Last week, the Motion Picture Academy made some changes to its biggest award ceremony--the Oscars. The Academy announced that next year's Oscar ceremony will have a new category to honour "popular" films. This will give big tentpole blockbusters like Black Panther and... well, any superhero film a shot at something other than a technical award. Because, let's be honest, no matter how good the film is (and I think Black Panther is certainly that), it doesn't stand a chance at getting a Best Picture nomination because the Academy will never look at it as anything other than a 50-year-old comic book character.
The sad truth is, the Academy has always, at least in my lifetime, been a bit snobbish about who gets nominations. Most of their nominees and certainly their winners are films that are supposed to make one think about the human condition and morality and our place in society and all sorts of other weighty issues like that. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Moonlight is a great film, but it's not something that I'm necessarily going to jump at the chance to watch... certainly not multiple times. And I'm not saying that weighty issues shouldn't be examined in film. I am saying that the Academy just likes it when those issues are really in your face.
The best example of this was 2008's The Dark Knight. This film touched on all sorts of important social issues. It made us ask important questions like, is it okay for someone to invade our privacy if its in the interest of protecting the general populace? (Again, this was 2008--we still cared about things like warrantless wiretapping in the name of national security.) And yet, with the obvious exception of Heath Ledger's performance (more on that in a bit), the film failed to garner any non-technical nominations. In my opinion, it should have been nominated for Best Picture and Christopher Nolan should have been nominated for Best Director. It was seriously one of the best directed films I'd seen in a long time. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say that Nolan did as good a job directing that as he did last year's critical darling Dunkirk.
I'm an Oscar junkie. As I write this, for the life of me, I can't remember what won Best Picture that year, or, for that matter, any of the Best Picture nominees from that year except Frost/Nixon and that's only because I'm also a Watergate junkie. However, I do plan on looking it up after I post this.
Which brings me to the late, great Heath Ledger, who was posthumously awarded the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his work in The Dark Knight. To me, it was almost insulting. Not because he didn't deserve to win, mind you. He absolutely deserved that award. His performance was jaw-droppingly amazing. What was insulting about it was the fact that had he not died before the film's release, I don't think he would have won. In fact, I don't think he would have even gotten a nomination because I think the Academy would have only seen the fact that he was playing a nearly 70-year-old comic book character. That is why the film was left out of the Best Picture and Best Director categories--because at its heart, it's still Batman. You can make all the serious social commentary you want when you make a movie, but if you couch it in an action film based on a beloved comic, all the Academy will see is that comic.
Speaking of comics--there was one other injustice in the Best Supporting Actor Oscar category in 2008. (Who knew there could be multiple issues with just one category in just one year?) The person who really got shafted that year was Robert Downey, Jr., for his hysterical performance in the movie Tropic Thunder. Frankly, I was amazed he even got a nomination (again, not that he didn't deserve it). But why tease him like that? Even if he wasn't up against Ledger, there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to win it for the simple reason that it was an over-the-top comedy.
I've often wondered what the Academy has against comedies. Even the really good ones will usually only get nominated in Supporting Acting and writing categories, and even then, it only has a chance at winning for the screenplay. The few times in recent memory that Oscars have been awarded to comedies, there was always some kind of underlying drama as a counterpoint to the humour. Jack Nicholson's performance in As Good As It Gets could be looked at as comedic. And it was very funny. But underneath the funny, if offensive, one liners, Melvin Udall was an obsessive-compulsive, misanthropic, germophobic writer who just wanted "to be a better man." This brought out enough drama that the Academy felt it was okay to give Jack his third Oscar.
But what's wrong with giving awards to films and performances that just make us laugh? Most actors will be the first to say that comedy is harder than drama. So why do Oscars only seem to go to the more "realistic" dramatic performances? Why couldn't Melissa McCarthy actually have won for her performance in 2011's Bridesmaids? Or Downey for Tropic Thunder? The last Oscar I remember being awarded to a completely over-the-top, laugh-out-loud comedic performance was to Kevin Kline for A Fish Called Wanda--thirty years ago. (I suppose one could cite Jack Palance in City Slickers or Cuba Gooding, Jr., in Jerry Maguire, but, like Nicholson in As Good As it Gets, there were enough serious, more dramatic moments that kept them from being too funny.)
One performance that I felt was unfairly passed over was Michael Keaton in 2014's Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance). The Academy was kind enough to give him a nomination, but because Eddie Redmayne was playing Stephen Hawking--a real-life person who overcame almost unimaginable obstacles to become one of maybe two astrophysicists recognized by people who know nothing about astrophysics--he was the more "logical" choice. To be fair, I still haven't seen the film and I'm sure he did a magnificent job, but giving him the Oscar--or, rather, not giving it to Keaton--just seemed too easy to me. I often wonder if Keaton killed his chances of winning when he accepted his Golden Globe. He thanked the Hollywood Foreign Press for recognizing comedies, which is not exactly something the Academy is well-known for, as I hope I've illustrated above.
Over the last few years, there have been a number of criticisms of the Academy Awards, from a lack of diversity among the nominees to how long the ceremony is. And people have complained in the past that a lot of popular films don't get recognized except in the technical categories. I remember the Academy trying to address this issue some years back when they doubled the number of nominees for Best Picture. I don't think it worked too well.
