Ponyo

It's been far too long since I've written a review of anything artsy or cultural. However, the MIyazaki film Ponyo (otherwise titled Ponyo by the Cliffs by the Sea) seemed more than blog-worth for its combination of hand drawn animation with its Hans-Christian inspired Little Mermaid-esque story. This confluence of art and ideas demanded a few thoughts.

I'll start with the bad news first. The story of Ponyo is irregular and asks one to suspend disbelief in unimaginable ways. Five year old Sosuke finds what he believes to be a goldfish stuck in a jar. As it turns out, this is no ordinary goldfish, but Bruunhilde, the headstrong daughter of a powerful wizard whose job it is to maintain the balance of the sea with his magical potions. Despite her father's attempts to catch and keep her in his magic world, Bruunhilde prefers life with Sosuke entirely, even his onomatopoieic name for her: Ponyo. She sprouts legs and arms and returns to the surface with one of the most stunning animated sequences I have ever seen. Ponyo runs upon the waves of giant fish alongside the winding cliff roads leading towards Sosuke's house. Up until this point, the narrative of the film is quite strong, but it gives way to final third act that not only broke with my laws of movie plausibility, but also lacked narrative flow. Sosuke's mother leaves her five year old son and Ponyo alone in the middle of a tsunami-like storm to check on the elderly people in the retirement centre where she works. I can accept a human faced fish that sprouts chicken legs and a toy boat transformed to ridable size, but I simply can not accept that any mother, save for one on crack, would leave her five year old son alone. From there, Ponyo and Sosuke begin a gentle, child's quest to find the missing mother, unaware that they are being tested to see if Sosuke will commit to Ponyo forever. There is an allusion that she will turn into sea foam should the quest fails, but this particular threat never seems a possibility. Also, there is a subplot about the moon coming too close to the earth and throwing the forces of nature out of balance that seems to reverse itself deus-ex-machina-like and loosely hinged on Sosuke's choice. Oh, and there's a Cocoon moment when the elderly ladies are running around in a protective bubble to bear witness to Sosuke's choice. What??? I suppose last, but not least, how can saltwater Ponyo survive in a bucket of freshwater? Details, people, details.

Provided that leaving a five year old alone in a house in the middle of an environmental threat (tsunami-like conditions) is perfectly acceptable and provided that the whole moon subplot can be ignored, the rest of the story is charming and kitten-like, with a wide eyed wonder that is at turns sweetly humorous, poignant, and grandmotherly wise. The characters are endearing, especially Sosuke who is a genuinely good and flawless boy. He listens to his mother, endures the taunts of his girl classmates with grace, shows gentility to the elderly ladies, and takes his promises to others very seriously. Ponyo is equally lovable, a wild child red headed sprite who clearly didn't order the kosher meal for the plane with her requests for "Ham!" Sosuke's mother may be the most likable of all, though, with her intense wonder-mother ways -- closing doors with her feet, driving like a maniac, and her obvious frustration with her husband's absence. Small moments add Japanese humor to the film, such as when Ponyo and Sosuke share a noodle bowl with some ham and eggs that "magically" appear while their eyes are closed.

Where the movie excels, however, is its visual punch and imagination. Hand drawn animation is still my favorite and Miyazaki gives a feast of details. An octopus slides into the open door of Sosuke's house. A flock of sea creatures run across the seaside rocks. The ocean itself is the most breathtaking of all, changing forms and character as needed to suit the story. I immediately thought of the reputed number of words for snow in the Eskimo vocabulary -- only those who live by the sea could understand how the sea has many moods and nuances. The underwater world and its collision with the human one is a masterpiece of imagination. The five year old perspective makes simple things meaningful -- a candle grown to giant size, for example. Reflections in mirrors, in the water, and the effect of light and wind are whispered details that elevate this film above many others, even those filmed in HD.

All in all, Ponyo is delightful and sweet story, but problematic in its narrative, especially in the final third. While I am glad to inhabit a fantasy world, I can't let go of certain realities, such as the responsibility of a mother to her child. The likable characters and animation don't make up for the flaws, but are admirable in their own right.

Futensil, Devil Eyes, and Zoobombs at Divan Orange

I feel so punk as fuck. These three punk bands, all of varying versions of the genre (one day I will learn the terminology for punk styles), took Divan Orange to its motherfucking knees. Too bad I haven't got the same fire in me to give rebel yells and knock over garbage cans or deface things for fun. I guess I got old, but I still love good punk music. I just listen with earplugs in my ears now to preserve what I've got left of my hearing for the next 65ish years of my life. I want to be long lived and hear punk music.

Okay, so most of these bands are a bit wide of the radar, so I'll just scrub in here and let you know what they're about.

Futensil, whose name I think comes from the words futile and utensil put together, although I am not certain. Fitting, I suppose for a noise band trio that straddles the fine line between musicality and deconstruction. They never went so far into the sound that I lost a sense of the song, almost like a rubber band stretching to its limit, and then safely snapping back into shape. They projected a kind of maniacal pleasure and I imagine I'll be seeing these kids around again. Put 'em on your buzz band list.

