and split the jazz community down to the bone. It's a schism that still exists today, even though the wounds have greatly healed (It helps that the future generations have caught up to what Miles was brewing).

The twin shows _Agharta_ and _Pangaea_ represent the final peak of that great and stunning era, the grand summary of everything Miles Davis had furiously sought after. _Pangaea_ , especially, reveals a lot of mellower, more otherworldly music that reminds me of "He Loved Him Madly," Miles Davis' masterfully haunting tribute to Duke Ellington from side one of _Get Up_. Reminds me of _Silent Way_ , too.

Of course, the spectacular heavy funk jams get all the attention, as well they should. The music on Magus, _Agharta_ and _Pangaea_ is the heaviest music on the planet. This band was so far beyond '70s rock that it wasn't even funny. On the two Osaka shows, the afternoon concert ( _Agharta_ ) gets all the attention from funk and thrash freaks. But don't discount the first ten minutes of _Pangaea's_ evening show, which is absolutely incendiary.

Pete Cosey's wailing, shredding guitar solos...absolutely spectacular, sandwiched perfectly between Jimi Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen. And Michael Henderson's growling bass riffs, Al Foster and Mtume's drumming — this is as good as it gets. There's a confidence, a boldness, to the rhythm section that's a thrill. Sometimes I think they steal the show, especially on the first disc.

There's no question that _Pangaea_ is overall more subtle than _Agharta_ , and we shouldn't be surprised when the band performs two full concerts on the same day. I'm deeply grateful that Miles and crew don't repeat the first setlist on the evening show. _Pangaea's_ vibe is very different, alternately heavier and more ambient. In three hours and four discs, you get the complete Miles Davis experience.

Listen carefully to the "Gondwana" disc. Its first ten minutes are mellow, mysterious, the Duke Ellington funeral dirge reborn. Then the energy slowly burns brighter and brighter, slowly builds around Pete Cosey, Guitar God. By the 20-minute mark, voodoo funk-metal is in the house. Yeah....the mood swings are organic, natural, smooth. The visible seams in _Magus_ are invisible now.

One of the great thrills of _Agharta/Pangaea_ is spotting the classic Miles riffs. There's the bassline from "Kind of Blue." There's a couple jams from "Jack Johnson." And there's "He Loved Him Madly," and "Calypso Frelimo." Great ideas for improvisations, of stealing moments instead of performing the full songs. Everything is consumed in the giant organic stew.

And through it all lies Miles, his aging, aching body breaking down, his years of fighting the fusion revolution taking its toll. There's been enough said about Miles state of mind in 1975, and I suspect much of it is merely myth-building to fit into the readily assembled narrative about burnout and retirement and eventual resurgence. It's hard to say where the real Miles Davis lies. It has always been thus.

The evening concert ends, everything has been said, every drop of energy left on that stage. I have the feeling that Miles couldn't play another note if he tried. He gave all of himself on these two shows, and you can hear it. There's a tone of sadness in the final minutes, the final dissonant organ wails that hang in the air. This spectacular era of Miles Davis' long career, so reviled and misunderstood, so far beyond its time, is coming to its end.

### Sony PS-X75 Turntable

I still miss my Sony PS-X75. It had just the perfect combination of awesome performance and stylish looks. To my eyes, this is what a great turntable looks like. Today's designs are far more stripped down and basic, since vinyl records are a small niche. But back in the 1970s, when millions of turntables were sold, Japanese manufacturers were able to devote their considerable engineering skills to the craft.

Sony's PS-X75 represented the third generation from their golden age of turntable design. The PS-X5/6/7 series began the peak, it then continued with the X50/60/70 series, and then the great X65/75 tables. They continued to refine this design well into the early 1980s, when Compact Disc arrived and sent all the engineers scurrying away to master the new format.

This PS-X75 features Sony's unique tonearm, dubbed the "Biotracer." It began on an earlier model (PS-B80 in 1978) and was nearly perfected here. The Biotracer uses magnets and electronic parts for its automated movements, promising shiny touch controls. Just press a button and Biotracer takes care of everything; you never have to lay a finger on the tonearm.

The Biotracer design also tackles tonearm resonance, one of the oldest engineering challenges in turntables. Most tonearms must be matched properly with the tonearm, so resonances do not interfere with the musical signal. Sony's design essentially eliminates this problem. In theory, you should be able to play any kind of phono cartridge on the Biotracer, regardless of its mass or compliance (the adjustable Vertical Tracking Adjustment helps greatly).

Can you see that light near the back of the turntable? It's not just for looks. This is a sensor that reads the record, and tells the Biotracer where to move when beginning and ending. There are holes cut into the thick rubber mat (a smooth, almost plastic feel to the touch), that tell PS-X75 were the record is. Just push a button to play 45-RPM singles, and the table does the rest.

One great touch: if you press the start button when no record is on the mat, the Biotracer moves out, then darts back into place, and the table stops. Nice...very nice! This feature alone has saved my phono carts from certain doom.

The PS-X75 represents the pinnacle of Sony's turntable aesthetic. You can see how gorgeous it looks, with the reflective black surface, lightly sparkled, and the shiny metal buttons. A red LED light displays the functions in front. And it might be hard to tell from photos, but this table is enormous. It's very large and very heavy; my old Pro-Ject Debut III belt-drive would just get swallowed up.

All the brilliant technical innovations from the earlier PS-X tables are present here, and this is where I really find myself becoming a devoted Sony fan. The BSL (brushless-slotless) motor provides very strong torque, yet remains extremely quiet. Magnedisc and X-Tal Lock delivers an astonishingly smooth and stable speed. The chassis is made of non-resonant composite material dubbed SBMC, for Sony Bulk Mold Compound; a non-resonant combination of calcium carbonate, fiberglass and a polyester binder.

Oh, and in case I haven't mentioned it yet: the music is spectacular on the PS-X75. Can you tell how much I loved this turntable? I also once owned a PS-X5, which contains most of the same features, but it was smaller, less attractive, and the tonearm was just a standard '70s aluminum model sans VTA. Sony quickly developed far better arms on later models.

The one downside to the PS-X75 is the same with all vintage audio gear: time. This machine was released in 1979, and I highly doubt that any of its engineers believed record lovers would still be playing 30 years later. And this table uses computers and electronic velocity sensors. If the Biotracer goes senile in its old age, you're going to be in trouble. In my experience, vintage audio gear can still work like new, if it was treated carefully over the years. Be careful and examine thoroughly when buying vintage.

Back when I bought my Sony tables, they were flowing through Ebay in waves. Now, the supply has dried up, and the best models have become increasingly rare. The PS-X75 can be expensive; $500 to $1,000 easily. If that sounds expensive, then pay a visit to Needle Doctor and see what today's new turntables are selling for. You have to spend real money to play this game, where Ten Benjamins are considered "a good starting point." But it's worth the effort. All the Biotracer decks are worth it. What a great, glorious battleship!

### St. Anger's Revenge: More Thoughts on D-Mag

_Death Magnetic_ is the worst produced and worst sounding album in Metallica's career. There's nothing that even comes close. I spun my older LPs, and, as always, was amazed at the quality of the sound. Metallica always guarantees a high standard for their sound. Every one of their studio albums, regardless of whether you liked them or not, sounded pristine, heavy, deep, and loud — an honest "loud," not this cheap-as-hell brickwalling.

For comparison's sake, I put _St. Anger_ on the turntable. This is an excellent album to compare the production and sonics against _D-Mag_. I threw on side four and played "Purify," my favorite song from the album. The sound is loud, mean and ornery as hell. Within seconds it becomes apparent that this sounds heavier than anything on Rick Rubin's disaster.

And this comes to the main point, which seeming no one ever deals with or is even aware. Rick Rubin is not a traditional record producer. He does have a golden ear for music, something approaching genius, and he has been crucial to countless artists like Johnny Cash, The Beastie Boys, and Slayer, to name a few. But the sound quality of his post-2000 productions are absolutely horrendous, all victims of the "Loudness War." The audiophiles, of course, have always known this and have been warning us for months. Turns out they were right.

Back to St. Anger's "Purify." This album sounds much better on vinyl LP, not only because you only need digest three songs at a time (avoiding exhaustion from a very long and exhausting album), but because the infamous "trash can drums" carry a certain hypnotic ring to them. This song, especially, captures that hypnotic quality that was essential to the early years of hard rock. That hypnotic repetition of guitar riffing with the metal gong really provides a certain mean and cranky, post-psychedelic sheen.

The production is also passable, despite the bad reputation. Bob Rock has always been an excellent producer. He knows his game, and every band he has worked with — Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Metallica, Veruca Salt — comes out shining brighter, louder, and more immediate than when they began. To my mind, he has been an essential component to Metallica's career, George Martin to their Beatles.

On "Purify," the guitars are loud, growly, they have depth in their sound. The decay is steady rumbling, like a good motorbike. The guitars on _D-Mag_ , by comparison, are thin, pressed flat like a pancake. They are light. That's probably the worst insult you could hurl at a heavy rock band. I've heard acoustic guitars that sound "heavy," that have that weight and gravitas; go listen to Buffy Sainte-Marie's first album and you'll know exactly what I mean. _Death Magnetic_ carries no heaviness whatsoever. It is a thin and tinny sound, one intended for...I dunno. An iPod? A cheap transistor radio? Who can tell when everything is mushy and muddy and bleeding all the damned time?

What the heck happened to the dynamic range? _D-Mag_ has none. Absolutely none. It's the first one-dimensional rock album I've ever heard. _St. Anger_ had dynamic range, kids. It had loud and medium and quiet, all smashed together in that beautiful ugliness. The guitars are given space to breathe. There is air in the room, not very much, but a little.

Here's another example: the album's final song, "All Within My Hands." The beginning with the guitar effects have a certain color, something purple in my mind. Notice the loud, heavy guitars rushing in. You can tell a difference in the sound. This was once Metallica's trademark, one of those great tricks cribbed from classic Black Sabbath and Deep Purple. Note the verse, with its spacey rhythm guitar floating in the background. Note the rhythm of the drumming. Note that rumbling bass on your left speaker. It's open and spaced-out, every instrument can be distinctly heard. Then those loud guitar riffs come crashing down, all atonal and sharp angles. Then you get the chorus riff, heavy as hell and greasy to match, which suddenly explodes into chaos.

Folks forget that Metallica was a pastiche of hardcore punk and British metal. That last album was purely from the old punk side. Whine and cry about the rock-star therapy and the lack of guitar solos. You can learn a lot from that album.

In terms of sheer power and heaviness, _St. Anger_ completely demolishes Rubin's _Death Magnetic_. It isn't even close. _D-Mag_ is so brittle and small in its sound, like the bones of worn-out old men. The emerging consensus on the album is that the songs are great but the production is terrible. In time, the terrible production and brick-walled mix could dominate its reputation. Heck, how many of you could never make your peace with the trashcan drums? Rock albums have been broken for lesser crimes.

The mix seems to be where the _D-Mag_ crime was committed, where one of hard rock's potentially great albums was destroyed. That's a damn tragedy. It's absolutely inexcusable that something this painfully poor was allowed out of a recording studio. Who the bloody hell is in charge here? Did James and Lars simply never learn what production and mixing are all about? Perhaps. They relied upon Flemming Rasmussen for a number of years. Then they relied upon Bob Rock for many more. The only time they were really the ones controlling the knobs on the mixing board was on _...And Justice For All_ , an album infamous for its flattened, two-dimensional sound. Fascinating coincidence.

James and Lars are great musicians and great songwriters. They should never be allowed near production ever again. It's like handing a sequin jumpsuit to Elvis Presley. Or, to put it more precisely, they need people manning the mixing board who know their chops. And somebody needs to re-mix this album. I'm going to make my own Metallica shirt that says that: Fix The Mix.

One final thing. I don't wish to be overly and unfairly critical of _Death Magnetic_. I've praised the songs before and I still love them. It's just so deeply frustrating for me, like listening through a poorly-made transistor radio. All I get is static and noise, when what I want is the music, the glorious music.

### The Greatest CDs Ever Made

I made mention of the new Beatles CD remasters in the site comments today, so I thought I might as well make a formal post here on the blog. The Beatles are my absolute favorites, and these new CDs are spectacular. Absolutely spectacular. I haven't been this excited over digital music since the early 1990s, and that means a lot when coming from a turntable junkie. These are the greatest CDs ever made. End of line.

Now you may be surprised, but it's pretty challenging to find good Beatles records on vinyl. The biggest problem is that the American Capitol pressings are almost uniformly bad by modern standards. Perhaps "bad" is a bit harsh, but they are all too often flat, muddy, and somewhat dull. The "Apple labels" are the best, and I have an early-press of _Abbey Road_ that I enjoy, so there are exceptions to the rule. But I would personally rank the Capitol versions of _Rubber Soul_ , _Revolver_ , and _The White Album_ poorly.

The UK Parlophone LPs are spectacular, the gold standard (especially the "yellow and black" label pressings from the 1960s). You've never heard The Beatles until you've heard them on the UK records, and I think it's worth the investment of a solid turntable, phono cartridge, and stereo receiver just for these albums. The Japanese reissue pressings are also fantastic (I've been lucky enough to score a Japan _White Album_ , which sounds marvelous), and they have the added benefit of being more affordable.

However, for the average person on the street, you're not going to hear your favorite Beatles albums on those records. New Beatles vinyl LP's are scheduled for release, but the expectation is that they will be pressed from the new digital masters. The UK and Japanese analog masterpieces will forever remain a holy grail for collectors and diehard fans. If that describes your situation, these new CDs are the perfect substitute.

Oh, and Capital chopped up The Beatles' albums with shamefully padded out releases like _Something New_ , _Beatles VI_ , _Beatles '65_ , and _Yesterday and Today_. I actually enjoy their version of _Rubber Soul_ , which swaps in a pair of folk songs at the start of each side: "I've Just Seen a Face" and "It's Only Love," respectively. But _Revolver_ had its heart and soul ripped out for no good reason. Yuck!

Hmm...I only meant to write a few words on this subject, so I'll be wise to stop now before this turns into a 1,000-word manifesto. The moral lesson is that the new Beatles CD remasters sound better than anything most music fans have ever heard. As good as the British and Japanese LPs? No. But those records are challenging to find and expensive to boot.

### The Return of the Sony Biotracer

I've been in a funk over the state of my stereo system lately. The sound has been terrible: muddy, distorted, low-resolution, nothing worthy of the LP medium.I sold off some components, junked the turntable (a Sony PS-X5 that I've often liked or hated, but never loved), and tried to figure out where everything went wrong. It became so dire that I openly considered abandoning vinyl records altogether, and going back, at long last, to Compact Discs.

Then I discover something miraculous this week: a CD collection of "needle drop" recordings from my beloved Sony PS-X75 Biotracer turntable I recorded three years ago. The deck was paired with a fiery red Dynavector 10x5, a Pro-Ject Tube Box II phono preamp equipped with a pair of Mullard vacuum tubes, and a Marantz 2235b stereo receiver (now my only remaining component). The sound was exhilarating, punchy, clear, deep, richly textured, full of color.

It's funny how one can forget these things. I had already realized that I was lost, musically speaking. I was trading around in low-to-mid-fi audio gear on the cheap, never coming close to the former highs. I had forgotten what the high end sounded like. Now I have my lost recordings and I'm quickly remembering things. Now I have my purpose again: I have to rebuild my 2009 stereo system! The Sony Biotracer! The vacuum tubes! The analog sound! I want to rediscover that magical sound, if only to convince myself that my experiences were real and not imagined.

It's fascinating to see this "vinyl revival" emerge, as many people remember the wonderful music they lost, and many people discovering it for the first time. It's fun to see LP sales quadruple in four years, to nearly 4 million albums in 2011 in the US, while CD continues its long, slow decline into extinction. I think that's largely because I like to root for underdogs.

A lot of people interested in vinyl records want to know, is it better than CD? Is it worth getting a turntable and pulling out all those old LPs? Well, yes, it is worth getting a turntable and spinning some records. There's something magical about the experience, about the ritual, about the sound of smooth vinyl against a phonograph needle and lively, rich tones coming out of speakers. As to who wins the fight, LP versus CD, that's a little bit trickier. And the bottom line is that it's going to cost you. There's no getting around that fact.

On the LP/CD fight, I'd say compact disc wins at the budget/entry level. At $500, analog and digital become more competitive, each format offering its own strengths over its rival. At $1,000, the race becomes tied; at $2,000, LP blazes away. I'm speaking of the total price of your sound system: turntable, cartridge, phono stage. The vintage market is a gold mine if you know what to look for, but don't let nostalgia blind you; most of those old turntables on Craigslist and eBay are junk. The true classics — Technics, Sony, JVC, Pioneer, Kenwood, Thorens — are worth the effort to discover.

Long story short: vinyl records really don't sound that good on cheap or worn-out audio gear. If you're willing to invest the dollars, the qualities of the medium emerge. But we're talking about a serious investment for a journey to a lost land over the mountains, a magical realm that may not even exist. Pack your things.

### The Thriller Zombies Come to Chew on the Corpse

Say what you will about the long and surreal life of Michael Jackson. Most of the circus show tabloid fodder will fade and disappear. This is what history shall preserve: _Thriller_ , one of the handful of greatest pop albums in music history.

To a slightly lesser degree, I would add _On the Wall_ and _Bad_ , as well as the Jackson 5, but it's all about _Thriller_. That album was huge. Our 21st Century globalized, atomized world will never see anything like its kind again. It was such a spectacular success that it transformed pop music, legitimized MTV, and completely destroyed poor Michael. I saw the handwriting on the wall all those years ago. Didn't everyone?

I really don't feel like getting into the whole Michael Jackson thing. The mass media are playing their roles as celebrity vultures, and they've been picking on his bones for the last 20 years. The Michael Jackson that was loved, the boy genius, the pop superstar, the fractured man-child, he died long, long ago. "Michael Jackson" became a figure of myth, a spectre from beyond the grave, cursed to carry the world and the burdens of parasitic fame upon his shoulders. The real human being, that young boy who could sing and dance and enthrall the whole world, is gone forever.

And now television news will go back to what it does best: mindless, soulless celebrity gossip. Anchors will shed crocodile tears while chewing on dried bones, all to be broadcast to your idiot box, 24 hours a day, every day. No more worrying about boring, depressing, petty things like wars in the Middle East. No more worrying about unarmed black men killed by police. No more worrying about runaway global warming and our doomed civilization. That's boring. Let's talk about Bubbles and The Elephant Man instead. Vultures should hire expensive lawyers and sue the papparoti for defamation of character.

Have I mentioned that the Arctic ice will completely melt in our lifetimes? Booo-ring!! Get me my makeup! Is this my best angle! Somebody get a crowbar and pry open that coffin! Here it is folks — get this on camera, stupid! — Here it is folks! The actual decaying hand of Michael Jackson! Let's get a close up of this! Where's that glove?! Who's got the glove?! I need more makeup!!

I've never noticed this before, but on the cover of _Thriller_ , Michael Jackson looks so...sad. I'm not sure if I'm merely projecting, but there may be something here. He was a tragic figure, a fallen saint, burned at the stake for the amusement of the dumb proles. And that fate was sealed the very first time you saw him on a television screen, a million years ago. The beautiful boy never had a chance. Buy yer tickets, get yer kicks. You've been champing at the bit for this moment for years. Now watch the _Thriller_ zombies chew on the corpse.

### Uncle Meat

I first discovered _Uncle Meat_ , the sprawling 1968 masterwork by The Mothers of Invention, during my Frank Zappa phase back in the year 2000. I was steadily working through his catalogue from the beginning, and each new album proved a consciousness-expanding experience. This was astonishing music; is "music" the right word? For something so immensely diverse, so encompassing of so many different sounds, what other word is there? I could never find one. I still can't.

In early 2007, with my move to vinyl records, I managed to score _Uncle Meat_ in its original vinyl LP form. Haven't heard it in years, despite my great respect for it. I drifted away from Zappa for a long time, only to return just now. If anything, it's a better collection of songs than I remember. It certainly helps to be freed of all those unnecessary extras imposed upon the CD. It also helps to have four album sides instead of one or two discs. It's a much better situation with _Uncle Meat_ , requiring more time to meditate upon individual tracks.

The avant-garde classical is as insane as ever. The "King Kong" jams on side four are outstanding, perhaps the album's highlight. I'm more a fan of Zappa's instrumental work, and the original Mothers of Invention era. It was a much more experimental time, I feel. More effort put into smashing the boundaries of music, of bending reality. The less said of the smutty side of Frank Zappa, the better. With rare exceptions he pretty much loses me after _Overnight Sensation_.

So, anyway, I'm drifting a bit. No worry, makes sense when talking _Uncle Meat_ (and listening to _The Grand Wazoo_ on digital download on my computer, no less). The album is the very definition of sprawl. This is what made the old double albums so damned good. The sprawl. _Uncle Meat_ isn't all over the map; it's a galaxy unto itself.

I'd say this album should be heard at least once, start to finish, by everyone sometime during the course of their lives. I can't say whether it would appeal to most of them. Nearly everyone will be bowled over by the sheer "weirdness" of it all, a surrealist mash-up of rock, doo-wop, classical, tape collage and pop art. Most listeners will walk away, turn back on the FM radio for another heaping pile of predictable mediocrity. But a few will stick around. Watch those kids. They're the ones who will ultimately amount to something.

Oh, look, Britney Spears shaved her head. Good for her. Throw on side three.

### We Need a New Houses of the Holy

I'm 35 at the time of this essay (August 2008), and many of my friends were Metallica freaks in the 1980s when all the thrash-metal bands were underground. The whole '80s underground music scene — thrash and speed metal, hardcore punk, hip hop — was consciously built upon rebelling against the pop music of its day. I think the punk aesthetic ruled the roost; we were all Ramones in spirit, even if the musical styles were vastly diverse. There's a clear line connecting Dead Kennedys and Husker Du to Metallica, Anthrax to Run DMC and Public Enemy. This was the music of the streets (the documentary movie _Style Wars_ comes to mind as I write).

The punk and thrash bands threw themselves into topical, political material because it was the very opposite of airy pop and hair metal. We were the anti-Poison. The anti-Michael Bolton. The anti-Stryper. The anti-New Kids on the Block. Yet more rock anthems for the hot groupie chicks? More songs about sports cars and supermodel girlfriends? How does a kid relate to that in 1980s America? So that's how you distinguished yourself in the scene: by rebelling against "corporate pop," by addressing real topics such as war, poverty, hypocrisy, urban decay, corporatism, conformity.

This is a crucial reason why you really can't go back again. Asking 45-year-olds to revisit their youth a generation ago, now that everything and everyone has scattered to the four winds, is a fool's game. You'll never recapture the spirit of those days. No artist can. You can only capture the present moment. This is bitter medicine for aging adults who look to their rock stars to turn back the clock, and turn us all into teenagers again. Everybody wants their favorite band to stick to the script, play the same old tunes, wear the same old clothes, live in the same lost era, for ever and ever, Amen.

I vastly prefer the "CNN Metal" to the tired, nerd claptrap that metal has descended into. Now it's just a teenage macho joke, waiting for the hobbit ears and the 12-sided dice to arrive. I think I always preferred protest music, anyway. If you have nothing to say that's useful in daily life, what's the point? The world has enough banal love songs and commercial jingles.

If all these bands stayed in the same realm forever, life would become crushingly dull. It's best to move on, to evolve and explore new ideas. I know this prescription is poison to the headbangers, but that's just the way life works. Thank God that Bob Dylan and Miles Davis and The Beatles evolved. If I had to listen to a half dozen Metallica albums that aped _Ride the Lightning,_ I'd go crazy and shoot someone. And I love that album.

I've been a great admirer of _Master of Puppets_ for many years. It represents the pinnacle of the thrash genre to my ears. I think I prefer the diversity of sounds on the third Metallica album. Fast songs, slow songs. Heavy songs, light songs. The personal and the political. The blistering and the beautiful. I've never understood the backlash, the way Metallica split its fans right down the middle when their 1991 "Black Album" exploded. This band was always bigger than one sound. They were far closer to Led Zeppelin than their peers. And I wish heavy rock music would discover that imagination again. I wish it could recapture that original sense of wonder, of opening up to new ideas. It's far too cliquish, snobbish and Puritanical. We need a new _Houses of the Holy_.

### When Rock Was Dangerous: Lou Reed's Lulu

Once upon a time, many moons ago, rock 'n roll was dangerous. Such an attitude has all but vanished in the age of house-trained consumers, corporate conglomerates, banal no-talent television shows and the Telecom Act of 1997. Everyone plays it safe to pacify the public, company bosses and corporate overlords alike, and the result is the worst stretch of pop music in living memory.

How perfectly fitting that Lou Reed, one of the greatest, most unpredictable, most mercurial of all rock legends, would end his career by dropping a ten-megaton bomb squarely in the laps of the fanboys, hipsters and so-called experts. When his final opus _Lulu_ detonated in 2011, it exploded across the pop landscape with a sound and fury not seen in decades. Andy Warhol would have been impressed.

_Lulu_ is many things — terrifying in its fury, full of passionate intensity, spit and venom, a hurricane assault of atonal distortion and amplified noise. It is about as far from "commercial" as any major musical work released in this century. It is deliberately provocative in every way you can imagine. It is as welcoming as a punch to the face. It is complex, challenging, poetic, defiant. There are moments that make me chuckle ("I am the chair"), moments that make me wince ("Mistress Dread"), and moments that leave me overwhelmed by its beauty ("Junior Dad"). The album feels like _White Light/White Heat_ , _Berlin_ and _Metal Machine Music_ hurled into an atom smasher. It is a brilliant masterwork of rock art.

The aforementioned Lou Reed albums were, in their time, met with universal derision and scorn, only to be hailed as classics many years later, and so we should expect no less from _Lulu_. This album was never going to be greeted with candy and kisses. Still, the overweening tantrums, the endless kvetching from all sides was surprising. The catalyst, I suspect, lie in Reed's partners on the project: Metallica, the hard rock titans who inspire devotion and vitriol in equal measure, and often from the same people. It has long been fashionable to pile on Metallica for everything they do, and _Lulu_ became an opportunity too good to pass up.

Diehard fanboys who never forgave Metallica for achieving rock superstardom with their 1991 self-titled "Black Album" found themselves facing indie-rock hipsters appalled that their patron saint — _The Velvet Underground and Nico_ all but invented alternative rock — would dare to associate with something so crude and uncivilized as, groan, "heavy metal music."

Suddenly, we see the music world's version of those old Reese's Peanut Butter Cups commercials, where one person holding a jar of peanut butter collides into another person carrying a chocolate bar. "You got your heavy metal in my indie-rock," screams one side. "You got your alternative in my metal," screams the other. "Your guy can't sing!" hollers one side. "Your guys can't play," bellows the other. "Less filling!" "Tastes great!"

Metal headbangers are among the most ultra-conservative of all music fans. They want to live in a quasi-1980s time warp, where underground thrash reigned supreme, Iron Maiden were the undisputed kings of rock, and nobody dared make any move towards the dreaded "mainstream" world. The alternative world, meanwhile, reimagine Lou Reed as someone safe and sanitized, a soft-spoken singer of folk ballads whose songs accessorise with NPR tote bags and skim lattes. Albums such as _White Light_ and _Metal Machine Music_ are conveniently overlooked or dismissed as an ironic joke. The sonic assault of "Heroin" was out; the Cowboy Junkies mellow version of "Sweet Jane" was in.

Reality be damned. We want our safe and reassuring pop world, where everyone stays in their appropriate place and different cliques don't interact. It is a mindset as oppressive and stupid as anything imposed by the grownups.

This is the true reason why _Lulu_ is so fiercely hated; it smashes this sanitized fantasy world into a million pieces. Disneyfied New York has been obliterated; the gritty, seedy, dangerous old New York — sex, perversion, murder, regret, exhilaration — has exploded in full force, growly, mean, dissonant, brutally honest. Justin Bieber would get eaten alive on these mean streets.

The more time I spend listening to and thinking about _Lulu_ — Lou Reed's story, Metallica's music, the arrangements and execution, heavy guitars and dissonant noise — the more I respect it. They recorded their songs live and in a blinding flash, but the planning and preparation is evident. This is a fiercely intelligent work, one that rewards careful thought and study. I like to think of it as a gothic horror story, a tragic tale between two lost souls, both yearning for some sort of intimacy, some form of connection, but lost in a maelstrom of decadence, depravity and depression. In the end, the two parties dissolve into accusations, remorse and bloodshed.

The album's final track, "Junior Dad," does not seem to belong to the main story, but stands as Reed's personal coda. It is a personal memorial of longing, regret and acceptance. In the end, we are all father's sons, and links in the eternal chain. And at the climax, as Reed describes it, everyone steps aside, and the _moment_ appears, a meditative droning of cellos that drift in and out like the winds. It is the zen counterpoint to _Metal Machine Music_.

Was Reed aware that he was dying? Was this intended as his farewell statement, like David Bowie's _Blackstar_? One has the image of a funeral dirge, a prayerful goodbye that follows one final statement of unfiltered rage and pure emotion. That this track runs twenty minutes is a fitting final act of defiance. You want pop music, kids? Pop this.

To date, _Lulu_ has barely sold 30,000 copies, an appalling indictment of infantile groupthink and conformity in today's music world. The album was received as a joke, a whipping boy done wrong. History will judge this reception harshly. We remind ourselves that Orson Welles' _Citizen Kane_ was not received warmly by the public, that Alfred Hitchcock's _Vertigo_ barely broke even, and that Stravinsky's _The Rite of Spring_ was received with riots in the streets.

For Lou Reed, _Lulu_ stands as one of his landmark works, akin to the Velvet Underground and _Transformer_ and _Berlin_ and _Metal Machine Music_. His fans will come around in time. For Metallica, this album stands as the ideal successor to _St. Anger_ , that wonderfully dense and growly garbage sculpture (the 2003 Vertigo UK vinyl release is the definitive version). It is far superior to _Death Magnetic_ , an album that stands as the poster child for the Loudness Wars and warning against the dangers of pandering to one's hardcore fans. The diehards demanded a 1980s nostalgia trip. They were given just that, and they rewarded Metallica by staying home. A lesson is to be learned here.

Rock 'n roll is supposed to be dangerous. It is not supposed to be safe or predictable. It does not belong exclusively to your stupid high school clique. It is not supposed to be used for selling cars, or cheap soda, or insurance companies, or greedy retailers. Giving sloppy wet kisses to The Man is not the goal. Sticking it to The Man is what you do. Pushing the musical envelope is what you do. Pity that everyone is willing to sell themselves out and become nothing more than obedient, loyal consumers. You wanted to be an empty-headed celebrity? Congratulations. Now sign on the dotted line and dance like the trained monkey you are.

## SIDE THREE:

VIDEOGAMES  
OF  
THE  
DOOMED

### Astra Superstars

The only bad thing I can say about this videogame is that the portraits in the opening look like cheap placeholders, as though the design team intended to finish them properly but couldn't. Other than that, I think _Astra Superstars_ is absolutely smashing, one of the great standouts in the Sega Saturn library.

I'll be bold enough to place _Astra_ in the top tier of Saturn fighting games, 2D or 3D. It's better than any of the traditional fighters released here in the US, except for maybe _Street Fighter Alpha 2_.

This game is something of a spiritual cousin to _Waku Waku 7_ , an endearingly goofy fighter also created by Sunsoft and a studio called, funny enough, Santa Claus. _Astra Superstars_ is seen as the unofficial sequel of sorts, which doesn't really help us all that much, because it doesn't really clue us into what sort of fighting contest we're getting, other than the fact that it will be extremely clever and weird. But that should be enough to hook you in, right? Right.

The hook to this game is the fact that everyone battles while flying in the air. Usually this should earn groans, for fear of yet another lousy and pointless _Dragonball Z_ cash-in. But this time, Sunsoft actually makes the approach work. They make it work by offering an extremely solid fighting engine, a large collection of impressive attack moves, a wide array of characters (the girl dressed in a Santa suit is my favorite), the ability to fly above and below your opponent. Gameplay is simple yet addictive, with many competitive matches to be had.

Now here's one thing that impresses me. The grading system, a common staple of fighting games, actually judges you in real-time. Continue to whittle away useless attacks, and your grade steadily goes down. It also seems to punish you for using the same moves again and again, though I could be wrong on this. For a game so deeply dependent on spectacular, seizure-inducing combo strings, this is a nice incentive to mix things up.