Most of the time, I have to say, these "popular films" are not as good as the films that do tend to get nominated and/or win. I don't see The Meg being huge Oscar bait. I'm sure it's probably highly entertaining. There's nothing wrong with that, but is it really great cinema?
I really feel that the best way to improve the Oscars (other than obviously recognizing diversity) is to recognize other genres than drama. I think they ought to take a page out of the Golden Globes' playbook and separate drama and comedy into two categories. This will give a lot of really great performances a chance that they wouldn't otherwise have. I'm not sure I would go as far as to add an action category as the spectacle of blowing things up is usually the primary focus of action films. But if there is an action film worthy of critical praise (let's say... oh, I don't know... The Dark Knight), they could be nominated as a drama or comedy, depending on the storyline.
And I realize that this will make the ceremony longer. Personally, I think this is a non-issue. The Oscars are once a year. It's the highest holiest day of the awards season. Get over it, already! Don't start eliminating the technical awards from the broadcast just to please the local news anchors. The sound mixers can often work as hard as the actors, writers, and directors.
Just because a movie makes a lot of money and attracts a lot of people to the theaters, doesn't mean it's the best written, best acted, or even just the best film... except at making a lot of money and attracting a lot of people to the theaters. When most people go to the movies, they're just looking for escapist entertainment. They want to be taken out of the dramas of their own world for a couple hours. Not that I think there's anything wrong with serious films. Sometimes we need those too. But, ultimately
we must remember why we have these awards--to honour what's best (which
I realize is a subjective term), not what's popular. I think the Grammys should look into this a little more often.
19 August, 2018
01 April, 2018
As Long As...
I recently stumbled upon something I wrote a long time ago. I think it's safe to say that none of it is relevant anymore, which is too bad because I think it's still kind of a lovely poem on my part, if I do say so myself. Oh, well. Live and learn, I guess.
As Long As...
As long
as you need me in your life
As long
as I'm willing to do anything to protect it—even at the expense of
my own life
As long
as I carry your heart in my hip pocket
As long
as you would do the same for me
As long
as we still sing to each other
As long
as there's room for you in my arms
As long
as your sighs and your tears shatter my heart into tiny fragments
As long
as I'll endure the pain to help relieve yours
As long
as I still call you the next day to make sure all is well
As long
as we're willing to tell each other anything and everything
As long
as I can always call you my best friend
As long
as you can always call me yours
As long
as you always think of yourself as my girl—even if nothing comes of
it
As long
as I can say I love you, just because sometimes I don't know what
else to say
Then
you needn't worry
I'll
never complely close off my heart.
--William
Allen, 15 May, 2001
01 July, 2017
#@&*%
I wrote the following for The South Bend Tribune on April 18, 2012. While some of the details may be a bit dated, the overall premise still vexes me to this day and if anyone can explain to me why things are the way they are with regards to the MPAA, I would be interested. And, yes, I have seen Kirby Dick's documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated. All that film does is vex me even more. Please, by all means... discuss...
In the last few years, the subject of bullying among our nation’s youth has been in the news quite a bit. I don’t remember bullying being particularly newsworthy when I was growing up. As I recall, it was just part of life. I was fairly heavyset and made pretty good grades in school. To put it mildly, I was a fat nerd. Therefore, I just kind of accepted it as a part of life and moved on when I could.
Of course, 20 years ago we didn’t have the prevalence of the Internet and only really rich people had cell phones. Today, it’s a different story. Not only do we have cell phones, we have phones that can take pictures and transmit them to anyone and everyone. Lives can be ruined at the press of a button.
A new documentary film aimed at teens that addresses this problem and seeks to end it has recently been released. It’s titled simply Bully and follows the lives of high school students and how bullying affects them. The film, while highly praised by critics, was given an R-rating by the Motion Picture Association of America because of frequent use of the dreaded “F-word.” An R rating (for those of you who actually pay attention to these things) means that no one under the age of 17 is admitted into the theater to see the film without a parent or guardian present. Assuming that the ticket clerks in movie theaters actually enforce this rule, that means that many of the people who need to see this film, specifically teens, wouldn’t be able to.
Harvey Weinstein, whose company distributes Bully, appealed to the MPAA’s ratings board to lower the rating to a PG-13 so that it could more easily reach its intended audience. The board refused. Weinstein, who has fought this fight before — most notably over last year’s Best Picture Oscar winner, The King’s Speech–decided to release the film unrated. Most unrated films are treated by theaters as if they have an NC-17 rating, meaning that no one under 17 is allowed in to see it, even with adult supervision.
According to imdb.com, “Finally, the filmmakers agreed to cut some, but not all, of the relevant language, and the MPAA did agree to re-rate the movie PG-13. The PG-13 version does keep intact all the language in the scene that was the main point of contention between the filmmakers and the MPAA, in which a 12-year-old is physically and verbally attacked on his school bus by his classmates.”
