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BOB
LOCHTE
King
of the Monsters
July
25, 2004
One
of our favorite movie stars will perform no more. His studio
has launched a major career retrospective, including a newly
restored version of his first film. No, I don't mean Brando,
although this guy is almost as large. I'm talking about "Woooohhh,
Godzilla!" After 50 years and more than 20 films, the big
fire-breathing lizard has finally retired.
Toho Studios, who created Godzilla in 1954, made the announcement
last year. Of course, Toho tried to retire him before, back
in the 1970s, but changed its mind ten years later. This time,
the studio took the original black and white Godzilla, King
of the Monsters, ran it through the computer to tweak the audio
and video, and booked it in select theatres in both the US and
Japan. The pay per view and DVD releases are sure to follow
soon.
The original Japanese film was called Gojira, but for some reason
Toho thought Godzilla would resonate better with audiences around
the world, although there's no evidence the name change worked
outside America. It also cut the film by about 20 minutes and
inserted scenes with Raymond Burr playing an American journalist.
Of course, that gave instant credibility to some guy in a lizard
suit stomping a balsa wood model of Tokyo to bits. Burr also
appeared in Godzilla 1985, the film that marked the star's return,
in bizarre vignettes where he led a Greek chorus chanting about
the destiny of Mankind.
Through the years, Godzilla has undergone many changes in costume
and roles. He's been a terrible monster, a savior of the human
race, and a friend and role model for kids. My personal favorite
is Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster where a creature that looks
like Sponge Bob's evil twin emerges from the slime of a manmade
ecological disaster, feeds on factory fumes and air pollution,
and threatens to destroy all life on earth. Godzilla comes out
of the sea to do battle with and ultimately defeat the beast.
They stomp the heck out of the balsa wood Tokyo in the process,
but there's a new dawn through clear skies and hope for all
of us at the end. Touching.
Almost all Godzilla movies made money. The only one that tanked
was the 1998 Godzilla. Toho licensed the character to Tri-Star
Pictures who moved him to New York, recorded the dialogue in
English with a name cast, and created Godzilla with the latest
CGI technology like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. Maybe it
was too slick, or maybe no one cared that Godzilla trashed New
York. But it was a flop. Two years later, Toho brought back
the rubber reptile, balsa wood sets, and badly dubbed soundtrack
for Godzilla 2000, and the audience loved it.
I don't know why Godzilla became an icon in both Japanese and
American popular culture, but the shtick works. I bet Toho is
just teasing us with his exit, like James Brown's valet putting
on the robe, to get us to cheer loud enough to get Godzilla
back on stage. There's just something special about guys in
lizard suits.
Presidents
and Prizefighters
July
14, 2004
I
don't know which seems worse. Wallowing in the intricately scripted
weeklong eulogy for Ronald Reagan or plodding through 900 pages
of Bill Clinton writing about Bill Clinton. But neither of these
wretchedly excessive threats to my wakeful state diminishes
my respect for the two former presidents. Like most Americans,
I voted for both of them twice and would probably do so again
- unless they ran against each other. Wouldn't that be a great
election, especially compared with the one we face now? If Reagan
versus Clinton couldn't turn out voters, there's no hope for
the Republic.
But this year is normal in presidential politics. Most often,
both candidates are less than we want. In the rare event that
one seizes the popular attention, the other party tends to roll
over and play dead by putting someone who appeals to the faithful
but not the majority. Someone like Walter Mondale or Bob Dole.
And we really never know how good the winner is because he wasn't
tested.
It's like heavyweight boxing. For a rare instant, when Muhammad
Ali, Joe Frazier, and George Foreman were slugging it out, you
sensed that whoever won the latest contest was a true champion.
But we can't say that about any other heavyweights in my lifetime,
not even Rocky Marciano who was undefeated, because there wasn't
anyone around for them to fight and prove it.
In the presidential prizefight of 2004, the media handicappers
are touting even odds, but there's little enthusiasm from the
public. And I can't see how the conventions will change that.
Nor will the millions spent on TV spots. The only people paying
attention to the ads are the ones who created them and the media
pundits who review them because they are too lazy to get out
and dig up some real news about the election.
The candidates and their campaigns are an odd complement to
each other. The Republicans have a finely tuned organization
supporting a President who is damaged goods. Before my GOP friends
get excited, ask yourself: Wouldn't you be breathing easier
with an Eisenhower, Reagan, or even John McCain at the top of
the ticket? On the other side, the Democrats have a candidate
but no campaign, other than the tried and true: "They're
in and we're out." Don't you Democrats wish you had your
own Karl Rove and a Sherman-through-Georgia strategy?
I say this one will go 15 round with no knockdowns and end in
a split decision. By that time, most of the audience will have
tuned in some other reality show.