_Astra Superstars_ is supported by the 1M RAM expansion cartridge, but it's not necessary to play. I'm assuming the cart will reduce loading times and add a few in-between frames to the animations. It's a tribute to Santa Claus and Sunsoft that you wouldn't even notice anything was missing, thanks to the amazing animation and endless assault of visual effects. It looks more like a Dreamcast title, and demonstrates perfectly just how effectively the Saturn can perform when in the right hands.

There are a whole stack of gameplay movies on YouTube. Watch a couple of them to see just what the non-hype is all about, then track down a copy and discover for yourself. You'll really need to play it to really appreciate it.

### Astronomy Domine: The Greatest Trip in the Galaxy

#### I.

Every day I take the bus from the Mall of America to downtown Minneapolis and back. I have some time to roam around the lousy place (I really hate shopping malls) before my bus home arrives. Imagine my surprise, then, when I wandered into the game stores this week and discovered _Super Mario Galaxy_ running on the Nintendo Wii kiosk.

Yay! Time flies fast. Suddenly, we're only two weeks away from the game's release, currently set at November 11. And by coincidence, I have a payday around that time, with lots of disposable income to throw around. This is going to be very hard to resist.

I expect many others will share my sentiments. The Wii has retained a high demand since its release a year ago, but many of us are still holding out, still waiting for Nintendo to really show us what this little cream-colored box can do. Well, folks, _Super Mario Galaxy_ is it. I mean, this is it, the real deal, the killer app. This game is going to sell like hotcakes.

Up till now, Nintendo seemed to earn its success on the cheap. They sold enough Wii consoles to become the market leader over Microsoft and Sony, but it never really felt earned. You purchased a Wii as an investment, on the potential for what may come down the wire, instead of what was here now. Not there were a lack of great games, as _Wii Sports_ can attest. It's a hit with whole populations who either wrote off videogames, or were never interested in them in the first place. And I don't think anyone really appreciates that just yet.

But Nintendo still needed that killer app, that landmark classic that sets the new standard, raises the bar for games, and hurls the gauntlet down against the competitors. _Halo_ was one such game. So was _The Sims_ , or _Tetris_ , or _Sonic the Hedgehog_. The most famous of them all was Mario, the cartoon plumber that singlehandedly made Nintendo a household name. _Super Mario Brothers_ did it for the NES, _Super Mario World_ did it for the Super NES, and Super Mario 64 did it for Nintendo 64.

_Super Mario Sunshine_ failed to become Gamecube's great megahit, and for this disappointment the game was dismissed as a failure, a setback. Either gamers expected Mario to revolutionize everything yet again, something grand and new and previously unimagined; or they wanted something safe, another _Mario 64_ to relive the glory days of 1996. But Nintendo and Shigeru Miyamoto, the father of Mario, would have none of it. He was busily burning through his experimental phase. His _Achtung Baby/Zooropa/Pop_ phase, if you will. He and his creative cabal of wizards feverishly rescinded and reinvented every classic videogame in their library. The new _Mario_ was completely different. The new _Zelda_ was completely different. The new _Metroid_ was completely different. The psychedelic influence took a warped, unpredictable turn. _Luigi's Mansion_. _Pikmin_. _Animal Crossing_. These were strange oddballs, weird little games. If they didn't connect with the gaming public, too bad. Their loss.

The Gamecube is widely regarded as a failure, and it cemented (for a time) Nintendo's reputation as has-beens (a reputation with its roots in the 16-bit and 32-bit wars). Then videogame retro nostalgia kicked in. Then Nintendo DS happened. Then Nintendo Wii happened. Everyone finally realized that Nintendo was back at the top, but the truth is that they never really left. They just needed to wander around a little, in search of some much-needed creativity to share with the rest of us. Bob Dylan did just that. U2 did just that. It's just the way of things.

And somewhere along the way, Sony lost their minds. How else to explain the Playstation 3, the biggest and greatest testament to hubris and absurdity the videogame industry had ever seen? Sony was as close to achieving permanent dominance as anyone could hope. The Playstation brand WAS videogames. They were untouchable. And then some executive decided that it wasn't enough for us to throw out our old games consoles and buy new ones. We had to throw our DVD libraries away and repurchase the deluxe, Blu-Ray versions.

The result was a $600 games console that also pushed a new home video format nobody wanted. Sony's response was just like Tom Friedman's attitude toward Iraq: "Suck on this." No, thanks. I don't quite feel like taking out a second mortgage on my home to play the same videogames and watch the same movies. I'm already doing fine by that, thank you very much.

Sony expected the kind of blind loyalty you only find in totalitarian nation states and organized religions. Hell, they've already got the massive monolith. Now hurry up and evolve, you stupid apes. What a load. Now instead of playing God, Sony is scrambling to fend off open rebellion from their stockholders, and the continuing desertion by videogames' software developers. The knives are out and there's blood in the water. You know how this story ends.

And in the midst of all this rides Nintendo, freshly minted the hero and savior of videogames. Just like one of Shakespeare's tragedies. Here comes Mario to defeat Richard III and bring peace to the Mushroom Kingdom.

#### II.

Fast forward to Halloween 2007, and the imminent return of Mario. I find myself in front of a Nintendo Wii kiosk, playing _Super Mario Galaxy_ and having the time of my life. There's no question this will be the must-play game of the holiday season. Last year, _Wii Sports_ was the one you took Thanksgiving gatherings to play with the family. This year it's all _Mario Galaxy_.

I've noticed that these Wii stations are finally allowing controller hook-ups, and I've often harbored conspiracy theories about that. For the past year, you could walk into any electronics store and see a Wii station. But you couldn't play any games. There were no controllers to handle. Instead of seeing an actual game on the telescreen, you would see a series of informational commercials. Mostly they showed other people, hip, young college types, playing and jostling around and laughing about. Occasionally you would see a few seconds of an actual game, but only just a few scattered moments. Lots of teasing. Nintendo had finally mastered the art of seduction. It's the oldest rule of show business: always leave 'em screaming for more. Add in a yearlong drought of consoles (a masterful mix of tactical engineering and good fortune), and Nintendo successfully smooth-talked its way to the top.

Now they're finally letting their guard down and showing us the goods. About damned time. And, by the most amazing coincidence, this all times in perfectly with the second generation of Wii titles, games like _Metroid Prime 3_ and _Super Mario Galaxy_. By now all you will see is Mario, endless stars, happy bunnies, yellow stars, and endless colored gems. It's like something Syd Barrett conjured in his dreams. _Astronomy Domine_ , the greatest trip in the galaxy.

At the beginning, Mario awakens to find himself lying on a small planetoid, surrounded by a number of planets and asteroids and odd shaped things. Three white rabbits invite him to play with them in the craters and the flowers, and they hop along gleefully, up, across, down, at all sorts of strange angles. Huh. Imagine that. We've just barely started, and already the LSD trip has kicked in. I always found it amazing that Nintendo were such prudes when it came to depictions of violence ( _Mortal Kombat_ , _Grand Theft Auto_ ), and yet Miyamoto's games are so obviously psychedelic. Mario is the Terence McKenna of the videogame realm. "The proponents of psychedelics have learned that it's acceptable to this culture if you can disguise it as electronic entertainment." It's all so laughably subversive.

The _Super Mario_ games remain the pillars of stellar videogame design, and _Galaxy_ pushes those ideas to its limits. Remember the way Stanley Kubrick used angles and perspective to mess with your head in _2001: A Space Odyssey_? There's no such thing as a gravitational "up" in outer space, so why not just run everywhere? This game is exactly like that. You walk and run over, across, and around various planets, and the camera just leaves you behind. All too often, you're controlling a Mario who's upside-down, or at an odd angle. It's here that you realize the joke. For years, games have been selling themselves as 3D, as inhabiting virtual worlds, but that's never been the case. At the end of the day, you're only moving left or right, up or down. You're still walking around in the same old boring rooms. Miyamoto rips that notion apart. You want a real three-dimensional videogame? Well, here it is, kids. Wrap your minds around THIS.

_Galaxy_ is a game that oozes imagination, because it calls up the imagination in your own head. Who hasn't ever dreamt of flying or exploring the stars? Who hasn't ever felt curious? That's always been the _Super Mario_ trademark. Miyamoto has described his videogames as gardens, one that you can play around in freely. That sense of wonder, that fun thrill of just goofing off. Wonder if something is hidden in those bushes? Wonder what will happen if you hit those green globes? What is it like underneath the ground, walking around upside-down? Forget about arriving at Point B from Point A. That part will solve itself. It's the journey that matters.

If you're wondering how the controls work, I'll lay it out for you. _Galaxy_ uses the Wii Remote and Nunchuck. You use the Nunchuck's analog thumbstick to move Mario around. The Z button makes him crouch down, and the smaller C button (sometimes) sets the camera just behind you. The Wiimote uses the A button for jumping, and this is something that really took me a while to settle into. I suppose it's similar to the old controller scheme, joypad on left, button on right, but it still felt a little different to have my hands separate. My right hand is usually waving around, with the left down at my waist. For the first time in ages, I have to consciously think about which button to press.

Back to the Wiimote. You move around a cursor, with which you can collect colored gems. These are found all over the place, hidden here and there. Sometimes a comet will crash and unleash a few. Every 50 you collect earns you an extra life. There's also another function, and that's used with the B button. You can fire these gems at characters and objects. You can stun a baddie, like our old favorites, the Goombas (they are literally walking mushrooms, again with the subversion). New friends include talking yellow stars who help you along. They also feed on the gems, and you can shoot a stream straight into their mouth. The inevitable surprises result.

Mario has a new spin attack, which you perform by shaking either controller, which is neat fun. This skill is also needed for the giant, hollow stars, which transport you across space to the next planetoid. Just hop up, then shake, and you rocket past. You may even cross another star, which can send you along a new path if your timing is just right. Ahem. I'll try not to spoil too many more secrets. _Super Mario_ games are like mystery novels with nothing but surprise endings.

The time I spend with the game was very short, only about an hour or two. It was clear that I was just barely started. I had uncovered one galaxy, out of a reported total of 40, unearthed a giant central hub, where a Princess and her minions ask for your help. I found a secret room where you had to run across all of the walls. I saw a green mushroom hidden on the roof of someone's house, and I'm trying to figure out how to get it. Maybe I have to climb that tree somehow.

One thing that really struck out at me was _Galaxy's_ platforming influence. As everyone knows, most of the older, two-dimensional videogames have been all but scrapped in the 3D polygon age, That classic platforming style has become a lost art. But here it lies in _Super Mario Galaxy_ , for all to view. Design elements include things such as moving platforms, moving blocks, long drops into darkness. Perhaps setting the game around spheres brought us back to those roots. There are also moments when the game literally switches to a side-scrolling view. I had one of these discoveries when I landed on a long glass object. It took forever to find an opening inside, but when I snuck in, I found myself running along one of those old-school ant farms. The gravity even shifted about, and Mario ran along the ceiling for a while. Reminded me a lot of a classic NES robot shooter called _Metal Storm_ , which revolved around gravity switches and moving upside down.

Level designs in _Super Mario Galaxy_ are certainly inspired, and even more unhinged and surreal than before. I'll expect to find Terence McKenna's self-transforming machine elves hopping around somewhere. Some worlds revolve around classic platforming structures and obstacles that call upon the original _Super Mario Brothers_. One world resembles a giant golf course, complete with putting green. Can't wait to see what happens there. Mario also has some new costumes, including a ridiculous bee outfit that should make Jerry Seinfeld jealous. It's one thing to be upstaged by Newman...but Mario? Serenity now!

Who knows what the normals will think of a game like _Mario Galaxy_. It's definitely been turning heads around the game stores at the Megamall. That's always a crucial test. We've been so awash in the same sort of tired tropes, aimed at the same aging adult nerds. I've forgotten what it's like to see a videogame that's genuinely, honestly new. I don't remember seeing things like that since I was a kid. Now I want to get my hands on a Nintendo Wii post haste. I imagine a lot of people my age will be thinking the same.

I know it's been said a lot in the past year or two, but now it really and truly does count: Nintendo is back.

### Atari 7800 Controllers (or, You Bastards Have Broken My Hands!)

One of these days, I'll have to find someone respectable who can explain to me why Atari's videogame controllers were so terrible. I can't even think about one without my hands suddenly cramping up, almost like some phantom pain from a distant trauma.

Case in point: the joystick for the Atari 7800. This was just a mess. I really don't know what to think about it. It was clearly a part of the original system design from 1984, during which the crumbling Atari still looked to its own heritage for inspiration. It had to be obvious by then that the nigh-indestructible Atari 2600 joysticks were stiff as a board and hard on the hands. Not that I mean to complain, because they mostly served me well way back then. They were just really, really stiff, like they needed a can or two of oil or hard liquor.

In any case, Atari was looking for a new style, something more ergonomic in mind. Their first real gamble was the controller for the Atari 5200, their successor to the throne. It was certainly easier to hold in the palm of your hand, yes, but the flimsy controls were a disaster. Hmm, now that I think about it, this was the design mojo of the early 1980s. For some reason, everyone wanted videogame controllers that vaguely resembled bulky telephones. Intellivision is a perfect example; it could only play videogames like a bumbling buffoon. It was the George W. Bush of game controllers. The Colecovision controller design was slightly more sober, but stiff as a board. Your hands still cramped up, and there's still an odd obsession with numeric keypads.

The Atari 5200 controller frustrated the life out of everyone, by making its joystick out of a pair of analog controllers. It was strange, bizarre. It was also designed to break within the first ten minutes. Perhaps this was the design goal all along. The suits knew they had a stinker on their hands; the jig was up, and the videogame fad had peaked. Sooner or later, the kids would be old enough to start smoking and chasing skirts. So maybe all the guilty parties just grabbed the bong for one more monster hit, coughed out a long sigh, and said skip it, let the dumb kids break their hands. Their loss.

Which brings us back to the Atari 7800. It's a better design than its peers, if only because the stick actually works and nothing falls apart. It's still painful on the fingers, like some sort of CIA torture device, and will almost certainly result in full-blown arthritis one day.

So I don't like the 7800 controller very much. It's no shocker, and no loss, since the system was buried alive, dug out, reburied again, and then dug out again by the same group of owners who bought the remains of the old Atari in the mid-eighties. They were an interesting bunch, the Jack Tramiel family. They were the villains the videogame-loving geek squad loved to hate, no question of that. But they had class. They had drama. Say what you will about their management. They had the survival instinct of feral rats, which means in the post-psychedelic hippie era of videogames, they were the most fun. They knew how to fight and survive.

Today's stiff corporate-consolidated business couldn't make you laugh if they tried. A corporate mindset for videogames. How bizarre is that, I ask myself? This whole realm has always been a teenage slacker's world, anyway. The videogame console sits right next to the stereo, the tape deck, and the record collection. Take away the wood paneling, and the classic Atari 2600 withers into dust. I'd kill for some wood paneling on a game console today.

Hmm, I think again, perhaps pain is part of the experience after all. Perhaps you were never supposed to become too comfortable. What else do you expect after a simple computer whups your sorry ass in another panic-strewn session of _Robotron: 2084_ or _Xevious_? The whole point of joining together four friends over _Warlords_ was never to relax. Nuts to that. It's time for Led Zeppelin and Ramones, Soundgarden and Public Enemy, loud fuzzy carpets and the buzz of cheap alcohol. At least that's how it should be.

Alright then, I'll take it all back. But only because the Atari 7800 occupies a nostalgic place near my heart. I really have no idea why. I never owned one back in the day. What was the point? There were barely a handful of videogames ever worth playing, and they were just more retro pop hits from the past. _Galaga_. _Ms. Pac-Man_. _Robotron_. _Xevious_. _Asteroids_. _Rampage_. The Atari 7800 was the first videogame machine to transcend time — Future Retro. Future, Past, Yesterday, Tomorrow, The Yawning Here and Now, Sailing to Byzantium, sitting in silent darkness in wait for the self-transforming elf machines from hyperspace. This whole realm is a smoky fantasy. It's the Pink Floyd Laser Light Show, with you and your buddies donning the rave party glow sticks.

I think I'll get myself one of these systems one of these days. Maybe I'll even scour the intertubes - is that a crazy coincidence for words or what? - for one of those uber-rare European Atari joypads, which incorporated the newer, NES-style joypad. Once Nintendo took over, joysticks were out, and joypads were in, and Mario was tripping Magic Mushrooms with the Andy Warhol Plastic Spectacular. What the bloody hell is it with computer games and psychedelics, anyway? What brings them together? What brought that marriage together and then apart? And why should any thirty-something in the Age of Trump the Beauty Queen 2016 give a rat's ass? Who knows. Skip it. I want to play the game where George W. Bush launches an illegal war, crashes the economy, and gets thrown into the slammer for his troubles. Was that ever made for the Atari? I think it was called _Midnight Mutants_. I'm pretty sure that what it was. I don't remember very much; the details became fuzzy after an evening of margaritas and jello shots.

But I do still remember the hand cramps from holding those stupid Atari joysticks. I won't forget that. Bastards.

### Broken Sword: The Shadow of the Templars

And now, as a benefit to my readers, allow me a few words about a little-seen, but critically-received game called _Broken Sword_. This belongs squarely in that category of Gameboy Advance titles that deserved an audience, but came and went without much notice. A diamond in the rough.

Older fans of computer games will recognize the name. It was a successful series of adventure games from that bygone era, and they still invite a warm nostalgia to anyone who remembers them.

These kinds of videogames were more common in the 1980s and 1990s, when home computers were content to let the dedicated consoles have all the fast arcade games. A graphical adventure game like, oh, _Broken Sword_ is a slower, more literary experience. It's much more about creating a vivid word with character and story, and not about running around and shooting things.

The story involves an American on vacation in Paris, who nearly becomes the victim of a cafe bombing. Despite the pleas of the local authorities, he is determined to solve the case single-handedly. Perhaps he is a little like Joe Cotton's character in _The Third Man_ , something of a mild caricature of cowboy Americans. Too bad there aren't any Orson Welles cameos.

In any case, he discovers some leads, meets several interesting people, and finds himself caught in something far bigger than himself. It would be cruel of me to reveal any more of the story; you will have to discover all the great moments for yourself.

This installment in the _Broken Sword_ series, titled _The Shadow of the Templars_ , is a port from the PC, where it was a best-seller. It's remarkable how the entire game was translated to the handheld format without any cuts or compromises. Revolution Software deserves our appreciation.

The game's visuals are striking, bold; they stand out as among the finest this handheld as ever seen. There's a terrific amount of detail on the tiny screen, and I'm impressed how clear everything looks. Everything is drawn in a realist American cartoon style, a little bit like Brad Bird's little gem _The Iron Giant_.

If you own a Gameboy Advance and you're looking for something a little different, then you absolutely should give this a chance. I think you'll thank yourself for the effort. It ranks among the best of the lost gems. I can't recommend it enough.

### Bust-a-Move DS

In the annals of videogames, the words "budget title" are the equivalent to the Hollywood B-picture: cheap, low-grade, instantly disposable. Well, kids, there are times when it's wiser to ignore popular sentiment, and this is one of them.

Goodness knows _Bust-a-Move_ , the iconic Taito arcade-puzzler, has been played to death on every conceivable platform, and bears responsibility for spawning a whole sub-genre of cheap kick-the-jewel puzzle games that have made video arcades (what few are still left) unbearable. It's one of those no-brainer videogames, something that's cheap and probably sells just enough to warrant another knock-off somewhere down the line. All that matters is that this was probably the last novel puzzler to appear until Q Entertainment finally revived the genre last year with _Meteos_ and _Lumines_.

So imagine, despite all my grumblings and misgivings, not only grabbing _Bust-a-Move DS_ , but enjoying the heck out of it. Really digging it. Go figure that one out, kids.

If the DS touchscreen isn't the best thing to happen to puzzle games since Tetris, I don't know what is. It's just that simple change, that instant and fluid control that the ancient d-pad cannot provide. _Meteos_ became a modern classic because of the touch screen; _Zookeeper_ , a damned freeware game, of all things, achieved a new level of addiction; now _Bust-a-Move_ sweeps in and is transformed.

There's a world of difference between pressing left or right to aim a bubble cannon just right; it's another thing entirely to stretch and drag with the stylus. It's all a matter of control. This is a videogame that is dependent on achieving different kinds of trick shots, a little like billiards, a little like marbles. For the first time, I actually feel empowered. I feel as if I actually can make that impossible shot.

The game's structure is different, focused largely on solving set puzzle patterns, in sets of ten. There are 25 levels to plough through, and then another 25 after that. They do become more challenging, but I've never felt overwhelmed. If anything, the levels are structured so that one especially difficult board — where you literally have to shoot your way through a screenful of scrambled marbles — is sandwiched in between a couple stages that can be brought down with a single skilled shot. Some boards emphasize speed, others dexterity; here's where having a stylus in hand makes a whole world of difference.

In addition to the main puzzle mode, an endless mode is available, which works if you need your arcade kicks and just want to see how long you can hold out against the inevitable. Five players can compete against one another with a single game card, which really makes for a killer bargain. Get everyone to shell out four bucks, and you're set. You've got yourselves one heckuva party game on your hands.

What else is there to recommend? The graphics are bright and colorful, and the music is catchy and charming. There's a high score table somewhere, but it's dribbled out, line by line, during the attract mode. Apparently for a decent scoreboard, you'd have to pay full price. Fair enough.

### Cooking Mama

_Cooking Mama_ is the latest quirky, out-of-left-field videogame for Nintendo DS, and if there's any justice in this world, then this game will become another hit. It's been pretty hard to find at stores, so it seems this may be the case.

Games like this are the reason the DS is such a great little handheld. Isn't it fun to see videogames that are, gasp, new? Aren't we sick and tired of being sold endless _Doom_ and _Tomb Raider_ clones?

A videogame that revolves around cooking? It seems like an oddball concept, but it works perfectly. It probably works because the DS has earned a reputation for the quirky and experimental. It's become acceptable, almost expected, so see something like this. Now if we could only do away with all the bad commercial tie-in games, we'd really be making progress.

_Cooking Mama_ is the first game to take the microgame concept from _WarioWare_ and run with it. I've always been a fan of the _Wario_ games, especially _WarioWare: Twisted_ on GBA, but it seems as though it's a genre of one. What else can you do with the idea of the mini-game? Well, you can cook recipes.

That's all _Cooking Mama_ is about: collecting and cooking recipes. You go in a step-by-step process with microgames that involve chopping, filling, pouring, washing, mixing, and frying your food. You also have the option of mixing different recipes, like adding cooked rice to your chicken or curry.

Each step is judged by Mama with gold, silver, or bronze medals, unless you really screw up, and then she gets royally pissed. The final recipe is judged with a score out of 100, and you get the appropriate medal for your efforts. You also unlock new recipes, which eventually adds up to around 75 or so. It's a pretty meaty little videogame.

It's also fairly cheap, at $20 a pop. Smart move. I'm never happy with the notion of paying $35 for a new DS game, but $20 is more than adequate. Usually I have to wait a few months before the prices drop, so this means I get to enjoy _Cooking Mama_ when it's brand-new.

Be sure to get your mitts on this game while you can, before it becomes the next DS rarity ala _Advance Wars_ , _Phoenix Wright_ , _Lost in Blue_ and _Trauma Center_.

### DJ Wars

When it comes to Japanese Sega Saturn videogames, most of the attention is aimed towards 1) Tactical RPGs, 2) Arcade Shoot-Em-Ups, and 3) Fighting Games, mostly 2D. It's only after you explore those veins that the search for the real hidden gems can begin. And that's where you'll discover DJ Wars.

_DJ Wars_ is essentially a free-form rhythm-music game, without the strict control of, say, _Dance Dance Revolution_. This seems to be much closer, interestingly enough, to Nintendo's _Wii Music_. The game sends you, an aspiring DJ, to various clubs to impress the dancers and show off your skills. There are no guidelines telling you exactly what to do and when to do it; you really have to discover the flow and learn what each crowd likes. In that sense, it's much more of a DJ simulation than anything.

There are 50 music tracks available, and you can bring seven LPs (take that, digital) to your gigs. You can mix two tracks, use faders, add samples, and if you're really good, add in some scratching. Just like real life, you'll be spending most of your time practicing in your bedroom and honing your craft before heading to the clubs. My roommate, Nate, happens to be a successful DJ, and that's exactly what happens at the house. Whenever he's not working his day job at the University of Minnesota, he's practicing for the next show, and loud thmp-thmp-thmp beats shake through the walls.

Like many of the late-era Saturn videogames, _DJ Wars_ never left Japan. The software studio, Spike, has been very successful over the years with the modern consoles, including a lot of sports and racing titles. They're also the developers of _Madworld_ on the Wii, which got a lot of attention a couple years back. DJ Wars appears to be their first full-on video game. I wonder why they haven't brought it back? Certainly there was a window during the rise of _Guitar Hero_ and _DJ Hero_ for a comprehensive music sim? Perhaps the need for actual licensed music would have made such a project far too expensive.

Once again, spiraling production costs have made daring, inventive, quirky videogames an impossibility. When publishers are gambling $50 million on a single title (and another $50 million on marketing), they are going to be very, very conservative with their money. This is why I miss Sega's consoles. Sega was a true home for renegade gamers who wanted something different, something new. And this is why Saturn and Dreamcast are so beloved by dedicated gamers today.

### Egg Mania

HotGen Studios established themselves as a quality videogame studio on the Gameboy Advance. I'll still insist that _Kelly Slater's Pro Surfer_ , after _Advance Wars 2_ , is the finest game ever created for the handheld. These people knew how to make great games, knew how to keep the players hooked, knew how to paint graphics that glow and dance.

They have since closed down, like so many small development houses in Europe and America during the past few years. This fact is even more depressing when you discover just how gifted and skilled these people were, and how increasingly stale and risk-averse the giant publishers have become. _Egg Mania_ is a good example of this. Here is a puzzler with enough personality and polish to elevate it above the level of Cheap Gimmick. It's a good little game.

For some reason, the Advance has seen very few puzzle videogames. There was a long stretch in the 1990s when the original Game Boy had nothing but puzzle games. A lot of those titles were really good, too. What happened to them? I expected the steady stream of puzzlers to continue into the new century, but they've all but died out. Why is that? Goodness knows games like these can't be expensive to produce.

Pardon me, I'm rambling here. It happens.

What you should know about _Egg Mania_ is that it takes the standard _Tetris_ game, adds a few clever twists to the formula, and still manages to feel fresh. Here, you are given your choice of egg characters, each with their own unique look, which must catch the falling pieces and form rows.

_Egg Mania_ , however, is not only about clearing endless rows of blocks. The goal is to build towers so that you can escape to a waiting balloon at the top of the playfield. You must, however, pay attention to your structural integrity. For instance, if you were simply to throw blocks on top of one another, eventually, the foundation will collapse and you'll lose all the pieces. Since this is a race to the top, you will lose precious time.

Oh, and one more thing: your pit is being filled with water. If you don't hurry up and move, you'll drown.

It's a great example of solid game design. You must call upon your _Tetris_ skills, but you must also keep your eyes on your opponent, who is trying to beat you to the finish line. There are a number of power-ups and bonus blocks, ranging from concrete (to fill up holes) to faster speed, to, my favorite, bombs. I'm sure you know what to do with those.

There are a number of gameplay modes, including a special bomb-throwing mode where you and a friend just throw bombs at each other (it plays like a portable _Twinkle Star Sprites_ ). The single-player game involves a ladder progression against different eggs, playing against any number of brightly colorful backdrops, but multiplayer is where _Egg Mania_ truly shines.

I find myself enjoying this videogame, but I suspect this was made with human opponents in mind. Playing the computer feels functionary at best, because there's never really any challenge. You're just going through the motions. Why isn't there more variety in the computer player's' strategy and technique? Why isn't the game, well, tougher? Whatever. I ask too many questions.

### F1 2002

Electronic Arts is not always a name that oozes quality and imagination as much as consistency. You may not be seeing something special, but you are guaranteed to see something good. That's never been more apparent in the company's lineup of software titles for the Gameboy Advance. These are all good videogames, but for the most part, not great ones. Of course, with EA, you are promised that next year's version will be better, and their many software studios will be working on it.

That's an important thing to keep in mind when you spend time with _F1 2002_. I enjoyed this game, I liked this game, but I can't honestly say I loved it. I wasn't excited of hooked the way I was with _MotoGP_ and _Motoracer Advance_. Still, on a handheld system with one too many cartoon racers, we must be happy with what we have.

This title captures the world of Formula One racing, with authentic cars, drivers, and racetracks. Players begin by registering a name and signing with one of the racing teams, and choosing a car and driver. As far as I can tell, there isn't any difference between any of them; a Ferrari drives just the same as a Jaguar. It all comes down to which color you like.

Then, once you're ready, you can compete in a championship, a full season, or a quick race against a friend. Why more than two players cannot race together is beyond me; four players should be the absolute standard in every racing game, and it's sorely missed here. There's really no excuse, and, yes, I will point this out every time a videogame supports only two players. Heck, _Checkered Flag_ on Atari Lynx supported six players. Get with the program, EA.

_F1 2002_ goes to great lengths to make racing as easy as possible on the Advance's unjustly tiny screen. Each race is previewed with a map of the course, clearly labeling all turns, as well as the ideal speed necessary to successfully navigate them. During the actual races, there are the usual signs off the side to tell you how close the next turn will be, and an on-screen icon appears to warn you when it's time to slow down. This is a common feature in rally racing games, and I really appreciate it here. Thank goodness most everyone has the sense to include these icons in their Advance titles.

I enjoyed the look to everything. The racetracks are all flat, devoid of any hills or dips, but the roads are wonderfully detailed. The red stripes to the side, the well-worn asphalt that guides you to the best racing line, the saturation of the browns and greens during sunshine or rain; everything just looks terrific. The backgrounds include photorealistic pictures of blue skies and clouds, which are perfectly sharp and without dithering. This is much closer to what one expects on the modern systems, and is continuing evidence that this little machine has yet to reach its full potential. It's much better than it's "portable Super Nintendo" reputation suggests.

The racecars themselves look great, but here's a problem I have. Their movement tends to be a little choppy. This is no doubt a concession to prevent needless blurring on the color LCD screen; there are also twenty or more cars on the road at a time. Because of this, smooth animation is sacrificed for overall speed. This is more noticeable during turns; it seems your car only has a few frames for turning. Add in twenty cars all doing this and everything starts to look, frankly, a little cheap. Maybe I'm just being a trite picky, but I would willingly settle for a slightly slower game to have cars that didn't look like they were cut and pasted.

This tends to transfer to the handling of the vehicles. The steering is very fine, especially when you consider how lousy it can be in so many other racing videogames. The movement of your car feels a little greasy; quick, responsive, perhaps a tad light. There isn't as much traction as there should be, especially for a car that's flying by at 300 mph. Again, this is possibly just a concession because of the platform. It still bothers the heck out of me.

It may seem that I'm waffling; that may be true. There is much about _F1 2002_ that I enjoy so much, and yet there are things that just stick in my side. For instance, I like the fact that the computer-controlled cars aren't perfect automatons. They often make mistakes, crashing, spinning out. I don't like that you can quickly dart out to the front of the pack before the first turn. This is supposed to be a simulation, and I don't need any help, thank you very much. I like that you can actually make contact with the cars without spinning out. I don't like it when I crash, while the other car just drives off unaffected. I like the club music that's played during the menu screens. I really don't like listening to all those engines' high-pitched buzzing. Sounds like I'm being chased by hornets.

According to the credits, this game was the work of Magic Pockets, who should be commended for their efforts. _F1 2002_ reminds me a lot of _Super Monaco GP_ on the Sega Genesis many years ago; many players remember that title fondly, and rightfully so.

### FIFA 2002

Goodness knows, the Gameboy Advance should be a goldmine for Electronic Arts. The Nintendo handheld is often seen as a 16-bit system on steroids, which often means many ports from the Super NES and Genesis. Goodness knows, I have no idea why some of these titles have been ported over at all, aside from the bona-fide classics, but this situation is perfect for EA. These were, after all, the years of their legendary sports franchises; starting with _John Madden Football_ , they managed to perfectly capture every sport they tried, setting the gold standard for sports videogames.

That software developers still struggle to create with modern 3D polygons what EA achieved effortlessly with 2D sprites is amazing. I would still argue that the _NHL Hockey_ series on the Genesis was as good as anything today, and the _Maddens_ and _FIFAs_ have only aged marginally. For the Advance, portable versions of these games still work. I still enjoy the new GBA _Madden_ as much as the old Genesis classics, and _NHL Hockey 2002_ is almost worth the price of an Advance alone.

I'm puzzled at _FIFA_ , though. This should be a standout title; obviously, the effort has been made to modernize the game instead of merely porting an old copy of _FIFA 95_. And, yet, somehow, it doesn't quite work. It's almost as though the final game was rushed out the door before it was properly finished. This isn't even the usual comparison against Konami's brilliant soccer games; even though, again, there's a better version of _International Superstar Soccer_ waiting nearby.