This whole thing concerns me for many reasons. First of all, I think this film is an important one that needed to be made and it needs to be seen by as many people as possible. Clearly bullying has become a real problem in this country and something needs to be done about it. I think the first step is talking about it, which this film obviously wants to do. I don’t think it should be rated R, but I also don’t think that the filmmakers should have edited the film to satisfy a handful of people who are in a position to dictate what is appropriate for someone of a certain age to see. I really feel that parents should be the final judge of what their children see. Unfortunately, I realize that not all parents are as diligent in their duties as mine were.
My second concern is with the MPAA’s ratings board itself. Its members seem to have taken it upon themselves to protect our youth from hearing foul language. I have news for them: It’s not working! If you have a documentary that depicts actual teens actually being bullied, both physically and verbally, then obviously the teen population is already familiar with the words that you don’t want them to hear, let alone say. Bleeping the word and/or blurring the mouths of those who use it, as they do on network television, doesn’t make any difference. We still know what’s being said. The same is true of euphemisms. Let’s be honest — we all know what the “F” in “F-word” stands for.
Which brings me to my biggest concern: changing standards in society. It would appear that in the last 40 years or so, we as a society have become freer and more open in the way we express ourselves. However, in spite of that, especially in the last 20 years, the MPAA has become stricter in its film ratings. (For the purposes of this writing, I’m only addressing language. Sex and violence are completely different issues.)
When I was in college, a professor in the telecommunications department at Ball State University informed me that a film got an R rating with its fourth utterance of the “F-word.” And when I look at the films of that time, that seems to be accurate. Films like 1995′s The American President and 1997′s As Good As It Gets both have PG-13 ratings and each use the word or some variation of it three times. 1989′s When Harry Met Sally… has exactly four and has an R.
Today, when I listen to commentary tracks on DVDs, I constantly hear filmmakers say things like, “We were only allowed to use the word one time and still maintain a PG-13 rating.” Assuming that films now get an R rating for the second use of the word, does that mean that all those PG-13 rated films of the mid-90s are now inappropriate for younger viewers because they used it more frequently? Should we go back and re-rate all these films to reflect what the MPAA ratings board currently thinks is appropriate for our children? Should a film like 1976′s All the President’s Men, which is rated PG, now carry an R? It uses some variation of that word a total of 11 times (yes, I counted!). If the film were to be re-released theatrically, would it have to have a different rating than the one assigned to it 36 years ago?
In the end, I think that the MPAA’s rating board is the real bully in this case. I’m not saying that films shouldn’t have ratings. Films like 2009′s The Hangover and last year’s smash Bridesmaids are clearly aimed at adults and we need some way of conveying that in a film’s marketing campaign. But in the case of Bully, the film has the potential to change lives for the better, particularly those of bullied teens. And yet, the MPAA seems intent on protecting children from hearing and seeing on a movie screen that which they already deal with on a daily basis. Are they really this afraid of words? I can’t decide if the ratings board is prudish, out of touch, or just in denial. Perhaps it’s all three.
In the last few years, the subject of bullying among our nation’s youth has been in the news quite a bit. I don’t remember bullying being particularly newsworthy when I was growing up. As I recall, it was just part of life. I was fairly heavyset and made pretty good grades in school. To put it mildly, I was a fat nerd. Therefore, I just kind of accepted it as a part of life and moved on when I could.
Of course, 20 years ago we didn’t have the prevalence of the Internet and only really rich people had cell phones. Today, it’s a different story. Not only do we have cell phones, we have phones that can take pictures and transmit them to anyone and everyone. Lives can be ruined at the press of a button.
A new documentary film aimed at teens that addresses this problem and seeks to end it has recently been released. It’s titled simply Bully and follows the lives of high school students and how bullying affects them. The film, while highly praised by critics, was given an R-rating by the Motion Picture Association of America because of frequent use of the dreaded “F-word.” An R rating (for those of you who actually pay attention to these things) means that no one under the age of 17 is admitted into the theater to see the film without a parent or guardian present. Assuming that the ticket clerks in movie theaters actually enforce this rule, that means that many of the people who need to see this film, specifically teens, wouldn’t be able to.
Harvey Weinstein, whose company distributes Bully, appealed to the MPAA’s ratings board to lower the rating to a PG-13 so that it could more easily reach its intended audience. The board refused. Weinstein, who has fought this fight before — most notably over last year’s Best Picture Oscar winner, The King’s Speech–decided to release the film unrated. Most unrated films are treated by theaters as if they have an NC-17 rating, meaning that no one under 17 is allowed in to see it, even with adult supervision.
According to imdb.com, “Finally, the filmmakers agreed to cut some, but not all, of the relevant language, and the MPAA did agree to re-rate the movie PG-13. The PG-13 version does keep intact all the language in the scene that was the main point of contention between the filmmakers and the MPAA, in which a 12-year-old is physically and verbally attacked on his school bus by his classmates.”
This whole thing concerns me for many reasons. First of all, I think this film is an important one that needed to be made and it needs to be seen by as many people as possible. Clearly bullying has become a real problem in this country and something needs to be done about it. I think the first step is talking about it, which this film obviously wants to do. I don’t think it should be rated R, but I also don’t think that the filmmakers should have edited the film to satisfy a handful of people who are in a position to dictate what is appropriate for someone of a certain age to see. I really feel that parents should be the final judge of what their children see. Unfortunately, I realize that not all parents are as diligent in their duties as mine were.
