Book Review: The Purple Sapphire

    There’s been a lot of back & forth about H.P. Lovecraft being racist. There was a kerfuffle a while back about getting his bust removed from the World Fantasy Award. Was Lovecraft racist? Yeah. Read his letters. He says some awful stuff. Stuff that was fairly in keeping with guys like him, from his background and geography, at his particular point in history. And that racism leaked into his fiction, mostly in the guise of sinister, swarthy foreigners. You could read a lot of his work and unless you’re looking for it, miss those dashes of racism. The same can not be said for other writers. Robert W. Chambers, who wrote the fantastically haunting collection of short stories “The King in Yellow,” for example, also wrote the terribly racist (not to mention goofy and overwrought)  “The Slayer of Souls.”  And then there’s John Taine’s “The Purple Sapphire.”  Wow. Lovecraft’s racism seems to me to have been the product of a sheltered upbringing, a dreadful time in American race relations, and general ignorance. John Taine’s racism seems similar to that classically British, condescending contempt for all people not “like us.”  

    In this particular book, the racism is directed primarily, and persistently against Asians, particularly Tibetans. There is so much talk of them being “filthy,” “dirty,” “covered in filth,” etc. that I thought there might have been some kind of cultural reference (Taine’s culture) that I was missing. But I don’t think so. In the author’s eyes, as seen through his characters’ eyes, Tibetans are dirty, ugly, filth covered sub-humans. And I’ll tell you, that gets mighty old, mighty quick. I’m used to swallowing a bit of old timey bigotry. It’s unfortunately part of the package when you’re a fan of the pulps and movie serials of the early 20th century. But this book goes beyond the usual levels. It reminded me of when I tried to read “Heart of Darkness,” but was defeated by the rampant hatred of non-whites that was clearly coming from the author, and not just a character. At the end of the day, the racism was enough to spoil this book. But it didn’t stop there.

    Getting past the chauvinism, it’s also a pretty terrible book. At nearly two hundred pages, there’s almost no story. There are long, tedious sequences of characters talking in a strange, stilted way that feels like a mid-level melodrama from the dawn of sound in motion pictures. You can tell the author thinks he’s writing clever dialog. But unless it’s packed with amazingly witty references that went over my head, it’s not clever. It’s just stilted and lame.

    The only saving grace this novel has, if it has one, is that the female lead is surprisingly useful and competent. I was struck on numerous occasions by how unlike many contemporary female characters she was. None of the characters were especially interesting or well realized. But she was on an even level with the two male leads. So, there was that. And that alone.

    To sum up; this book sucked.

-Matthew J. Constantine

Book Review: Rehearsals for Oblivion: Act I

    Robert W. Chambers wrote a lot, but very little of particular note. It is sad, looking at his work, that he spent most of his efforts creating dated and forgettable fluff, rightfully lost to the ages. But those few worthy nuggets are in his collection, “The King in Yellow.”  H.P. Lovecraft was a fan of Chambers’s weird tales, and borrowed some elements that went on to become core to the overall Lovecraftian (often called Cthulhu) Mythos. The King in Yellow is a figure, possibly an avatar of a Great Old One, and the titular horror at the center of a corrupting play that drives readers, viewers, and actors mad. There are many reasons, but Hastur and The King in Yellow creeped into my mind and became among my favorite bits of the Lovecraft Circle (along with obvious, rock star Nyarlathotep; Shub-Niggurath; and Yog-Sothoth). I especially enjoy the idea that Hastur is manifest entropy. The King in Yellow becomes then an agent of madness, corrupted destiny, and dissipation.

    As I usually note in such reviews, anthologies are, by their nature, a mixed bag. Editor Peter A. Worthy has assembled a pretty darned good collection of tales here. There are a few poems, which I’m totally unqualified to speak to those. I’m essentially tone-def toward poetry. But many of the short stories are very good. Haunting, creeping with strangeness, and touched with occasional bits of beauty. It’s what I want from a book about The King in Yellow.

    Not to say there aren’t a few stories I didn’t love. But I think this is an excellent anthology. My only frustration with the volume is that it’s called “Act I” and the blurb on the back intimates that it is but the first volume in larger collection of stories about the King. Alas, I see no indication that there has been, nor will be an “Act II.” The publishing company, Dimensions Books doesn’t seem to exist anymore (I can’t find any sign of it online, anyway). If Mr. Worthy could assemble such a strong anthology on such a challenging subject, I’d love to see what else he might do. That aside, if you’re a fan of the ever expanding Lovecraft Circle, or if you just like a healthy dose of unsettling strangeness in your horror tales, check this one out.