There are some things I like, starting with the field. The old angled viewpoint is thankfully retired in favor of a standard side-scrolling view. The players are large and distinct, and even move fairly well, even if it's more than a little limited. And there are an obscene number of teams to choose from, with more leagues and names than most Americans like me have ever heard of.

The best quality of this _FIFA_ is its fast-paced, arcade-style play. This is one of those games that you can pick up and run with almost immediately, and EA should be thanked for that. The limited number of buttons on the Advance is no doubt a factor; there is only so much you can do with four buttons, so only the basic moves are included. I'm fine with that, as long as the game on the field moves swift and smooth. You can probably play a full match in five or ten minutes, passing and scoring with ease.

I just wish some more effort was put into the making of this game. For instance, take the players on the field. As I've already noted, they look fine and move well, but the animation is pretty much limited to running. There's not much interaction between two players fighting for control of the ball, or passing, or pretty much anything. And the team uniforms are usually two colors, one of which is always white. And there is only one stadium to play in, with the same grass patterns and crowd chants. What's the point of this? The cynic in me suspects that FIFA has fallen victim to the dreaded Franchise Curse, where the first installment has only the bare essentials, and too many important features are left on the shelf for next year's version.

Of course, I enjoy this game for short bursts, but after awhile, I become aware of something that turns me off to the whole experience completely. Put simply, the computer is stupid. As dumb as a bag of rocks. Want to score? Just take control of the ball, and then sprint to the end of the field, wait for the goalie to run towards you, and shoot the ball in. There's a little weaving around defenders, but it's more like a glorified obstacle course; there's no real defense going on here.

Artificial Intelligence simply doesn't exist here, at least not compared to any sports games over the last decade. When you have the ball, your teammates all run forward, in unison. When the other team has the ball, they all retreat, in unison. There's no attempt on the computer's part to defend or capture the ball. They just return to their original starting points, and then just stop. It's downright insulting to watch a defender charge an opposing net while three defenders stand by, twiddling their virtual fingers. And it's even more insulting knowing that it was Electronic Arts that did away with this primitive practice in the 16-bit era.

Now we're back to the Intellivision age, where you do all the heavy lifting yourself. Playing, I get flashbacks to _Football_ on the Atari 2600, where you move the entire team as one unit. That videogame was made in 1977.

There's no excuse for this. I don't want to wait a full year to see if the developers put in the features that should never have been missing in the first place. What happened here?

### Frogger: Helmet Chaos

Picked up a copy of the new _Frogger: Helmet Chaos_ on Nintendo DS. It's a game I've wanted to check out for a while, because of its retro gaming appeal, and also because it just looked promising and it's almost completely swept under the rug.

I've played for a little while, and my overall opinion of _Frogger_ keeps swaying back and forth. I don't know right now whether I could recommend it, and that in itself is very frustrating, because the core of the game is really quite good. There have been a number of attempts by Konami to revive the _Frogger_ name ever since that disastrous Sony Playstation title, so perhaps they've finally figured out how to make the old frog work in a modern action-puzzler.

I think the reason I want to like this game is because it reminds me so much of _Chip's Challenge_ , one of the Epyx launch games for their color handheld, which became the Atari Lynx. Heck, _Chip's Challenge_ is one of the best puzzlers, period. It's also, as anyone who's devoted a couple hours to it, brutally hard. I don't think I've ever solved more than a couple dozen levels, and there's over 150 total, not counting a few bonus levels. Now that's a puzzle game.

_Frogger_ on DS follows a similar vein, albeit far simpler; kind of a "My First Chip" for the kiddies. There's a lot of hopping about islands and caves and green meadows, avoiding cleverly-drawn bad guys, grabbing coins, and moving blocks for the millionth time since _Sokoban_. Hard to believe the most copied videogame of the last 20 years is... _Boxxle_. How did that happen?

So, anyway, I think I'm on the third world, but I'm not sure, and this touches on one of the real flaws with the game. Apart from the cut-scenes (aided by horrible Disney-esque voice acting), there's nothing to tell you where you're going from one level or world to the next. It's just POOF! and you're in the brown stage. Then POOF! and it's the dark green level.

After I finished one level, I was taken to a couple of bonus screens, bumbled through, told I couldn't pass forward, and then taken there anyway. Sounds undescriptive, yes, but that's the impression of the experience. All I know is that I didn't have enough coins to give somebody. No clue who he was, what he was after, or what the whole point to the exercise was. Maybe he was just homeless; God knows if that were the case, I'd only be too glad to help him.

It's a strange thing to me, because world maps have been standard ever since _Super Mario Brothers 3_ and _Super Mario World_. You think a game that included a butt bounce would also feature those things. So that's a strike against _Frogger_.

Now, the levels themselves are a lot of fun. There's a good variety of challenges and puzzles that left me stumped for a moment or two. The box promises 30 levels in total, and each one is sufficiently large enough that I'm not feeling shortchanged. At least, not yet.

Everything in _Helmet Chaos_ looks great, and it's a good show-off for the DS polygon engine. There's a lot of color and shading, the animation is really good, and it all churns along smoothly at 60 frames-per-second. And, it needs to be said, it's funny to watch Frogger wipe out when he smacks into a wall.

There are also a number of unlockable items to collect, all standard issue in the post- _Soul Calibur_ world, and a number of multiplayer mini-games, including a couple variations on the original 1981 arcade _Frogger_. Are any of these mini-games any good? Well, some are and some aren't. I really don't expect any of them to become the next _Bomberman_ or _Super Monkey Ball_ , but you never know. Most likely, never will anyone else.

So, at this point, I'm leaning slightly in favor of the new _Frogger_ , but there are two monstrous flaws that may just kill it altogether. First is the life gauge. Your health is measured as four hit-points in a green heart. Standard issue, yes. However, you only have one life. One life per game. Now this is where it gets weird. Anytime you are killed by, say, falling into water and drowning, you simply lose one hit point and restart from the last save point. Figure that one out. I drown and continue, minus one hit point. I get knocked out by a rolling hedgehog, and it's game over.

Currently, I'm stuck on a boss battle which is completely unnecessary (does an action-puzzler with a clunky-moving frog need a boss fight?), completely frustrating, and completely unfair. I'm up against a giant Robotnik tank, armed to the teeth with half a dozen different attacks, and you're only supposed to outlast it. Oh, don't forget the screen is scrolling...slowly. This frog isn't good at dodging, I'll say that. The kicker? Some attacks will hurt you, and some will knock you out, which starts the whole battle over from the beginning. I have no idea what triggers this.

Yuck! It's the _Zookeeper_ Quest Mode all over again. If I can get past this part, then hopefully the rest of the game will settle into a good rhythm and actually be fun. I'll be disappointed if _Frogger_ falls apart, the death from a thousand cuts, because it should have been better; all of these stupid problems could have been avoided.

After some time, and a few attempts to give the game another chance, I finally gave in, and realized that, despite my best hopes, it was not meant to be. _Frogger: Helmet Chaos_ is a sloppy, unfocused videogame. These are the ones that always frustrate me; if only a few more hours of playtesting were allowed, if only the developers discovered some insight, if only the _Frogger_ name would stop being dragged through the mud like yesterday's trash. If only. A lot of hopes and dreams in this world come down to those two words.

And just think, I could have picked up _Super Princess Peach_ instead. Boo!

### Gekido Advance: Kintaro's Revenge

Thank goodness the Gameboy Advance has no territorial lockout; thanks to import shops and the Internet, we can all enjoy those great games from overseas that somehow avoid our shores. Right now, I'm thinking of the excellent European scene and feeling jealous. There are a number of great titles that, at the time of this review, easily deserve an American release: Konami's _International Superstar Soccer Advance_ , the best soccer game on the handheld; _Go Go Beckham_ , a charming little platformer in the _Super Mario_ mold (we get stuck with, sigh, _Soccer Kid_ ); _Comix Zone_ , ported straight from the Sega Genesis; _TOCA World Touring Cars_ , an impressive 3D polygon racer; _Drop Zone_ and _International Karate Championship_ , Archer Maclean's computer game classics from the Atari 800 era. Added to this impressive mix is _Gekido Advance_.

Until now, what the Advance has really needed was a good beat-em-up. There was _Final Fight One_ , which promised to be a perfect rendition of the classic arcade; to my horror, it turned out to be nothing more than a tepid port of the lousy Super NES version with a two-player mode tacked on. This little handheld certainly deserves better than shovelware, and those who paid hard money for an Advance deserve better. Thankfully, _Gekido_ delivers the goods. I grew tired of these beat-em-ups during the 16-bit era, when it seemed like everybody and their uncle had to offer their own _Double Dragon_ ripoff; now, like the 2D platformer, absence makes this simple videogame genre enjoyable again.

_Gekido Advance_ tells the story of a ninja who must investigate mysterious happenings in a small town. Now here is a novel approach; there actually is a point beyond bashing heads, and this isn't a minor point. The traditional problem with beat-em-ups is that they are basically twenty-second games dragged out across an hour or two. Move your character left to right, punch and kick an assortment of simpleton comic-book villains, then walk five steps and repeat, repeat, repeat. That's a recipe for sheer boredom.

_Gekido_ plays out more like the classic _River City Ransom_ , with its interconnecting buildings, rooms, streets, and pathways. When the game begins, Tetsuo, the young hero, visits a village, speaking to various people and gathering clues. It's only after making your way towards the temple that you are ambushed by thugs. The fighting is contained in violent moments, bursts of action between moments of quiet. The developers are no doubt aware of how tiring endless punching and kicking can become, and wisely chose to break up the momentum. This doesn't mean the game is anything but fast-paced; I worked my reflexes as quickly as I ever had in the _Streets of Rage_ series. And, yes, there is an undeniable thrill in bashing through a long wave of fighters.

NAPS Team is the development studio responsible for _Gekido Advance_ , and this is the third title in the series; previous installments appeared on the original Game Boy and Sony Playstation. On the Playstation, they tried to bring the beat-em-up into the 3D realm, which worked fairly well for many people, but they wisely chose to keep _Gekido Advance_ purely in the 2D realm. Their artistic skills should put most other developers to shame. With rich hues, environments drawn in lush reds, greens, and blues, these are among the finest graphics to date on Nintendo's handheld.

More impressive are the characters, large and wonderfully animated. The visual style is more than a little similar to SNK's fighting games, and playing, I wonder why the handheld versions of _King of Fighters_ and _Street Fighter Alpha 3_ weren't drawn like this. There certainly isn't any excuse for a GBA videogame with tiny sprites or missing frames of animation now. Add in many animated cut-scenes in the best _Ninja Gaiden_ tradition, and...well, I usually don't gush about graphics all that much, but this is a notable exception. This game looks terrific.

The audio and music also deserve mention. The first wave of Advance titles included audio that was tinny, small — the studios were thinking with that tiny speaker in mind — but now the quality has improved so much that you have to wonder what was going on at the beginning. There are only a few songs in _Gekido_ , but the quality is outstanding; I was reminded of the terrific music on the Sega CD version of _Final Fight_ (the definitive take), with its rock guitar tones and catchy hooks. While searching around, the music is laid back, mellow; when enemies appear, the main theme kicks in. I'm trying to think of titles currently on the Advance with better-sounding music, but right now I honestly can't. It will definitely be difficult to return to the old, scratchy tunes again.

Why hasn't this title been earmarked received more attention in America? Clearly, this is just the sort of thing Gameboy Advance owners would love, especially with the dearth of shovelware swimming around. Of course, ten or twenty beat-em-ups would be too much; even with the cool innovations of _Gekido_ ; this is still a child of _Double Dragon_. As much as I enjoy the attack combos you can string together, when will someone bother to let the enemy fighters play like that? The villains in these games would be so much more potent if they had as many moves as you; it would certainly make for a more interesting fight. This videogame genre never needed to go away; it just needed some fresh blood.

### Go! Go! Beckham!

One of the things about the Gameboy Advance that has surprised me the most has been the sheer absence of quality two-dimensional platform games. Aside from Nintendo's reissues of their Super NES classics like _Super Mario World_ and _Yoshi's Island_ , what has there been? Three _Castlevania_ and two _Metroids_ that all play exactly the same? Joy — five wannabe knockoffs of _Super Metroid_.

Almost everything else has been terrible, and I think that's because most developers have lost the programming and game design skills they once had in the past; the age of 3D polygon worlds has rendered sprite-based graphics obsolete. I never would have believed that if someone ten years ago predicted this would happen. Perhaps this is why I have so little enthusiasm for most of today's console titles. Hardly anybody makes real videogames anymore.

I suspect that's also why I'm so willing to defend a title like _Go! Go! Beckham!_ Denki's mascot platformer from Europe is excessively repetitious, and after six or seven levels you begin to suspect you've already seen everything and that the developers are just padding the clock. This videogame wouldn't be remembered among the giants of the 16-bit era, but the gameplay and design is so solid you don't mind.

The clever hook in this game is that you control a soccer player who uses the ball as a weapon. This was used over a decade ago in a game called _Marko's Magic Football_ , but that was a pointless gimmick in a deeply mediocre videogame (why it appeared on every system known to man remains a mystery). _Go! Go! Beckham's_ game worlds are designed with soccer skills in mind. Kicking, jumping, knocking the ball with your head: these are all employed to great effect.

There are a number of enemies that manage to steal your ball and gleefully knock it away, bonus balls can be discovered, and levels are completed by kicking the ball through a goal. I'm impressed by these smart touches; you'll have to occasionally wander around alone and unguarded.

Also, in the typical _Super Mario_ vein, there are many gems, coins, eggs, and balls to find. For some levels, this is almost pedestrian, but for others it can be a real challenge. I keep hoping that some discovery would lead to a bonus world or extra stage, something to change the pace a little. Here were are in the 21st Century, and still I'm impressed by the warp rooms and cloud zones from 1985's _Super Mario Bros_.

_Go! Go! Beckham!_ looks terrific, in that retro Super Nintendo sort of way, overtly cute and cuddly and all that. Perhaps, once again, this is nostalgia creeping up, but I enjoy these graphics. I honestly expected dozens of games like this to appear on the Advance, but that never happened. Why is that, I suppose?

Which brings me back to the repetition thing. Couldn't Denki's designers have done more than recolor the same backgrounds over and over? Would it have killed them to inject a little variety? I don't mind being given only four game worlds (with nine or ten levels each); just don't jerk me around with palette swaps. Heck, draw up some clouds, or change the time of day, or throw up some anti-war signs to keep the locals alert. They're just being lazy.

### Hyper Duel on Sega Saturn

My current go-to videogame on Sega Saturn is Technosoft's excellent 1996 shoot-em-up, _Hyper Duel_. I played the arcade version on MAME many years ago, but was slightly disappointed by the experience. The Sega Saturn version, however, is a completely different story. Of famed studio's three spaceship shooters on the system ( _Hyper Duel_ , _Blast Wind_ , _Thunder Force 5_ ), I think _Hyper Duel_ is my favorite, which, by definition, makes it my favorite side-scrolling arcade shoot-em-up on the Saturn.

In the arcades, _Hyper Duel_ looked flat and even a little sickly; far too many greys and greens in the color palette. On the Saturn, Technosoft completely revamps the graphics, adding light and contrast, and bringing a vivid saturation to the colors. Explosions are a fiery red, enemy ships have a metallic sheen, stars and galaxies in the background look stunning. It's a testament to glorious pixel-art; _Hyper Duel_ now looks like a proper Technosoft game. If only _Herzog Zwei_ and _Thunder Force 3_ were remade with these graphics! Ah, I can only dream.

You can tell that Technosoft came from a console background, because their arcade games are relatively simple and straightforward by comparison. _Hyper Duel_ (and _Blast Wind_ , their vertical-scrolling shooter) doesn't have the winding, unpredictable level design of _Thunder Force 3_ and _TF4_ , a design that owes its allegiance to 2D platformers. Instead, it's much more direct and tightly focused, and the levels are fairly short before you have to battle the giant bosses. It's also very challenging, which meant pumping in lots of quarters at the arcade.

Oh, and have I mentioned that you pilot a spaceship that turns into a robot? You can also call upon extra fighters or mechs to attack the enemy. Shades of Technosoft's masterpiece, _Herzog Zwei_ , no doubt. You can choose among three spacecraft, which move at different speeds and have slight variations in weapons (even though they're basically the same). And two players can fight together, a terrific addition that should have been included in the _Thunder Force_ series.

Like all of Technosoft's Saturn titles, _Hyper Duel_ never left Japan, and it's an extremely rare game that currently sells for a king's ransom: $200 has been the going price at Ebay for some time. I can't fathom why you'd pay that kind of money for a single videogame, especially when you can download and burn to disc for free. Bragging rights, no doubt. The Saturn has become a highly prized collector's item among old school and shooter fans; it's a badge of honor for the true hardcore gamer, and _Hyper Duel_ is one of their most prized trophies.

### I'd Still Rather Play NFL 2K1

My brother came home this week with a Microsoft XBox, the original one, as he had promised for many months. Included with the system were several hit videogames: _Knights of the Old Republic_ , _Madden NFL '97_ , and the star of the show, _NFL 2K5_.

You know something? I'd still rather play _NFL 2K1_ on the Sega Dreamcast. Is there something wrong with me?

I've skipped out the entire _2K_ series since Dreamcast died, which is a shame because it's always been my favorite football franchise. I even loved the original _NFL 2K_ enough to consider it the best football game ever made, despite the fact that the running game was completely, hopelessly nonexistent. It was nearly impossible to ever gain more than a couple yards before crashing into a wall of linebackers. But so many of the intangibles — hecklers in the stands, referee conferences, snow on the field, the astonishing animation (one television reporter in 1999 famously quipped that these videogames were starting to resemble acid trips), and the acerbic play-by-play commentary — all of these built into the best football experience I'd ever enjoyed.

The following year, _NFL 2K1_ fell upon us like a hurricane. Unlike the tepid approach EA takes with its _Madden_ franchise, Visual Concepts radically retooled and improved the game. The running game was working, and it worked spectacularly. The TV commentators still rambled on endlessly, dragging us into their arguments. Online play was available for the first time. Passing was a great improvement, introducing the ability to lead passes in any direction. The animation was even more detailed and intricate, putting _Madden_ to shame. And the most beloved feature of _NFL 2K1_? Late hits.

This was something that was done ages ago on Genesis _Madden_ , and is probably the most shameless fun you can have with the game. You have to remember to turn off the penalties that apply, and just start knocking heads. You hit another player after a play ends, you laugh, you shout out, "It never gets old!" It's really the perfect stress reliever.

You can even make a drinking game out of it. The goal is to strike down the football player that the camera has focused on, after the play. It's so unbelievably funny to see a closeup of some star player, strutting after making that long catch, getting nailed from behind. Does the camera even follow him when he goes down? Hah! Another shot!

At the venerated Dinkytown Pizza Hut, we played Sega Dreamcast every weekend night until daybreak. _NFL 2K1_ was the champion bar none. There were always six or seven games lined up before the thing was even hooked up to the televisions. Beer, soda, bread sticks, pizza, all flowed freely. I have countless memories of team breakdowns and legendary comebacks, of haunting ghost sounds from the back of the kitchen, and grudges that never end. And, of course, a hundred late hits per game. Hah!

My favorite comeback was this one spectacular 4th Quarter finish with Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers. I was completely drunk, couldn't even see the television screen unless I squinted with one eye. Even then I never really saw what was happening. It was all blurs and blobs. I still managed to win that one in the closing seconds. Hah! What a game.

You see, this is why I never like reading most videogame reviews. They always focus on the same cliched categories, as though the writers are filling out Mad Libs. The graphics are "so-and-so." The audio is "so-and-so." The gameplay is "so-and-so." How boring is that? Such reviews read like the back of a cereal box. Nobody ever bothers to mention the little intangibles that stay with you, those throwaway moments that really define the great videogames. Perhaps they'd never admit it, or perhaps the publishers wouldn't want consumers to take away the wrong impression. There's so much hype to transform videogames into the Digital Hollywood, into something "respectable," instead of what they should be, which is "fun." A videogame is not a work of high art, whatever that means. It's not even work. It's a form of play. That reporter who mentioned LSD trips hit it right on the head.

So when I finally had the chance to play _NFL 2K5_ on the XBox, what were the first two questions that popped in my head? The same ones I had when I learned 2K Sports was bringing back the franchise this year with _All Pro Football 2K8_. One, do they still have those play-by-play announcers? Two, are there late hits?

_NFL 2K5_ has just about everything you'd ever want in a football game. It really is a wonder, packed to the gills gameplay depth, extra features and online leagues that command a fan following to this day. It's still leagues ahead of EA's tired, stale _Madden_.

But there are no late hits in _NFL 2K5_. Nuts to that. Sega tried to be respectable and play by the rules. Look at where that got 'em. Whatever. I'd rather play _NFL 2K1_ on my Sega Dreamcast. Set up the chips and shot glasses.

### Mario Kart Wii Musings

I had a little more time to play around with _Mario Kart Wii_ at the Mall of America's Gamestop, and it's definitely growing on me. This would easily be a "system seller" for me if Nintendo Wii was actually stocked anywhere. I am continually amazed at how well this little cream-colored box continues to sell. The last time I saw one on a store shelf was last August. At this rate, I'm openly wondering if I'll ever get one; then I sigh and go back to my turntable and record collection.

Back to _Mario Kart Wii_. An excellent game overall. I'm starting to grok the controls, or at least the basic Wiimote controls sans steering wheel. I can appreciate how well the steering wheel would improve things, since the game really is meant for that. I'm also aware that you can use a Wii Remote with Nunchuk attachment, which should be very similar, but I haven't seen that at the Gamestop stores around here.

One great thrill for me has to be the new courses. The early beginning racetracks are pretty basic and standard, which is no surprise to seasoned _Mario Kart_ freaks. The Star Course is where things get really interesting. One course takes place over a series of giant trees, where you are blasted into the branches, and then work your way down to the roots. There are some crazy curves on large branches that remind me of the tubes in _F-Zero X_ , and I'm sure that's going to become a major cause for smack talk among friends. Then we add in some bumps which enable you to perform stunts, and a half pipe or two, and you've got a terrific thrill ride. This tree course may be my favorite in the entire _Mario Kart_ series.

Ah, yes, a quick mention about stunts. You simply shake your Wiimote whenever you bump into the air. It can be a simple bump in the road, or one of the ramps, or one of the major jumping points like the red psychedelic mushrooms — someone needs to explain to me why Nintendo has always been so open about psychedelics. Weren't they the ultra-conservative ones, the guys who wouldn't stand blood and violence in _Mortal Kombat_? And yet, here they are, handing out psilocybin like candy. Hmm...come to think of it, Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd on the stereo would go perfectly with all-night _Mario Kart_ sessions.

There's another course on the Star circuit that takes place on water, where everyone races over a raging river, that's just wonderful from start to finish. The best part is when you suddenly find yourself careening over the waterfalls, and into some underwater tubes. There are also some narrow rocky passages, laden with halfpipes and ramps, of course. There's a bit of a balance between driving responsibly and playing risky with powerslides and stunts. Going the latter may pay dividends against your peers, but it's so much easier to crash and fall off the track.

Twelve racers are present in each race, instead of the old eight, and it's a great thrill. I'm expecting that online matches will include all racers, which makes me more interested for the online modes. As I wrote before in previous posts, I don't know if "snaking" is present in this version, so hopefully we won't have the multiplayer games devolve into one or two expert racers that leave everyone else hopelessly lost in the dust. That was the one reason I grew tired of _Mario Kart DS_ online races. What's the point in competing against that?

I've trolled around videogaming websites for impressions, but it's tough to find anything. Most sites like _Go Nintendo_ , _Joystiq_ and _Kotaku_ are merely interested in posting news items. They see themselves as the prozines redux, offering little more than free advertising and hype in exchange for getting paid to play videogames. Where are the real videogame blogs, the real voices and opinions I'm probably asking for too much, but whatever.

In any case, when I do find online discussions, they're all complaining. For me, this is a good thing. As I've said before, the hallmark of _Mario Kart_ is its ability to spark controversy among the fans. Usually it's for trivial reasons, all of which point to the same whiny lament: "I can't win anymore." Well, boo hoo freakin' hoo, Timmy. I don't really care if "rubber-banding," the slang for racers snapping back from the rear of the pack, costs you anything. I really don't care if you've been hit repeatedly by those blue shells. That's just part of the show, and it comes with being the leader in the race. If you're way out in front, there's a good chance you'll get hit multiple times by your rivals. Suck it up.

And I can say this honestly, since my last race ended with me falling into second place after being hit four times by shells and bombs. The hallmark of a great multiplayer videogame is the ability to royally screw over your friends. It's what made _M.U.L.E._ so great. It's what made _Super Bomberman 2_ and _Saturn Bomberman_ so great. It's what made _Chu Chu Rocket_ and _San Francisco Rush 2049_ so great.

So don't listen to the whiners and the crybabies. _Mario Kart Wii_ is a democratic racer — everybody has an equal shot at the gold.

### Metroid: Zero Mission

_Metroid_ has been a beloved Nintendo staple for decades among faithful gamers, paving the way for many action-adventure videogames and killing far too many hours. Super Metroid, which appeared on the Super NES over a decade ago, largely set the gold standard for this genre, and it's among the best videogames ever made. The only problem is that its shadow is damn near inescapable.

I think I'm a little more forgiving about _Metroid: Zero Mission_ , even though it is, for all intents and purposes, _Super Metroid_ all over again. This series has seen only been two platform titles (both on the Advance) in the past decade, as opposed to three _Castlevanias_. So, at the very least, if you're going to have leftover turkey for lunch, you could skip the tofu and go straight for the dead bird.

This is the problem I'm having with a lot of these type of games, and perhaps it's due to the industry's move into 3D. Traditional 2D videogames have become an endangered species. It's become so that we no longer expect innovation or forward-thinking; mimicking the classics of the 16-bit era is more than enough to keep us happy.

This results in a _Metroid_ adventure that is entertaining and visually accomplished, but after it's over you forget the game ever existed. Goodness knows what's here is barely challenging. One of the original _Metroid's_ charms was its difficulty; you were literally dumped into an endless maze of chasms and left on your own. _Zero Mission_ holds your hand from start to finish, literally pointing you to the next vantage point.

What good is that? I'm sure there's a certain logic to this approach from a design point-of-view, but you feel as though you're just being shuffled along. Move along, kids, nothing to see here. Be sure to catch the next tour in ten minutes.

Nintendo couldn't even bother to cook up any new weapons or power-ups. How lazy is that? Hooray, Samus Aran can cling to the side of a wall. I'll be sure to send a letter to the editor on that one. And come up with some new environments while yer at it. The only difference from _Super Metroid_ is that the designers even more blatantly stole from Hayao Miyazaki's _Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind_. It's got to the point where I'm starting to have an ethical crisis when shooting insects.

This button for ice beam, that button for rockets...is there a button to make everyone get along? I know I'm causing an Ohmu stampede somewhere. Studio Ghibli should be getting royalty checks for this videogame.

And all this can be yours for three Hamilton's. Suckers. "Freedom of choice is what you got; freedom from choice is what you want."

### Monster Rancher 2 on Gameboy Advance

_Monster Rancher 2_ is one of those videogames that can suck you in completely for days on end, followed by an equally strong burnout. I surprised myself by spending endless time playing, but eventually, once it seemed as though I had figured it all out, the thrill was gone. Still, for what it's worth, it was a fun ride while it lasted.

This is the latest installment of Tecmo's popular monster-breeding games, inspired no doubt by the _Pokemon_ phenomenon. In this game, you breed strange, fantastic creatures, and train them to fight in gladiator arenas against other creatures. It all plays out like videogame cockfighting, but without the gambling or cheeky _Seinfeld_ jokes.

As a monster breeder, you have many responsibilities, from buying a suitable barn for the animal, to feeding, to training. Consulting the calendar, you will see countless tournaments and fights, some for fame, some for money, but the most important are the league championships. You begin in the lowest division, and through hard work and determination, work up the ranks, grabbing trophies and acclaim.

I actually enjoyed playing through the tournaments, even though it becomes terribly repetitive after a time. Through proper training, your monster learns a variety of attack skills (as well as other personality traits), and some are pretty cool. There's a certain rush to be had by clawing back from certain defeat to deliver that final, desperate knockout blow. The fights play out with a certain degree of tension, since most attacks have a low hit rate.

Tecmo does an admirable job creating a whole world, with an RPG-ish storyline and recurring characters who drop in from time to time. For the most part, your companion is a young woman who dreams of becoming a champion breeder, and, frankly, sees you as her meal ticket. Am I being harsh?

A number of plot developments break up the routine, and your farm may even be attacked by a stray beast or two. The best variation is the treasure hunt, where you set off to explore ruins in search of valuables, set to an impressive three-quarters overhead view. I really wish there were more moments like these.

I can't say how this compares to _Pokemon_ , since I'm obviously far too old for that, but _Monster Rancher 2_ is a quality title that should keep you happy for a time. Be warned however: once you figure out the formula for creating super-powered fighters, the game just becomes an exercise in going through the motions. Train one turn, rest one turn, spar one turn, rest one turn.

Did I just give that away? Oops.

### Moto GP

_Moto GP_ is a perfect throwback to one of the all-time great arcade racers, Sega's _Hang-On_. _Hang-On_ and _Outrun_ were really the videogames that set the standard for driving games, at least until polygon graphics showed up. I still think Yu Suzuki's classics are a perfect example how to do things right. _Moto GP_ has definitely learned from those lessons; the result is the fastest, most accessible racer I've seen in a long time.

There are a lot of driving games on the Gameboy Advance, and I like many of them, but it seems as if every title has one fatal flaw that keeps it from greatness. Either the graphics are ugly, or it's hard to see the racetracks, or the framerate is choppy, or the collision detection is spotty, or the computer drivers are cheaters, or there just isn't anyone to race against. Much of the time, the steering is at fault; sometimes, it's downright awful. Software designers have to learn that all vehicles are not supposed to slide all over the place like they're driving on ice. Even the GBA version of _F-Zero_ (a game I admire) has this problem at times.

Visual Impact Productions is one of the few studios to get this right. Racing motorcycles around the racetracks in _Moto GP_ is never a chore. One never has to overcompensate for the fact that they are using a joypad and not a steering wheel. Some may call this "simple." I call it "getting the job done right." Realism is fine, but "realism" shouldn't mean driving vehicles that can't handle a simple turn without slipping and sliding and spinning out of control. These are videogames, after all; if you want realism, read Hemingway. Put on Coltrane.

I don't mean to turn this into yet another rant from an aging gamer about The Way Things Used To Be, but this issue has come up in many of the professional reviews of _Moto GP_ for many videogame magazines and websites. They have their own point of view, and that's fine. I remember when the "prozines" had no point of view at all (conceding all to the advertisers). I simply remind my fellow critics that there's more to life than _Gran Turismo_.

Back to _Moto GP_. This is a pure-blood arcade racer from the days when arcade games were kings. Included in the mix are 16 real-life racetracks, including such standards as Suzuka and Sepang; the Suzuka course has been lurking about ever since _Pole Position 2_. Thank goodness the course is as accurate and challenging as any version to come before. Tracks curve and spin, dip and climb; again, a perfect progression from _Hang-On_ (the programmers even capture the stripes off the side of the road). This game makes great strides to portray that sense of speed, and there are no unfair tricks anywhere. If (or should I say, when), you crash, it's for nobody's fault but your own.

Of course, many of the racetracks are downright fiendish. The early ones are fairly easy, and I suspect this is where other reviews began to lose heart. If you stick with it, you'll be greeted with hairpin turns and vicious swerves that will punish you for driving full-throttle. As more bikes are unlocked, you will be able to drive faster, and then you'll have to learn to use the brakes. There's a good balance there; what good is having different bikes when you're just going to take the fastest one?

Racing against a dozen or more bikes (all based on real drivers) can be a real thrill, especially if you make early mistakes and find yourself having to catch up. This is the one throwback to the arcades that I have mixed feelings about. Computer drivers all race at set speeds, much slower than yours. I'm fine with this when it works: your bike's top speed is up to 40 mph faster than all the drivers, but the computer's vehicles always drive at the same speed (even turns), and you start at the back of the pack. The easy difficulty mode is a virtual cakewalk because of this, and it would appear that this is yet another videogame that holds you by the hand. I was worried as I started a Gran Prix season on normal difficulty, but after the fourth race, I started getting beaten, sometimes badly. I've never been so happy to crash into a billboard in my life.