My second concern is with the MPAA’s ratings board itself. Its members seem to have taken it upon themselves to protect our youth from hearing foul language. I have news for them: It’s not working! If you have a documentary that depicts actual teens actually being bullied, both physically and verbally, then obviously the teen population is already familiar with the words that you don’t want them to hear, let alone say. Bleeping the word and/or blurring the mouths of those who use it, as they do on network television, doesn’t make any difference. We still know what’s being said. The same is true of euphemisms. Let’s be honest — we all know what the “F” in “F-word” stands for.
Which brings me to my biggest concern: changing standards in society. It would appear that in the last 40 years or so, we as a society have become freer and more open in the way we express ourselves. However, in spite of that, especially in the last 20 years, the MPAA has become stricter in its film ratings. (For the purposes of this writing, I’m only addressing language. Sex and violence are completely different issues.)
When I was in college, a professor in the telecommunications department at Ball State University informed me that a film got an R rating with its fourth utterance of the “F-word.” And when I look at the films of that time, that seems to be accurate. Films like 1995′s The American President and 1997′s As Good As It Gets both have PG-13 ratings and each use the word or some variation of it three times. 1989′s When Harry Met Sally… has exactly four and has an R.
Today, when I listen to commentary tracks on DVDs, I constantly hear filmmakers say things like, “We were only allowed to use the word one time and still maintain a PG-13 rating.” Assuming that films now get an R rating for the second use of the word, does that mean that all those PG-13 rated films of the mid-90s are now inappropriate for younger viewers because they used it more frequently? Should we go back and re-rate all these films to reflect what the MPAA ratings board currently thinks is appropriate for our children? Should a film like 1976′s All the President’s Men, which is rated PG, now carry an R? It uses some variation of that word a total of 11 times (yes, I counted!). If the film were to be re-released theatrically, would it have to have a different rating than the one assigned to it 36 years ago?
In the end, I think that the MPAA’s rating board is the real bully in this case. I’m not saying that films shouldn’t have ratings. Films like 2009′s The Hangover and last year’s smash Bridesmaids are clearly aimed at adults and we need some way of conveying that in a film’s marketing campaign. But in the case of Bully, the film has the potential to change lives for the better, particularly those of bullied teens. And yet, the MPAA seems intent on protecting children from hearing and seeing on a movie screen that which they already deal with on a daily basis. Are they really this afraid of words? I can’t decide if the ratings board is prudish, out of touch, or just in denial. Perhaps it’s all three.
14 February, 2017
Valentine's Day Can Suck It!
A
few years back, I was thumbing through the Encyclopædia
Britannica. I wanted to know the origins of this Cupid chap who is supposed to be flying around this week. He's Roman, in case you didn't know (I didn't, which is why I was looking him up in the first place). He apparently enjoys archery and he is a menace to our society. Britannica says that "his wounds inspired love or passion in his every victim." WOUNDS???? VICTIM???? He's hunting human prey, for Christ's sake! Clearly this guy is a terrorist and needs to be stopped at all cost! We need to ship his wing-ed little ass off to Guantánamo and find out what his real agenda is!
As you may have guessed, I find Valentine's Day to be a disgusting and crass holiday. Even in the days when I had a girlfriend, I still wasn't fond of it (although I will admit it was a lot more fun). Personally, I don't understand the concept of it. Some poor schlub gets his head lobbed off and I'm supposed to be romantic about it? "Y'know, honey, we can go out to dinner and a movie anytime. Why don't we watch someone get martyred?" I don't know about the rest of you, but I certainly get hot whenever I think of someone getting decapitated. Valentine's Day... Bah! Humbug!
Now don't get me wrong. I'm a hopeless romantic. Or maybe I'm just hopeless...the jury is still out on that. Consequently, I'm not a fan of what I call "institutionalized romance." I don't like being told when I should be romantic. I prefer to do it on my own, whenever the mood strikes me.
I normally try hard not to rain on anyone's parade. And the other 364.25 days out of the year, I don't. As such, I feel entitled to have one day out of the year when I can. So, every February 14, I dress in my finest black suit, don a pair of sunglasses, and proclaim myself to be the anti-Cupid.
Can you blame me? Beginning the day after Christmas, retail outlets and the media promote it ad nauseam. They promote it as a holiday for lovers (and, I suppose, rightfully so). Never mind how many people are consequently ostracized for the crime of being single. No one ever talks about those who celebrate this "holiday" alone. Valentine's Day and those who orchestrate it couldn't care less about us. I guess that's only fair. After all, we couldn't care about them. I guess we're like the homeless. If they don't see us, we don't really exist.
Seriously, what kind of crap is that? There are a lot of us lonely, embittered people out there. Where are our cards and flowers and candy? Where is our holiday? Who speaks for us?
At this point, I'm reminded of the words of Rob Fleming, the protagonist of my favourite novel, Nick Hornby's High Fidelity (or Rob Gordon if you're a fan of the film starring John Cusack), who points out that people worry about kids playing with guns or playing violent video games because they might turn into violent people themselves. But nobody worries about these same kids listening to literally thousands of songs about pain, heartbreak, and loss. Fleming poses an interesting question: "Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music?"