Devil Eyes has been carving a niche in the scene with regular appearances, no two of which are alike. Art-punk-blues? Garage-swamp-fireworks? Hard to classify, because there's always some spectacle that accompanies the rugged, raw, and raging music. The band has a subversive, won't-be-members-of-any-club-that'll-have-us ethos. Maybe its because they abuse (tease? torment? or simply experiment with?) every variation of sound they can make in a show? Don't be fooled by the bullwhipped guitar schtick (yes, because it does happen). Just take a few moments to watch the band members play their respective and exchanged instruments and you know they have talent aplenty. Makes me think... this band could do and be anything they want and so they do exactly that -- they are everything all at once, bringing genres and variants into a chaotic mash. This band is a local must see because they take you places you didn't know you could go. In a way, its kind of heady stuff, but that realization only comes later, on reflection.

Finally, the headliners, the zoobombs, Japan's brilliant mad mash of garage punk meets... I don't even know. I'm told its blues, but that didn't come to mind at all during this show. Post-show, their mp3s were more bluesy, but I didn't really sense that at all at Divan O. The sheer energetic frenzy is wonderful to behold. Every song is an earscape and body bone rattler. Instrumental jams with vocals I barely caught. But, even better, there's no egotistical posturing, no nudge-nudge wink-wink meta-music going on here. This is sheer joy, a complete energetic transmission in which the conductors pick up no friction, and that is what makes live music my favorite past time.

Further Afield with Sorrel Muggridge and Laura Nanni

It was hard to resist the request for participants in Further Afield, a collaborative art project between Toronto and UK-based artists, Sorrel Muggridge and Laura Nanni. I was to meet Laura in front of the Bellgo building on the X, and then instructions would be given to me. Sounded cool. I signed up.

Laura met me, accompanied by her documentarian, at the exact time and place. From there, we placed a call to Wales, where Sorrel and her colaborator, Lisbeth, were waiting. The two teams each took 493 steps, to symbolize the kilometers separating us. I wandered away from St. Catherine, towards the old port, reaching Rene Levesque as our starting place.

Then, Laura wrote instructions on the ground. Look towards the ___________________ and turn right. I was to find something in my field of vision that could fill in the blank. Seeing a woman in an obnxiously monotone hot pink suit, I suggested, "The woman in the garrish pink outfit." The instructions were relayed to Lisbeth and Sorrel, who were then to find an individual in a garrish pink outfit and turn right. I, on the other hand, had a much easier task of finding a "reception" which I interpreted as a reception desk for a hotel.

So we continued for about an hour and a half, relaying instructions back in this mad-libs style art project. It was fun -- mainly to come up with unusual things to fill in the blanks. I was rather proud when I took the word "wonder" from a travel agency called "Vacances Wonder" to give the instruction, "Follow the wonder and find a place to rest yourself."

At the end, I was told to describe my view to Lisbeth on the phone, and she did the same for me. As she described her view, I was instructed to draw it on a postcard given to me and finally to mail the postcard to her. And so it went... artist and creator sent postcard to artist and creator.

This wonderful (yes, there's the wonder) way to spend two hours was certainly not my typical art outing. sure, I go to gallery openings. But the art is passive and I am a viewer who interprets. In this case, I was turned into collaborator for the duration of the project. Although documented, the project in fact ends when the walking tour ends. I suppose the postcard is really its only remaining component.

I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. I did enjoy myself immensely. Would I consider this art? Not typically, I guess. But, that is part of the beauty of making art -- it can challenge one's preconceived notions of what art is. I am intrigued by very modern art these days of the land art genre and minimalist genre, even though it lacks the technical skills I so admire of line drawing and color. But, when explained, I appreciate the intent of these modern artists. I suppose Further Afield is very much in this vein. It warps and reinterprets the premises of art and makes one say "Aha! Thank you for stinging me out of my rut."

Spiral Beach and the Sunday Sinners at the Green Room

Hurrah, the Green Room is back and seems to be crashing this bash with kick ass line ups night after night! I've missed this place more than you'll ever know, my beloved music box in Mile End.
So, as part of the annual Fringe Festival, the Green Room has been showcasing musical acts. Last night, Toronto's punk upstarts Spiral Beach and Montreal's ye ye reincarnates The Sunday Sinners performed to a mostly depopulated Green Room. Blame Sunday, blame the heat of the day, blame too many options with all the theatrical happenings, blame the fact the Green Room has been out of commission. Under no circumstances blame these two fantastic bands.
Spiral Beach has been on my radar for awhile, since seeing them perform several years ago at the Mile End Cultural Center (the Green Room's neighbor and kissing cousin venue). I was blown away by that first show, as these young upstarts put the kink in my mink with their wild revelry and ability. Since then, I've felt somewhat less enthused to see them play -- finding them a kind of pink punk (and I don't mean "gay" or "flamboyant" -- rather, just kind of not so ballsy). However, last night's show renewed my enthusiasm for this band. The newer songs are dirtier, harder, wilder, crazier, and make the early stuff that I liked so much seem... well.. superficial in comparison. This is a good thing. A band that evolves for the better is one with staying power. So, Spiral Beach is back on my great act list. Even if there was hardly an audience to appreciate it, Spiral Beach puts on a good ride for a performance.