Still, next time, let's see some smarter drivers on the road, okay?

We all know, of course, this is all but practice, anyway. The whole point to handheld videogames is to play against your friends; ask anyone who owned an Atari Lynx, and watch their eyes dance with joy as they chant names like "Warbirds" and "Checkered Flag." _Moto GP_ allows four players to race together, which should be the perfect competition for anyone who wants something grittier than _Mario Kart_. And, of course, this game allows for the one thing that makes any racing game great: you can knock the other bikes around. Hitting another bike from the side won't crash him, but it will cause him to swerve for a moment, which sometimes leads to a head-on collision with that BMW billboard. Why more studios don't understand the fun in this is a mystery to me.

Visual Impact is a Paris-based developer responsible for a number of video and computer games, mostly for the European market. _Moto GP_ is among their best. This title certainly shows their craft and dedication. How easy is it to put together a simplified version of a console game and call it a day? Actually creating something with depth deserves respect. I'm amazed at how bright and colorful everything in this game is; the variety in the landscapes, track details, the wonderful animation of your bike and the smooth sense of speed. Even the guitar-rock soundtrack, set in the Sammy Hagar tradition, fits like a glove. What would you expect from a game that plays homage to the great Sega racers? Goodness knows how catchy these songs are; I've even been tempted to learn to play them on my guitar. If you hear these riffs on a CD one day, you'll know where I, ahem, "found" the inspiration.

### New Super Mario Brothers

Yay!

It's been 11 years since _Yoshi's Island_ , and 15 years since _Super Mario World_. Those were the last two traditional 2D _Super Mario_ videogames. since that time, we have seen only two proper titles in the series, one of which ( _Super Mario 64_ ) is very nearly the greatest videogame ever made, the other ( _Super Mario Sunshine_ ) made many changes and suffered with fans as a result. Then there are various spin-offs, like _Luigi's Mansion_ , _Yoshi's Story_ , and _Yoshi Touch & Go_, which are loved by a few, but dismissed and waved away by the masses. The venerated Mario Brothers have become the Orson Welles of the videogame world.

So you can understand why _New Super Mario Brothers_ has been positioned as a return to greatness. It's a magnificent game, clearly among the finest for Nintendo's DS handheld. It may even be the best, right up there with _Meteos_ and _Animal Crossing: Wild World_ and _Yoshi: Touch & Go_. From a technical view, every visual trick is used, from smoothly animated polygons to pre-rendered characters to all those little sprites and sound effects that hark back to classic _Mario_. This is clearly meant as a grand nostalgia trip for aging 30-year-olds who grew up on Nintendo, as well as kids taking their first trip. It's also a triumph for that other old dinosaur, the 2D scrolling platform game. Remember those?

Nintendo's belief is that the videogame industry has lost its way, lost in a sea of corporate consolidation and exploding budgets and horribly overpriced consoles. It's all down to The Sports Game, The Driving Game, The Gun Game, and The Game Where You Shoot Hookers. Is that supposed to be fun? Perhaps, for the overweight, lazy, stupid man-children of America. But what about everyone else?

So Nintendo's out to either take us back to their youth, or ours. Either way, they're promising games that are actually games, not Comic Book Guy's latest pitch to Hollywood starring Ken and Barbie dolls. The DS has been a great success, and _New Mario_ is a perfect capstone to that success.

A bit too much thinking, I suppose, for something that never was meant to be more than light hearted, imaginative entertainment. But I've always suspected that Shigeru Miyamoto and his collaborators had something of an agenda up their sleeve. Somewhere between the nostalgia trips and thinly veiled psychedelic imagery ("magic mushrooms" were perfectly legal in Japan until a few years ago, didn't you know), there's an optimism. A belief in the brightness and magic of everyday life. We just need to reconnect with that sense of magic we possessed as children, before the world of the grownups tried their best to pound it out of us. There's a reason most adults end up in lousy jobs, dispirited.

Again, I'm thinking too much. Current events are on my mind a lot, can you tell? Maybe that's why I'm eager to revisit the worlds of the Mario Brothers again, eager to stomp on those Koopa shells, eager to consume the magic shrooms and watch the colors bleed. There has to be a better world out there; we just have to look around hard enough and find it.

We need flower power and magic stars more than ever, kids.

### NFL 2K2 on Sega Dreamcast

I was always a great fan of Visual Concepts' (now 2K Sports) _NFL 2K_ series. It was the biggest surprise of the Sega Dreamcast launch in 1999, and somehow managed to hold my attention and hook anyone who happened to walk by the television. It's a masterful sports franchise that has always offered a flashier, more fluid, and more immediate game of football than EA's stodgy and exhausted _John Madden NFL_ franchise.

I think it helps greatly that Visual Concepts served as Electronic Arts' house studio for _Madden_ for several years. They proved their mettle with the spectacular _Madden NFL '94_ on Super NES, which led to the honor of handling the flagship series on the new Sony Playstation. Unfortunately, _Madden NFL '96_ became a legendary debacle, crippled under the weight of expectation and uncertainty over just what a 32-bit sports videogame should be. EA was forced to scrap the project, conceding 1995 to Sony's _NFL Gameday_ , which quickly established itself as a superior football videogame series.

In 1997, Visual Concepts created the first of their legendary basketball games, _NBA Action 98_ for Sega Saturn. It was arguably the finest b-ball title of the 5th Generation, and Sega was duly impressed. The next year, as plans for the new Dreamcast system were underway, they purchased the studio outright and put them in charge of the new _2K_ sports franchise. It may have been Sega's smartest move of the Dreamcast era.

Released on 9/9/99, _NFL 2K_ was an outstanding, but deeply flawed, videogame. Gameplay was brilliant and loaded with spectacular animations and many small touches. The running game, however, was completely broken. Forget about running anywhere against the defensive line; you were stopped cold, gaining only two or three yards at most. It wouldn't matter which play you ran, inside or outside; you simply couldn't run the football. It's a testament to how much fun _NFL 2K_ was that we were so willing to put that aside. Everything else was damn near perfect, and I don't ever recall a previous football game that was so much fun.

_NFL 2K1_ arrived the next year as Dreamcast's most hotly anticipated title. And it was absolutely spectacular. We were long since resigned to the fact that each season's _Madden_ would be 95% the old game, with only a couple tweaks here and there (and usually one bad idea that would be scrapped the next year, like that one year they tried quarterback "high beams"). Visual Concepts would have none of that. They hurled so many changes to _NFL 2K1_ that it felt like we skipped five seasons at once. Clearly this studio spent the entire year studying what worked and what didn't.

I think this is the real reason _NFL 2K1_ is remembered by many as the best in the series. That sense of surprise, of exceeding expectations, was a breath of fresh air. It was a revelation, and I think sports gamers quickly became jaded and expected the same product every season. Forget _Madden's_ cynical cash cow scheme. This was now the football videogame for real sports fans.

It's a real shame, then, that Sega was forced to retire the Dreamcast in early 2001 and get out of the hardware business. They had a spectacular system and a roster of modern classics, especially the _2K_ sports titles. This basically meant that _2K2_ would be the "re-organizing" season, as the games would have to be ported to Sony Playstation 2 and Microsoft XBox.

Because of this, I think it's easy to understand if _NFL 2K2_ was forgotten or overlooked by the fans when fall 2001 arrived. The Dreamcast faithful, still feeling bruised, might have clung to _2K1_ a little more tightly. That was our last pure game, the last title that was ours alone. Now it has to be shared with all those Sony fanboys who bought into the PS2 hype. A lot of us never got over that; as far as I'm concerned, Dreamcast kicks PS2 to the curb, regardless of Sony's retail success.

Visual Concept's _NFL 2K_ series would continue, and arguably reached its zenith with _NFL 2K5_. Yes, I'm cranky that late hits were taken out of the game, but by all reasonable standards, it's the best football videogame ever made. And judging by sales, sports fans felt the same way, too. It was now EA's turn to screw over the public the way Sony screwed over Dreamcast. Electronic Arts secured exclusive licenses with the NFL and the NFLPA, killing off any potential (and better) rivals. _Madden_ became the only game in town, an asinine injustice that continues to this very day. Sega divested themselves from Visual Concepts, who continued on as 2K Games, where their basketball and hockey series continued to dominate for many years. But football was finished; a weak-kneed attempt at a revival, _All-Pro Football 2K8_ , fell flat on its face.

Which brings us back to _NFL 2K2_ , the final season on Dreamcast. It's very different when you collect games for systems that have died. You don't have to sweat out the idea of gambling $30 or $40 on an untested videogame, especially a sports sequel when you have last year's perfectly fine version in your hands. It's so much easier years later, when the disc only costs a couple bucks.

I found a used copy of _NFL 2K2_ for $1.99, which is a steal. My last used copy of _NFL 2K1_ cost $3.99, another crazy bargain, which means nothing is lost if I love one season and hate the other. Thankfully, I once again find myself marveling at Visual Concept's obsession with the sport. I don't think they've ever made a bad year of _NFL 2K_ , and it's absolutely criminal that the franchise was shot in the back.

I could write the long version of a formal review, where I offer bullet point after bullet point on the game's qualities, and why this final Dreamcast season was probably the best of the bunch. Or I could just cut to the chase and tell you it's more than worth the two bucks. For those worried that this was a "Madden sequel," with no real changes to offer, you can relax. There are many changes, though most of them are subtle ones. The end result is a smoother, faster, more realistic game of football.

Pity we can't play online anymore. But most kids back who played Dreamcast online were weasels. You're not missing much unless you're talking about _Quake 3 Arena_ , _Unreal Tournament_ or _Phantasy Star Online_.

The football players have been beefed up and sport larger polygon counts. This was a bit of a surprise, and a pleasant one at that. They're given more shading and lighting as well, which moves a bit away from the angular look of the first two games, though still not the pudgy slobs you get on Madden. The animation continues to amaze, and it seems hundreds more moves have been introduced on top of everything else. It's amazing, really. I'm surprised that no videogame critics ever pointed this out, but perhaps they never played it much. Most had moved on to PS2 and Xbox by then (systems which also saw their own versions of _NFL 2K2_ ).

Overall, _2K2_ plays a smarter game of football. Artificial Intelligence is tougher to crack, cheap plays have been removed (or more likely replaced with all new ones), the running game allows for a host of bumps and grooves, and it becomes a lot harder to tackle those slippery running backs. The "arcade" tag must've stuck in the designers' craws, because it's clear that the move towards a more realistic "simulation" began with _2K2_. It's still blazing and immediate in that way that _Madden_ will never be, but it's clear that the cheap arcadey moves are gone, replaced by a more strategic grasp of the game. It's better to play linebacker now and wait for the play to come to you, instead of bashing buttons on the D-line. Offense won't succeed with long bombs and slants; you really need to mix things up, lest the computer-controlled players cut you down. You really need to think a bit more about what you're doing.

I still think _NFL 2K2_ holds up nicely to the later instalments in the series, just as Dreamcast holds its own against all the videogame consoles that followed. It hasn't been the cutting edge for ages, so that ego trip is history. All that's left is the pure game itself. And a lot of close finishes and surprise moments that dazzle and thrill. Oh, how I have missed this rush.

### NHL All-Star Hockey

There were bad Sega Saturn videogames, and there were bad Sega Saturn games. Devoted fans have always insisted that Sega's console unfairly got the shaft in the 32-bit era, but there's a very simple reason why Sony's Playstation steamrolled its competition: Sega was churning out some really bad games.

Case in point: _NHL All-Star Hockey_. This was released late in 1995, sometime around the holiday season. PSX was all that anyone would talk about, and poor Saturn, despite some good games in _Virtua Fighter Remix_ , _Daytona USA_ , _Panzer Dragoon_ , and Worldwide Soccer, was struggling. The hardware was a wreck, and too many games seemed to be struggling. VF and Daytona are the better-known examples, but at least the polygon glitching didn't ruin the gameplay, which was exemplary. Then the supply of games slowed to a trickle, divided between the underwhelming ( _Virtua Racing_ ), the unnecessary ( _Myst_ , _NBA Jam TE_ ), and the awful ( _Ghen War_ , _Black Fire_ ). Sega's hockey game was the worst of the whole rotten bunch.

_NHL All-Star Hockey_ brought me to within an inch of selling my Saturn for a Playstation. It was damn near the last straw. This may possibly be the single worst sports game ever made. I'm serious.

Chances are you've never seen this game in action. Imagine a darkened hockey rink, one that struggled to even move, one that was barely lit. Did Sega forget to turn on the lights? Can the Saturn not even properly render an ice rink without glitching and chopping apart? Then the players come onto the ice, and you notice something very, very weird: they're all 2D sprites.

Sure, it was still some time before developers went fully polygonal on the sports games, but you could look at Sony's _NFL Gameday_ and see a quality, next-gen product. The sprites in _NHL All-Star Hockey_ were freaking cardboard cutouts. I don't think they even drew the players at different angles, just the left and the right. Do you remember those table-top hockey games, with the bars and knobs? That's exactly was it was like.

_Paper Mario: The Hockey Game_.

I'm probably not remembering correctly, but the player sprite animation was terrible and virtually non-existent. The graphics from EA's _NHL Hockey_ games on my Genesis were better than this.

Still, you hope that somehow the gameplay will redeem itself, just as quality gameplay saved many Saturn games such as _Pebble Beach Golf Links_ and _Virtua Racing_ and the aforementioned others. Forget it. The game played like bollocks, complete utter bollocks. You're pretty much forced to pull out the dictionary to find swear words to describe just how bad and unplayable it is.

Basic fundamental gameplay — passing, skating, shooting — simply does not exist. It's what Catholics call "the mystery of faith." Why doesn't my player complete a pass? How am I supposed to control my player competently? How do I score a goal in this thing? Any why the heck won't someone turn on the lights in this rusty shed? All you can really do is light a candle, burn some incense, say a short prayer and meditate on the mysteries of the universe.

What happened to Sega? They made a lot of good sports videogames on the Genesis. You would think this was the work of complete amateurs, not the cocky rebels who stole half the videogame market from Nintendo.

Well, there's still some good comedy to come from _NHL All-Star Hockey_. My favorite bit is Coach LeBeau. Coach LeBeau hosts a video segment during one of the intermissions between periods. This really is one of the classics of FMV, right up there with _Dueling Firemen_.

Coach LeBeau lurching in the locker room, dishing out advice to you on how to win. Important things, like how to properly skate, and how to keep control of the puck. Did you know that you can use the blades of your skates to kick the puck around? I'll bet you never knew that. Did you also know that this advice is completely worthless in this game? You can't do any of those things! Surprise!

The great thing about Coach Lebeau was his temper. Man, oh, man, is this guy always grouchy. Was he related to Ditka? The opening to his segment is an ESPN-style video montage; one of the clips shows the Coach smashing a chair. Damn, he must have been shown the videogame he was starring in, and realized that his show business career was already toast. No wonder he's in a foul mood. I don't blame him.

### Nintendo Wii U: Darkness on the Edge of Town

Is that all there is? I'm still sitting in a chair and scratching my head after watching Nintendo's all-important E3 presentation for their new system. I have been a critic of Nintendo's Wii U since it was first unveiled, but I was still hoping they could prove me wrong, persuade me to the merits of their case, share their grand vision for this bulky tablet controller. Always expecting a massive software library, I am surprised and disappointed to discover so few titles. Nintendo can be brilliant and innovative, but they can also be self-absorbed and lazy. They've been that way for years.

In 2006, Nintendo unveiled the Wii with a large and highly impressive library of new and exciting games that took advantage of the revolutionary controller: _Wii Sports_ , _Wii Play_ , _Excite Truck_ , _WarioWare, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, Elebits_ , _Trauma Center_ , _Kororinpa_ , _Cooking Mama_ , _Red Steel_. Add in gameplay teasers for _Super Smash Brothers_ , _Metroid Prime 3_ , and _Super Mario Galaxy_ , and innovative features like Virtual Console, and the Wii was a guaranteed smash hit.

In 2012, the Wii U has been unveiled with damn near nothing. Another _Wii Fit_. Another collection of mini-game tech demos. Another vanity project for Shigeru Miyamoto ( _Pikmin 3_ ) that will never sell. And another 2D _New Super Mario Brothers_ , which is easily the system's strongest launch title. Even then, doesn't it just look like Nintendo has recycled the art assets from _Super Mario Wii_? Be honest: this videogame was cobbled together in less than a month. You can tell when Nintendo's software designers don't want to do something. Lazy, lazy, lazy.

Meanwhile, the hyped shift to "hardcore games" was met with a whimper. Here's last year's _Batman_ , and last year's _Assassin's Creed_ , and a couple more gun games that are identical to the other 50,000 gun games on the market. That's all? The game industry threw a collective tantrum for six years, bawling for Nintendo to provide them another PS360 clone to publish their horribly bloated cinematic games. Eventually, Nintendo folded, and bent over backwards to support third-party publishers. The industry will now respond with nothing.

And the hardcore whiners on internet forums and video game media, the babies who screamed and cried as Nintendo made billions selling to grandparents and soccer moms and lapsed classic gamers, will they now show up? No. Have this mantra bronzed and hung on the company wall: Hardcore Gamers Never Deliver. Any company that plans their business strategy around this community is doomed to failure. "Give us another Zelda! Give us another Metroid! Give us another Goldeneye! Give us another NBA Jam! Give us another Donkey Kong!" Nintendo provided the sequels, exactly as demanded, and none of those games sold worth a damn (only _Donkey Kong_ was moderately successful).

The hardcore set will find an excuse, any excuse, to back away from the Wii U. You can release every AAA PS360 title on Nintendo's platform, and none of them will sell. Comic Book Guy will find a single hair out of place somewhere, and then everything will be ruined this sucks I want my money back!

This leaves the Wii's traditional audience, the ones who did pony up the cash for the _Wii Series_ and _Super Mario Bros._ and _Just Dance_. They're probably still waiting for Nintendo to do something about that Wii Remote. Remember the Wiimote? Remember the Wii Remote Plus? These devices were supposed to revolutionize videogames, but instead were only used sparingly before being tossed out.

How much do you want to bet the exact thing happens to the Wii U tablet? One or two demo titles, a Miyamoto vanity project, a sequel or two of classic hits adapted to the new controller, and then....nothing. Miyamoto will be bored, take it away, bring in the next trinket to amuse me! Bring me Hassenpfeffer! Nintendo appears lost, confused, laying out several bets at once and hoping one of them hits big. This is not a winning strategy. It's a symptom of an industry in terminal decline.

I've written and talked about the idea that videogames could someday go extinct, just go the way of pinball machines and drive-in movies.This idea has never felt more real to me than now. The dedicated games console — a paradigm that has stood since the 1970s — could become a thing of the past. Microsoft is adapting to a post-videogame future, as Xbox evolves into the set-top box Bill Gates has dreamed of for decades. Sony is trying to follow suit, but they're in such a colossal mess (the Playstation 3 was a financial debacle) that it's unsure how aggressively they'll push this front. Have they quietly abandoned the PS Vita already? It's about to be shoveled into a grave next to the Move controller. And software publishers that once numbered by the dozens have shrunk down to a handful of major players who churn out the exact same franchise content over and over, with no variation or innovation. There is only the need to extract more money from consumers by any means necessary.

Oh, look, another gun game with zombies. Another videogame sequel that's only half as interesting as the one that was made in the 1990s. Another videogame that wants to be a movie. Those new customers who loved to play _Wii Sports Bowling_? Screw 'em. This industry wants nothing to do with the dreaded "casuals" and any hope of expanding the market. And so here we lie, at the darkness on the edge of town. No one here gets out alive.

### Old School and New School

It seems to me that videogames are being divided into two major camps, the Old School and the New School. As I'm sure you can guess, I'm a defender of Old School videogames, and I was thinking about this while window shopping local stores, as well as listening to some Terence McKenna lectures on James Joyce and Marshall McLuhan. I'd like to take a look at two videogame examples that demonstrate, for me, at least, the distinction between these two different theories and why I prefer one paradigm over the other.

Our first example is Ubisoft's _Tom Clancy's HAWX 2_ for the Nintendo Wii. It's an air combat game that was released late last year to a cool reception, and pretty much died at retail. I see that it's now a $20 budget title, which grabbed my interest, since I'm such a big fan of airplane combat games. Unfortunately, the game is wholly a product of the New School, with all the unfortunate baggage that entails.

The problem with New School games is that they are trying to be something they're not. They're trying to be movies instead of videogames. This has been a particular obsession ever since the rise of CD-ROM, but really took off with the rise of Sony Playstation and became dominant around the time the Sega Dreamcast died. Today, videogames are designed entirely around the "cinematic experience," with cutscenes, voice acting, dramatic camerawork, and so on. The problem is that we are trying to graft the "hot" media of film onto the "cold" media of video games. It cannot work. Print is not radio. Radio is not television. Videogames are not film.

Observe the _HAWX 2_ opening sequence. Note how long the "movie" plays before we even see any actual gameplay. We have to watch the introduction, with military quotes and credits for the voice actors, strangely playing out like _Hot Shots_ taken seriously. Everything is coated in Hollywood "military" music. After a small eternity, we finally get to the game, like a candy buried under a dozen wrappers...and it's a forced tutorial sequence. Why do all these modern videogames have forced tutorials, and such pointless ones at that? Whatever happened to the instruction manual?

The key is that we are observers, not participants. We are passive, not active. I may be watching cutscenes on a videogame console, but I'm not playing anything. I'm just watching another movie clip. And once I do get my turn to play, the rules of the game are structured completely around the movie scenes. Everything is created in service to character and plot, not the immediacy of emergent gameplay. Perhaps this is why New School games rely so heavily on puzzles. Puzzles can be scripted, their outcome is predetermined. There is no room for surprise, no room for improvisation, no room for free will. It's easy work for software developers, but it makes for a pretty lousy experience.

To me, that's very unfortunate, because I really want to like a game like _HAWX 2_. It's clear that a great amount of work was put into its creation, the development team is extremely talented — the graphics are astonishing for any kid who grew up on Atari — and Heaven only knows how difficult it is to eke out a living in today's videogame industry. I want these programmers, designers and artists to succeed. I want the medium itself to succeed and expand. But I don't believe success lies within the New School paradigm of cinematic-oriented product.

Now let's move on to the Old School. My second example needs no introduction: Sega's _Afterburner II_. Yeah! This is one of the greatest Old School videogames ever created. This is a perfect illustration of what arcade games do best: fast thrills, exciting action, narrow escapes from sudden death. There is no dawdling around, no claims of artistic greatness. Designers and programmers didn't have that luxury in the past, because their arcade game had to compete against 30 other arcade machines for the players' attention (and money). This is not a realm of pontificating and philosophizing. This is the realm of the iconic Now.

I remember this video arcade in downtown Duluth back in the 1980s that would hand out free tokens for every "A" and "B" grade you earned on your report card. It was a terrific motivation. They had an upright _Afterburner II_ , and it really was the coolest thing ever for a 14-year-old. Graphics were packed with color and detail, large airplanes exploded in bursts of flame, and we were barely dodging enemy missiles and spinning barrel rolls while firing back. This was exciting. This was fun. I liked to imagine myself as a daredevil pilot, cheating death and saving the world.

Is _Afterburner_ shallow? Yes, most definitely, and that's a very good question. But all Old School games don't have to be that way; there is tremendous room for variety and depth. The freedom of improvisation that is given to the player is given to the programmer and designer as well. We must be careful not to follow the wrong path in the pursuit of "depth." Depth and complexity are found in the content of the gameplay, not the storyteller's vision. "Shallow" and "deep" are more complex than they seem.

For me, a New School video game like _HAWX 2_ is more shallow than _Afterburner II_. I feel like I'm being led by the hand down a straight line. I feel like I have no freedom, no room for surprise. Whenever I get hit by the Creepers in _Minecraft_ , it's always sudden and unexpected, and I jump out of my seat with my heart in my throat. And it's a fantastic rush. Creepers can put the zap on you anywhere, anytime. Planes and missiles can strike from any angle in _Afterburner_. Pirates can steal my crystite in _M.U.L.E._ My quarterback can get injured in _John Madden Football 92_ , and then the ambulance plows over all the players. For me, this is the stuff of life. This is fun.

Simply put, I don't want to be a passive observer. I want to be an active participant. I want to be a player.

### Pac-Man Collection

Just as every home movie collection is never complete without _Citizen Kane_ and _Lawrence of Arabia_ , no videogame console is complete without a version of _Pac-Man_. It remains, simply, one of the essentials that everyone should be familiar with.

_Pac-Man Collection_ is the fourth classic game compilation on the Gameboy Advance. Namco's first effort was a port of _Namco Museum_. That cartridge was wildly uneven, perhaps owing to the small screen on Nintendo's handheld. For their next attempt, they chose instead to focus on games from the _Pac-Man_ series. Personally, I think this formula works, but Namco commits the same crime as everyone else: there simply are too few titles.

Included in the package are the original 1980 _Pac-Man_ , 1987's _Pac-Mania_ , 1993's _Pac-Attack_ , and _Pac-Man Arrangement_ , from the 1995 _Namco Classics_ arcade. This is a fine selection, but there are some terrible omissions; given the scrawny size of these old games, there is simply no excuse not to compile the entire series at once. The only justification is money, money, more money. It's so easy to charge another twenty dollars for the old cash cows; the corporate bean counters must feel guilty for not thinking of it sooner. The consumer, err, gamer, gets stuck with the bill. Such is the way videogame companies repay their fans' loyalty.

Why not include all the classic _Pac_ games? It would be perfect to show the progression of the series in its heyday. _Pac-Man_ is, after all, the first genuine pop culture icon of the computer age. Why not remind the world of the wonderful extended family Toru Iwatani birthed all those years ago? Show us Namco's own _Super Pac-Man_ , _Pac & Pal_, and _Pac-Land_. Show us Midway's unofficial titles, starting with _Ms. Pac-Man_ , the legendary hacker classic; _Baby Pac-Man_ , with the miniature pinball machine; _Jr. Pac-Man_ , whose scrolling playfields are perfect for a handheld; _Professor Pac-Man_ , the little-seen trivia game; _Pac-Man Plus_ , the black sheep of the family; _Pc-Land_ , the scrolling platform we pioneer and _Super Mario's_ John the Baptist.

Compared to that legacy, Namco's decision to include these three sequels seems somewhat tame. Of course, this collection is fine, but it's like listening to only a handful of songs from _The White Album_ , a sampler when what you want is the whole meal.

The original _Pac-Man_ is, naturally, the best of the lot. You have the option of playing in fullscreen or with a scrolling playfield, but since the Advance is so small, using full-screen is unpractical. Everything is a perfect copy of the original arcade, from the ghosts to the fruits to the intermissions. Over 37 years later, I still love moving that little yellow ball around the maze. It's easily worth the cost of the full cartridge for this game alone.

Of the other games in _Pac-Man Collection_ , _Pac-Attack_ is a fine puzzler in the _Tetris_ tradition. The premise of dropping blocks littered with ghosts is clever, and the real joy comes from setting Pac loose on a long string of blue ghosts, causing chain reactions to the blocks. Even though the game is a glorified novelty (there's no real variety in blocks, and thus no deep strategy), _Pac-Attack_ was a passable game when it appeared on the 16-bit consoles, and is still good for short bursts.

_Pac-Mania_ is a spot-on translation of the 1987 arcade, Namco's first official sequel that stuck to the original formula. The catch is that the game is presented in an isometric angle, with a 3D Pac-Man and army of ghosts chasing around the different mazes. This game was largely overlooked in its time, which is a shame. The pacing is a little slow, and the ghosts are dim-witted, but munching through the brightly colored landscapes has its charms. I also have to mention the music, which remains as catchy as anything I've heard today.

Finally, we come to _Pac-Man Arrangement_ , the best and the worst thing about this compilation. This version originally appeared in one of the _Namco Classics_ arcades from the mid '90s, which offered their earliest hits with updated bells and whistles. This new _Pac_ features a score of wonderfully painted mazes, dots that float and shimmer, and a _Pac-Man_ who bounces and floats with a swift glee. This feels so modern, so fluid; even the classic _Pac_ maze is included for one stage. If I could just play that stage over and over, I'd never ask for another thing again.

Then Namco proceeds to wreck everything. Do you know the feeling you get when a really great movie is ruined by a tacked-on "happy ending?" That's exactly what happens to _Pac-Man Arrangement_. First, the game cannot be played forever. After about 20 boards or so, you face off against a final boss, and then the credits roll. What nonsense is this? Why can't I just play forever? Why does there have to be an "ending"? Were the suits convinced that no one would notice their game without the conventions of modern games? Gamers today are coddled. Publishers are so afraid of turning off customers that they hold you by the hand at every step. This isn't _Tomb Raider_ , and the point isn't merely to see the sights and then leave; high scores are meant to be broken, and I want to play as long as I want. The final insult: unlimited continues. Who needs skills when you can press the Start button and win anyway? This fault alone mauls _Arrangement_ ; it defeats the whole point to playing.

Perhaps it's time for the hackers to go to work. After all, it's been three decades since they first hacked _Pac-Man_ , and the result was the greatest video arcade game of all time. With a little bit of tinkering, someone could recapture that genius.

### Pebble Beach Golf Links: Revenge of the Walrus

_Pebble Beach Golf Links_ was one of the early titles from Sega Saturn's notoriously early launch in the summer of 1995. An installment of the popular golf sim series by T&E Soft (which appeared on the PC), this was the very definition of a "launch title." That is, it's a videogame that is serviceable, not very impressive, and largely present to satisfy early adopters before the real software titles arrive.

My first impression with this game was at a local Funcoland (remember those?), and was none too impressed. With the imminent arrival of Sony's Playstation taking all the buzz, Sega's early Saturn launch felt like a desperation move, and such wimpy software titles were not winning us over. However, first impressions can be deceiving, and once I bought a Saturn myself (because of _Panzer Dragoon_ , which just knocked my socks off), I picked up _Pebble Beach_ , and it grew on me. Within a few weeks, my opinion completely turned around, and I saw this humble sports game as one of Saturn's early triumphs.

_Pebble Beach Golf Links_ is still easily available at retro game stores for very little money, usually under five bucks. I think that's a great bargain, and heartily recommend it to any Sega Saturn owners or classic videogame collectors. It just plays a very solid game of golf, and even if only one 18-hole course is available, it's a very nice course, one of the best. You can't do much better than Pebble Beach.

One of the main selling points to this game is the inclusion of PGA golfer Craig "The Walrus" Stadler, who appears in video clips, narrating each upcoming hole on the course, and even competing against you. Now this is where I really love this game, and not for a reason you'd expect: Stadler is a real jerk. He's a selfish, condescending know-it-all who knows you'll never play at his level, and we're all just lucky to bask in his greatness. We all know that Stadler himself will never reach the heights of a Tiger Woods. Especially him. And so Walrus takes it out on us.

Playing against Stadler definitely brings out his bad side. I know the developers wanted to inject some friendly competition, but his snide comments and taunting just become comical. "You're gonna have to practice a lot more," he sneers when you botch that third hole. "Think you can beat that?" he boasts when his tee shot on the seventh lands inches from the hole. I suppose it's meant to inspire me. But I just want to whack him with my club and knock him into the ocean. In that sense, yes, it's very satisfying to beat him.

The graphics in _Pebble Beach Golf Links_ serve as a time capsule of that era, when 3D polygon graphics and CD-ROM technology were new, and software developers had yet to figure it all out. There are digitized graphics and full-motion video clips (which Americans were obsessed with at the time), pre-rendered CGI sequences, and even some rudimentary polygon graphics that never quite held up. I tend to turn off the "ball cam" when playing, and stick with the basic view. Graphics are quite colorful, richly textured, and sprites of your golfer and other objects are very large. Much of the background artwork is pixelated, and this is, again, a snapshot of that era. It would have been nice if T&E Soft had rendered new graphics for the Saturn, instead of simply porting from the PC version. But this is what launch titles are often like. Again, we're only passing time until _Virtua Fighter 2_ drops.

Two of my favorite features in this game: the music, which is laid back, mellow, almost like "elevator music" but without the "please stay on the line" irritation; and the mid-game break, which shows off a series of digitized postcards of the Pebble Beach clubhouse, then allows you to get up and stretch your legs for a "coffee break." It's a very nice touch. This is especially helpful for a long session with your friends.

The only real complaint I ever had with _Pebble Beach Golf Links_ was that judging the power of your swings was difficult to gauge; but that's true of just about every golf videogame ever made. This genre has barely changed at all since US Gold dropped _Leaderboard Golf_ onto the 8-bit home computers 30 years ago. The Nintendo Wii Remote offered some needed innovations, but even then, the core gameplay hasn't budged. This is probably why I remember this title for its little intangibles; the little touches are all you've got. _Pebble Beach_ is the textbook definition of "hidden gem," and Sega Saturn owners should definitely scrounge up the five bucks to add it to their software library.