Either way, all we socially unacceptable single people seem to have on our behalf are the countless pop songs that people have been writing and performing since the dawn of civilization. They say what those who force this holiday upon us are too ashamed to admit. As members of the J. Geils Band, Peter Wolf and Seth Justman claimed "Love Stinks." Felice and Boudleaux Bryant said that "Love Hurts." Bob Dylan declared that "Love is Just a Four-Letter Word." The late, great Leonard Cohen pointed out that "There Ain't No Cure For Love." And my idols, the Rolling Stones, professed love to be a "Bitch." As someone who's been passed over in favour of married men and suicidal drunks, I can attest to the fact that all of those are accurate.
I'm sure there are a lot of you out there who are deeply in love with your soul mate. You may be happily married and have a litter of offspring and you still swoon every time you see each other. That's great. I'm happy for you... seriously, I am. All I ask is that you stop rubbing it in the faces of those of us who aren't as lucky as you.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm a hopeless romantic. Or maybe I'm just hopeless...the jury is still out on that. Consequently, I'm not a fan of what I call "institutionalized romance." I don't like being told when I should be romantic. I prefer to do it on my own, whenever the mood strikes me.
I normally try hard not to rain on anyone's parade. And the other 364.25 days out of the year, I don't. As such, I feel entitled to have one day out of the year when I can. So, every February 14, I dress in my finest black suit, don a pair of sunglasses, and proclaim myself to be the anti-Cupid.
Can you blame me? Beginning the day after Christmas, retail outlets and the media promote it ad nauseam. They promote it as a holiday for lovers (and, I suppose, rightfully so). Never mind how many people are consequently ostracized for the crime of being single. No one ever talks about those who celebrate this "holiday" alone. Valentine's Day and those who orchestrate it couldn't care less about us. I guess that's only fair. After all, we couldn't care about them. I guess we're like the homeless. If they don't see us, we don't really exist.
Seriously, what kind of crap is that? There are a lot of us lonely, embittered people out there. Where are our cards and flowers and candy? Where is our holiday? Who speaks for us?
At this point, I'm reminded of the words of Rob Fleming, the protagonist of my favourite novel, Nick Hornby's High Fidelity (or Rob Gordon if you're a fan of the film starring John Cusack), who points out that people worry about kids playing with guns or playing violent video games because they might turn into violent people themselves. But nobody worries about these same kids listening to literally thousands of songs about pain, heartbreak, and loss. Fleming poses an interesting question: "Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music?"
Either way, all we socially unacceptable single people seem to have on our behalf are the countless pop songs that people have been writing and performing since the dawn of civilization. They say what those who force this holiday upon us are too ashamed to admit. As members of the J. Geils Band, Peter Wolf and Seth Justman claimed "Love Stinks." Felice and Boudleaux Bryant said that "Love Hurts." Bob Dylan declared that "Love is Just a Four-Letter Word." The late, great Leonard Cohen pointed out that "There Ain't No Cure For Love." And my idols, the Rolling Stones, professed love to be a "Bitch." As someone who's been passed over in favour of married men and suicidal drunks, I can attest to the fact that all of those are accurate.
I'm sure there are a lot of you out there who are deeply in love with your soul mate. You may be happily married and have a litter of offspring and you still swoon every time you see each other. That's great. I'm happy for you... seriously, I am. All I ask is that you stop rubbing it in the faces of those of us who aren't as lucky as you.
15 January, 2017
11 December, 2016
Hallelujah... I guess
The recent death of Leonard Cohen has caused me to reflect on a few things. I was reminded of something I wrote that was published by the South Bend Tribune on June 15, 2010. I wrote:
"Over the last few months, I've
discovered an alarming trend that I feel is a problem and a blight
not just on our culture, but on our society as a whole. Something
desperately needs to be done about it.
"I'm speaking, of course, of other artists covering Leonard Cohen's 1985 song, 'Hallelujah.'
"There’ve been many covers of it over the years and until about a year and a half ago, I even claimed I'd never heard a bad one.
"I’m a big fan of some of the artists (like Willie Nelson) and completely ambivalent to others (like Rufus Wainwright). Bon Jovi I've never really liked (although I think they've gotten better with age). Yet I enjoyed every version of 'Hallelujah' I'd heard.
"Then Il Divo came along. Not only did they butcher the song in ways that made actual butchers jealous, but they had the unmitigated audacity to do it in Italian.
"Since then it seems as though anyone with a pretty voice has taken it upon themselves to record this song, especially if it's a group of four or more classically trained male tenors.
"Because of her performance of it at the Olympics this year, k.d. lang has had a tremendous surge in record sales. Everybody thinks it's something new — which is really funny to me because she recorded it six years ago.
"I'm speaking, of course, of other artists covering Leonard Cohen's 1985 song, 'Hallelujah.'
"There’ve been many covers of it over the years and until about a year and a half ago, I even claimed I'd never heard a bad one.
"I’m a big fan of some of the artists (like Willie Nelson) and completely ambivalent to others (like Rufus Wainwright). Bon Jovi I've never really liked (although I think they've gotten better with age). Yet I enjoyed every version of 'Hallelujah' I'd heard.
"Then Il Divo came along. Not only did they butcher the song in ways that made actual butchers jealous, but they had the unmitigated audacity to do it in Italian.