-Matthew J. Constantine

Matt’s Week in Dork! (7/6/14-7/12/14)

    Not a lot of movies this week.  But I got some in, and some reading.  I also did a lot of prep work for some stories.  I just haven’t been writing the nitty-gritty of anything (outside of this blog) for some time.  It’s something I feel the desire to get my head back into, but I’ve been out of practice for so long.  It’s tough.

    On Sunday, I read Storm Dogs and Pretty Deadly.  One was good, the other kind of sucked.  Because of another book I’ve been reading, and not enjoying, I think I’ve been finding other things to read.  Probably the reason behind my recent spate of comic trades.

The Last Performance:  There are a few interesting bits in this film, but the story is kinda meh.  The main attraction is Conrad Veidt, and for fans, it’s nice to see him working his mojo.  The man can stare, with the best of ‘em.  Other than Veidt fans, though, this film holds little to recommend it.

The Ballad of Narayama:  Gorgeously produced, this film has the artificiality of a stage play, but the magical wonder of film.  The story looks at the simple life of country villagers who try to scrape out a living from the unforgiving mountains.  And one lone old lady, ready to take a spiritual (and suicidal) pilgrimage to a nearby holy mountain.  It’s also nice to see a film that feels like it’s set during that near-myth era of samurai, that has nothing to do with samurai at all.  Not a sword drawn in the whole film.  Quite good.

Pickup on South Street:  Though the ending is a bit wonky, this movie about a two-bit pick-pocket getting more than he bargained for is some classic Noir fodder.  A dizzy dame, some fist-happy cops, double dealing commies, and a heap of trouble.  Plus, Widmark is on fire as a relentless prick.  It’s wonderful.

Persona:  More the sort of thing I always thought of when I heard the name Ingmar Bergman, this meditation on the masks we present, the versions of ourselves we use when we’re around other people is challenging.  But it’s also captivating.  Typically gorgeous; the location work, the lighting, the whole thing looks amazing.  It’s charged with eroticism, but also with gut level discomfort.  I’ll certainly be revisiting this film, but it’s not one to just pop in on a whim.

The Robe:  The film assumes you already know the story of Jesus.  Probably not a bad assumption, but I always have a bit of a problem with a movie that makes assumptions like that.  It’s interesting, and there are some good performances.  But for a film that is so much about converting to being a follower of Jesus, there is precious little in the way of explanation as to why someone would.  Spiritual quest wise, this film lacked some important content.

Glengarry Glenn Ross:  Another of my cinematic resolutions for 2014 down.  The sad, stressful life of salesmen is presented Mamet style in this punchy little film.  Looking at it, you’d think it was made for TV.  But what it lacks in visual flourish or polish, it makes up for in performance and script.  Alan Arkin and Jack Lemmon are both very good.  But Jonathan Pryce and Al Pacino really had me.  Pacino is such a huckster, and Pryce such a sad-sack mark.

    Friday night, we headed out to The Alamo to check out the new Apes film.  Before the theater, though, we ate at Nando’s Peri Peri.  I’m definitely going to have to go back when there’s more time.  Because that shopping area is starting to open up, there are a lot of people, and the restaurant was pretty full.  I enjoyed the food, but didn’t feel like I had time to really enjoy the place or think about what I wanted to eat, or any of that.  Next time.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes:  Humans have mostly died in plagues and wars.  The apes, after having escaped into the woods at the end of the previous film, have set themselves up a new society and are doing pretty well.  Things can’t last, as the human survivors need resources that lay in Ape territory.  Here’s the thing.  This movie is pretty good.  And all the stuff around the apes is quite good.  The problem is that the human characters are kind of ridiculously stock, and at no point did I care about them or their plight.  The apes were interesting, and I’d have liked the film to focus much more on them.  In fact, completely on them.  I could have used way, way less human parts.  Visually impressive and well made, it’s a good film.  Maybe even a really good film.  But it misses the mark on being a great film.

The Last Wave:  I wasn’t in the right headspace to watch this film.  So, while I recognize that there were some interesting aspects, and I liked the performances, I just couldn’t get into it.  I think I’m going to have to revisit it while I’m more focused.  There are some powerful images, for sure.  And I like the Michael Mann movie type soundtrack.  I have a feeling this is a movie I'll really enjoy on second viewing, when my head is on straight.

True Detective: Season 1:  “You are like the Michael Jordan of being a son of a bitch.”  This is a beautifully made program, with lots of excellent elements.  The last episode spoils the milk a bit, but the overall show is quite good.  I love the references to Robert W. Chambers and his King in Yellow.  I wish it had gone a bit further.  I wanted to see the mythology of the murders explored.