### Polarium

_Polarium_ is a good example of a game system's first generation of software. Here is a title that takes advantage of the Nintendo DS touch screen (indeed, builds the whole game around it), but the whole experience remains sloppy and unfocused. The crusher is that this could have been an excellent little puzzler if the playtesters had bothered to show up.

The game is based around the idea of flipping squares — white to black, black to white — with the DS stylus. Horizontal lines of the same color are removed from the playfield and score points. _Polarium_ offers two different game modes: a standard, _Tetris_ -style arcade puzzler where groups of blocks drop down from above, and a challenge mode, where the player must solve 100 puzzles by removing all the blocks with one pen stroke.

Of these two modes, challenge is the better by far. Perhaps because there is no pressure to clear the playfield in a set time, it fosters a real sit-and-think approach. And the movement of the stylus is fairly smooth enough to allow you to doodle your way to a solution. The difficulty of these puzzles range from embarrassingly easy to bafflingly hard. There are 100 puzzles to solve, and I suspect you have to be a bit of a sadist to actually work your way through all of them.

Perhaps this is the fatal flaw of the black/white design. There are so many patterns you can create before the puzzles become too difficult and abstract. The word "gimmick" comes to mind; then again, I'm reminded that puzzle games are very often difficult games. The great _Chip's Challenge_ is a perfect example, as is the landmark Sokoban series (a puzzler whose influence is so far-reaching that nearly every modern videogame involves a crate-moving scene at some point).

_Polarium's_ real crime comes from the arcade puzzler mode. I'm not sure if this mode was always part of the design, or if it was merely hobbled together at the last second. Clearly, what we see here is a breakdown in basic game design and play testing. _The Son of the Bride of Zoo Keeper Quest Mode!_

Here's the problem. When you want to flip a series of blocks, you simply draw a line with your stylus. But in order to finish the line and switch those blocks over, you need to tap the final block again. Then, as the white blocks switch over to black, or vice versa, you must wait for the animation to complete before you can begin another line.

In the casual challenge mode, this isn't an issue, because you're only making one movement. But you can imagine how many problems this presents for an arcade mode, when blocks relentlessly move downward from the top of the screen. Why, pray tell, am I being handcuffed? This isn't some lowly computer that can barely draw the graphics.

Notice that blocks don't fall down randomly, or one at a time. They fall down in set patterns, usually three rows at a time. I think the idea is that you're supposed to eliminate each series of blocks before the next stack falls down. This has two main problems: first, the game devolves into a simple series of patterns to memorize, and two, if you ever fall behind, you're screwed. It's fiendishly difficult to catch up before the playfield fills up with blocks.

The great strength of _Tetris_ , and all the best videogames, is its improvisational feel. You're not being forced to play the way the designers want you to. _Polarium's_ designers are more interested in forcing your hand. What good is this? You can just imagine how this game should properly play, allowing you to tap and draw blocks at your own pace, finding brilliant solutions to impossible situations, clearing the screen of blocks at the last possible moment.

None of that happens in puzzle mode. Instead, you're forced to click around and wait for the damn animations to finish so you can play again. Not that the game will bother to wait for you. Oh, no.

Can somebody tell the Quality Control department to step away from the foosball table and do their damned jobs? Is that too much to ask for? This for a game that retailed $40 new? You've got to be kidding me.

### Sega Dreamcast Day

Happy Sega Dreamcast Day! On September 9, 1999, Sega released the Dreamcast in the United States to a massively successful launch. It appeared, for a short time, that Sega was back on top after years of self-inflicted wounds had crippled the company, a return to the greatness of the Genesis days. Sadly, it would not last, and after a blazingly fast eighteen months, Sega would pull the plug and reform as a software-only developer. Sega and videogames have never been the same; apart from the Nintendo Wii (a comparable revival in many ways), everything has been downhill ever since. The hardcore nerds and corporate clods have taken over and completely trashed the place.

I remember September 9 perfectly. I was working at my college job as a waiter at the Dinkytown Pizza Hut, and when business was slow, I had one of the delivery drivers take us down to the nearest Target. I purchased a Dreamcast, a second controller, a Virtual Memory Unit, and a stack of videogames. Which ones? Let's see... _Soul Calibur_ , _NFL 2K_ , _Ready 2 Rumble Boxing_ , _Hydro Thunder_ and _Trickstyle_. All games were fantastic, except for the last one, which was a clunky, half-completed mess. I later returned it for _Sonic Adventure_ and never looked back.

I've been a Dreamcast freak since that first day. I loved the console's sleek and compact design, I loved the controllers, I loved the idea of playing online, and I loved the videogames. While it was the first arrival of the "next generation" consoles, quickly followed by Sony Playstation 2, Nintendo GameCube and Microsoft Xbox, it was always the best in my eyes. The games were simply more fun, hardware power be damned.

I think Dreamcast was the last "arcade" oriented videogame system. By that I mean it was the final link to the old video arcades, which was where videogames were born and blossomed. Much like a good pop song, these games are fast, quick, to the point, and endlessly addicting. By 1999, the medium was evolving with the technology, more closely resembling Hollywood blockbuster movies. You win some, but you lose some, and I feel that videogames today have lost their immediacy, their old thrills. Everything stopped being fun when insecure fanboy nerds took over, desperate to validate the childhood hobby that they carried into adulthood, and making a wreck of the entire industry in the process.

The best Dreamcast titles were the multiplayer hits, and that's probably why it remains such a beloved system. As gaming has embraced the online realm, it has sacrificed the idea of multiple players in the same room, on the same couch, laughing and knocking each other around. Sony and Microsoft have lost touch with this treasure, and I think this is the key reason why Nintendo found success with the Wii. It's more fun to play together with family and friends than to simply bury yourself in a basement, hiding behind a stack of computers and empty bags of chips like a pathetic _South Park_ parody.

If you find a fan and ask them to name the essential titles, you'll find yourself on the receiving end of a very, very long list. Whenever I have some extra spending money, I find it difficult not to walk out of a store with a dozen new Dreamcast discs under my arm. Adult responsibilities, thankfully, keep those impulses at arm's length. Well, most of the time.

This isn't to say that Sega Dreamcast didn't have its share of disappointments and failures. There are plenty of those on any videogame machine. But this little white box has a surprisingly high batting average. There are so many games that are brilliant, innovative, or just plain fun. Much of this a result of the console's painfully short life. Sega was bleeding money and desperately struggling to stay afloat. The Dreamcast was their final gamble before the Sony juggernaut and their heavily-hyped Playstation 2, and they threw everything they had into the mix. The results speak for themselves. And most Sega fans will agree that the company hasn't been nearly as good since 2001, when they were forced out of the hardware racket. Sega is a shell of its former self today, and it's positively shocking to see the difference. They captured a rebel spirit in videogames that has never been seen since the 1990s.

There's a reason so many Dreamcast freaks will never touch a Playstation, even today. There's always this feeling that we were robbed, that Dreamcast was mugged in the night. Yes, the PS2 was more powerful, but Dreamcast has the better videogames. I'd have to struggle to find six games on Sony's black monolith I would want to play (not counting classic game compilations). Typically, those would be the weirder, quirkier titles like _Shadow of the Colossus_ and _Ico_ and _Katamari Damacy_ , videogames that would have been at home on Dreamcast.

And don't get me started on Playstation 4, Xbox One or Wii U. Those hunks of metal couldn't tie Sega's shoes. _Soul Calibur_ and _NFL2K1_ can still kick their shiny metal cans.

### Sega Saturn Shoot-Em-Up Roundtable, Vol. I

Instead of writing single reviews for every Sega Saturn videogame that exists in my vast collection (cough, downloads, ahem), I've decided that I should group several short essays together in a single piece, so that we can speed through the system's extensive video game library more quickly. For this installment, we'll look at five titles from Saturn's most popular genre: arcade shoot-em-ups!

Dodonpachi

Cave

1997

Oh, Yeah! _Dodonpachi_ , Cave's manic, bullet-hell masterpiece. The heaviest, loudest, fastest, most intense shoot-em-up ever created. It's such a wild ride, so gloriously and insanely over-the-top, so wildly colorful and luminous. This is the videogame equivalent of slamming down Red Bull and Jolt Cola at a rave party while hopped up on sugar pills. It's a gloriously delirious roller coaster ride you can barely control, and it's just about the most exciting game ever made for the Sega Saturn.

I don't even think you conquer or master _Dodonpachi_ so much as survive. The very act of cheating death is a massive rush. How the heck did I escape that?! Literally every pixel on the screen is moving, flashing, firing, or exploding. And you're always caught in smack in the middle. This feels like a videogame that begins where all the other shoot-em-ups ended, and instead of retreading the same ancient cliches of the genre, cranks all the dials to maximum, gleefully reveling in the beauty of pure chaos.

One thing I appreciate about _Dodonpachi_ is how it discards the worn out cliche of collecting power-up icons, trying to chase down wandering goodies without being blown to pieces. Most shooters use the same weapons, anyway, so what's the point? Better to give you all the weapons you need at the onset, and build up from that. The weapons are luminous, brightly colored, and explode enemy tanks and spaceships with a highly satisfying crash. It's akin to the sound of breaking glass, and there's that destructive glee of smashing for smashing's sake, as though you were set loose in a glassware shop and allowed to wreak havoc. Of course, in this case, the glassware can fire back in equal number. This is a fair fight, my friends.

On Sega Saturn, the shoot-em-up kings are _Radiant Silvergun_ and _Soukyugurentai_. That's the near-universal consensus. Just after that, I would rank _Batsugun_ , _Battle Garegga_ , and _Dodonpachi_. I think Toaplan's _Batsugun_ is the pioneer, the revolutionary, and it has the best music. I think _Garegga_ is the most technically accomplished title, and the best Saturn arcade conversion. But _Dodonpachi_ is the most fun. Pick this up for your Saturn, play in "Tate" mode, and just lie down on the couch and have a blast.

I see that Apple's iPod is now getting support from Cave, including the latest _Dodonpachi_ sequels. If that isn't proof of a sea change in the videogame world, kids, you aren't paying attention. Interesting times.

Donpachi

Cave

1996

_Dodonpachi_ on the Saturn is spectacular. Its predecessor, _Donpachi_ , is decidedly less so, and it's unfortunate as it's due to unforced errors by the programming team.

Cave's first videogame was a solid arcade shooter that sat at a moment of transition from _Batsugun_ to _DDP_. It's a very good game, definitely a lot of fun in the arcades and on the MAME emulator, but not spectacular. The design team appears to be in shock from the death of Toaplan and still deciding which new direction to follow. Think of _Led Zeppelin III_ : a very solid album, but a transitional one, sandwiched between two rock masterpieces.

The Saturn translation of _Donpachi_ stumbles a bit, and this is where my problems lie. Even though Cave was among the stronger Saturn developers, they struggled with Sega's famously complicated hardware design as much as anyone, and these issues weren't limited to 3D polygon games. _Donpachi_ suffers from a surprising amount of slowdown, which became a rarity on the 32-bit consoles. It's more common on the 8-bit and 16-bit machines, as the screen fills with enemy aircraft, tanks and rolling explosions.

Years ago, I wrote about Saturn _Donpachi_ for one of my blogs and was frustrated by the constant shuffling into half-speed mode. It ruined much of the experience for me, and I walked away feeling very grumpy, because I greatly enjoyed the arcade version on MAME. This time, however, the slowdown seemed less common, an occasional irritant instead of an endless drudge. I was able to play through the original stages and have a pretty fun time, despite the traffic jams.

It goes without saying that _Dodonpachi_ is superior in every way to this title. It also goes without saying that the Playstation version is much smoother and avoids most of the slowdown issues. Clearly, Cave was struggling to understand the Saturn. Their performance is much tighter on _Dodonpachi_ and _Steep Slope Sliders_ ; this effort is more of a learning curve. The diehard fans might enjoy themselves. Most everyone else will be too easily distracted by the 300 other shoot-em-ups on Saturn to really bother much.

In the Hunt

SIMS and Irem

1996

_In the Hunt_ is another shoddy conversion of a solid arcade game. In this case, it's a side-scrolling submarine shooter that is, essentially, a test run for _Metal Slug_ — both games created by the same development team. The graphics are nearly identical, with the same tightly woven graphics, heavy on details and animations, and massive explosions everywhere. Only the goofy humor is missing. Overall, a very good arcade game and one worth checking out.

The Saturn version, as I've said, is shoddy. Translation duties were handed off to software studio SIMS, who clearly didn't have the chops to program for Sega's famously complicated beast. Graphics are perfect, but the slowdown...ugh, did I say "slowdown?" I meant "ssslowww dooownnn." The entire game just chugs and gasps and drags for air. It's like watching a chain smoker try to run. Maybe you can somehow get through this and slog on through, and if so, good for you. I tried my best and I couldn't. My patience had run out, and life is too short to be stuck on the couch playing broken videogames.

So, yeah, I'm starting to remember why the Sony Playstation kicked Sega Saturn's can. The PSX version of _In the Hunt_ is far superior, too. Good Jorb, losers.

Kyukyoku Tiger 2 Plus

Takumi

1997

I'm going to get all the bad reviews out of the way. And this leads me to _Kyukyoku Tiger 2 Plus_ , which is another disappointment. I really wanted to like this one. This title, in fact, is the sequel to one of my all-time favorite arcade games, _Twin Cobra_ , a classic that, to my eyes, has always been the definitive Toaplan shoot-em-up. It's a military-themed combat game from the days when every videogame wanted to be _Rambo_ , and live out that 1980s American fantasy of re-fighting (and, this time, winning) the Vietnam War. So, yeah, this was basically unresolved national trauma repackaged as pop entertainment. With lots of cool guns and tanks and explosions.

There have been countless arcade shooters where you fly through jungles and shoot tanks and copters, but no one did it better than _Twin Cobra_. It's the game that turned me into a diehard Toaplan fan, and that devotion was cemented on later shmup classics like _Truxton_ , _Fire Shark_ , and _Batsugun_. When Toaplan went bankrupt, it lived on through its children: Cave, Raizing, Takumi, and Gazelle. _Kyukyoku Tiger 2_ was actually in production at Toaplan when the company went under, and Takumi was allowed to finish the game and release it in the arcades under their own label.

I'm actually glad Toaplan never released this game; they went out on top with _Batsugun_ , and _KT2_ would have been a terrible final bow, like The Beatles' _Let It Be_ following after _Abbey Road_. Actually, yeah, that's the perfect analogy. This is Toaplan's _Let It Be_. It's a clunky, unattractive, poorly designed videogame, it fails on all fronts, and I'm left wondering how the masters of a genre could be so clumsy. _KT2_ plays out like a list of all my shmup peeves: your aircraft is too bulky, moves too slowly, the weapons are too weak, power-ups are too ineffective, level design is too uninspired and flat.

_KT2_ plays nothing like _Twin Cobra_. Even the graphics are weaker than the original, aside from some nifty scaling effects. Of all the Toaplan-related games on the Saturn (and I include the Children of Toaplan), this is by far the weakest.

Guardian Force

Success

1998

Now we'll turn around and look at another hidden gem in the Saturn library. _Guardian Force_ comes to us courtesy of Success, the folks responsible for the _Cotton_ series (including two excellent Saturn entries). This game gets overlooked in favor of the big name shooters, but I think it's a unique spin on the well-worn genre and a terrific video game. This is one of my favorite Saturn shoot-em-ups.

_Guardian Force_ begins as yet another vertical-scrolling shooter, but the rules soon bend and morph, and you find yourself in what can only be described as "omni-directional." Your vehicle is a tank with a rotating turret, and the game designers take this idea and run wild with it. Instead of squaring off against a boss vehicle in a typical standoff, you are often expected to move, rotate, dodge and escape all around the screen. As levels progress, obstacles and enemies arise from all directions, and the screen will suddenly begin scrolling horizontally or even diagonally. I can't even remember a single shooter that scrolled at angles.

For some reason, I'm reminded of Namco's arcade classic, _Assault_ , one of the greatest tank videogames ever made. Obviously, I'm also reminded of SNK's many military-themed action games like _Iron Tank_ and _Ikari Warriors_ and _Guerilla War_. Oh, and let's not forget Atari Games' _Vindicators_ , especially on the graphics. The cool neon colors scheme is impressive, helps to stand out, evokes a cool, futuristic landscape that stands apart from the crowded pack of Saturn shooters.

_Guardian Force_ is fast and fluid, is always challenging, full of surprises, and looks terrific on your television screen. I'm really having a lot of fun with this one, and I think you'll have a lot of fun, too.

### Sheep

_Sheep_ is a clear example of the early generations of Gameboy Advance titles. Many developers dusted off classic titles from yesteryear, spruced them up with an extra coat of paint, and sent them out the door to a new audience. For those of us who grew up during the age of the NES, Atari 800, Commodore 64, and Amiga, this was a godsend. We recognized greatness when we saw it.

The younger kids, on the other hand, either looked the other way or didn't even notice these games at all. Consumers, for the most part, flocked to the handful of brand-name titles and Super NES reissues. Sorry, kids, but you really missed out on some gems.

Now you can make up for that. A lot of these titles can be had for a song if you're willing to search them out: Archer Maclean's _Dropzone_ and _International Karate Advance_ ; Cinemaware classics _Wings_ , _The Three Stooges_ , _Defender of the Crown_ (what genius passed on a 4-player mode?); _Broken Sword: Shadow of the Templars_ ; Speedball 2: Brutal Deluxe. Some are great, some merely have great moments. All are worth discovering.

_Sheep_ is a classic title from Europe from that fertile era when Europe put their own stamp on gaming. It's inventive, a little quirky, and probably only fun for short burst here and there. In other words, the perfect thing for a portable videogame system.

The premise involves using a sheepdog to herd groups of sheep through various obstacle courses. You chase the animals through hedges, over poles, around menacing machines that only seem to exist to mangle sheep, and straight into a waiting truck. It's a simple task to grasp, but of course proves more and more challenging as you progress.

The trick is that these sheep don't like to listen too well; they want to wander off and go running in every direction. You'll quickly discover that the real thrill lies in _Sheep's_ new Arrange Mode. This mode introduces different types of sheep, all with their own traits, ranging from playful to docile to rebellious. By keeping the herds together, you'll increase their skill levels, which make them more loyal to your dog and easier to control.

This adds a good amount of personality to _Sheep_ , similar to all the life-breeding games that popped up ever since the _Tamagotchi_ craze. Your choice of dogs also can be bred and grown, based on their relationship with the sheep. Keep losing the little spuds (which happens a lot later on), and you'll never progress properly, and everything just becomes harder. Likewise, you can pick up a stray sheep and carry them all the way to the truck, but that won't count toward precious experience points.

There are a lot of jumping over poles and being rocketed over water in every which way. It's an example of a puzzler that takes a basic premise and stretches it in as many directions as possible. I'll also admit to a certain satisfaction in herding a pack of sheep from the start to finish without losing any of them. The graphics probably won't leave an impression on anyone too young to remember the 16-bit era, and the game can become repetitious during long stretches, but for what it is, it succeeds.

### Sonic Rush: Junkie's Crash

Here's one question I've yet to find an answer to: what's the deal with Sonic the Hedgehog? Now here's one of the great videogame characters, arguably the most iconic pop character of the 1990s, and star of four of the greatest action-platformers of the 16-bit era. Then he disappeared for a number of years, only to make a major comeback in with _Sonic Adventure_ in 1999 and _Sonic Adventure 2_ in 2001. in years since, Sega's mascot has appeared in a number of console and handheld videogames, but the same nagging problem remains: the newer sequels just aren't very good. They're certainly nowhere near the level of _Sonic CD_ and _Sonic 3 & Knuckles_, and even the quality of the two Dreamcast games. What's the deal?

I've had _Sonic Rush_ on my Nintendo DS for a while now, and I've been willing to get my hopes up, since this is the first traditional Sonic game made by Sonic Team since the Genesis days. They've stubbornly stuck to the 3D realm while pawning the 2D _Sonic Advance_ trilogy to outside developers. So this is something of a homecoming of sorts, not unlike Nintendo's _New Super Mario Brothers_.

And, yet, I've found myself largely unimpressed with _Sonic Rush_ , and I'm trying to understand why. It's a videogame I want to enjoy, because I still have a lot of affection for the spiky blue spud, and like Sega, I want to see him somehow recapture that youthful glory. Instead, Sonic (and Sega, especially since the Dreamcast died) has just been going through tired motions, lost in some primordial midlife crisis. Sonic is now just another middle ager wallowing in self-pity and tired stories about "the good old days."

Perhaps I should get down to specifics. Here's what I'm tired of: I'm tired of seeing the same layouts over and over. Every _Sonic_ game, it seems, must have the following levels: the forest zone, the ancient ruins zone, the casino zone, the mechanized city zone, and the giant death-egg-that-looks-like-the-Death-Star zone. Also, don't forget the underwater zone, the winter zone, and all the other standard climates you've seen in every other platformer.

Remember the crazy environments in _Sonic CD_? Remember how varied the different worlds in _Sonic 3 & Knuckles_ were? Why is it so difficult now to come up with any new ideas? What's the deal? Would it kill anyone to come up with a better plot for a _Sonic_ videogame than the tired Eggman Conquest Scheme? If we're being asked to sit through another round of dull cut-scenes that have no business being there in the first place, the least the designers and programmers could do is come up with a decent story. Something different. It couldn't be that hard.

It's the paradox of today's videogame industry. Publishers want franchises, recognizable brand-name products that will continue to lure in the same customers, year after year. In order to maintain that audience, you need consistency, predictability. You need to condition the lemmings into shelling out for the same product again and again.

Back to _Sonic Rush_. My biggest beef, it turns out, is the same as fellow critic Matt Paprocki from his _Digital Press_ review: the bottomless pits. The whole game feels like it takes place in mid-air; there's hardly ever any ground floor, only three stories of endless drops. It's as if you're being punished every time you stray off the intended course; not that there's anything to be discovered by exploring. You're just set along the standard rollercoaster ride, and if you miss a jump or fail to notice that important platform switch...poof! Down you go.

_Sonic the Hedgehog_ has always been dedicated to the highs of speed, but much of the variety and challenge from, say, _Sonic 3 & Knuckles_, is missing. Now it's equal parts rushing and crashing. Sonic has become an aging speed addict. The bottomless falling is pretty much the only danger in the game, which is pretty weird.

I should probably mention a few things I like about _Sonic Rush_ , including the vertical twin-screen layout, the new character Blaze (still too many samey cartoon characters in the series), and the number of stunt moves you can perform while flying through the air or grinding on pipes.

Now back to the beefs. See if you can spot your favorites:

1. The boss fights are way, way, waaaaay toooo loooong. Clearly meant as an attempt to put 2D _Sonic_ into a 3D realm, but keeping it confined to a single gimmicky screen. Doesn't Sonic Team remember that they already created the perfect 2/3D _Sonic_? It's called _NiGHTS: Into Dreams_ , and it's probably the best videogame Yuji Naka and company have ever crafted. Just when are they going to realize that fact, remember their roots and create the definitive 21st Century _Sonic the Hedgehog_ that we've all been asking for? From the flailing of the franchise, my guess is "not bloody likely."

What I will not tolerate is spending three minutes, four minutes on a boss fight. All I'm being asked to do is spot the simple pattern and hit Ivan or Eggman or whatever eight times. There's no excuse for dragging out something so elementary, so basic.

2. I hate those stupid voices. Can I please use the Nintendo DS stylus to stab Tails every time he speaks? Yuck. Videogame voice acting blows.

3. I'm not enamored with Sonic's polygon model. Doesn't he seem a bit too...lanky? He even looks like a strung-out addict, even down to the unkempt mass of hair. He used to have his act together during the Genesis days. He even had that attitude, which was the best thing about him. Now, he can't even bother to act impatient. Too busy scrambling for that next rush. You got a quarter, buddy? I need to catch the bus.

4. Alright, this is just being mean, but it deserves to be said: Sonic can't dance. Please make him stop. Sonic's bad dancing makes my feet sad.

### Space Invaders Revolution

The latest _Space Invaders_ on the Nintendo DS arrived with little fanfare, which is to be expected, since the videogame press is more interested in state-of-the-art eye candy than another rendition of a game from 1978. For them, it came and went without much thought. Please don't be like them.

Despite its age (whatever that's supposed to mean), _Space Invaders_ is among the true classic arcade games, and certainly among the medium's most important milestones. It was this title that pretty much birthed the whole "videogame craze," and there's something timeless about it that remains riveting and tense. There have been a number of attempts to "modernize" _Space Invaders_ over the years, but they've only been modestly successful, except, of course, for that marvelous retro version on the Super Nintendo. That was a kick.

Well, cut to the present, and the original programmer, Tomohiro Nishikado, has supervised the newest version, _Space Invaders Revolution_. It's a great game; nothing transcendent like Jeff Minter's _Tempest 2000_ , but nothing cheap or gratuitous, like that _SI_ knock-off that wound up on the Playstation 2 a while ago. It's an update to the classic, but it's a strictly faithful update, and that makes all the difference. It's even closer to the metal than most of Taito's later arcade sequels; even the original sound effects are used again.

_SI Revolution_ offers a mission-based structure, spread across 20 different locations. Each location has a different mission, with different enemies to defeat. On one level, you have to defeat a single doppleganger that frantically bobs and weaves. On another level, you face a single giant Invader, whose individual pixels must be destroyed (that's the one on the cover). Another mission involves a smaller playfield, and less time to defeat the aliens, while others stick to the classic formula.

You'll face against one or two rows of invaders who fire so many shots that your shields are obliterated in a single pass. You'll face attackers that must be destroyed in a specific order. You'll even face waves of invaders that disappear and reappear. This is great stuff.

Shoot-em-up fans will enjoy the various polygon cut-scenes of your spaceship blasting off; that's pretty much required for any arcade shooter, right? Now here's something that will really trip your world. There are various new power-ups you can earn and use on the missions (via touch-screen, of course), which can be combined much like you could in _Gunstar Heroes_. But here's the kick: in order to access them, you need to earn points in Classic _Space Invaders_.

Now that's something I've never seen before: a classic videogame designer who requires you to spend some serious time with his original game before you get to use all the toys in the new version. It's pretty gutsy, and it shows just how much confidence Nishikado has in his child. Game publishers today just figure the kids wouldn't touch anything unless it involved movie cutscenes, swearing, hijacking cars or bashing hookers over the head with 2x4s.

The Nintendo DS has a number of classic videogames in its roster, and the success ratio is pretty mixed. _Frogger: Helmet Chaos_ is a sloppy mess. _Dig Dug: Digging Strike_ is really good. _Retro Atari Classics_ is a train wreck. Namco's _Pac-Man_ games are pretty much hit-or-miss, but at least they're interesting. And _Tetris DS_ , despite that whole "infinite rotation" controversy (a bumbling design error insisted upon by The Tetris Company that completely destroys the game), is still _Tetris_. Who says classic gamers are stuck in the past? We're the only ones who know what a real videogame still is.

_Space Invaders Revolution_ should be seen by more people, if just to show how a cool retro title on the Nintendo handheld could be pulled off. Heck, any videogame that let's you use the touchscreen stylus to put quarters into a virtual arcade machine has to be good.

### Spoiled Rotten Brats

I think it's probably because I always root for underdogs that I picked up a Nintendo Wii instead of the Sony or Microsoft consoles. That's a strange notion, Nintendo as "underdog,", since they have completely dominated the video game world for years, first with the Nintendo Entertainment System and Game Boy, then once again with the Wii and DS. But among the "prozines," the gaming magazines and websites, to say nothing of the industry itself, Wii has always been routinely treated as second-class.

I think we have a very serious problem with the way the videogame press is run. Perhaps it's just because the more "hardcore" gamers migrate towards that profession, but there has always been a sneering, holier-than-thou attitude among the prozines. There are great guys and gals in the press, especially people like Chris Kohler who grew out of the 1990s fanzine scene with me. But far too many writers and reviewers come off as a smug and arrogant Comic Book Guy archetype.

I also think we are long past the point where graphics in videogames are an issue. I'm writing this essay while playing Ubisoft's excellent _Shaun White Snowboarding: World Stage_ on Nintendo Wii. It's the sequel to Shaun White Snowboarding: Road Trip, which became a surprise hit on Wii and overshadowed its PS360 big brothers.

Take a look at _World Stage_ and see for yourself. Watch Youtube videos or look at some screenshots. I read all the prozine criticism over the graphics (when the series isn't being completely ignored) and wonder, really, what is the problem? What is the problem with these graphics? I remember when all we had to play were videogames on Atari 2600 VCS and Intellivision. One day in 1983, I visited the house of a child who owned a Colecovision. My eyes practically popped out of my head in amazement of its dazzling visuals.

If you handed us kids from '83 a game like _Shaun White_ , our hearts would burst for joy. It would be beyond our wildest dreams. Seriously. Back then, I thought the movie _Tron_ was the greatest one could ever imagine for videogames. And here we are, over three decades later, and _Tron_ has been surpassed by leaps and bounds. Even the worst-looking videogame of the 21st Century is a quantum leap beyond anything seen in the Atari Era.

What fool in his right mind would complain about graphics in games like _Shaun White Snowboarding_? Are you kidding me? Yes, I am fully aware that Playstation 3 and XBox 360 are more powerful than Wii. This is no surprise and was openly acknowledged at the very beginning. Nintendo has almost always shunned the technological rat race (I'm thinking of Game Boy and _Tetris_ ), and it's far too late to whine and moan about it now. Frankly, the critics who complain about video game graphics in this day and age are insufferable, pampered, spoiled rotten brats.

The really weird thing is that these complaints come from grown adults, not children. They hurl out words like "arcade game" or "kid's game" as though it were some form of insult. What, did I miss something? When did the videogame business become obsessed with chasing after adults? Let me explain this to all the Comic Book Guys out there: videogames have **always** been meant for kids. _Pac-Man_ wasn't created to amuse college graduates. _Super Mario Brothers_ was not being played by thirty-somethings. PhD candidates were not discussing the merits of _Sonic the Hedgehog_. These are kids games. They always have been, and God willing, that's how it shall stay.

I can't help but speculate that so many problems in today's videogame industry stem from this Peter Pan Syndrome. We have "hardcore gamers" and software developers desperate to legitimize this hobby as "high art" as something serious and deep and meaningful, desperate to be validated by mommy and daddy and a world that somehow doesn't respect them enough. The games business wants to be in the movie business. They're consumed by Hollywood Envy, and this obsession has driven the technology and software down a very specific path since the turn of the century.

A videogame is not a movie, and it's not a book. It's a game. If it's anything else, really, it's a lucid dream or psychedelic trip. But above all, it's a form of play. A Puritanical mindset considers such a notion shameful and sinful, but I don't believe there's any shame in play, regardless of your age. Childhood is the birthplace of our hopes and dreams, the place where imagination runs free.

To play is to live and dream. To play is to smile with those nearest to you, and live fully in the moment. It is not something to be ashamed or embarrassed about. That's what videogames do best, and it suffers when burdened with adult expectations and sensibilities. Why obsess over computer graphics in an age when everything looks spectacular? Because the adult need for validation pushes this medium to become something it is not, and turns everyone into a Veruca Salt. We're all being turned into spoiled rotten brats.

### Ten Things I Love About Fire Shark

Things I always loved about the classic Toaplan shoot-em-up _Fire Shark_ on Sega Genesis:

1. It is always challenging, even in easy mode. _Fire Shark_ has that perfect balance: it's never too easy, but never becomes overwhelming. You're guaranteed a lot of value for your money, and you'll never get bored. Too many arcade videogames are a cakewalk on the home consoles; their goal, after all, is only to take your quarters every couple of minutes. It's a different story when you can just press the start button whenever you wish. This title, thankfully, remains a challenge to me, no matter how many times I've beaten it.

2. The power-ups rock my world. You have only three different weapons, but they are a joy when fully armed. The spread cannon covers the entire screen. The green lasers snake and weave in rolling curves. The flame thrower, well, that's the best of the lot. Wow! Let's hear it for the flame thrower!

Oh, I should also mention the best part: rapid fire is an available option in the game. On home systems, that was usually available only on expensive joysticks. Toaplan just saved my thumbs. You guys rock.

3. The loud, booming explosions and sound effects. You should hear this videogame through stereo speakers. The "Model 1" Genesis (the original model with "High Definition Graphics" printed on the top) was fantastic at this sort of thing, rumbling out low bass frequencies and mid-tone harmonics. This is one of the best-sounding games of the 16-bit era.