Ray
Charles
June
15, 2004
Without
Ray Charles, I doubt I would have escaped the confines of Top
40 radio and the Grand Ol' Opry. When I was a teenager, Ray
came through town every summer, usually mid-week. Music City
USA was a convenient stop between bigger venues like Chicago
and Miami. It's surprising that my parents let me hop on a bus
with some pals and head downtown in the evening to see a black
man sing. Mixed race crowds were unusual back in 1964.
We always showed up early to hear the band play its set. Today
I recognize connections with Count Basie, Jimmie Lunceford,
Louis Jordan and others, but back then this was all new to me.
When his valet led Ray to the piano and he hit those first few
notes of "I've Got a Woman," everybody in the room
began to sway in Ray Charles rhythm. Despite the crummy sound
of the old Municipal Auditorium, these were special moments
that led me to explore wider musical horizons. I still get a
thrill when I remember the twin trumpets dueling with high notes
on the final choruses of "What'd I Say."
When I finally overcame my basic cheapskate nature and purchased
a CD player, my first disk was "Ray Charles Live."
It's still one of my favorites, with material recorded at the
Newport Jazz Festival of 1958 and at Atlanta Stadium, in the
rain, about six months later. It's interesting to hear the crowds
react. At Newport the audience was mostly white and there to
hear cool jazz and bebop from Brubeck, Miles, and Monk. They
didn't know what to make of Ray Charles. The applause comes
in short enthusiastic bursts, and only between songs. But in
Atlanta, when Ray jumps into "The Night Time is the Right
Time," you think you're in some congregation of Holy Rollers.
A few years later, everybody knew Ray Charles, mostly for his
renditions of country songs and standards. My favorite from
this era is "Old Man River," long associated with
the magnificent operatic voice of Paul Robeson. Ray's version
begins with an absurdly long intro of lush strings and a Disney-whitebread
choir. When Ray begins his first phrase and notes on the piano,
you hear a gentle, playful taunt, like he's saying: "Thank
you very much. That was nice, but here's what this song is all
about."
I think it was Frank Sinatra who called Ray Charles the genius.
He recognized Ray's extraordinary ability to transcend his blindness,
the racism and poverty of his childhood, the conventions of
the music business, bad acoustics, cornball lyrics, sappy arrangements,
and the reputations of other great singers who had put their
stamp on certain songs. Ray Charles was indeed a performer who
comes along once in a lifetime. I'm glad he was part of mine.
Good
News
June 1, 2004
"Why
don't they ever say anything good about us?" That was the
constant complaint from a traveling companion on a recent trip
to Spain. "They" were the European press, although
she made the same comments about "those liberals"
at CNN, available at almost every hotel. I presumed that "us"
was either America or Americans. Part of her frustration was
culture shock brought on by isolation from her daily dose of
Fox News and C-SPAN. She dismissed the Wall Street Journal and
the Financial Times, on hand at breakfast each day, as "too
much business." Instead, she searched in vain for an International
Herald Tribune or the international edition of USA Today, which
is even more vapid than the domestic one. I gently reminded
her that this was a vacation, something most people take to
get away from all the mundane details and anxieties of life.
In fact, there was very little news about America at all in
the European press. Iraq was in the news each day, but not always
on the front page or at the top of the stack. There was little
or nothing about our impending election, a glorious respite
from all the claptrap of polls and position statements. The
Spaniards were more concerned with the floods in the northern
half of the country, the lackluster performance of the national
soccer team in the run-up to the European Cup, the start of
the bullfight season, and the royal wedding and subsequent honeymoon
trip through the provinces by the heir to the throne and his
princess. Why should they care about our fixations with local
news on this side of the Atlantic?
The issue that my companion raised had to do with her concept
of "good" news, meaning journalism with a positive
slant. And what little there was about the USA, mostly stories
from the confusing and chaotic war in Iraq, was not very flattering.
But it was not necessarily biased. Mention of the USA was surprisingly
absent on the opinion pages. I did see one sympathetic editorial,
sort of, in the Financial Times. The gist was: "Even though
they appear disorganized and the Iraqis don't trust them, the
Yanks mean well and will eventually prevail because they're
too rich and powerful not to." My companion begrudgingly
accepted this, but allowed: "Well, there's not enough of
it."
To me good news has nothing to do with favorable or unfavorable
interpretations. It is news that is timely, accurate, thorough,
and written with sensitivity, style, and intelligence. What
my companion wanted was propaganda, advertising, or content
generated by third-rate spin doctors who fail to realize that
the real PR professionals also tell their clients when it is
time to admit mistakes, move on to correct them, and grin and
bear it for a while. If she wants that, there's plenty of it
on the Internet, accessible 24/7 all around the globe. Heck,
she could even write it herself. Plenty of folks do.
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