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ON THE COVER | NEWS & VIEWS | THE TOWN DANDY December 13, 2007
August Wilson Century Cycle
’Tis the season of the boxed set, but this one has more significance than the usual holiday gift repackaging. This is the first physical embodiment of a singular achievement — 10 plays, each set in a different decade of the 20th century, which together tell a long story of African-American survival. It is the first time the plays of August Wilson have been collected to tell that story chronologically. Since Wilson completed the cycle shortly before his untimely death in 2005, the nature and extent of this achievement is slowly being recognized. No American playwright of any color has come close to a series of 10 major plays like this, or participated in the acclaimed productions of all their plays. Many others helped this process in vital ways, but even so, it’s fair to say that August Wilson transformed and enriched American theater as no individual has ever done. From “Gem of the Ocean” (set in 1904) to “Radio Golf” (1997) and including “Fences,” “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” “Jitney” and “The Piano Lesson,” each play is carefully true to its time, yet there are few historic events even mentioned, and the characters are ordinary people — predominately in the same Pittsburgh neighborhood. The most obvious virtue of these plays is their language — a version of black speech that is at once authentic and Wilson’s own poetry — and this alone makes these plays unusually good to read as well as to see performed. With this set it’s possible to feel the changes and the continuities in African-American culture through the century. The reader is aided in this by recurring and even legendary characters, and by ancestors and descendants in the same family — and perhaps most hauntingly, in the fate of a single house. In this boxed set, each play has a foreword by such luminaries as Nobel Laureate Toni Morrison, playwright Tony Kushner, writer Ishmael Reed, actor Laurence Fishburne and former theater critic Frank Rich. Kushner writes that Wilson grappled with theological questions: “Eugene O’Neill, the playwright August Wilson most resembles, did that.” Reed writes that Wilson’s “ear was so good that his character’s words could be set to music.” Fishburne quotes favorite lines from “Two Trains Running” (he was in its first production, along with Samuel L. Jackson): “Freedom is heavy. You got to put your shoulder to freedom. Put your shoulder to it and hope your back holds up.” There couldn’t be a better introduction to Wilson’s work than the intro to the series by New Yorker drama critic John Lahr. The cover for the set has a great photo of the author, taken in the last year or so of his life. The set lists at $200 but can be purchased for $126 — it’s definitely a gift item. And if you don’t have someone to give it to, think about gifting your favorite local library. — William S. Kowinski
On May 31, 1986, amateur filmmakers John Heyn and Jeff Krulik pulled into an arena parking lot outside of Washington D.C., unpacked their equipment, and proceeded to shoot footage and conduct interviews with the scores of fans who had gathered to prepare for that evening’s Judas Priest/Dokken concert. Of the over two hours of drunken dialog, drug-induced mayhem and testosterone-fueled antics that were captured on tape came a 16 minute independent film-short aptly titled Heavy Metal Parking Lot. Originally intended for public access broadcast, the picture gained notoriety as it appeared in small independent film festivals and began to make the rounds of the video bootleg underground. By the mid ’90s, HMPL had attracted the attention of such notables as Dave Grohl and Sofia Coppolla, who reportedly tracked the producers down to procure a copy for herself. Taking advantage of its rising cult status, Heyn and Krulik had the film released on video in 2001, complete with additional footage, and took it on a North American tour. Now, in the midst of pop culture’s nostalgia for everything that is ’80s, comes the 20th anniversary DVD edition. If you have never seen HMPL you are in store for an inordinate amount of late ’70s-model Camaros, an impressive collection of vintage metal T-shirts, camera frames full of feathered and frizzled hair, priceless insights about Rob Halford, an overflow of domestic beer and dudes — lots of lean shirtless dudes partying to such an extreme that it is unlikely they remember anything from that evening’s show. In an effort to expand the original edition, the DVD contains a variety of extras, including the sequels Monster Truck Parking Lot, Neil Diamond Parking Lot and Harry Potter Sidewalk. The disc’s bonus material also features original scrapped footage, interviews with the filmmakers, visits with various parking lot alumni and a trip into a heavy metal basement. I’ve always had reservations about HMPL and thought that checking out this DVD version might help in alleviating some of my concerns. Sadly enough, however, I was wrong. The glaring weakness of the film is the lack of genuine interest or respect Heyn and Krulik show for their subject matter. You see, I was an ’80s headbanger, and to this day I wear my metal badge with pride. When I watch this video I do not feel as though I’m laughing with the film. I feel like I’m being laughed at. Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m a sucker for a good mockumentary, but this is no Spinal Tap. It’s simply two guys riding out their 15 minutes of fame at metal’s expense. Need evidence? Look no further than the segment titled “Philly Fiasco,” in which HMPL is played before a crowd of rambunctious metalheads. The film is quickly booed off the stage. Heyn and Krulik are shown in the dressing room lamenting their disgrace, chalking the incident up to the crowd wanting to see the Black Sabbath cover band playing that night. Right. I think the better explanation is that the crowd recognized the elitist motivations behind HMPL’s creation and could not identify with its superficial portrayal of metal culture. They simply responded accordingly. I’m sure that the guys behind this film will swear to the best of intentions. And they probably should if they want to continue padding their 401(k) plans with royalty checks. Me? I’ll be returning this disc for either store credit or a copy of Spinal Tap, something I can better relate to. — Michael Mannix, proud headbanger
In terms of cultural impact, Dr. Who is the British Star Trek and Star Wars put together. The BBC-TV series about a dapper two-hearted alien traveling through time and space in what looks from the outside like a blue police box, first went on the air in 1963 and ran continuously until 1989. Three years ago the BBC revived it and it’s now bigger than ever. The new series retains much of the charm of the old — for instance, gnarly monsters who speak in impeccable British stage accents — but with better writing, acting and visual effects. It’s among the most popular shows on British TV, winning most major awards, and has made the current Doctor — David Tennant — into the most bankable actor in England. It’s carried in the states on the Sci-Fi Channel (which got a huge ratings boost when it started) about six months after it runs in Britain. The 15 episodes end here in October, and then the DVD set comes out — which is by far, far the best way to see it. Though familiarity with the Doctor Who universe adds to the experience, it’s more than possible to jump right in and enjoy the best science fiction series now on TV anywhere. The third season (second for David Tennant) is as least as good as the excellent second season and the pretty damn good first season, and arguably better. Executive producer and writer Russell T. Davies orchestrates the season so that there are stand-alone episodes, some of which would be classics even without the Doctor (such as this season’s “Blink”), and two-parters (like “Daleks in Manhattan,” featuring the most famous series villains), but also with a season-long arc, seeded from the first episode and becoming apparent in the final ones. This year he’s managed to drop what seems to be a one-time device into a stand-alone that becomes the key to the revival of another old nemesis (played, at least in part, by none other than the eminent Derek Jacobi.) I think there are two keys to the new Doctor Who’s success. First, many of the people who make the series now (including David Tennant) grew up with it as children, and while they’ve improved the show dramatically they’re true to its traditions. And second, it remains a show made for children (it airs in the UK early Saturday evening). So it always has monsters and adventure, it’s always a little scary, and it’s eventually always positive. But like other great children’s entertainment — Bugs Bunny, Tom Corbett, Mathnet, Harry Potter, etc. — it uses that freedom to layer in more wit and meaning than adults would stand for. It deals with basic issues important to children — such belonging and difference, freedom and family, and in particular the basic issues of good and evil, godlike power and sacrifice — that would scare adults to death. There’s the same dash and humor as the classic series, but the characters and relationships continue to be developed. The Doctor’s companion (usually female) is still a kind of stand-in for the audience point of view, but beginning with Billie Piper as Rose Tyler the first two years, and now with Freema Agyeman as Martha Jones (the first companion-of-color), she has a more active role, and there’s more reality in the relationship. The Doctor is more dimensional as well. Still charming, he is sometimes seen as a lonely, even vengeful god, struggling with impulses for justice or compassion. This season — and especially the final episode — is imaginative and powerful in this regard. If you love extras, this DVD set is loaded. Besides the entire, uninterrupted episodes, there’s also the DVD option of subtitles, so you can understand all that these fast-talking Brits are saying. And especially for in-house effects, the visuals are great. It’s a lot of fun. — William S. Kowinski
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August Wilson Century Cycle