4. The music soundtrack is fantastic. The instrumental songs in _Fire Shark_ sounds have a very strong 1970s guitar rock vibe. I was always reminded of Blue Oyster Cult, Thin Lizzy or Boston. The buzzing guitar tones, the thundering riffs, the growling bass, and booming beats are all present in their classic-rock glory. There was a time when "videogame music" was an art, a craft. The Commodore 64 and NES produced many timeless chiptune songs. So could the Sega Genesis when in the right hands, as _Fire Shark_ demonstrates.

Where can I find guitar tabs for _Fire Shark_? I'm serious. That has to be a thing by now. There's some killer music here that you should be jamming out with your local garage band.

5. Land, air, and sea targets. I love the sea stages, with its navy ships rolling after you, and the giant battleships that fill several screens. The tanks were always a blast; first you shoot off the cannons, then the hull. And through it all, those endless waves of kamikaze planes. Those guys are just crazy insane in the later rounds, weaving and diving from all directions at once.

6. Variety, Variety, Variety. All ten stages are very different in style and tone There's one stage with moving seas of sand. Another one set in the arctic. Another one sends you over deep caverns as you shoot down airplanes. There's also a city stage that's really fun, and reminded me of Duluth in the late autumn. There's always something new on the next stage, a new environment or design, never any cheap, repetitive color swaps.

7. It is never impossible to claw yourself back. This is a crucial distinction with most shoot-em-ups of the 1980s and 1990s. Most of the time, if you find yourself shot down in later levels, the videogames become impossibly difficult to survive with only a basic weapon. In other words, you might as well start over from the beginning, and that's no fun. _Fire Shark_ wisely avoids this trap. Even though the final stages are very tough, you can reach the ending with your basic machine gun. It certainly helps that you begin with a three-shot spread, a very smart move on Toaplan's part. They strike a proper balance between your weapons and the enemy onslaught.

8. It's the little moments that are special. You will discover little soldiers marching around your airstrips, directing traffic, moving around. At the beginning, a group of soldiers line up in an arrow to point you in the proper direction (a funny gag that is seen in _Porco Rosso_ and _Finding Nemo_ ). My favorite bit comes at the end of one stage, where a soldier breaks marching formation to watch your plane land. His Sergeant marches up and yells him back into line. Hah hah.

9. Endless Replays. Once you beat the game, it loops back to the beginning, ala NES _Contra_. You get to watch a great little ending sequence, then you begin at stage one, albeit with a harder difficulty. Why don't more videogames do this, especially the shooters? Pay attention, kids: this is why _Contra_ was so great. We could play it forever.

10. _Fire Shark_ has some of the best graphics on Sega Genesis. Just look at the screenshots. The art direction is just brilliant. The landscapes show a solid variety of textures and details, and the colors are strong, bold, confident. Explosions are colorful, fluid, never flat or dull. You need good explosions for arcade games. Your weapons looks great, especially that flame thrower...but check out the smart bomb. Wow! Now that is a real kick in the pants for 1990.

Notice how the tanks you destroy leave smoking craters? That is great detail. It's fun to see the carnage in your wake. Same thing for the boats. Planes will either incinerate or crash to the ground, another good moment of variety.

The large bosses that round out the stages, of course, steal the show. Immensely large, difficult to take down, great to watch. Here is where the allure of "16-bit graphics" flexes its muscle against the older 8-bit generation. These designers are trying to get you to put down your NES, remember. Toaplan did a smashing job.

### World Series Baseball 98: Still the Greatest Nine

Whenever I'm feeling the itch to play Sega Saturn, I always have a short list of "must play" games to play, and _World Series Baseball 98_ is always near the top of that list. Back in 1997, I was convinced this was the greatest baseball videogame ever created, and two decades later, I still hold to that belief. I don't believe this sports classic has ever been surpassed.

One of Sega's greatest strengths during the 16-bit era was their stellar lineup of sports titles. If you wanted to play sports games, the Genesis was your home. With Saturn, however, Sega struggled and stumbled for years, as Sony and Electronic Arts dominated the sports arena on the Playstation. It remains a cruel irony that Sega finally regained their mojo just as the Saturn was being phased out in the US; the '98 sports lineup — _World Series Baseball 98_ , _NBA Action 98_ , _NHL All-Star Hockey 98_ , _Worldwide Soccer 98_ — proved to be their strongest in years. It may have been Sega's best sports year ever **.**

_World Series Baseball 98_ looked stunning when it was new, running on Saturn's high resolution mode (Sega's ace in the hole that was criminally underused), and remains so today. Graphics are clean and clear, sharp and detailed. Colors are bold, confident, smooth. In other words, what we've come to expect as the "Sega Style." It's a good preview for what would follow on Dreamcast. All the official ballparks are realistically rendered and in the proper proportion (you'd be surprised how many old baseball games screwed this up), and the polygon players are confident, solid. There's that squarish, slightly chunky look that comes with Sega Saturn, owing to its use of quad polygons instead of triangles; as a visual style, it was widely criticized by software developers, but I personally enjoy it. It gives Saturn's best games a unique charm that adds to the mystique.

All in all, this game looks fantastic on Saturn, one of the system's finest hours, and a far cry from those early roughshod days in 1995, when virtually everything looked ugly. Sega clearly needed two more years added to Saturn's lifespan: one at the start, and one at the end. Fortunately, I think a lot of this momentum carried through to the Dreamcast, where Sega was creatively unstoppable.

Now we come to what really makes _World Series Baseball 98_ great, why it's still the video game baseball king: the pitcher/batter duel. The pitcher chooses from his arsenal, aims the pitch during the windup, and lets it go. Available pitches are based on the real-life players' skills, making their curveballs, sliders and sinkers very unique (and lose their effectiveness as the pitcher tires). The batter has two methods of attack. He can attempt to follow the pitch with the cursor, where it will "lock on" at the correct destination. Precise swings can result in fly balls, grounders, or curves, depending on where the cursor strikes.

The batter's second option — and this is the masterstroke — are the quadrants. The batter's box is broken into four quadrants, and each player has their unique "hot" and "cold" zones. By selecting a quadrant before the pitch is thrown, the batter will focus their attention on that area. If the ball travels towards that quadrant, the batter will "lock on" the ball, guaranteeing a hit. These are essentially the "power" swings. If the batter guesses wrong, he regains the batting cursor, but with only a fraction of time to attempt a swing.

This is the genius of Sega's design. They've turned the pitcher/batter duel into a strategic series of mind games and shootouts. No longer do you swing at every pitch, or just throw the ball wildly. The pitcher tries to get the batter out of his zone, away from his power swings that could result in home runs. The batter tries to wear the pitcher down, drag out the count, wait for that arm to get tired. A tired arm results in bad pitches. Those lead to "lock on" power swings.

For the pitcher, your strategy is to keep your opponent guessing, try to make him swing at a bad pitch, try to keep away from his strong side. For the batter, the strategy is to know when to use your normal swings (cursor), and when to aim for the power swings (quadrants). Get a hit, get a man on base, then try for a bunt or steal. It's difficult to move around those bases. This videogame doesn't make things easy. And home runs are, thankfully, uncommon; you can't rely on them to win games.

Traditionally, nearly every video baseball game followed a basic formula for pitching and batting: you simply press a button. Press a button to throw a pitch (and maybe weave it side-to-side in midair); press a button to swing the bat. Whether it's _Home Run_ on Atari 2600, _Hardball_ on Atari 800, _RBI Baseball_ on NES, _Sports Talk Baseball_ on Genesis, or _Ken Griffey Baseball_ on Super NES and Nintendo 64, the gameplay remained extremely basic and simple. _WSB 98_ on Saturn smashes that paradigm to pieces. Thank God for Sega and their eternal underdog spirit. Something special about videogames died when they were forced out of the hardware business.

For reasons I have never understood, Sega never used the _WSB 98_ pitcher/batter model again (the _World Series Baseball_ and _Worldwide Soccer_ development teams were disbanded, for reasons never understood nor explained). Nobody did. If anything, modern software developers have only succeeded in making baseball games needlessly complicated, without adding anything to the strategy. Heck, we hardly even have baseball videogames anymore. The modern scam of "one developer per sport" is a sick, demented joke. Thank God you can find a Sega Saturn and _WSB 98_ for less than the price of a good dinner.

I'm serious. Get yourself off the couch, step away from the desk. Find yourself a Sega Saturn, a couple controllers, and copies of the Sega Sports 98 lineup. It's the best bargain any videogame sports fan will find.

### Yoshi: Touch and Go

I think it's fair to say at this point that I have more games for my Nintendo DS than I know what to do with. A more sensible person would have played through these games, one at a time, before running off to the store for the next fix. But, then, "sensible" would mean my saving my hard-earned money instead of playing videogames well past my thirties.

In any case, I've been killing my bus time with _Yoshi: Touch and Go_. Perhaps you need to be old enough to remember the golden age of video arcades to really appreciate this game. You have to be a fan of that short-burst, improvisational arcade game. Younger reader probably won't remember, but videogames used to be designed to be played for less than five minutes at a stretch. True, the aim was usually to steal quarters from your pockets, but we learned the ropes, and pretty soon we were making those Aladdin's Castle tokens really stretch.

A lot of reviews in print and online have complained that _Yoshi: Touch and Go_ is shallow and "gimmicky" - little more than a demonstration of the DS innovative touch screen, something you use to show off your new handheld. Essentially, they want a modern platform adventure, not an arcade game. In today's jargon, videogames are judged by the length of time it takes to slog through from beginning to end, the number of cheesy Hollywood cut-scenes, or the amount of hidden, unlockable material.

Do these critics even remember what videogames were like? You know, games. Not $50 million movie previews.

_Yoshi's_ best trait is its randomness. While the game consists of two modes — Baby Mario in a vertical drop, the Yoshis in a side-scrolling stroll — each game is structured differently. Coins and obstacles are always placed differently, enemies may be sporadic or swarm in droves, and passing breezes will blow away all your carefully drawn clouds. Whoever cooked up that last idea was bloody brilliant, and a bit of a psycho, too.

Has this happened to you? Baby Mario is sliding down a cloud path, towards some prized coins, and then that breeze kicks in, and drops Mario into a patch of spikes. D'oh! _Yoshi: Touch and Go's_ randomizing is really the best feature of the game (aside from the stylus, of course); the game possesses a rare balance between classic arcade reflexes and platforming know-how. It's more than simply a gimmicky way to repackage all the best moments from _Yoshi's Island_.

And this _Yoshi_ can be pretty tough, too. It may be a little hard for the average person to connect at first, but I've also found that _Meteos_ shares the same learning curve, and it's an absolutely smashing game. You just need to learn the ropes, master the game's sense of pacing and rhythm, and be prepared for anything.

Finally, the stylus is just wonderful. This is clearly a signature title for the DS touch screen, and you'll probably need to spend some time with the game before it really clicks with you. I remember some old lightgun games for the NES like _Gumshoe_ , in which a character moved on rails while you shoot at incoming obstacles, but _Yoshi: Touch and Go_ is far more involving. It's more intuitive, too, thanks to the interface, and demonstrates Nintendo's endless innovation these days. I really don't mind not being able to manually move Mario and Yoshi. Really, what would I do differently if I could?

I'd like to see more designers experiment with this style of gameplay. It's just different enough to open up a new world of possibilities in the right hands. That pretty much sums up a lot of DS games, but Yoshi's has that classic arcade feel, the right mix of speed, tension, strategy, and imagination, all in the quest for that high score. Perhaps you have to be old enough to have lived through "Pac-Man Fever." Perhaps you need enough real-world distractions to not allow for more than a quick game here and there. Life has a funny way of intruding without knocking.

Perhaps, simply, you need only possess a sense of patience and wonder at what a well-designed game can offer. Nintendo's DS handheld has quickly built a reputation for quirky, innovative games that never lose their sense of fun. Playing _Yoshi: Touch and Go_ is like opening a box of warm sunshine, where for ten or twenty minutes you can smile and laugh with your inner child.

### Zero Divide: Final Conflict

_Zero Divide_ was a robot fighting game that appeared on the Sony Playstation in 1995. The gameplay was rooted in Sega's _Virtua Fighter_ style, with Guard-Punch-Kick and a strategic focus on martial arts moves, and it was very enjoyable. After all, who doesn't enjoy futuristic fighting robots? Thankfully, the painful memories of, yuck, _Rise of the Robots_ have become forgotten over time.

Zoom, the software studio, created a sequel on the PSX which was even better, and then, in a surprising move, brought the third game in the series to Sega Saturn in Japan. _Zero Divide: Final Conflict_ is probably the best episode in the series, certainly the fastest and most refined, and it makes sense that this game would appear on a Sega console, whose best 3D polygon brawlers all owe a debt to _Virtua Fighter_.

Obviously, _Zero Divide_ was never brought to the States. It sits alongside the other 550 or so Sega Saturn classics from Japan that Sega of America wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. They relied almost solely on Western developers, who, at that time, were nowhere near as skilled as their Japanese counterparts. You can see the divide between East and West on the Saturn, and the difference is striking.

To be fair, Playstation swept the American scene almost immediately, and so, most software developers focused their energy on Sony; Sega might receive a quick port, which was almost always inferior, and this fueled momentum to the Playstation side. Programmers and programmers simply never invested the time needed to learn Saturn's complex architecture.

Given this knowledge, the decision by Sega of America's executives to almost completely shun Japanese Saturn videogames — especially 2D games — proved to be a terrible miscalculation. Sega went into battle with all its best titles, Saturn's strongest titles, left off the playing field. A crippling defeat at the hands of Sony and Nintendo was all but inevitable. And much of it was easily avoidable.

Okay, enough with the tragic history lesson and back to Zoom's _Zero Divide: Final Conflict_. This is one of my favorite 3D fighting games on the Saturn, and it's also one of the most technically accomplished. The programmers had successfully mastered the dual CPUs, and you can see the results: stunning robot designs, skilled lighting effects, and fully 3D graphics, all running at 60 frames-per-second in Saturn's high-resolution graphics mode of 704x480. Everything looks terrific.

Watch a video clip on Youtube and take a close look at the robots in action. Notice the subtlety of the lighting and shading as they move around the ring? This is much more refined, in a design sense, than the PSX, which was masterful at shading and lighting, but today often looks gaudy and over-syrupy. I'm quite impressed. The high resolution and fast framerate are also crucial factors, and I think this and similar Saturn videogames like _Virtua Fighter 2_ have aged so gracefully. This is the direction that game design evolved, as hardware became more powerful and the novelty of endless Gouraud shading wore off.

I'm impressed to see walls surrounding some of the fighting arenas, and these are 2D bitmap graphics instead of polygons ( _Zero Divide_ on Playstation had some terrific polygon backgrounds). This is the design that everyone followed after _VF2_ showed the way, and for the hardware, it's quite skillful. That said, I think these walls are a bit low-res and pixelated. These graphics should have been handled better. But, of course, I'm nitpicking, and it's almost twenty years after the fact. One of the joys of old school videogames is learning to make your piece with the limits of technology.

_Zero Divide_ remains an obscure title for the Saturn, much like _Anarchy in the Nippon_ , another spectacular 3D brawler. There are precious few articles on websites or videos on Youtube. I'm not sure what this means to the price of import copies on Ebay (prices at the time of this essay are still very reasonable), but at least we can download the ISO files for free. Dedicated fans and collectors, of course, will want the physical disc, and they should be encouraged. This is a terrific Sega Saturn game to surprise and impress your friends. Heck, add a few more classic Japanese discs to your library, and your Saturn will become the main console in the living room. Imagine that.

## SIDE FOUR:

IT'S LIFE  
AND  
LIFE ONLY

### Am I a Genius Yet?

In the summer of 2001, I released my first commercial art album, _Am I a Genius Yet?_ It features almost 100 paintings and drawings of my work from 1998 to 2001. Included are works on paper, acrylics, watercolors, model portraits, crayon drawings, and the first three "watercanvas" paintings, which were my newest painting innovations.

In addition to the photos, over 30 pages of written material was included. Information about the different works offered insights. Also included were related essays, including "How to Write a Resignation Letter," "Raves," and a review of _Daytona USA_ for Sega Dreamcast.

In 2002, I redesigned the album cover and layout, giving a more stylized look. This is the album cover you see on this page. My original CD print run had completely sold out. I sold copies on consignment at local record stores, and was featured on a weekly arts program called _Word of Mouth_ on Minnesota Public Radio. That program may still be found in their site archive today.

I wanted my ArtDisc album to be easily accessible for everyone. The paintings and writings were simply placed in their respective folders, which could be opened and viewed with a simple mouse click. Very basic, even for 2001, but that simplicity was also intended as an inspiration for other visual artists.

I wanted to demonstrate a new way for artists to show their work, to get around the traditional galleries and museums. That situation puts too much power into the hands of middlemen; gatekeepers who decide whose work will be shown and whose won't.

This simply isn't fair. Visual artists should have the same resources as indie rockers and self-published authors, and the greater public should have access to the arts without paying excessive prices for paintings and sculptures.

Anyone with a computer disc burner and label-making software could create their own artist CDs. You could sell them at gallery shows, art fairs, and local businesses, and take control of your own career, making ArtDisc a simple alternative to hosting a website. That was my dream at the turn of the century. I still believe the idea has merit, and encourage all aspiring artists to create their own discs to share their creative visions.

Now that I think about it, I've really been pursuing the same dream since my teenage years. I began writing and self-publishing fanzines, which led to freelance writing jobs. As I became interested in painting and fine arts, I created _Am I a Genius Yet_ and the arts website _DanielThomas.org_. The website led to several weblogs, more freelance writing assignments, and several DVD and Blu-Ray projects. And now everything has led to the creation of DT Media and these new books. I honestly did not plan any of this. My brain just happens to be wired this way.

### Benediction

We are now literally hours away from the start of the Iraqi war. I've taken some time to reflect, and I want to share some things with you during these final moments.

This past Sunday, many of us participated in candlelight vigils in over 3000 cities around the world. On every continent, countless thousands of people, just like you and me, added their voices to the call for peace. Some vigils drew thousands, and some drew hundreds, while others drew a handful of family and friends.

Here in the Twin Cities, there were numerous gatherings, including a few thousand people at Lake Harriet. For me, I attended a small group at the University of Minnesota, outside the Northrop Auditorium and overlooking the most scenic view on campus. Most of the students were away for Spring Break, drinking themselves into oblivion. Lucky kids.

These may seem like dark days for the anti-war crowd. President Bush is finally going to have his precious war, the neoconservative hawks are on the path to building their dream empire, and Dick Cheney and Halliburton will get their oil, to say nothing of endless lucrative government contracts.

That brutal dictator, Saddam Hussein, will be replaced with, uh...well, whatever it is we have in Afghanistan. And hopefully, only a few thousand civilians will be killed in the process; at least, until the human rights organizations come in and start counting the bodies.

The sad story of history is that powerful men often get their way. Iraq is but the latest chapter in that story, and, yes, there will be more tragedies in the future. Such is the nature of the human condition.

By all accounts, it may seem to you that the peace movement has failed, that we have no real voice, that all our complaints, letter campaigns and candlelight vigils mount to nothing. Goodness knows, the American news media will pound that into your heads every day. Get with the winning side! Don't be a troublemaker! You want to be a real patriot, don't you? Why do you hate America?

Don't believe any of it.

The peace movement has been a resounding success. Consider that it took Americans years before coming to grips with the horrors of the Vietnam War. Today, millions have taken to the streets before a single shot is fired. Hundreds of thousands marched, time and time again, on Washington, D.C., San Francisco, and all points in between. Yes, most Americans support George W. Bush and his Iraq War, as the news media constantly reminds us. That does not diminish the significance of those who dissent.

Around the world, people of all colors, creeds, and nations have come together in peace and unity. Millions have taken to the streets of Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia; scientists in Antarctica have even joined in on the action (and maybe even a stray penguin or two). Across every nation, vast majorities of their citizens oppose Bush's preemptive war on Iraq; without backing by the UN, public opposition is almost unanimous. These are historic events.

And it is at the United Nations that we have met our greatest success. After the 15-0 approval of Security Council Resolution 1441, it would seem all but inevitable that the Bush Administration would eventually win a second vote authorizing war. But we took to the streets, and made our voices heard. Think about that. The White House tried every trick up its sleeve: phony evidence, scare tactics, threats, intimidation, illegal wiretapping.

At the end of the day, despite all of the pressure, UN Security Council adhered to the will of their people. With only four affirmative votes to speak of, the White House turned tail and ran, refusing to even "show their cards" as Bush had promised. This is a deeply embarrassing diplomatic fiasco.

When the bombs start falling, remember this: while we could not stop Mr. Bush from taking Iraq, we robbed him of the one thing that matters most of all: legitimacy. And nothing can ever bring that back.

Your thoughts, prayers, and efforts have succeeded, and Providence and history will judge what we have done. We have spoken out for the voiceless, the powerless, the hungry. We have spoken out for those nameless thousands of innocent civilians who deserve the same human rights as you and me. Conquering a nation that has hurt no one will never do that. Democracy can never be achieved at the barrel of a gun.

So I want you to reflect on this, and remember that such efforts will not be in vain. Our voices will be needed now, more than ever. When the war starts this week, you owe it to the world to make your voice heard. Light a candle in your window, attend a local peace vigil, make up some protest signs, write to your elected leaders, and keep complaining.

### DanielThomas.org (2003-2010): Final Eulogy

Today, the plug was finally pulled on my arts website, _DanielThomas.org_. The domain was due for renewal, and after many months of consideration, I decided to let it go. It's time to move on, and, in fact, I've already moved on some time ago. My blogs, _Daniel Thomas Vol. 4_ and _Ghibli Blog_ , are where I write and publish online today.

I built _DanielThomas.org_ in 2002, and launched on January 2003. It's remarkable to see how far the internet has evolved over these seven years. I was so proud of my design, proud of the ease of navigation, proud of the way I assembled my art galleries, proud that I had a home online where I could write and share my thoughts on a variety of topics: art, music, videogames, movies, politics, personal happenings. It was a lot of hard work, but I was proud of my efforts.

But, good grief, maintenance was such a pain. Having to literally redraw the homepage (via Dreamweaver) with every addition or new essay was time-consuming and increasingly irritating. Having to debug the code was a pain in the neck, even with my elegant (and ancient) HTML design. Somewhere around 2004 or 2005 I completely redesigned the site, refining and honing the design skills I had learned. I was always pushing for traffic and trying to build an audience. It was so much work, and eventually, I realized that I just wanted to focus on the art, and leave the tech side to someone else. Once I decided to experiment with Blogger, there really was no going back.

_DanielThomas.org_ was very successful, at least by my standards. I can tell you that I reached over two million visits, and thousands of hits per day, during the site's golden days. We'll spare ourselves the "visitors versus hits" debate, as I have learned to distrust such statistics. Much of my traffic was due to message boards and other sites hotlinking my images. It became such a problem that I tried to change the photos around, swap in nasty messages, harass any offenders I found who wouldn't give credit back to me. Not exactly the artistic fame I was looking for, and a humbling lesson on the nature of the internet. Oh, well.

The worst offender, and my highest bit of notoriety, was my film review for _The Boondock Saints_. This was a cheap, practically direct-to-DVD gun movie, humorless, witless, and crude. I watched the movie on an acquaintance's couch one evening and just hated it. I wrote a rather cranky review and published the next morning, then soon discovered, to my surprise, that _Boondock Saints_ was a cult hit among the college crowd. Sadly, we did not see eye-to-eye on this picture.

For the next two or three years, I received a steady stream of emails, mostly critical, always passionate. Those kids really loved that movie. Me? I was burnt out enough by the obnoxious and dumb frat culture of my college days, and _Boondock Saints_ certainly didn't help. Do you know how annoying it is to sit in an empty theater, watching an acclaimed documentary, while the sports bar crowd is shouting and howling at the screen. Oh, well. In time, I've grown up a little, moved on and learned to enjoy my quirkier neighbors. I respect their passion, their dedication, and someday soon enough, and I'll miss their youthful spirit.

I also received a steady stream of critical emails in response to my essay on 1980s hair metal band, Stryper. That was a real surprise. I wrote the essay to accompany one of my digital paintings, which just happened to be yellow and black. A coincidence, I was immediately reminded of those ridiculous Stryper bumblebee costumes. I really hated '80s hair metal when I was a kid. I still receive the rare message now and then; the last Stryper defender wrote to me last summer. Haha.

I always took the good and the bad. I always cherished every letter from someone who enjoyed the paintings. I even managed to sell a few, but not much luck in securing gallery shows or greater fame. These days, I've grown tired of the art hustle, its nerdish clique that feels trapped in the past (this is especially a problem in Minneapolis). I always wanted my art to embrace the future, the people, not the hipsters. The hipsters can look after themselves. That's why I built my own arts site in the first place. I was convinced that the internet was the key to an artistic revolution; that idea remains as fresh today. Every artist should have their work online. Art should be treated as music, where the internet was concerned: open the doors wide for everybody. I still believe those things, and the explosive evolution of the internet has proven this again and again. Everybody can create. Everybody has something to contribute.

_DanielThomas.org_ — I couldn't get a dot-com back then, because it was taken by a _Star Trek_ fan — was made possible by a roommate of mine named Joe Osburn. Joe worked for a local internet and web design company, and he offered to host my site for free. That was very generous of him, very generous. He kindly renewed it whenever necessary, moving it around one server to another, keeping it secure, never asking anything in return. I shall always be deeply indebted to him for his saintly generosity. I once paid him by giving him some of my paintings, but in my heart, the debt still remains. I resolve to myself that I shall follow his example: his patient kindness, his intelligence and wit, his sheer inventiveness and resourcefulness.

Once my blogs were up and running, there really was no need for my old art website. I could focus on movies and animation at _Ghibli Blog_ ; politics, pop culture and art found a home at _Daniel Thomas Vol. 4_. The work now feels freer, faster, more immediate. Well, at least when I'm not feeling overwhelmed and am able to publish on a regular schedule.

So, dear friends, let us pay our final respects to my "arts-and-entertainment webzine." It was a valuable experience, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Thankfully, I've moved much of my older work to the blogs, and I'll have to continue that until everything is preserved online again. I'm still not sure what to do about the artwork. I'll figure something out.

### Harvester of Sorrow

It really is a vicious little game with the police state in St. Paul. On Thursday, there was one major march from the state Capitol building to downtown. The march was perfectly peaceful and legal, and the permit was set to expire at 7:00pm.

When the crowd reached the bridge, they found themselves surrounded by police and riot squads. And then the cops declared that the permit expired at 5:00pm, right at the start, and ordered them to disperse.

Disperse to where? Now that's a funny question. But switching the closing time, that's just comedy gold. The police, of course, declare to the media that the permit expired at 5:00 p.m., and had always expired at 5:00 p.m. And this is the narrative that will be reported on your teevee screens. Standoff! Violent protests! Anarchists!

The crowd of six hundred people found themselves trapped on a bridge, with all roads cut off from escape. The police on horseback gave way to armored soldiers, hands on the concussion grenade launchers and the tear gas guns. A handful middle-aged women associated with one of the peace groups tries to talk to authorities and get some answers. They return to inform everybody else that they are about to be hurt.

Nobody, of course, had any clue that 5:00 was the new closing time. It had always been 7:00. They were the last to know, and now a crowd of civilians feared for an imminent assault by local, state, and federal agents. That is the worst state of dread, the sense of danger, knowing that those black-armored assault troops will soon march on you, beat you, gas you, taser you. You and everyone else are sitting on the ground, hands on your head. You are not a protester; you are a violent anarchist. That whole line is a fraud — Calvinball with assault rifles.

This was one of the sobering lessons we learned the week of the Republican National Convention: mainstream America will never accept the reality of police brutality. When any amount of urban unrest erupts, the protesters will always be the villains, and the militarized police forces will always be heroes. You will never convince anyone of what you saw, of the creeping police state invading your home town, of the Orwellian world you've suddenly found yourself inhabiting. No, no, there were violent protesters. They were breaking windows. They were throwing rocks and urine at the police. You have to look at it from both sides: the side of the police, and the other side of the police.

Across America, police departments have slowly transmuted into standing armies, armed with military surplus from our many successful Middle East wars. Cops armed with armored vehicles, assault rifles, concussion grenades, and a siege mentality that treat civilians like a potential insurrection, every citizen a potential terrorist.

The Global War on Everything has come home, fueled by thirty years of economic devastation and ruin, a hollowing out of the middle class, an evisceration of the nation's industrial base. The citizens work harder and have less and less to show for their efforts. Everyone who does not have a roman numeral at the end of their name has lost ground. Countless lives have lost their futures, have lost hope. The American Dream has become a nightmare.

America has become a cruel empire, its people tamed like domesticated pets, made impotent by fear and ignorance, as the evil minds that plot destruction wreak havok upon the globe. The endless wars and misadventures only become more destructive and dangerous. We learn to become a less less caring, a little more cruel. This cancer grows and grows, and the patient either willfully ignores it, or worse still, cheers it on. "E Pluribus Unum" has been replaced with "Screw the Other Guy, I've Got Mine."

Drone warfare. Torture. "Enemy Combatants." Abu Ghraib. Guantanamo Bay. Iraq. Afghanistan. Weapons of Mass Destruction. Chemical agents. Warrantless wiretaps. Spy planes that hover over the skies of our cities, spying, monitoring, gathering, building. But what future world is being built before our eyes? Each step further into the dark abyss is but a touchstone for the next step. The blinding, surreal, exhilarating void only becomes darker, bleaker. The empire sheds more and more of the old skin of the Republic; the chickens come home to roost.

We are in danger in the United States of America. We are in tremendous danger. The madness must be stopped. You look away, you rationalize, you wrap yourselves in the flag and the bullying, braying mantras of the war machine. You do all of these things believing it will make you safe. Such false patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel. It is an act of madness. Your children will be hurled into that abyss one day. You do not want that future dystopia to become reality.

Now take that machine, add economic insecurity, generations of unresolved racial tensions on all sides, a drug abuse epidemic that ravages entire regions, unending waves of gun violence and mass shootings, a political machine that cynically manufactures its own alternate reality, and politicians who offer immigrants and religious minorities as scapegoats to persecute. All that is needed is a political demagogue with the skill to manipulate the masses through lies, fear, conspiracy theory, and vague promises of restoring the nation to its lost greatness.

Yes, let's find that man and hand him the nuclear launch codes.

Truly, the language of the mad.

###  How to Survive a 30-Year Anxiety Attack

Fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry bad grades dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear school bullies worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic upset stomach fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety not good enough panic fear worry dread fear anxiety unloved panic fear worry dread fear anxiety rejected again panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear unpopular worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic dizzy spells fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear wasted college education worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear klutz worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread mortality fear anxiety panic fear worry too old too late dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear untalented worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic bloated stomach fear worry dread fear anxiety panic unsold paintings fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic dead career fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry lousy day job dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety nobody will pay to read this panic fear worry dread parents will die fear anxiety panic fear worry dread fear anxiety you're next panic stroke heart attack.

Fade Out. Cue music, "Midnight, the Stars and You."

### If I Stop Moving, I'll Drown in Grief: On the Account of My Aunt's Death

Several weeks ago, my aunt, Barbara MacInnes, died suddenly. I've had a rough go of it, struggling to come to terms with her death and learning to live in the aftermath. Needless to say, I've been hit very hard. I'm reminded of a phrase I conjured up when describing one's first experience with _Grave of the Fireflies_ , and it rings true again: I feel like I've been hit in the chest with a cinder block.

This is the first time I've sat down to write about it, and I'm only just getting past the shock and emotional upheavals. I don't know how one deals with death when it comes to your door. In this regard, I have been extremely lucky so far in life. Spoiled, even. I lost my best friend five years ago, just before Thanksgiving; David Grimm was only 30 years old, a couple years older than me. I'm still upset about that, and I still feel the pain, but I'm also aware that much of that pain has faded. Passions, in time, dissipate and fade like the melting of clouds. _Panta Rhei_.

I've also had the benefit of closure with Dave, mostly due to a dream encounter, one that to this day I cannot determine was a dream conjured by my mind, or a visitation into the afterlife. Well, the waiting room for the afterlife, to be specific. I've pondered this greatly, in search of an answer. The only interesting thing to note is that he's never been in any of my dreams since; I feel, in my bones, that he's gone. Wherever his soul resides, if it has survived death, then Dave Grimm is in a place far, far away.

Now I've lost my beloved aunt. I've lost Barbara. This is far worse.