More subdued, but no less intriguing were the Sunday Sinners. Again, this is an act I'd seen several times over and had felt lukewarm about until last night. Bedecked in matching glasses and burnt-toast-dry humor, I felt like I was back in Cambridge (Mass) at Christopher's watching folkies sing about their peeling paint. Only, get rid of the folkies bit and the peeling paint bit. The Sunday Sinners are a ye ye-esque, 60's inspired, guitar driven band. I don't quite remember them this way... so my memory might be playing tricks on me. Not to worry. I like when my memory has a senior moment of this particular kind. The Sunday Sinners were fanastico and I loved the vocals, loved their vibe, loved their spleen. Much like Spiral Beach, a band that had only garnered a kind of mildly enthusiastic response from me now has gained my full support and admiration. I'm already excited to see them play again, whenever that happens to be....

Pick a Piper at Trois Minots

Tribal goodness, oh man, did I not expect this at all. What a fantastic barrage of drum symphony! Pick a Piper instantly brought a smile to my face when I saw there were two drum sets brought to the stage. Since Brad Weber is Dan Snaith's (Caribou formerly known as Manitba) touring drummer, I had an inkling things would be good. Snaith's shows are outpourings of mind governed physicality. What would Weber bring to the table on his own? Well, its clear the two have a similar vision. But, while Snaith goes synth-pop psychedelic, Weber goes for the tribal beats. All four members of Pick a Piper take to the sticks and pound their souls out.

The entire (albeit brief) set skirted through some other experimental genres. Trois Minots is not exactly the venue of choice for this kind of show, but lately this little venue has been showing some mighty fine artists -- its nice to have yet another stage available in this city so quality and mediocre acts can continue to flaunt their goods.

United Steelworkers of Montreal at the Fringe

Goddamned I love the Fringe Festival. I think its better than the jazz fest, but only marginally so. I love its lack of pretense, its rootsiness, the communal spirit. Jazz fest brings in big names and its a huge party of one kind. But Fringe is so much closer to my own heart. I similarly enjoy the infringement festival because of its commitment to artistic tolerance and rejection of corporate sponsorship by any questionable companies. However, let's stick to the topic... tonight's freebie show at Parc d'Amerique.

I wish I lived in the Plateau. Granted, St. Henri is where its at if you have punk, anti-authoritarian leanings and embrace street cred as an asset. But, if I ever get married and have puppies, I want to live in the Plateau with the other liberal artists of the world. Why? So I can take my pack of brats to the Fringe festival free concerts and let them play and run while the good beautiful creative people stand around, drink beer, and listen to kick ass music in the heart of the city. This jovial event is family friendly, neighborhood friendly, artist friendly, introvert friendly, queer friendly, trans-whatever friendly, and you name it friendly. Everyone is all smiles, smiles, as Mr Rourk would say on Fantasy Island. Actors and actresses put flyers in your hand begging you to see their productions. It's a great vibe and a pleasure to attend.

As for tonight's two freebies, Lake of Stew followed by the sizzling United Steelworkers of Montreal, I was psyched as all get go to be there. Both bands fall pretty squarely under the roots genre, which means they have country leanings, but tend towards rock IMHO. I've seen both play before, and was by no means disappointed to see this well chosen complimentary pair. Lake of Stew is a little more sprawling and lacks the gritty character that gives the United Steelworkers so much charisma. Not to complain -- they are a fine band, but perhaps more sedate then I enjoy. As for the United Steelworkers, they put on a big, fun, balls out show. Its impossible not to like them, with their northern version of southern charm. I sometimes find it hard to believe that so many different types of quality artists are bred in the same city. Must be the constant exposure to quality entertainment in all arts areas.

Flotilla CD launch at O Patro Vys

Nothing is better than when a band exceeds one's expectations. Flotilla has been much touted around Exclaim and CBC... so my immediate response is always a one-eyebrow raised, "Impress me." That eyebrow dropped in less than two phrases of the first song performed, when they more than live up to the generous praise heaped on them. How lucky am I to catch them at this fairly intimate CD launch.

This sweet little local band is every inch bathed in that Montreal ethos that keeps on creating these amazing independent outfits. First off, they have the requisite atypical instrument, in this case, a concert harp. Second off, they seem to have that power mix of Franco-Anglo talent. Thirdly, they come off as mild mannered sorts whose "this is who we are" gentleness is disarming and charming. Fourthly, and most importantly, they make music you want to listen to again and again and again. Moody, surprising, and never pressing into discomfort as a means to evoke a wow! factor.

I liked their balance of softness and speed, the reflective and introspection of the lyrics, and just that lack of pretense and ego. Music that tends to be so sentiment driven or emotionally evocative is often a shade boring. However, this was NOT the case. NO NO NO NO NO. This band had me seduced and I walked out of this show a convert to the cause. Eyes out and ears up for Flotilla who seems to have stayed subsurface but will surely make big waves with their new album One Hundred Words for Water.