It's that time of year again. The time when everyone's fear of schoolwork is actually usurped by desire to be as far away from any parental unit's overbearing clutches as physically possible. And thus we find ourselves, or at least most of ourselves, to be happily returned to Hanover, albeit knees-deep in books (and other things, I suppose), but with mental states quickly stabilizing from the evening effect of living away from home (and other things, I suppose).
Am I speaking only about myself? I doubt it.
Anyway, however you slice it, the summer is over. The remnants of Hurricane Ivan that penetrated the insularity of the Dartmouth campus just last week brought the painful reminder that it turns cold on a dime here, and fall weather is just 'round the corner. Soon the beach season will be far behind us, and the leaves will all be either red or dead, so while the memory of a summer past still lingers, perhaps it is allowable to reflect just a little bit.
I proceed with only the promise to be neither saccharine nor too nostalgic. Nor will I be too personal as the Libertines say, "I'll confess all of my sins after several large gins." At the present, I have consumed only a can of C2 Coke, and thus will confine myself to presenting the summer's highs and lows in terms of the arts scene. (You were wondering why this was on the arts page, weren't you?)
There was definitely more than a couple deplorable aspects to the music scene of this summer. Let's start with teen female singers, who were particularly painful this summer. Some pop radio play was actually decent this summer with some catchy rock singles and a wave of introspective hip hop from the likes of Jadakiss and others. But then along comes Jojo. If you're singing about boys cheating on you at the age of 13, you need a reality check. And in addition, I have two friends who actually had to be paid to listen to an Ashley Simpson track. Man, was it insipid. And the fact that she had the tendency to gush things to members of the press like, "God, I love Karen O!" just added insult to injury. Ouch the indie world just cried bitter tears.
But the worst moment of the summer was at the hands of the elder Simpson. Personally I find Jessica a brilliant businesswoman: playing off her own stupidity as a marketing tool (if I sound flippant, I am actually being serious) and somehow becoming America's sweetheart for being innocent, simple, and accessible while still being a beautiful pop star.
But if her performance at the VMA's in Miami this August was bad enough, her fans made it worse when they all threw into the air their cellphones. Lighters you idiots; you're supposed to wave your lighter! I can only imagine that poor Jerry is still rolling in his grave. And in a cemetery in Paris, Jim probably cringed too.
But the summer was saved by Kanye West who rode in on a wave of damn fine hip hop that brought with it a brilliant new album by The Roots, a U.S. tour by the impressive double bill of Dizzee Rascal and The Streets, and the return of the ODB, who's older but less dirty. But West was everywhere, earning both street cred and critical acclaim, showing up on MTV and the radio and guesting on just about everyone's album from the Usher remix to the awesome Dilated People's song. It doesn't even matter that he always wore a scowl and a Polo -- he was fantastic.
Even metal heads had an artistic high point this summer. The Metallica documentary, "Some Kind of Monster," not only drew rave reviews from all sorts of critics, it actually was one hell of a fine rockumentary, and it gave Metallica more depth and credit than many of us ever thought they had.
And as for that new single by The Killers- well, somebody told me that America now has its own 20th century version of New Order. Fantastic. Bloody fantastic.
On the cinematic side of things, what I say next will most likely get me burned at the stake. But the biggest letdown of the summer was "Fahrenheit 9/11." Those who find no fault with it are probably too political to be open-minded artistically. As a piece of artistic work, it failed. The visual element to the film was dismal. In "Roger and Me" Moore captivated audiences with scenes of rabbits being nonchalantly stripped, and in "Columbine" he added the fantastic animated sequence, but "Fahrenheit" was a shabby quilt of boring clips stitched together with no regard for aesthetics (just watch this year's Errol Morris feature "Fog of War" to see how depressingly inferior "Fahrenheit" is as a piece of art).
Furthermore, Moore failed to make a complete, comprehensive point. It was instead a pastiche of angry rants, ranging from Bush conspiracies to depressing exposes of our soldiers in Iraq. If he had stuck to the last idea in his film -- the one which spoke to the fact that the majority of American soldiers are of the lower class or lesser means and options -- he could have made a riveting socio-political feature. But he chose to smack audiences across the face with muckraking facts until liberals got on their knees to praise him. It was the one time this summer when I was sad to be a Democrat.
But "City of God" came out on video so nobody had an excuse not to see what was perhaps last year's best film. And "Open Water" proved to be the creepiest movie that was ever made without ever actually being scary. "Anchorman" was hilariously funny and ridiculously quotable. And "Zatoichi" proved one more time that Takeshi Kitano is amazingly cool, and that samurai films never go out of style. And now I'm not so sad anymore.
And, really, how could I be, with so many interesting options coming up in the arts scene in the next couple months (okay, I'm done with being nostalgic about summer). It's not yet Oscar season, and I can more than wait for the grandiose dramatic films to begin arriving around Thanksgiving. But, this fall is set to be chock o' block with great films anyway.
The fall film round up kicks into high gear this week with "The Motorcycle Diaries," starring up-and-coming actor Gael Garcia Bernal (of "Y Tu Mama Tambien" fame) as a young Ernesto "Che" Guevara, before his political turn. The film, taken from the beginning Guevara's memoirs, looks not only to be fascinating, but also lusciously picturesque. October sees the release of "I Heart Huckabees" and "Ray," the former being a Wes Anderson worthy comedy that no critic can describe succinctly but to say it has to do with ecological awareness, Wal-Mart-type conglomerations, and existential detectives; and the later being a biopic of Ray Charles starring Jamie Foxx. And the beginning of November gives us a new entry from the always-fantastic Pedro Almodovar, "Bad Education."
And as for music, there are enough potentially exciting releases coming out to keep all types of audiophiles happy and broke. Or for those of you audiophiles out there who are also Direct Connect addicts, happy and perpetually committing illegal acts. Either way, a smorgasbord of interesting indie and major label releases are heading our way.
Perhaps the most anticipated album of the season will be Elliot Smith's posthumous release, "From A Basement On A Hill," set to hit shelves on Oct. 19. It is reportedly, as one could imagine from Smith's frightening death earlier this year, darkly depressing material, but at the same time it is being touted as some of Smith's finest work.
Interpol, who's also just as happy as Ian Curtis on a Monday, is back with their highly anticipated sophomore effort on Sept. 28 (some of it is even said to be bordering on slightly peppy!). R.E.M. and Fatboy Slim share a release date for new material at the beginning of October. Mos Def reps the hip hop scene (although in recent years he's been known to foray into the world of rock) with a new album on Oct. 12. And the whole world will smile on Nov. 23 when U2 release their next album.
In case you, dear reader, haven't already noticed, I just made myself into a columnist and wrote a relatively self-absorbed little column. But that is not my job -- for the rest of the term I swear to confine myself to being a faithful arts editor and covering as much of the exciting stuff I've already hyped in this article as is possible.
Thus keep reading. And as the New York City Transit Authority says, if you see something, say something! If you have an opinion, let the art section know. Just don't always complain to our poor writers -- tell us what you like too and we'll give you more. And then you'll be happy. And we'll be happy. And that's good for us. We don't want to be like Smith and Interpol -- we just want to review them.