"Since then it seems as though anyone with a pretty voice has taken it upon themselves to record this song, especially if it's a group of four or more classically trained male tenors.
"Because of her performance of it at the Olympics this year, k.d. lang has had a tremendous surge in record sales. Everybody thinks it's something new — which is really funny to me because she recorded it six years ago.
"A friend and colleague recently
said that only two people should be allowed to do this song: Leonard Cohen and Jeff Buckley — and Buckley is dead! Even though I do like
k.d. lang's version, I'm beginning to think he's right.
"There are just too many covers of 'Hallelujah' now and, with the exception of Willie Nelson, they all seem to try to model themselves after Buckley's version.
"What's most disturbing is that the song is used in countless movie and television productions — but not Cohen's version. If this is because they can't get the rights, fine. But I strongly suspect it's because Cohen's voice isn't as pretty as Rufus Wainwright's.
"Cohen is the Canadian Bob Dylan — he writes amazing songs, yet he can't really sing. The most beautiful thing about this is that, somehow, this makes the songs even better. An almost world-weary soulfulness comes out of his voice that makes up for the lack of proficiency.
"But, then again, I'm drawn to artists that had a career before Simon Cowell was around to tell us what was 'good.'
"Most of my favorites would never make it on 'American Idol' — Cohen is one of the big ones. And 'Hallelujah' is the greatest ’80s rock power ballad ever — one that puts all the hair-metal bands of that era to shame. It's not supposed to be sung with a pretty voice. It's supposed to be ragged."
"There are just too many covers of 'Hallelujah' now and, with the exception of Willie Nelson, they all seem to try to model themselves after Buckley's version.
"What's most disturbing is that the song is used in countless movie and television productions — but not Cohen's version. If this is because they can't get the rights, fine. But I strongly suspect it's because Cohen's voice isn't as pretty as Rufus Wainwright's.
"Cohen is the Canadian Bob Dylan — he writes amazing songs, yet he can't really sing. The most beautiful thing about this is that, somehow, this makes the songs even better. An almost world-weary soulfulness comes out of his voice that makes up for the lack of proficiency.
"But, then again, I'm drawn to artists that had a career before Simon Cowell was around to tell us what was 'good.'
"Most of my favorites would never make it on 'American Idol' — Cohen is one of the big ones. And 'Hallelujah' is the greatest ’80s rock power ballad ever — one that puts all the hair-metal bands of that era to shame. It's not supposed to be sung with a pretty voice. It's supposed to be ragged."
What was amazing to me was that a year prior to my writing that, Cohen himself asked artists to stop covering his song (you can read more at http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/leonard-cohen-asks-for-brief-halt-to-new-covers-of-hallelujah-20090710). Apparently no one listened to either me or the writer of the song himself. By the end of 2010 I discovered at least two new recordings of the song —one of them by Susan Boyle who released it on her Christmas album. A friend of mine actually told me that this was the biggest selling Christmas song in the UK. Not a bad feat for a song that not only is not a Christmas song, but was written by a Jewish Buddist (Jewddhist?).
After Cohen's death, I posted to Facebook a plea to musicians everywhere to not record more unnecessary covers of the song. My pleas have apparently fallen on deaf ears as I've already heard it on yet another Christmas album (to reiterate: THIS IS NOT A CHRISTMAS SONG!!!!). In all fairness, I'm sure that the recording was done before Cohen passed, but that's no excuse. I made my initial plea for a moratorium on this six and a half years ago and Cohen (to reiterate: he's the song's composer) made the same plea the year before. If they're not going to listen to me, the least they could do is listen to the man who wrote the damn song!
You would think that after the hundredth, or even the fiftieth, recording that any artist worth their salt would think that any more covers of this song would really be white noise. Apparently, I'm wrong on that front. In the years since I wrote my piece for the Tribune, I would conservatively estimate that at least fifty more artists have recorded the song.
The sad thing is that, in my humble opinion, it's not even Cohen's best work. Since his death, his 1988 song "Tower of Song" has become my new jam. It was already one of my favourites to begin with, but it's now taken on new meaning for me since his passing (you can check out a live performance at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WirxqAn7Ck8 if you don't believe me). After listening to his new album, You Want it Darker (a stunningly beautiful work of art), "Tower of Song" managed to bring me to tears.
Not that I expect any musicians out there to listen to me (and I'm sure those of you who know me are tired of me bitching about it), but once again I ask anyone with an ounce of musical talent to not record the song, although I'll be the first to admit to understanding the urge to do so. If you feel compelled to cover a Leonard Cohen song--as opposed to, say, God forbid, writing and recording something new that no one has ever heard before--pick something else. I might recommend "So Long, Marianne," "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye," "Everybody Knows," "Who By Fire," or "Ain't No Cure For Love"... just to name a few.
Please, I beseech you, leave this song alone for a change. Give its author some dignity.
19 November, 2016
Thanks, Boss!
I've been trying to figure out how to write this for fourteen years now. It initially started as a letter. That didn't gel quite the way I wanted it to. I've expressed it in a couple of different ways over the years. I've never been satisfied with the end results and I'm not sure I will be now.