I'm reminded again of Hayao Miyazaki's _Nausicaa_ books. I know, sounds like I'm trying to shoehorn this into the conversation, but that novel had a deeply profound impact upon me. There's a great line that comes back to me, one of the most personal lines Miyazaki's ever written. I've always loved it, but it's only now that I truly understand its meaning:

"If I stop moving, I'll drown in grief. I have to go foreword..."

The curse of death is how it affects the living. You must go on with your life, continue your normal schedule, and carry on as if nothing else has happened. You must. There is no choice in the matter. Your every step must be in defiance of this entity, this reality, that has taken away one of your own. It stalks you ever closer with every breath, every step.

I try to take every day as it comes. I attempt to drown my mind into other things, be it writing or painting or music, listening to your favorite albums, reading, watching the latest batch of Criterion Collection DVDs. There are good days. And there are bad days. A dark void hangs over my head, just inches away from my mind. A simple melody, a thought, or a gesture brings it all rushing back, and again I struggle not to be swallowed whole.

If I stop moving, I'll drown in grief.

I've treaded through every bad emotion in the book. Anger, fear, shock, sorrow, resentment. This whole damned thing is unfair. But so what? No one ever promised a fair universe, aside from the Pollyanna's and the crooked puppet masters, buried alive among the Crypts of Shuwa, who claim to speak for the Supreme Being. Like it or not, God never made such a promise. Everything struggles, everything suffers.

"The greatness of a mind is determined by the depths of suffering." I remember reading that somewhere. I try to repeat them in my mind as I carry on. I've been dealt the hardest blow of my life. Yet I know that harder blows await me. The deaths of my grandparents. The deaths of my parents. The deaths of my siblings. And the final blow: the death of me.

Barbara MacInnes was the baby of the family. She was the youngest, with four older brothers. I remember her when I was, I don't know, maybe six. She was living on her own for the first time, driving her first car, this magnificent, beat-up monster with no muffler and growling so loud it made the front seat shake. Life was just beginning for both of us, and the future was limitless. But, oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go....

She married soon after, and at that point life decided that magic feeling would end. And so the suffering began. Her husband was a decent man, not too bright and perhaps a little too confrontational, but a good soul and full of promise. Over the years that followed, time took its toll upon him as well, and he slowly lost his mind to illness.

Barbara suffered this, and continued along as a single parent in Washington. Then illness descended, and she was forced to suffer some more. Her good health was taken from her. And yet, she still soldiered on, with her daughter who has now graduated high school and will be starting college.

Then she suffered one final blow. Her days of struggle and suffering have ended at last. But what a cost. What justice is this? Why was she taken from us? Why now?

You can choose to shake your fist at the night sky, and scream at the injustice of this fate, but what is there to shout at? Who is going to listen, anyway? If you don't believe in God, then you're pretty much on your own. If you do believe in God, then if you listen closely, He will probably tell you that we're now living in the Galactic Year Fourteen Billion, and it's a bit late to start complaining now about the cycle of birth and death. If you wanted to lodge a complaint, you should have done so at the proper time, before the Big Bang.

As for me, I feel fortunate that I do believe in God. You can decide for yourselves whether that's a blessing or a curse. I'd like to think that life is the light that shines in the darkness, that both purity and corruption are the very essence of life, that our God inhabits even a single leaf and the smallest of insects. That's what I get for reading so much.

The world goes on. The leaves turn, and the wind continues to blow. I'm still moving forward.

### Ingmar Bergman and Tom Snyder

I learned about Ingmar Bergman's passing this morning, and Tom Snyder later this evening. It's always sad when anyone dies. Most movie lovers, myself included, are grateful that Bergman came out of cinematic retirement to make what would be his final movie, _Saraband_. I don't know about anyone else, but I for one was thrilled that the greatest living director had returned from his generation-long seclusion, if only for one more run.

I don't know if the name Ingmar Bergman registers with mainstream moviegoers anymore. Likely not, particularly with the multiplex lemmings who mindlessly obey whatever the TV ads tell them. Don't be like the suckers. Don't be like the mindless losers whose fate it is to be manipulated and contorted like a puppet. Theirs is the way of suburban hell, consumerism, decaying democracy, and permanent war. You were meant for better things. Believe in that.

If you're not familiar with Bergman's movies, there has never been a better time to start. The Criterion Collection has served the master superbly, with is many masterpieces available on DVD and Blu-Ray, and often with commentaries, documentaries, and extra features that were once the domain of college classes. Everyone has their favorites, and I'd recommend pretty much everything, but if you have to start someplace, your first Bergman movie should be _The Seventh Seal_. Widely regarded as among the greatest of movies, it probably remains the quintessential Bergman.

After that, I'd suggest _Wild Strawberries_ , if only because it's tone is so completely different. Bergman has always been parodied as the purveyor of preachy gloom, sort of a 1950s cinema version of Black Sabbath. But I find a lot of humor in his work, and _Wild Strawberries_ is a good choice. It also reminds me greatly of _Omohide Poro Poro_ ; Isao Takahata certainly draws inspiration from him, and _Poro Poro_ even quotes a shot from Bergman. Perhaps _Grave of the Fireflies_ owes something as well, with _Strawberries_ ' use of narrative flashbacks, as the main character revisits the ghosts of his past.

After that, there are all the "doom and gloom" movies, and if you're carefully observant you may learn a thing or two. Or maybe you'll just understand what all those parodies, from Woody Allen to _SCTV_ to _Mystery Science Theater 3000_ , were all about.

Ingmar Bergman was the world's greatest living filmmaker. No other person walking the Earth could make that claim. Now he's gone, hopefully to meet God and settle old scores once and for all. That's bound to be an event.

Now to the evening news. Tom Snyder was a famous American radio and television personality. He hosted a show called, simply, _Tomorrow_ , which followed Johnny Carson's _Tonight Show_ , many years ago. I have fond memories of sleeping on my grandparents' couch with the television on, and Tom Snyder bringing out his endlessly fascinating guests. I felt so grown up and lucky to stay up late enough to watch it. Remember when staying up way past your bedtime was a real thrill? You were a rebel. You don't get too many thrills like that once you reach adulthood, certainly not after you're legally old enough to drink, and definitely not after the children arrive.

When Snyder's show was canceled in the early 1980s, he was replaced by a young hotshot named Dave Letterman. When Letterman moved to CBS, he brought Snyder back with him for _The Late, Late Show_ , a triumphant return to form. It was, as always, a terrific show, fun and free and extremely intelligent. This was an adult program for real adults: the Charlie Rose of his time. Somebody ought to release a Blu-Ray or DVD set of these shows. In the land overrun by prejudice and stupidity, intelligence and wit are rare gifts. You must cherish and nurture them so they may grow.

Tom Snyder had been battling leukemia for several years, possibly a consequence of his smoking. How I hate those damned cigarettes. They're the worst poison. Cannabis and psychedelics are illegal because, why again? Don't let the tobacco and alcohol industries destroy you, children. You'll get to touch the face of God soon enough; there's no need to rush ahead of line and enslave yourselves to puppet masters in the process.

### Ignorance is Strength, 2003 Edition

It's like watching a rerun of a bad movie, and he doesn't feel like watching anymore. I hear this over the radio today, and I think, where does George Bush find his nuggets of wisdom? The propaganda push for war in Iraq has been one bizarre claim after another, each one more incredulous than the last.

Iraq has stockpiles of chemical and biological weapons. Iraq is the supervillain behind the September 11 attacks. Saddam Hussein is in league with Al Qaeda. The Iraqis have rockets and unmanned aircraft that can strike the United States. Iraq about to drop an atomic bomb on our country any minute now. The fact that UN weapons inspectors have free reign in his country is proof that Saddam isn't cooperating. We have evidence that there are weapons of mass destruction, we just can't show you. And even if there were no proof, the lack of any real evidence is proof that the Iraqi regime has these weapons. Either way, we cannot wait for the smoking gun to appear in the form of a mushroom cloud.

All the while, Bush grows increasingly frustrated. The source of his frustration is, naturally, the world's reluctance to march headlong into a war in Iraq. The French government is openly defiant, promising to veto any war resolution in the UN, and Russia, Germany, and China are running close behind. Support for "Gulf War II: Electric Boogaloo" around the world is reaching embarrassing lows. Over 70 percent of British citizens oppose military action. German opposition stands at 80 percent. 90 percent in Turkey?!

Of course, that doesn't really matter when you're desperate to start a war. We know the routine by heart now: If the UN doesn't endorse Bush's war, he will lead "a coalition of the willing" to remove Hussein from power. Watching the hawks in the White House throw these temper tantrums would be laughable if this wasn't all so serious. I'm tired of all this delay, I want my war now! If Junior Bushman doesn't get what he wants, will he hold his breath until he passes out? Will he tattle on us to his daddy? How did this five-year-old weasel his way into the White House, anyway?

The secret to success for Mr. Bush is to repeat the same mantras, over and over, until everyone is browbeaten into submission. Never mind worrying yourself over such silly little details like, you know, facts. Facts just get in the way. Just keep bonking us over the head with the same song and dance. What do I have to do, hold up a sign? These weasels are lying, and do you know what's really sad about this farce? These aren't even particularly good lies.

The only place in the world where these absurd claims have any traction is, predictably enough, The United States of Stupid. In the land of Jerry Springer and the Two Second Attention Span, you will find a country whose citizens blindly accept, without question, everything their leaders sell them. A large majority of Americans honestly believe Iraq was responsible for 9/11; that Hussein has a nuclear bomb; that he's about to conquer the Middle East, like Hitler or Napoleon or Genghis Khan. A full third of Americans think the moon landing was a hoax. 70 percent of Americans can't find the Pacific Ocean on a map. Who are these people? Do they think Bigfoot shot John F. Kennedy from the Roswell spaceship? No, that's silly. Americans have no idea who "Kennedy" was.

We're not even dealing with reality anymore. We're living in a Marx Brothers movie. The White House should start quoting Groucho: "We have to go to war, I already paid a month's rent on the battlefield! And just remember, while you're out there risking life and limb, we'll be in here thinking what a sucker you are."

### Iraq War 2003: Vote No

(Author's Note: The following letter was written for an online petition to the UN Security Council on the eve of the 2003 Iraq War. I also sent copies to each of the countries' delegations via email. Submitted for your approval.)

Dear Members of the United Nations Security Council:

Like many informed Americans, I am sympathetic to the dilemma facing you at this moment. You will be voting on the follow-up to United Nations Resolution 1441, which will in effect authorize war against Iraq.

It is no doubt difficult to go against the will of the George W. Bush Administration, facing ridicule, retribution, and revenge (by economic means) for taking a stand. But this is your moment in history, and you must find the courage to stand your ground and resist the rush towards this unnecessary war.

There is no justification for war. There is no immediate or emerging threat to either the US or the Middle East. An American invasion of Iraq would be a direct violation of the United Nations charter; will greatly destabilize the region; senselessly kill thousands of innocent civilians; drive more and more of the Muslim world into the hands of Osama Bin Laden; and an unchallenged invasion of Iraq will significantly embolden the militant hawks of the Bush Administration, and enshrine their doctrine of unilateral, preventive war. If they succeed in Iraq, they will further reject internationalism and strike again; perhaps in Iran, perhaps in North Korea. We will be reaping the consequences of these actions for a generation.

The Bush Administration has never adequately made the case for going to war. Instead, the tactic has been to continually scare the American public with speculation and conjecture. Saddam may one day have a nuclear device. Saddam could possibly have biochemical weapons. Saddam supports Al Qaeda and similar terrorist groups. Saddam may have been responsible for the September 11 attacks. Saddam may have unmanned drones (toy planes, according to the Fox News Channel) that could attack the United States. Saddam is secretly rebuilding its stockpiles of Al-Samoud missiles. Saddam is developing vaccine-resistant strains of chemical weapons. Saddam is distributing American and British uniforms to his army, who plan to impersonate US and UK soldiers.

In all of these cases, no clear evidence has been presented for the world to see, nothing to verify these charges, and no credible leads that would help the UN weapons inspectors. Only fear mongering, spying on Security Council members, and threats of payback against countries that vote No are presented by the US. This is not a valid way to make the case for war, and this is not the way for Mr. Bush to treat America's allies.

The vast majority of the peoples of the world oppose going to war. Ten million people in over 600 cities across the globe marched for peace in February. Here, in America, hundreds of thousands participate in protests, marches, teach-ins. The US Senate was flooded with one million phone calls, emails, and faxes. A majority of Americans want to allow UN weapons inspectors to continue their work. Their efforts during the 1990s were very successful, and will continue to succeed now. Iraq can be successfully contained without shedding one drop of blood.

Please keep this in mind over these next crucial days. You and your fellow delegates will be under considerable pressure to tow the US line. But history, and the will of the people, is on your side. I am confident that you will do the right thing. Stand firm and support the weapons inspectors, and say "NO" to this war.

Alright, that's enough. End of sermon. I got blisters on my fingers!

###  Jeffrey Miller

We pay our respects to Jeffrey Miller, murdered at Kent State for the crime of protesting the reckless actions of a runaway government. This was one of the iconic events of an era that stretched from the assassination of John F. Kennedy to Watergate, those iconic "1960s" that everyone remembers.

It can be difficult for future generations to understand what it was like in those times, marching against the Vietnam War, marching for Civil Rights and Equal Rights. Everything is written with capital letters; it's all been lionized now. In America today, there is still political activism; the run-up to the Iraq war was met with the largest antiwar protests in a generation. Unfortunately, that really is the exception to the rule. Most folks are too busy struggling with their daily lives to worry, or too apathetic to care, or just too ignorant to participate. We've tuned out of the process. This time next year, we might forget the war ever happened.

Politics today is almost exclusively the domain of nerds, social misfits and the obsessively ambitious (ever see the movie _Election_?). If you want to be cool and popular and well-liked, you don't talk politics. Talking about budget deficits and chemical weapons won't score you a lot of dates. You have to fit in with the crowd, you see, and nobody wants to be seen as out of place, rocking the boat. What would Simon Cowell say? What would Britney Spears say?

Politics is such a dirty game, anyway. The whole system's been rigged to keep you, the peasants, out, or keep you distracted. It's best to sit back and stare at the TV, buy more toys,eat more chicken wings, work on your pick-up lines, and gossip about what celebrities are doing. Don't worry your pretty little head about, you know, things and stuff. You want to be popular, not smart. Now watch this drive.

Maybe we shouldn't worry about what country President Dubya is invading this year, or where your state will find the money to keep the local libraries and bridges open. Public libraries have become homeless shelters, anyway. No one visits there anymore, not when we have Barnes & Noble. Besides, who reads anything besides _Cosmo_ and _Maxim_? Reading is for losers, right?

Maybe we just don't care anymore. Or maybe we do, and this is our way of tuning out the information overload. Maybe those "1960s" were overrated in the first place. I really can't say. We're all living in such crazy, trivial, epic times.

### Life Inside the Overlook Hotel

Three truths about life and politics inside the United States:

**One** , the United States of America is not one nation, but two separate tribes. For lack of better terms, they shall be called "North" and "South."

**Two** , the American Civil War never ended. The losing side went into guerilla warfare mode immediately after the surrender and have been dragging their heels ever since.

**Three** , everything comes down to race. Everything. It is the active fault line between the two tribes.

### London Struck by Terrorist Bombing

Thursday, July 7, 2005 - 3:00 pm: This morning, six bombs exploded around London, killing at least 37 and injuring as many as 1,000. The bombings coincide with the start of the G8 summit in Scotland. While the persons responsible and their motives are currently unclear, a European group has claimed responsibility in the name of Al Qaeda. As always, our thoughts and prayers go to everyone in the UK.

I think it's time to start demanding some answers from Tony Blair and George Bush. For example, when you had Osama Bin Laden cornered in the mountains of Tora Bora, why did you suddenly let him escape, along with his top aides and Taliban leaders?

Mr. Bush, when the nation's airplanes were grounded in the days following the September 11 attacks, why did you arrange for members of the Bin Laden family to be flown out of the country, without even being questioned by the FBI?

Mr. Bush, you once claimed you wanted Bin Laden "dead or alive," then later stated you don't think about him that much; you're "just not that concerned about him." What's your explanation?

CIA Director Porter Goss claimed in _Time Magazine_ that he has a very good idea of where Bin Laden is. Here's a question: why don't you get him?

Why is it that the Coast Guard is falling apart, with ships that date back fifty years? Shouldn't protecting America's ports be a priority? Shouldn't incoming ships be inspected more rigorously?

And, finally, why are we really in Iraq? What is it, really? Mr. Bush and Mr. Blair, you both lied about this war. You took your eyes away from the bad buys — Bin Laden and Al Qaeda — in order to invade an unarmed Muslim country; a nation without Weapons of Mass Destruction, without ties to international terrorism, without any connection to 9/11.

Every justification given for the war has been a lie, a terrible fraud propped upon America and the world. And today's terrible bombings in London only show how utterly absurd this "flypaper strategy" has become. It insults our intelligence.

And the Republicans still can't be bothered to give our soldiers proper body armor, armored vehicles or even an exit strategy. They could suddenly whip themselves in a frenzy over Terri Schiavo, but meet this issue with silence. We hear all this lofty rhetoric about "supporting the troops," but decisive action never comes.

Instead, the White House promotes those who advocate tearing up the Geneva Conventions, promoting and justifying rape and torture in Guantanamo, Iraq, Afghanistan, and around the world. And Mr. Blair looks the other way, in the hopes that his lapdog loyalty will be rewarded at the G8 summit. Another pipe dream.

And, once again, the people on the ground are paying the price, pawns in the war pigs' cruel game.

### Made Their Myth, Now They're Trapped

Tuesday, March 3, 2009: There's this line from a Mudhoney song, "Made his myth, now he's trapped," that I think perfectly captures the current situation with the Republican Party. Its modern incarnation was forged by the backlash from the Civil Rights Era, and Richard Nixon brought that discontent home to the GOP to become the majority party for the rest of the century. Now we're seeing the final fallout of that generation — racist, anti-intellectual, paranoid — in its final throes, as younger generations emerge. Republicans have become the Archie Bunkers of America. The problem for them is that Archie Bunker is now a museum piece.

We're not living in the days of the Southern Strategy. We're living in the days of hip-hop, global culture, and Barack Obama. The rest of the world has moved on, and this leaves the GOP trapped. As they become increasingly isolated, the GOP becomes trapped by that hardcore base that first helped bring them to power all those years ago. But this base is an anachronism, and not really offensive anymore; they've become a sad joke. I can't even muster the energy to get upset at Rush Limbaugh anymore. The man is a clown, a colossal moron, and this fact is obvious to pretty much anyone my age who has their heads screwed on straight. It makes about as much sense to rip on Limbaugh as it does to rip on, oh, I dunno...Vanilla Ice.

It's funny that even 15 years ago, this wasn't the broad consensus. But I think my generation (Generation X/Y, born 1965-1983) had to grow up and come of age. Now we're old enough to start taking politics seriously, with retiring parents on one end, and new children on the other. So it's natural that the Hip-Hop Generation is becoming the mainstream American view. The election of Obama is a watershed for this shift. It really is the generational paradigm shift in American politics.

I'm sure there are many smart people within the Republican Party who know this. They aren't all circus clowns or manipulative Mr. Burns types. But they can't join the rest of us here in the 21st Century without losing their hardcore base, a base which has defined them for 40 years. And there's no way, realistically, to discard that many voters and still win elections. The dittoheads are necessary to keep the elections close. But Republicans can no longer win with them alone, and as the years go by, that core base will keep the rest of the nation away, far away. There's no way in hell any GOP candidate on the national level wins the Black vote, or the Latino vote, or the Youth vote, or the Women's vote. And those are the demographics that are growing; angry white males are declining.

I'm thinking about this, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion. It's not just that the GOP needs to lose a couple more election cycles before they get their acts together. I think it's a matter of seeing the Southern Strategy Generation to the grave. You literally will have to wait until the Dobsons and Robertsons and Limbaughs and their ilk have passed. Once the baby boomers start to diminish, then eventually you could see a reemergence of the Republican Party along new lines and new demographics, a Republican Party not defined by Fox News, talk radio, televangelists or cartoon characters like Rick Santorum, Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin.

Of course, I could always be wrong. Americans are good people by their nature, but they don't pay attention to politics, and they can be very easily manipulated. Good heavens, this nation lost its collective minds for five years after 9/11. Another national tragedy on that scale, and anything is game. There is a strong authoritarian bent in this country, as demonstrated by the Fox News cult and the Bush/Cheney Era. And let us not forget racial tensions which remain simmering underneath the surface. These problems are not going away anytime soon.

America's short-term picture may yet prove turbulent, but I believe the longer trends for our nation are towards a more tolerant, more cosmopolitan society. More Hip-Hop and less Limbaugh. The people at the top of the party hierarchy know this. Michael Steele, the current head of the RNC, certainly has figured this out. But it's a tragic realization, knowing that there really are no options for changing course, for avoiding the consequences of this political Faustian bargain. Made their myth, now they're trapped.

### Max Headroom

On November 22, 1987, two Chicago television stations, first WGN, then later a PBS affiliate, lost their broadcast signal to a pirate recording. The recording featured a mysterious man wearing a business suit and a Max Headroom mask, who proceeded to mock his captive audience with a surreal mixture of inside jokes, veiled messages and pop jingles. The recording ended with "Max," his face off-camera, being spanked on the butt by a woman (also face-unseen) wielding a fly swatter. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the pirate broadcast ended, and viewers were jolted by the appearance of _Doctor Who_ , who eerily seemed to be commenting on what just happened.

The identities of Max and his accomplices have never been revealed, and the case remains unsolved to this day. Many theories have been proposed, including disgruntled TV engineers, pranking students from the college station, and the local Chicago hacker scene. I personally subscribe to the latter, as it makes the most sense, given the chatter on message boards at the time, as well as other circumstantial evidence (commercial microwave ovens could be converted into a television microwave transmitter with ease). A computer programmer named Bowie J. Poag once claimed to have met the Max Headroom crew as a young Chicago teenager, but his story (told over several years on Reddit forums) became self-contradictory, and his credibility as a source is extremely suspect. The enigma of Max Headroom continues.

Ride the wave...Freakin' nerd...This one's dirty...My files...Your love is fading...They're coming to get me...

I really love these illustrations. Essentially screenshots drawn in ink, they capture the rebelliousness of the mystery pirate, as well as his eerie menace. There's something truly spooky and unnerving with the idea that your television broadcast could be hijacked without warning, that the image behind the screen could turn its gaze on YOU. It feels uncomfortable to imagine you are being watched. You feel the signals have violated your very home. But isn't that what television does normally? Isn't that the true intent of advertising, of propaganda, of "news?" Aren't we all victims of corporate or government invasion, of propaganda?

A society in the age of mass media is far less free than it wishes to admit? Perhaps this is one message that Max Headroom wanted to send, in that infamous pirate broadcast in 1987. After all, that was the same premise of the _Max Headroom_ sci-fi show, right? Invasion, subversion, transgression, transcendence. One can see this continued today, in underground renegade youth culture, in punk and hip-hop, in the Anonymous hacker collective, in Stanley Kubrick's _Eyes Wide Shut_ , in Alan Moore's _V For Vendetta_. The archetype of the mask is powerful and runs deep in the human psyche. It speaks to the dark unconscious within us all, of the shadowy, sinister forces that lie underneath our waking world. All is not what it appears on its surface. Ordered society hides oppression underneath its proclamations of liberty. Fascism hides behind the masks of consumerism and conformity. The mysterious figure in the mask appears on our screens to mock and challenge our waking world. All is not as it seems. Beware.

### Patron Saint of Minnesota: Eugene McCarthy (1916-2005)

In Minnesota, if you are an Irish Catholic, a progressive or left-of-the-dial politically, then Eugene McCarthy is your patron saint. He was truly one of the great souls of this state, a strong, generous man of conscience. Politics has always been, to coin _The Addams Family_ movie, dirty pool, but McCarthy stood above it all, and remained a beacon of hope and a voice for justice, until his final days.

In recent weeks, we have seen the passing of great people whose lives are a testimony to the power of a single individual, the power within any one of us to change the world. Taking a stand for what's right is rarely easy, it is rarely without sacrifice or hardship. But never despair. When you feel overwhelmed by the stupidity and cruelty of humanity, remember that you are not alone.

We look at today's world and often recoil at so many horrors: rising poverty, rising debt, cruel and senseless wars, a political class sliding ever further into triviality and fascism, runaway global climate change, increasing corruption, increasing incompetence, increasing passivity and fatalism. One can feel overwhelmed at the sight of so many obstacles and dangers.

Do not give in to darkness. Do not give way to indifference. Remember Gene McCarthy. Remember the injustices overcome in his day, the injustice of Jim Crow, the injustice of the Vietnam War. Perhaps, as rabbi Harold Kushner has suggested, God is to be found in the resistance, the struggle for freedom. We need to continue that struggle for freedom, the fight for equality and justice and peace for all.

Senator McCarthy now resides with the spirits of those other great Minnesotans, Hubert Humphrey and Paul Wellstone. We will always miss his voice, just as we will always miss theirs.

### Pope John Paul II Has Died

**Saturday, April 2, 2005 - 4:05pm:** And so John Paul II has finally passed. I'd like to say a few things, but I've found that, even after several days' preparation, I am at a loss for words.

The Pope was certainly a controversial figure, but he was most certainly a titanic figure. He transformed the papacy, revolutionized it. He engaged the world with open arms and a bold step. I remember his early years, as he travelled the globe, connecting with millions as The Vatican had never done before.

I remember his tremendous energy and spirit, his vitality and sense of purpose. Here was a man on a mission. No doubt The Vatican did not know what they were getting into when they elected him in 1978. Surely no one could have predicted that the world would have completely changed under his tenure.

For that, John Paul II deserves enormous credit. His fervent opposition to Soviet Communism, his support for his native Poland and its Solidarity movement, can never be overstated. He was a key figure in ending the Cold War, and in doing so brought his moral strength to the struggle for human rights.

And yet, he rejected capitalism and western culture almost as boldly. It's important to notice that as America slides away from its obligations to the poor and working classes, and towards something far more sinister, John Paul was still a voice for the voiceless.

I was particularly impressed by the strength and dignity with which he faced his final years. His body slowly broke down, reducing this youthful, energetic priest into a weakened old man. He has become almost unrecognizable; and yet, he still possessed that fire that refused to die out. His final illness this year serves as a model for us as we face the end of our lives, and I believe the Pope knew that.

John Paul II made great strides to reconcile the Church's terrible history with Jews and Muslims. His statements of regret for anti-semitism and the Holocaust may not have seemed strong enough for some, but it was a tremendous shift for The Vatican and its doctrines. He rightfully recognized that Christians, Jews, and Muslims share the same spiritual heritage, and have much to learn from one another.

Compare this to the fundamentalist extremism of Osama bin Laden, of Wahhabism, of Falwell and Robertson. It speaks for itself.

I've found myself disagreeing with the Pope on many issues, such as the Church's role for women and treatment of gays and lesbians. In these doctrines, the Catholic Church continues to seem outdated, clinging to dogma for its own sake. The opposition to birth control, in the age of AIDS, is almost impossible to comprehend.

Worst of all is the abuse and rape of children by priests. These monsters and predators were allowed to retain their posts; priests were shuffled around in silence, and The Vatican resisted justice at every step. These crimes are a terrible stain that will take lifetimes to overcome, and it happened on John Paul's watch.

It remains to be seen where Rome will go from here. It's commonly assumed that the next Pope will be more conservative, more traditional. The danger is that The Vatican would withdraw from the world, and hide once again behind ancient walls and ancient doctrines. The Church must continue the work of Karol Wojtyla, and fight for the poor and oppressed around the world. Theology that does not evolve is doomed to extinction.

Will this papacy be regarded by as an aberration, or a permanent shift in the Catholic Church's history? We likely won't know that answer for several decades. I certainly don't think we will see another like John Paul II in our lifetimes.

### Satoshi Kon Dead at 46 After Battle With Pancreatic Cancer

Japanese animation director Satoshi Kon died yesterday from pancreatic cancer. Wow, just...wow. What a sudden and terrible shock. Kon was one of my favorite anime directors from the past decade. He only directed four feature films, but each one was better than the last. I especially enjoyed the way he confronted imagination and illusion, often in the form of popular culture, challenging our assertions of reality. _Millennium Actress_ and _Paprika_ were brilliant in this regard.

I think my favorite Satoshi Kon movie is _Tokyo Godfathers_ , thanks to its wonderfully touching and funny characters, the unique flair given to a John Ford/John Wayne classic, and the sharp willingness to peel back the illusions of modern Tokyo to reveal the hidden suffering of the underclass. I was lucky enough to see it on 35mm film at the University of Minnesota. It played for one weekend, and there were only a handful of attendees at the screening (where were all the anime fans, I wondered), but I had a terrific time and laughed myself silly. I am still awaiting a Blu-Ray release here in the States (and given Sony's haphazard treatment of anime in the US, I'll be waiting a very long time).

I'm also a great fan of Kon's drawing style. His characters have more rounded faces than standard anime fare, slightly more fleshy and weighted. They feel more solid to my eyes, more natural and less caricatured. It may be a surprise to you, but I'm really not a fan of most Japanese anime. Too much character design is given over to huge saucer eyes and scrawny, spindly bodies that always seem fragile and lifeless. I'm thinking of _Ninja Scroll_ for some reason (ugh, not one of my favorites), but there are plenty of other examples.

Kon's talents are far more evident, and his realism reminds me greatly of Isao Takahata. I've often wondered what would happen if the two collaborated together; indeed, Takahata appears lost without his right-hand man, Yoshifumi Kondo. Wouldn't that have been fantastic? A meeting of the minds: _Tokyo Godfathers_ meets Taeko-chan, _Paprika_ meets _Anne of Green Gables_.

This is such a terrible loss. Who else in the anime world are we looking forward to watch? I think Ben Ettinger is absolutely right: the man is irreplaceable. No one else among the younger generation possesses his skills as an animator, a storyteller, or a director. No one else can match his razor sharp intellect. In lesser hands, a film like _Paprika_ would fly apart at the seams and turn into a hallucinatory mess. Kon always felt completely in control; he had a purpose, an agenda. Here was an educated adult making movies for other educated adults. A true artist walked and lived among us.

If Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata have any peers in Japan, it's most definitely Satoshi Kon. Now his voice and his mind are forever silenced. He has now passed into what Terence McKenna called, "the black hole of biology." We shall not see his likes again in our world, and we are all the poorer because of it.

### Sean Pettibone

On Saturday, I discovered that one old friend from the fanzine days, Sean Pettibone from Michigan, has died this April 2006, just shy of 30 years. He most likely never knew this, but he was a tremendous influence upon me, a 20-year-old kid who never really had any chance to live, and desperate to reinvent himself and connect to the flow of life. Strange, that I was older in years, but not in spirit. Pettibone was my teacher and inspiration.

I just discovered this sad fact today, almost by blind happenstance. It's a sadness that washes up like the waves, dragging along the sands of my memories, memories long absorbed and log forgotten. Thirty years old. Snap your fingers, children, and it's gone.

Sean Pettibone wrote and published _In Between the Lines_ , one of the great videogame fanzines of the early 1990s. His writing was defined by a razor sharp wit which he employed with precision. His critiques were direct, sometimes brutal, always honest and fair. In an age when game journalists were little more than desperate groupies, slobbering praise and obedience to the industry, rebels like Pettibone were driving for independence, freedom, and respect. His work remains a gold standard for all aspiring writers and critics.

In addition to his own zone, he also contributed to countless others, and was one of the giants of the scene. He was always ready to offer his support with a kind word of encouragement, or a quick, biting joke. He was a true punk who embodied the DIY spirit of our generation. He was also one of the core members of GEA, or Gaming Enthusiasts of America, the first...well, I'm not exactly sure what it was. I think it was our attempt to create some kind of industry organization, or mouthpiece for the zine underground. Nothing much came of it, aside from a couple issues of the _GEA News_ fanzine, and my radio appearance in Duluth, MN during the Joe Lieberman controversy on videogame violence. It's all such a blur now.

Where does it go, these memories of the past? What is the past? Where do we go? No one knows but the mystics or the materialists. Try to determine if the sound at the center of your being is the voice of God Almighty, or the sound of your own voice, without going mad. And what lies beyond the event horizon, into that black hole of biology? What becomes of those poor souls who fall into its domain? There lies the greatest and most terrifying of all mysteries.

So, anyway, I don't wish to drag you all down. In this course of this life, you will be handed some pretty hard blows. We must all face these; first, as those around us pass into darkness, and then when we follow them. The spirit of death hangs over this land. We must be mindful. I can do nothing but pray, meditate, and weep.