    Saturday night, I forced myself to push through Aya: Life in Yop City, a book I’d been laboring through.  I had to skim much of the latter half of the book, as nothing seemed to happen, and that was becoming a bit much.  Sad, because the art was interesting and vibrant, and I thought the subject matter and setting could be really interesting.  I still do; but this isn’t.  I was fully planning on writing a review of this book.  But the more I look at it sitting there, the less of a crap I give, and the less I feel the need to revisit it.  We'll be discussing it this coming Friday night, and other than some variation of 'YAWN!' I've got no idea what to say.

-Matthew J. Constantine

Matt’s Week in Dork! (2/16/14-2/22/14)

    This ended up being something of a week of rest for me.  Following last week’s crap-ton of awesome crazy, I started this week with a very busy Sunday, preparing and then running my first major tabletop roleplaying session in a long, long time.  I’m always a ball of nerves when it comes to running games, and this was no exception.  In fact, that morning, I was sporting a raging headache and cloudy thinking that made me worry I was going to have to cancel.  Thankfully, it cleared up by around 2PM and the rest of the day and that evening went pretty well.  The next few days, I didn’t do much but zone out and try to sleep.  Reading, sure.  Though I’ve been having a hard time for a while (a few months, I think) with concentrating, thus I haven’t been reading as much as I should.   However, I did knock out a couple Lovecraft-ish tales.  His ‘revisions’ of Elizabeth Berkeley’s The Crawling Chaos and The Green Meadow.  Both stories remind me of Lovecraft’s Dreamlands stories, as well as some of the more flowery and weird writing of C.L. Moore, Clark Ashton Smith, and others.  And I read Hazel Heald’s Winged Death (also with revision from Lovecraft), which was OK.  It had some cool ideas, but it felt a little too much like a wannabe Poe story.  It also features some blatant racism, though from a character we know from the start is an evil bastard.  That was about all I could muster until Thursday morning (the start of a 4 day weekend), when I watched my first movie of the week.

     I was also surprised to find out this week that the HBO show True Detective is apparently dropping a lot of references to one of Lovecraft's inspirations, Robert W. Chambers and his King in Yellow.  This is pretty crazy to me, but pretty awesome.  It's especially weird, because one of the plots in the RPG I'm running (which the party hasn't stumbled upon yet), deals with the King.  Don't know if it will play out, and I don't think anyone in the group is watching the show yet, so it shouldn't be an issue.  It makes me want to watch the show even more, though.

Heroes Two:  Though a pretty good story, this film never reaches ‘classic’ level.  Much of the problem is in the fighting, which though copious, isn’t especially well choreographed.  It looks like they needed to do a few more run-throughs before filming.  That said, I do like the ending, and the weird MURDER VISION that kicks in whenever rebels get whacked in that last fight.  A fine, middle of the road, Shaw Bros. kung fu flick.

The Jazz Singer:  Elephant in the room, first.  Yeah, Al Jolson does blackface in this movie, and yeah, that’s really f’ed up.  I knew it would happen, but it was still horrifying when it finally did, and really sours the whole movie.  Now, it’s not done with the contemptuous maliciousness of Birth of a Nation, but that doesn’t make it OK.  It also  comes out of nowhere and goes nowhere.  Why is it even in the movie?  The only explanation I’ve got for that is it’s what Jolson was known for, so they worked it into the film.  There’s no plot reason it needs to be there.  And I can imagine someone who isn’t familiar with blackface being very confused by why he suddenly slathers on make-up to sing two songs, nobody seems to notice or comment on it, and there are no contextual clues for why it happens.  OK.  All that aside, I was mostly interested in the film because I knew it was a pioneering effort in the addition of sound to motion picture.  It isn’t a full fledged ‘talkie,’ though.  The musical numbers are synched, and occasionally also have synched dialog accompanying them.  However, the rest of the film is a standard silent film, with title cards.  The story, about a Jewish kid growing up in New York City, who dreams of being a jazz performer, is sweet and somewhat emotional.  Honestly, I was shocked at how openly Jewish the story was, too, as I’m a little more used to heavy Christian dominance in pre-60s films.  And in spite of the skin-crawling that accompanied the blackface scenes, the finale where he has to deal with his career or his parents had a lot of heart.  It is sad that, like Birth of a Nation, this momentous occasion in the history of film has to be tainted with some rather egregious racism, but unlike that Ku Klux Klan love letter, the Jazz Singer may be flawed, but does not feel like it comes from an evil place, only a misguided one.