I've always hated symbolism. When I was in high school and college, my English teachers tended to focus on it a lot in the stories we would read. They would ask us what the author really meant when s/he said this or that. And of course my teachers, especially in high school, gave me the impression that theirs was the only correct answer. To add insult to injury, most of the time, the authors in question were dead and couldn't defend their works. My college professors were a little better inasmuch as they allowed for other people to have their own interpretations and opinions. Honestly, though, the whole thing kind of turned me off to reading for a long time. I still contend that the best thing I read in college was Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis and that's just because I took it at face value. I refused to look at it as anything more than a great science fiction story about a guy who turns into a bug.
The one thing that symbolism did spark in me was an interest in writing my own stuff (and if you're still reading it, thank you). I was particularly proud of a poem I wrote in high school. On the surface it was about a relationship between two people, based loosely on my relationship with my best friend at the time. I won't share it here because it's a pretty bad poem. What I took pride in was the fact that if you took the last word of every line it read "There is absolutely no! symbolism in this poem whatsoever--I'm just being a smart-ass." I was also quite fond of the exclamation point after the word "no."
Somewhere along the line, I discovered that symbolism is entirely subjective, not to mention personal. What you get out of something may be completely different from what I get out of it. And both of those interpretations may have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with what the author was trying to convey in the first place.
In retrospect, I may have actually discovered this around the same time I wrote that bad poem. It was during this time, that I was asked to give a report on the most recent movie I'd seen. The movie happened to be The Blues Brothers and I went into some b.s. about the religious and spiritual significance I had managed to glean from it (my English teacher liked to think she was actually teaching Sunday School). I highly doubt that's what Dan Aykroyd had in mind when he wrote the script for the film, but, after twenty-five years, I've reached the point where I actually believe my own line of b.s.
I came to the conclusion that symbolism is not something you should look for. If you are, any meaning you get out of it might ring a little hollow--at least it certainly does for me. As I said, it's subjective and personal. Instead, I think symbolism is something that should come to you organically. It could come to you gently or it could hit you upside the head like a ton of bricks.
For me, it was in the summer of
2002. Not my best summer. I was watching my best friend and the only
woman I've ever truly loved prepare to marry someone else--for the second time
in our adult lives (please refer to my post "Nice Guy Blues"). I was coming to the realization that I couldn't
have her in my life without falling in love with her and I couldn't fall
in love with her without getting hurt. Frankly, I was tired of getting
hurt. I knew I had to walk out of her life as permanently as
possible. That was not the easiest thing to do given the fact that we
had known each other since the age of five.
I had heard that Bruce Springsteen was releasing a new album. It would be his first with the E Street Band since Born in the USA in 1984. I was only beginning to realize the power of Springsteen's music (please refer to my post "Manual vs. Automatic Transmissions"). I heard the first single, "Lonesome Day," while stuck in traffic one afternoon and started to dig it immediately. I decided I had to buy the album the day of its release.
So on July 30, 2002, I bought the deluxe edition of the Boss's new album, The Rising. I took it home and listened to it. I knew going in that much of the album was inspired by the tragedy that was September 11, 2001. However, when I listened to the songs, they spoke to me in a way that had nothing to do with that horrible morning nearly a year earlier. Most of the more somber songs seemed to sum up how I was feeling in the moment with all my personal drama.
Initially, I was just looking forward to a new album from an artist I liked, particularly when he was backed by one of the greatest bands in rock and roll history for the first time in eighteen years. What I got was symbolism that I wasn't looking for hitting me upside the head like a ton of bricks.
The song that stands out the most to me (both personally as well as to prove my point about symbolism) is the album's closing track, "My City of Ruins." Due to Springsteen's performance at a benefit concert after 9/11, the song came to symbolize New York after that day. Personally, it symbolized my own broken heart in the wake of losing, quite possibly, the best friend I've ever had. And yet, Springsteen wrote it about Asbury Park, New Jersey. It's amazing how something can mean different things to different people.
In the intervening years, I've come to appreciate the Boss's music more than I ever had before. After The Rising, I revisited 1978's Darkness on the Edge of Town, which became a staple in my late-night listening (and aimless driving) over the next year or so. Every subsequent studio album he's recorded I've felt compelled to pick up the day of its release. Each one seems to contain something that I can symbolically interpret to aid in my own current existence. 2012's "Wrecking Ball" has become something of an anthem--to the point that I actually want it played at my funeral (note: this is "Wrecking Ball" by Bruce Springsteen--not Miley Cyrus... or Grace Slick, come to think of it).
I've just finished reading his memoir, Born To Run. Aside from the Cubs winning the World Series, it stands for me as the only high point of an otherwise crappy year--it may even be as crappy as 2002. While the reviews I've read seem to think he was a bit heavy-handed in his language, I have to admit that that was one of the things I loved about it. As someone who loves language and the music of Bruce Springsteen, I can't recommend the book highly enough.
Ultimately this post (as well as its underwhelming predecessors) is meant to serve as a thank you letter to the man himself. I doubt he will ever read this. I'm sure he gets these sorts of things all the time. But I want to take this opportunity to personally thank Bruce Springsteen for everything he's done over the last forty-five years. His music (and now his literature) has meant so much to me, probably more than I can possibly explain here. It's been a source of inspiration and a remedy for those things that make life almost unbearable. Whenever I've been at my lowest, I can always come back to his work and feel a little better about my life and the things that trouble it. For that I will always be grateful.