### Space Shuttle Columbia

Waking up on Saturday morning, I was greeted with the headline of _The New York Times_ website. I had to rub my eyes and read again; was that a snafu, or did I just read something about the _Challenger_ explosion? Once reality quickly set in, I had the sudden urge to check my watch and make sure it wasn't 1986.

Sadly, the realization of the here and now was staring me in the face: another lost space shuttle, another seven astronauts taken away in a horrific fireball. Even now, days later, it all seems so unreal. Inside, I felt as though I had taken a hard punch to my gut. I cannot honestly say what most Americans were feeling, and are feeling now; that's just what it felt to me.

I remember back when _Challenger_ was destroyed. I was in an eighth-grade classroom — whatever subject I can't remember — when one of the teachers burst into the room, exclaiming something of how the space shuttle exploded after launch. Minutes later, the Principal relayed the message to all the students in the prison. Err, school. Whatever. The _Challenger_ was gone, in any case, just like that.

This was something that was very hard for young kids to process, especially children who were born after the glory days of the Space Race: Sputnik, John Glenn, the Spacewalk, Gemini, Apollo, the Moon Landing, Skylab. We had read about the risks of space travel, and were taught about the three American astronauts who died atop a rocket. But this all seemed so, well, impossible. Maybe the Soviets had failures, but not us. We were the ones who conquered space. Watching those old "Star Trek" reruns, it was no surprise that the Starship Enterprise was essentially an American vessel. Such a science-fiction future seemed almost inevitable; we would be playing chess with the HAL computer in no time. It was only a matter of time.

The explosion of _Challenger_ took all that away in an instant. In that violent flash, we were shown how arrogant and confident and vulnerable we were. On that day, and the months after, it almost seemed as though the space dream was fading away. Maybe all of was a dream, a cultural myth. Maybe this was just something America did back in the 1960s to show up the Communists.

But we returned to space. When the first shuttle launch after the disaster took place, it seemed the whole world was watching. It probably was. When a new space shuttle was built, the whole world watched again. After a time, though, we stopped watching. The whole routine of flying into space was just that, a routine. Again.

Now we've lost _Columbia_ , the original, and I'm feeling numb again. I remember twenty years ago, when the shuttle first launched, when it first orbited the Earth, when it first landed. It was amazing. I was only eight years old, but I knew I was watching history; such moments are rare.

But what has happened? What have we really done since that day? When reading about the loss of _Columbia_ , observers remark how casually the younger generation seems to react. Sure, the young people are sad, in a general way, but there's nothing approaching the feeling we felt before. Why is that? Have we become desensitized to violence all around us? Have we become so conditioned by the mass media, the 24-hour news channels that perpetually feed us fear and dread? Have we simply become numb after the shock of 9/11? Must everything come back to that?

The harder part is still to come. We will, once again, I fear, learn the details of the explosion, of why those foam tiles failed, of why _Columbia's_ left wing suffered a sharp rise in temperature, of why nobody except everyone watching noticed the same left wing take damage in takeoff. We will, just as with _Challenger_ , learn of a NASA increasingly forced to cut corners and ignore safety warnings; increasingly pressured to function with less and less money; increasingly desperate to grab the attention of an American public that has tuned out, closing outer space, closing out the world, closing in on themselves.

Sure, we have an International Space Station, but what else? What happened to the Moon What happened to Mars? What happened to the Solar System? What happened to our national sense of purpose, of adventure? America used to be more than Big Gulps, Big Cars and Big-Screen Televisions. This nation had dreams once; now it sleepwalks through a dumbed-down haze. What happened, America?

### The Day That Never Comes

We'll it's finally here, kiddies. The New Metallica Song has arrived at last. Grab your pitchforks, choose your side, "love" or "love to hate." Time to start that latest round of whining, complaining and arguing from the hyper-passionate and over-caffeinated group of Americans known as Metallica Fans. How did it ever get to this? Of all the arenas in American life to wage the cultural wars, why here? Why this? Damned if I ever know. If I ever become lucky enough to pose the question to God Almighty and return to tell the tale, my intuition says the Great Answer will be an intergalactic shrug. We humans pick the weirdest fights.

Somewhere in the early 1990s, after the band's legendary two-year world tour, Metallica's self-titled "Black Album" split the fan community straight down the middle. It's been open sectarian warfare ever since; although to be fair, the screaming tantrums have been howitzered equally from both sides. See, that's the fun part of any civil war. We all play our part and become swept into the madness. I keep this little bit of self-aware wisdom in mind as the hours until the next Presidential election grind away. Don't blame me. I voted for Kodos.

It's funny to marvel at the endless trashy turbulation that is evoked at name of Metallica. I can't believe the old men are still around, still finding ways to piss everyone off. The kids scream and pout about greedy Lars and those music downloads, while the Great Global Music Shoplift destroys the music industry as we know it. How dare he expect us to pay for his albums! How dare he expect to earn more money! He has enough! By the way, I just downloaded that album from that new up-and-coming band. Whatever happened to those guys? Why didn't they record any more songs? Whoops. Mission Accomplished. Now watch this drive.

When I was 18 years old, I walked into my dorm room at the humble College of St. Scholastica. I hadn't owned more than five albums my entire life. I was raised during the culture wars of the Reagan Era, the days when fire-breathing televangelists pumped your mind full of fear and prejudice. We were too young to realize that we were being served warmed-over leftovers, fecal piles from the zombie brigades of the Jim Crow army. I hope I'm not being too harsh, I think to myself. It wasn't always that bad. Then I pick up a newspaper and read of yet another megachurch preacher busted for stealing money from his followers. Drug habits. Mistresses. Luxury cars. Private jets. It's the year 2008, and the Leper Messiahs still roam freely, the Pharisees and Sadducees ripping open wounds in this land that never heal.

This was the world I was struggling to escape when I entered that dorm room. My roommate was a Minnesota kid named Carl. He liked weightlifting and videogames. And he loved Metallica. With a ratty, worn-out cassette tape copy of _Ride the Lightning_ , the _Black Album_ , and a Los Angeles radio show called "M-M-M-M-Metal Shop," the melodic thrash of Metallica opened my eyes to the beauty and cruelty of the world. I felt like Alice in the land of Oz, discovering Technicolor for the very first time. I've been on that long, strange trip ever since.

Back in the '80s, the rock and roll witch hunt was in full force. There needed to be a scapegoat for the crimes of the Pharisees, and as usual, youth culture was to blame. Elvis Presley's hips shook the walls of Jericho, or something like that. Heavy metal rock bands were the prime offenders. An endless stream of videos, books and lectures convinced a sleepy nation that hard rock was the work of the Devil, truly the root of all evil. The killing fields of Cambodia, the death squads of Central America, the torture chambers of Pinochet, the chemical weapon genocides of Saddam Hussein. All of these things paled in comparison to Led Zeppelin and _Stairway to Heaven_ and those damned evil subliminable messages hidden in Jimmy Page guitar solos.

It's a miracle we're not drowning in thousands of Manchurian Candidates. You may be one right now and not even know it. But don't worry your pretty little head about it. Just sit back, watch some TV. Watch _American Idol_ , play some Xbox. Have another energy drink. Have another beer. Why don't you pass the time with a little game of solitaire?

There's something violent and vicious about the American Empire. Some great cancer at our core, causing us to rip one another to shreds like wild dogs. We live in a perpetual rage, drowning in a drugged haze of anger, fear, alcohol and caffeine. The Masters of Puppets pull all the strings. And we tear our hearts out with bared teeth. And the darkness of the human soul becomes darker still. We survived the outsourced torture of Latin America, torture by remote control. Now we do it ourselves, in the daylight, with gleeful smiles on our faces. Guantanamo Bay is officially declared the Empire's 51st State. The American flag replaced by the skull and crossbones, or perhaps the coiled snake of the old Colonial Culpepper's Brigade: Liberty or Death. Don't Tread on Me.

Something is very wrong here. Something is dangerously wrong. You've felt it all along. We should not be doing this. This was not the Fate of Mankind. The prophets tried to warn us. The true disciples of Jesus, so many of them who are gone now, taken from us. Murdered. Mahatma Gandhi. Medgar Evers. Malcolm X. Martin Luther King. There are moments in the game when you realize, if you perceive closely, with the right kind of eyes, that the fix is in. The tide will only be allowed to rise so far, then pulled back. When Malcolm was murdered, when MLK was murdered, when Kennedy was murdered. It's been hell ever since. Now we're shouting obscenities at one another because Metallica got haircuts and discovered Blues Rock. We're killing ourselves to live through one oil war after another. We're cutting down the trees because no Lorax can be heard to speak for them. Our cities drown, and idiot boy-kings like George W. Bush smirk through another _Beavis & Butthead_ routine. They dine on our ashes, laughing while poor Americans drown in the streets. And now, in August of the Year of Our Lord 2008, the Presidential race is effectively tied. Buy another ticket, take another ride. Something is very wrong here.

The Empire has been galloping headlong for the past forty years, churning out a world of disposable heroes and a blackened globe. There is a webcam in the Arctic where you can watch photos of the glaciers, retreating, melting every day. We will soon witness a spectacle not seen since Moses parted the Red Sea: the North Pole will become open water. There are no atheists in foxholes, the old saying goes. Well, we shall see, children. We shall see.

To most minds, this sounds like mindless rambling. I'm drifting, roaming, skipping rocks across the waters of my mind. Perhaps. But I think not. Metallica was the key that unlocked this world to me. They taught me the virtues of creativity, the need to explore, the freedom to see everything and know everything. They taught me one of God's most crucial lessons: the name of the game is boundary dissolution. We are not meant to be caged into walls. We are meant to shatter them into dust. Remember that night in Berlin in 1989.

So what does this have to do with the new song from the upcoming album _Death Magnetic_? Nothing. Everything. The Democratic Convention is in three days. George W. Bush is trying to recreate the Cuban Missile Crisis, when he's not sluggishly fighting off another night's pretzel attack. John McCain promises to become the Dr. Strangelove President. He might bomb-bomb Iran, or maybe North Korea, or maybe Russia, or maybe all three. He may just let Sarah Palin ride the bomb herself. Yahoo! Yahoo!

Rock 'n roll used to be engaged with the world. Music used to matter. Maybe you believe it shouldn't anymore, that the aging rock stars should only serve as your personal pillow fluffers. Just another set of kicks while channel surfing. But I don't buy that. I'm willing to bet Metallica doesn't either. They sure as hell better not. But I don't worry. James Hetfield hasn't let me down before. He's led us this far out of the rat maze. We'll make it. Just have faith.

### The Man Who Walked Between the Towers

Michael Sporn was a successful independent animator who lived and worked in New York City. A remarkably gifted individual, he built a long and prolific legacy of award-winning animated short films, often adapted from popular children's books. According to Wikipedia, he produced and directed over thirty half-hour specials for PBS, CBS, HBO and Showtime. He created cartoon shorts for Sesame Street, public service announcements for UNICEF, and also music videos, documentary and film titles, commercial logos and industrial spots. He was immensely prolific and talented.

In addition to these achievements, Sporn created over fifteen short films, including adaptations of _Raggedy Ann & Andy_, _Lyle, Lyle Crocodile_ , _Goodnight Moon_ , _Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel_ , _The Little Match Girl_ , _The Red Shoes_ , and many more. No doubt you will have your favorites from his filmography; I know I have mine.

Sporn was working on a feature animated movie based on the life and works of Edgar Allen Poe during his final years, which, unfortunately, was never to see completion. It was during this time that he began his battle with pancreatic cancer, which he fought with boundless courage and good spirits. Unfortunately, he would succumb to the disease, passing away in 2014.

In the early months of 2006, as I was beginning _Ghibli Blog_ , Sporn was kind enough to send me a DVD copy of his most recent film, _The Man Who Walked Between the Towers_ (I repaid his kindness by sending a package of numerous Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata films which were only then available in Japan) _._ Based upon a great illustrated book, It tells the story of a Manhattan performance artist who famously tied a tightrope between the then-newly built World Trade Center towers, then danced and frolicked between the towers to the delight of the people below. The cartoon captures a sense of pencil and watercolor nostalgia, perfectly realized from the book, sparsely and carefully animated, as though Sporn did not wish to impose himself. It is the work of an artist with a keen eye, a sharp mind, and a humble spirit.

As a visual artist myself (or at least a good substitute for one), I enjoy the look of this movie, its illustrative style, like the pages of the book sparkled with life. It reminds me of all the terrific animation I used to watch as a child on a USA Network show called "Calliope," stories about The Wild Things and Phil Harmonic and Carole King looking for her Chicken Soup. Michael Sporn would have been at home on that program.

_The Man Who Walked Between the Towers_ won many awards, including the Audience Choice Award at the 2005 Heartland Film Festival, the award for Best Short Animation Made For Children at the 2006 Ottawa International Animation Festival, and the Andrew Carnegie Medal For Excellence in Children's Video. He earned an Academy Award Nomination for his 1984 short film _Doctor DeSoto_ , adapted from William Steig's children's book.

I cannot claim to have personally known the man. I only shared my love of movies and animation between our two websites (Sporn's _Splog_ remains a treasure trove of animation history and criticism). But I found Michael Sporn to be kind and generous, always patient and cheerful, and always an inspiration. I do wish he were still alive, so that I could walk into his New York studio with copies of my books in hand. I'd love to hear what he would think.

When some people die, the world they leave behind becomes a little quieter, a little colder, a little less colorful and interesting. Michael Sporn has gone from us, and the silence in the autumn air speaks volumes. If only we could hear his voice just once more. But time moves forward, and all things must pass.

### Timmy and the Giant Space Bug

A short story by me, soon to be a beloved children's classic. Any Hollywood producers interested in securing the movie rights? Enjoy:

Timmy was a nice little boy. He liked bugs and played with them often. One day Timmy was walking down the street when he discovered an enormous shadow over him and everything in sight. He looked up and saw a Giant Space Bug.

"Holy moly!" Timmy said, because for some baffling reason he liked to talk like that. "Are you a giant bug from outer space?"

The Giant Space Bug squinted back. "What? What kind of stupid question is that?! Where do you think I come from, Detroit?"

"Gee, I don't know, Mister Bug," said Timmy. "You're awful big for a bug, and bugs are my friends."

"Oh, for crying out loud! Of course I'm from outer space! I'm a Giant Space Bug! And I'm not your freak'n friend."

"Well, golly gee, that ain't nice-"

"Wait a second. Why do you keep talking like that? What's your deal, anyway?"

"Gosh, I dunno. The other bugs like the way I talk."

"What? You must hang around some pretty stupid bugs. They're probably just playing along because you're lumpier than a bag of rocks. Stupid kid."

Timmy was growing flustered. "But..."

"Shut up, potato head."

But, um...wait..."

"Can it, meat brain!"

"B-but..."

"Go away, lumpy! Don't you have something better to do, like eating paste?"

"B-but..."

Timmy was near tears, because, to be brutally honest, he was kind of a wuss. "B-but, I'm a nice little boy and you're being mean to me. Why are you being mean to me?"

The Giant Space Bug was really annoyed now. He didn't know whether to walk away in disgust or simply shoot the little spud with his space gun. In the end, he decided to take his wallet, so the giant space bug pulled out his space gun.

"Alright, that's it. Gimme your lunch money, kid!"

This really threw Timmy for a loop. Big surprise there.

"Huh?"

"You heard me, Poindexter. Gimme your lunch money!"

"But, um..." Timmy was flustered again. Loser.

"Look, Timmy, you're the dumbest kid I've bumped into today, and I already stepped on a couple other butterballs, so don't press your luck, okay?"

"Uh, Mister Bug, how do you know my name?" Timmy babbled.

"Hey!" snapped the Giant Space Bug. "Stop pointing out the plot holes! What is it with you little dorks pointing out all the plot holes in everything?! Now hurry up and cough up the wallet. Burger King still has one of those little hats left, and I don't want to miss out."

"Oh. Uh...okay." Timmy pulled out some spare change and a crumpled dollar from his pocket.

"Now hand it over," said the Giant Space Bug.

"But," asked Timmy, "how will you take my lunch money when you don't have any hands?"

The giant space bug thought this over for a moment. He looked around at all the other houses in the neighborhood. He saw the birds in the trees and the clouds in the sky. He pondered all of this, and thought to himself that if he were in a Disney cartoon, then this would be a good moment for some sort of epiphany, where his heart would grow three sizes and he would learn a valuable moral lesson.

"Hey, Timmy," the Giant Space Bug said.

"Yes?" asked Timmy.

"Is that your house over there?" asked the Giant Space Bug.

"Yes, it is," replied Timmy.

"It's a nice house," said the Giant Space Bug.

And then the Giant Space Bug blew up Timmy's house with his space gun.

Z-Z-Z-ZAP!!! BOOM!!!

"Waaahh!!" Timmy was bawling again.

The Giant Space Bug really, really hated Disney cartoons.

Also, the part about his heart growing three sizes was from Dr. Suess, not Walt Disney. What kind of moron wrote this story, anyway? And what does that say about you that you're reading it? No wonder this stupid country is staring down the barrel of a "President Trump." Nimrods.

Grumble...I'll blow up your house with a giant space gun...

END SCENE.

### Truth is the First Casualty of War

As I write this in April of 2003, I am told by the TV that that the Iraq War is "over." What exactly has been "won," of course, will be defined at a future date.

So what will happen now? Will we truly do the right thing by the 25 million Iraqis that we've adopted? Will we really devote the energy and time necessary to secure their country and assure a better tomorrow? Or will George W. Bush and his administration merely reward politically-connected friends, and look the other way as the country slides into chaos? I honestly don't know; I'm not hopeful about this White House's intentions. The reasons for going to war were fraudulent; and unless some WMD magically appear, those lies will cost America in world credibility and stature.

Bechtel, Halliburton, the looting of Baghdad while the Ministry of Oil is secured, future military bases, threats to Syria, handpicked "leaders," staged toppling of statues, massive crowds demanding our withdraw, the continued lack of water and power. These events only serve to justify the skepticism of those of us who felt this war to be immoral and unjust.

I once mentioned the word "quagmire" in passing once, but I didn't mean the actual war. I mean now, the war for the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people. If the crucial needs of that country are not addressed, if we only serve to control Iraq's resources, we will find ourselves in a situation we cannot easily escape from.

It's perfectly fine to expect a liberated country to be thankful, but how do you respond when they don't trust you? Or don't even like you? The West's history in the Middle East is not a pretty one; the people who live there have a reason to be skeptical, especially when the reasons for waging this war have changed so many times.

Will Iraq descend into chaos (okay, more chaos)? Will long-repressed ethnic hostilities enflame into full-blown civil war? Will the Iraqis, if truly given the power over their future, embrace a fundamentalist Islamic state, ala Iran? What if the growing humanitarian crisis, looting and lawlessness is ignored or overlooked?

I'm not even going into what could happen if the Pentagon presses for the use of Iraq's military bases for a permanent US presence, or if the White House war hawks press for yet another war in the region (Syria, Iran, North Korea).

There is no moral justification for this war, never forget that. The people of Iraq deserved better than a mass murderer like Saddam Hussein, but they also deserve better than cluster bombs and endless lies from Saddam's former boss.

Perhaps now it is acceptable to ask questions. The news media no longer believes it is un-American to wonder just where these weapons of doom are hidden, why they suddenly disappeared, or whether they ever existed at all. Funny how things work out; not that I would expect an apology or a thank you for asking the same questions when it wasn't fashionable. Truth is the first casualty of war, you see.

Perhaps the American people will start to wonder, as well, and start asking questions. Maybe not. Most are perfectly happy with the war's outcome; we won, after all. We have no idea what exactly has been "won," but we won, dammit, and that's all that matters in life. O'Doyle rules!

I wonder what it will take to get their minds working. How many more family members have to return home in body bags and a folded flag? Nearly every day in Iraq, another soldier dies. This is peace? I certainly don't want it to come to that. We should be willing to seek the truth before it is put into the ground, alongside our sons.

### V: A History of the Fanzine That Gripped a Nation

In the Spring of 1993, at twenty years of age, I wrote and published a videogame fanzine called _V: The Videogame Experience_. It was my fourth journey into the world of zines: I first assisted with the writing on a _Star Trek_ fan club in Brainerd, Minnesota; then I served as editor for our fan club in Duluth; then I created a one-page zine dedicated to the Atari Lynx. After several seasons under my belt, I was ready to "go solo," and unleash my own complete creation.

I spent an absurd amount of time creating my zine on Microsoft Publisher, making sure the layout was perfect, and everything was so professional. Contents included a lead editorial, several pages of reviews, two or three feature articles, and an impressive orange cover with a snarky cartoon lampooning the _Mortal Kombat_ debate that was raging at the time. My favorite feature of the issue was a comprehensive strategy guide for _Castlevania 2: Simon's Quest_ , a project that kept me away from my classes at the University of Minnesota-Duluth.

I printed at least fifty copies from the University print shop, at a cost of a hundred dollars. I was happy as a boy at Christmas. Copies were immediately sent out to the professional videogame magazines, the growing zine community, and a number of local shops that might stock a couple copies. The issue was later featured in the November 1993 issue of _VideoGames_ magazine.

The second issue offered more of the same, and maybe a couple more pages as well. The cover layout was stretched out, so it actually filled the page, and I used a blue color instead of orange. The contents were the same as before, with editorials, reviews and articles. I do remember that this is when letters and other zines started to appear in my mailbox, and I continued to integrate myself into this growing underground scene.

The third issue of _V_ was my breakthrough issue. The cover was pink and included a Post-It Note cartoon with stick figures shooting one another (for some reason, this has become a recurring motif in my artwork). The writing was the most solid and accomplished yet, and I managed to create another detailed strategy guide. The aforementioned zine review of _V #1_ was followed by another favorable review in the March 1994 issue of _VideoGames_. The attention was immediate: letters with subscription money flooded my mailbox, and I began sending essays and reviews to share with other zines.

By this point in time, the videogame industry had begun to take notice of the rising indie publishing scene, and many zine editors and writers secured press credentials to the Consumer Electronics Shows in Chicago and Las Vegas. I attended three shows myself and had an absolute blast. We were invited into the private parties and showcase displays for the electronic games of tomorrow. We were invited to speak to industry leaders and legends. We were invited to meet celebrities and travel in limousines. It's quite surreal to talk about it now. It seemed so easy at the time.

The next step in my writing career beckoned. I was contacted by _GamePro_ magazine, the leading videogame magazine at the time, and was hired as a freelance reviews writer. For most of 1994 I wrote under the name "The Eternal Cheesehead." I was never fond of their use of cartoon names for writers, but I went along with a Midwestern pun. I was given a copy of the magazine's writing guide, which was very specific for their reviews. I'll never forget the sentence that read, "heavy use of alliteration and witty word play." In other words, corny puns, which were common on the prozines of the day.

After becoming an officially paid writer, I continued to publish and promote my zine. During the 1994 Winter CES in Las Vegas, I continued to give away copies of _V: The Videogame Experience_ to fellow writers and journalists. Unfortunately, sometime during the show, I lost my floppy disk containing my copy of Microsoft Publisher. I must have left it inside one of the desktop computers in the press room. D'oh! This complicated the fanzine a little.

When I returned home, I had no other copy of Publisher available, so I used the only thing I had at the time: Microsoft Word. Or was that WordPerfect? Whatever. Either way, the look and style of my zine would be radically changed, "downgraded" from a semi-professional design to, well, a zine. The fourth issue featured only text, laid out in two or three columns. Graphics were created with marker pens and Kinko's "Liquid Paper." The cover featured a photocopy of my face smooshed into a photocopy machine. And the title was given a haircut to, simply, _V_.

By the end of 1994, my relationship with _GamePro_ had become strained. I discovered that the editors were altering the content of my reviews, including raising the review scores to avoid offending the advertisers. _GamePro_ discovered that I was more critical and demanding than they really wanted. And so we parted ways. I continued to freelance here and there, while also planning to return to college, enroll in some classes, and change direction.

I was fairly upset over what happened at _GamePro_. I was old enough to understand the role of editors, so revisions or changes to a manuscript is expected. I hadn't expected the review scores to be boosted, or critical comments watered down or removed. The videogame magazines were notorious for their incestuous relationship to the industry; many writers saw the prozines as an entry-level step to a career in the games business. They were careful to tread lightly and not not step on any toes. The game publishers, meanwhile, would frequently leverage their power by threatening to pull advertising from magazines that published critical reviews. Capcom once pulled ads from _Electronic Gaming Monthly_ in response to harsh reviews of _Super Street Fighter 2_ ; even then, the scores were favorable (six out of ten), but not favorable enough.

As for me, I continued to write and publish, but I was growing and moving in new directions. _V_ issue #5 improved its minimalist style. The contents were beginning to inject music and pop culture alongside the videogame content, which was also expanding to include the "classics" alongside the "modern" scene. I remember an article about Atari's _Warlords_ , and wondering what a modern, _Tempest 2000_ version could look like. The expanded letters section, named after Brian Setzer, reflected my solidarity with the fanzine scene. The zines were far more interesting than the prozines. We were a grouchy, spirited, lively bunch.

Issue Number Six: a very detailed and elaborate punk collage cover design, taken from Nintendo's print ad for _Super Punch-Out_. I got really angry at the images of battered teenage girls, although nothing sinister was intended. I was just very angry and depressed at that time, coming out of a very repressive and conservative upbringing, and a very loud-mouthed attitude. I was working to break myself free and evolve into a better human being. My twenties could be fairly turbulent at times. But at least we had that cool zine cover. I was quite proud of that one.

And now, finally, the masterpiece: _V the Seventh_. In the same way that issue #3 was the peak of the early, "professional" style, #7 was the peak of the "alternative" style. The cover featured a photocopy of the late Bob Stinson, guitarist for legendary Minneapolis rockers The Replacements. This cover, "God Rest His Guts," was my tribute to his sudden passing. This issue was enormous fun, filled with humor and biting wit. The balance between videogames, music and the personal with pristine. The writing had found a new maturity. I brought a zine to the restaurant where I worked and received laughs and applause. I was very proud and wondered if I could ever top it. On some days, I wonder if I ever truly have.

By the end of 1995, life was pulling me in different directions, and a combination of boredom, frustration, alienation, and laziness (let us be honest) caused my zine to slowly fade away. I do remember a _V_ issue #8, which used another punkish collage cover; the evolution from the dark side was complete. I don't think there was more than one original page, and the rest of the issue was a "greatest hits" culled from the entire series run. Again with the music influences. If you're wondering why so many of my paintings used song and album titles, now you know. I was a music junkie, and that was my reeducation and reinvention.

Was I tired of videogame by 1996? Or was I weary, worn down by Puritanical guilt as a 23-year-old who still played with his childhood toys? This hobby had become a guilty pleasure, and I just wanted to do something else with my life. Something more meaningful, something that wouldn't alienate me from the other kids. My writing had moved firmly into poetry, music and art. I wanted to act on the stage and tell bad jokes. I wanted to learn the guitar. I wanted to study painting. My life was drifting off course, and all I wanted was my freedom. _What was I supposed to do next?_ No idea. We'll figure that out somehow. _Maybe I should finish college and stop dropping classes?_ But I didn't really want to do that. I didn't really want to write about videogames. And I didn't want to do the fanzine anymore.

I had one final issue of _V_ in 1996 that included a large piece of toast on the cover. The toast was glued to the front page. I can't remember what compelled me to do that, or what else was in that issue; I think it was only a few pages of the usual apologies for being "so late" (the zine mantra) and promises to deliver more issues. Interestingly, a decade later, with the rise of weblogs, I revived the zine as a _Digital Press_ blog, and had a lot of fun. That venture led me to create my own arts website and a couple blogs, including _Ghibli Blog_. Those ventures, of course, led to a decade of writing that eventually led to more paid writing jobs, a couple DVD projects, and these books.

Am I really doing the exact same thing twenty years later? Did I really peak in the year 1998? I sure hope not, but it's funny to observe such things. We cannot escape ourselves. And now I want to write and publish a paper fanzine again. I'm even having occasional dreams about creating a quarterly zine, putting them on KDP Select and then publishing an annual omnibus. We'll see what happens.

### Wisdom Teeth in the United States of Stupid

**Wednesday, October 29, 2008:** When you have a serious toothache, never ever touch any raw nerves. Ow ow owww!! I'm amazed that I even got any sleep last night. I thought I was in the clear today, but on the lightrail home after work, I tapped my upper right molar briefly. The pain shot through my teeth like lightning. And there was nothing I could do but tough it out for another ten minutes, until finally reaching the Mall of America.

I've been sloshing my mouth with Chloraseptic, which works as a local anesthetic, and cold water works pretty good, too (I'm told a salt-water solution works wonders). These feel like sudden attacks, not toothaches. Have I mentioned also that I'm not signed up with the company's dental/medical plan? Ow. Living in a third-world country sucks.

Again, why does the United States still not have universal health care? Our current system, which could be kindly called "A Punch in the Face," is a miserable disgrace. And yet ancient fears of taxes, long lines, and communism are trumped up endlessly by the conservative right. You know, the same ideologues that gave us the Wall Street meltdown, endless wars, crumbling infrastructure, rampant corruption, and trillion-dollar debts. How they continue to squeak by in election after election is a mystery for the ages. Sometimes I wish I wasn't living in the United States of Stupid.

I'll cross my fingers and hope my teeth behave, at least long enough for me to finally deal with going to the dentist and removing those rogue molars (or perhaps the wisdom teeth). I remember going to the University of Minnesota sometime during 1998 to inquire about taking them out. They charged per tooth, of course, plus the novocaine and the sleeping gas. I think the total bill for removing all four wisdom teeth (they came in at crooked angles, which squeezes my teeth, upper teeth especially, in a stressful vice grip) would cost about $1,200. Twelve Hundred Bucks. Whee.

This is how you learn to put things off that you shouldn't, avoiding deadlines that you would be wiser to face. And now my days of putting this off are wearing thin. When your entire skull is aching and throbbing, you know you've got a problem. Heck, the nerve in my left foot is pulsating, more annoying than painful. But human beings learn to adapt to almost anything. Any steady pain soon becomes drowned out. It's just the cost of doing business, and you can eventually learn to forget about it.

I'm feeling better now, but the dread, and the sense that I should have dealt with this ages ago, is still there, waiting, just like I know that long nerve in my upper gums is waiting. It's waiting to take me down like wild game. Maybe a long nap will help things, and I'll go back to something normal. Or I'll wake up and still be in pain.

It sure would be nice to have free dental coverage in this nation. It would be nice to finally enact Harry Truman's universal health care. You know, the one he conjured in 1948. Nineteen-Forty-Freakin'-Eight. The same year the Democrats tackled racial segregation. Six decades later, and we're on the verge of electing America's first African-American President. And I still have to save up for months to pay the dentist, because the damned co-pays and deductibles are absurd. Sometimes I'm left to wonder what they're putting in the drinking water.

Ah, what does it matter? I should be thankful, grateful, that this is the one year where Joe The Plummer won't be the king-maker. Most other years and the peasants would be easily distracted and seduced by the trivial and the stupid. This year, they're actually paying attention for a change. Perhaps this means we'll finally grow up a little and enact some painfully-long overdue remedies.

Oh, and one more free bit of advice: don't slosh too much Chloraseptic. The tingling stays in your mouth for days, like a slight dull numbing. It's like having a hangover without the benefit of earning it properly. I need a good long nap. And then I need my wisdom teeth to behave, just a little while longer.

Always remember to brush your teeth, kids.

### About the Author

Daniel Thomas MacInnes has worked as a visual artist, a fanzine editor, a videogame review critic, and the creator of several arts-themed websites. As a pop culture critic and essayist, his writings have been appeared in _GamePro_ , _Newtype Gaming_ , _Time Out London_ , _DanielThomas.org_ , _Daniel Thomas Vol. 4_ and _Ghibli Blog (Conversations on Ghibli)_.

He has contributed to the animation books _Mi Vecino Miyazaki_ and _Antes De Mi Vecino Miyazaki_ , and collaborated on the Discotek Media DVDs _Lupin the 3rd: The Complete First TV Series_ and _Horus, Prince of the Sun_ (a Blu-Ray release featuring new audio commentary is forthcoming at the time of publication).

DT Media is his latest venture; _Zen Arcade_ , _Pop Life_ and _Greatest Hits_ are his first published books. He has recently moved from Minneapolis, Minnesota to Chicago, Illinois.

Books by Daniel Thomas MacInnes:

Pop Life

Zen Arcade: Classic Video Game Reviews

Greatest Hits: An Anthology in Four Volumes

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