    Thursday night, Ben and I went over to Cinema Arts to check out a special screening of Knights of Badassdom, a low budget comedy about live action role players.  I’d seen the trailer quite a while back, and according to the woman hosting the screening, it had been held up for a couple years due to some legal issues.  The showing was weird, because the audience was full of LARP people, which I did not expect.  I guess it was like seeing the premier of a comic movie at a comic convention.  I don’t think anyone was in costume, though some of the people look like their normal wardrobe is costume.  Still, other than a few people unable to keep their boisterous nerdiness in check, it was a pretty good crowd.  They laughed a lot more than I did, and I guess there must have been a lot of in-jokes I didn’t get.  As a long time tabletop gamer, I’ve been aware of live action gaming from pretty early on.  It’s a weird combination of D&D (ugh!) and Historic Reenacting.  What I was exposed to most was the Vampire LARP people, who tended to be representative of a lot of things I hated about the 90s, and so soured me on the hobby.  Is that unfair?  Perhaps.  But it’s what happened.

I wish I was born in the 17th Century!

Knights of Badassdom:  LARPing (live action role playing) has always been the fringe of the already fringe hobby of tabletop roleplaying games.  Though on more than one occasion, I’ve been sorely tempted to give it a try, I think my short lived career in Lazer Tag was as close as I’ll get.  This movie embraces the hobby, and manages to laugh with it at least as much as laugh at it.  There are some pretty funny bits, but I found the whole to be uneven, too scattered.  It felt a bit like the scrapped remains of several different scripts that somehow came together, but never quite meshed.  Seemingly destined for cult status, it’s not the kind of thing that’s going to sweep the nation.  I’d recommend it to gamers, particularly LARPers, but otherwise…Well, if it hits NetFlix instant, check it out.  There are some funny gags.  And surprising levels of gore.

Death on the Nile:  There’s something grandly cinematic about this movie.  I think the location shooting and the music have a lot to do with it.  Like the classic Bond film in the overall vibe.  The story?  She's not so good.  Agatha Christie’s work has always had more of a made-for-TV vibe, in my mind.  It works in the small doses of episodic television.  The cast, too, feels made for TV.  Older actors who weren’t getting parts in big films (Bette Davis), up and comers (Olivia Hussey), and those actors who achieved fame for one reason or another but were never especially good (Mia Farrow).  All led by an the usually awesome Peter Ustinov, who seems unusually disengaged in the role of Hercule Poirot.  I liked the film, but didn’t love it.  It certainly played on my nostalgia for films of that era (1978), though it didn’t do an especially good job of transporting me to the era it was set in (1920s?).  The film is very uneven.  There are aspects and scenes I like a lot, however the movie as a whole is just OK.  It’s also one of those 70s PG movies that would shock and appall today.  There are some rather gruesome killings in it, including a nasty shot to the face.  Actually, everybody seems to get shot in the head, except for one, who gets his/her throat cut.

    On Saturday morning, I finally got back into Boardwalk Empire after a prolonged break as I was distracted by shiny things.  I’m now about half way through the second season, and it’s so good.  I don’t even feel the irritation toward Michael Pitt I normally do.  What’s that about?  I’ve got the next disk up close to the top of my queue, so I should be able to get through the season fairly soon.  Thanks to running some Call of Cthulhu, I’m really into the 20s stuff right now, and this is a fine show for that.

Evil Under the Sun:  Ustinov is back and the obnoxious Belgian, Hercule Poirot, in this noticeably lower rent sequel to Death on the Nile.  Oddly, a few members of that film’s cast have returned, but playing different roles.  And this time around, it really feels like a TV episode.  Location shooting or not, it doesn’t look or sound in any way ‘cinematic.’  James Mason only is awake in one of his scenes, though for that scene he’s quite good.  Otherwise he looks bored, sleepy, and confused.  Diana Rigg looks like she thought it was going to be a different film and is now killing time 'til her boat leaves.  Maggie Smith and Peter Ustinov are better used in this movie than the first, but still not given much to work with.  And the whole Agatha Christie, “let’s all go have drinks in the lounge, while I reveal all the clues the viewer wasn’t given, and tell you who did it” thing is especially insufferable.  It’s less uneven than Death on the Nile.  Unfortunately, that’s because it never hits any particular high notes, preferring to languish in mediocrity.

    And that’s it.  Like I said, a week of rest.  I was hoping to force myself to get more reading done, but this fidgety lack of concentration thing is hampering things.  I’m doing some more prep-work for the next game session, which sadly looks like it’s going to be a month away.  Blasted people and their busy schedules.  Stupid retail makes social lives difficult.

-Matt