Thanks, Boss!
I've always hated symbolism. When I was in high school and college, my English teachers tended to focus on it a lot in the stories we would read. They would ask us what the author really meant when s/he said this or that. And of course my teachers, especially in high school, gave me the impression that theirs was the only correct answer. To add insult to injury, most of the time, the authors in question were dead and couldn't defend their works. My college professors were a little better inasmuch as they allowed for other people to have their own interpretations and opinions. Honestly, though, the whole thing kind of turned me off to reading for a long time. I still contend that the best thing I read in college was Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis and that's just because I took it at face value. I refused to look at it as anything more than a great science fiction story about a guy who turns into a bug.
The one thing that symbolism did spark in me was an interest in writing my own stuff (and if you're still reading it, thank you). I was particularly proud of a poem I wrote in high school. On the surface it was about a relationship between two people, based loosely on my relationship with my best friend at the time. I won't share it here because it's a pretty bad poem. What I took pride in was the fact that if you took the last word of every line it read "There is absolutely no! symbolism in this poem whatsoever--I'm just being a smart-ass." I was also quite fond of the exclamation point after the word "no."
Somewhere along the line, I discovered that symbolism is entirely subjective, not to mention personal. What you get out of something may be completely different from what I get out of it. And both of those interpretations may have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with what the author was trying to convey in the first place.
In retrospect, I may have actually discovered this around the same time I wrote that bad poem. It was during this time, that I was asked to give a report on the most recent movie I'd seen. The movie happened to be The Blues Brothers and I went into some b.s. about the religious and spiritual significance I had managed to glean from it (my English teacher liked to think she was actually teaching Sunday School). I highly doubt that's what Dan Aykroyd had in mind when he wrote the script for the film, but, after twenty-five years, I've reached the point where I actually believe my own line of b.s.
I came to the conclusion that symbolism is not something you should look for. If you are, any meaning you get out of it might ring a little hollow--at least it certainly does for me. As I said, it's subjective and personal. Instead, I think symbolism is something that should come to you organically. It could come to you gently or it could hit you upside the head like a ton of bricks.
I had heard that Bruce Springsteen was releasing a new album. It would be his first with the E Street Band since Born in the USA in 1984. I was only beginning to realize the power of Springsteen's music (please refer to my post "Manual vs. Automatic Transmissions"). I heard the first single, "Lonesome Day," while stuck in traffic one afternoon and started to dig it immediately. I decided I had to buy the album the day of its release.
So on July 30, 2002, I bought the deluxe edition of the Boss's new album, The Rising. I took it home and listened to it. I knew going in that much of the album was inspired by the tragedy that was September 11, 2001. However, when I listened to the songs, they spoke to me in a way that had nothing to do with that horrible morning nearly a year earlier. Most of the more somber songs seemed to sum up how I was feeling in the moment with all my personal drama.
Initially, I was just looking forward to a new album from an artist I liked, particularly when he was backed by one of the greatest bands in rock and roll history for the first time in eighteen years. What I got was symbolism that I wasn't looking for hitting me upside the head like a ton of bricks.
The song that stands out the most to me (both personally as well as to prove my point about symbolism) is the album's closing track, "My City of Ruins." Due to Springsteen's performance at a benefit concert after 9/11, the song came to symbolize New York after that day. Personally, it symbolized my own broken heart in the wake of losing, quite possibly, the best friend I've ever had. And yet, Springsteen wrote it about Asbury Park, New Jersey. It's amazing how something can mean different things to different people.
In the intervening years, I've come to appreciate the Boss's music more than I ever had before. After The Rising, I revisited 1978's Darkness on the Edge of Town, which became a staple in my late-night listening (and aimless driving) over the next year or so. Every subsequent studio album he's recorded I've felt compelled to pick up the day of its release. Each one seems to contain something that I can symbolically interpret to aid in my own current existence. 2012's "Wrecking Ball" has become something of an anthem--to the point that I actually want it played at my funeral (note: this is "Wrecking Ball" by Bruce Springsteen--not Miley Cyrus... or Grace Slick, come to think of it).
I've just finished reading his memoir, Born To Run. Aside from the Cubs winning the World Series, it stands for me as the only high point of an otherwise crappy year--it may even be as crappy as 2002. While the reviews I've read seem to think he was a bit heavy-handed in his language, I have to admit that that was one of the things I loved about it. As someone who loves language and the music of Bruce Springsteen, I can't recommend the book highly enough.
Ultimately this post (as well as its underwhelming predecessors) is meant to serve as a thank you letter to the man himself. I doubt he will ever read this. I'm sure he gets these sorts of things all the time. But I want to take this opportunity to personally thank Bruce Springsteen for everything he's done over the last forty-five years. His music (and now his literature) has meant so much to me, probably more than I can possibly explain here. It's been a source of inspiration and a remedy for those things that make life almost unbearable. Whenever I've been at my lowest, I can always come back to his work and feel a little better about my life and the things that trouble it. For that I will always be grateful.
Thanks, Boss!
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