2007-03 Vital Source Mag – March 2007
Girls on film
By Russ Bickerstaff Once again, winter ends with Women’s History Month, and in recognition of this the UWM Film Department presents its 3rd Annual Women Without Borders Film Festival at the Union Cinema. The festival celebrates film by and about women who have crossed borders of every kind. And as in the past, this year’s festival features a wide range of compelling work. Documentaries cover such disparate subject matter as modern menstruation (with Giovanna Chesler’s Period on March 7), teenage life complicated by tribal culture (with Tracey Deer’ Mohawk Girls on March 11) and the story of the first woman to hijack an airplane (Lina Mackboul’s film about Leila Khaed on March 10). Lots of strange little experimental bits rush across the screen in a program that should prove to be quite an experience. One of the most provocative double features of the festival occurs March 9. Therese Shecter’s I Was A Teenage Feminist {Image 3} starts at 7pm, followed at 9pm by Gillian Aldrich and Jennifer Baumgartner’s I Had An Abortion {Image 2}. The former details Shecter’s attempts to come to terms with her life as a feminist after a lengthy time away from the movement. Her story begins at the dawn of women’s liberation while she was a teenager and follows the feminist movement through to the present. On the whole, it’s a nice, conversational introduction to the first principals of feminism, though most people already familiar with the movement won’t see much new here unless they find Shecter particularly interesting on her own terms. The brief street interview with the self-proclaimed feminist protesting abortion is a brilliant, yet passing, moment in the film. And as strange as it is that so much of the film is centered around Shecter’s formative feminist experiences watching the children’s TV special Free To Be . . . You And Me, it’s captivating to watch one of its writers tell her that the idealistic children’s program really didn’t promise her anything about gender roles. I Had An Abortion is more cohesive. Aldrich and Baumgartner put together a well thought-out history of abortion from women over the past several decades and from various socio-cultural backgrounds who have experienced it firsthand. The narratives are placed in chronological order, starting with a compelling account from over half a century ago. Feminist icon Gloria Steinem’s recounting of her own abortion early on in the film is almost hypnotic, but it’s the most recent narratives that really ground the film. I Had An Abortion draws its strength from its relentlessness. It’s not often that women casually mention the abortion they had. Regardless of how one feels about the issue, it’s profoundly moving to see this many women talking about it so openly. Possibly the best single documentary in the festival, Diana Ferrero’s They Call Me Muslim {Image 1}, opens yet another stirring double feature on March 10. It’s a piece so brilliantly framed that it’s surprising it hasn’t seen wider distribution at film festivals since its first […]
Mar 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Trouble
By Matt Wild Asked why he decided to dismantle The Pixies, frontman Frank Black once replied that when another bandmate’s lifestyle “starts to irritate you,” it becomes virtually impossible to be in the same room as that person, much less share a stage together. Black was no doubt referring to bassist Kim Deal, whose unexpected mainstream success with The Breeders almost certainly drove him absolutely ape-shit. Likewise, my recent source of irritation – my very own Kim Deal, if you will – has been nothing less than this entire city. I’ve been irritated by the constant closing/opening of restaurants, the conversational shorthand brought on by winter weather, the unspoken disdain of friends and colleagues. I’ve been annoyed with the shoddy state of local weeklies and bored to tears by the meager accomplishments of our hipster elite. I’ve been so desperate for a cure, so anxious for an all-purpose salve that I recently decided to face my fears head-on. Like those episodes of Maury where he cures a guest’s irrational fear of mustard with – you guessed it! – a giant fucking bowl of mustard, I decided to break my anti-Milwaukee funk by attending the single most irritating event I could find: a home-brewed burlesque show. Following a few hours spent at the Nut Factory open house (Kyle Fitzpatrick’s paintings – all the size and texture of burnt-out Buicks – are particular standouts), I’m dropped off at Mad Planet for the Pixel Pussy Ski, Sky and Stage Show. Sponsored by Blam! Blam! – a local publication that provides readers the unique pleasure of seeing full color photographs of their friends and former roommates giving each other head – the scene is pretty much what one would expect: some low-rent fetish gear, a bunch of free lube and condoms (so naughty!), awful music and a $10 cover. No matter, I think, a few stiff drinks and a sharp blow to the skull will be all that’s needed to spice things up. Hell, maybe I’ll even strike up a conversation with the guy wearing a top hat and a strap-on. Notebook and camera in hand, I decide to hang up my coat and dig in for the long haul. It’s then that I see the sign: “Coat Check Begins At $10.” I stare at it dumbly, unable to process a $10 Mad Planet coat check, much less one that begins at $10. In fact, what kind of coat check begins anywhere? Are there better options – sturdier hangers, perhaps – in the $12-$15 range? Complimentary lint-removers? Free pony rides? And what is it about this sign – and now, suddenly, these people, these costumes, these affectations – that seems so horribly wrong, so overwhelmingly depressing? Out of respect for both Mad Planet and my own well-being, I decide to do the only thing a rational person would do after just forking over $10 to get into a local sex show: I leave. Flee, escape, haul ass is more like it, the bitter irritation […]
Mar 1st, 2007 by Matt Wild
Lucinda Williams
By Blaine Schultz Having followed Lucinda Williams’ career since 1988, I find it no surprise that she has moved gracefully from cult artist to icon. She has maintained a consistently high level of songwriting and her choice of musicians and band mates has been impeccable. It doesn’t matter if she wears her heart on her sleeve or writes in character, Williams delivers the goods. West is imbued with Williams’ trademark blend of weariness and grit – it’s obvious when she’s pissed off and it’s obvious when she allows the light of optimism to shine through. On the best tunes here, Williams romantic heartbreak and personal loss (the death of her mom) are grist for the mill. But philosophically, the album’s spotlight is “What If,” a tune she previewed at her last solo Pabst Theater gig. It is a list of absurdities (“… the president wore pink…God was a bum…The sky began to bleed” ) that comes to a head with a simple quest for compassion. And that is what makes any art great: the attempt at connection no matter how great or small the gulf. It’s easy to pigeonhole Williams as a hood ornament for the NPR crowd. But she’s more genuine than any marketing scheme and more complex than many of the one-dimensional artists clogging the limited airwaves and record store CD racks. She can shift like a motorcycle in a minivan culture – not that she seems to care. As easily as she could sing her poetic numbers at an open mic night (“Are You Alright?” ), Williams can go toe-to-toe with the shit-kicker honesty of “Wrap My Head Around That.” Some of these tunes are so bare-wristed that it will be interesting to see how she deals with them live. Then again, that’s pretty much how she’s lived her career so far. It’s too bad she’ll never get to be in a Robert Altman movie. VS
Mar 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
Ted Leo might occasionally feel nostalgic – one of his best-known songs, “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?,” yearns for old-fashioned ska – but he’s not. Better than any other current musician, he understands that punk rock is unfinished business: a promise that needs to be kept. He also understands that punk rock is less a style or an ideology than a commitment, and that understanding suffuses Living With the Living. Leo has never shied away from songwriting variety, but this album might be his most wide-ranging yet, even as it showcases a further tautening of the threads connecting him to Pharmacists bassist Dave Lerner and drummer Chris Wilson. Some of the paths Leo and the Pharmacists take aren’t particularly unexpected. “Bomb.Repeat.Bomb” is a typically blistering, coolly angry attack on attackers, “A Bottle of Buckie” explores friendship via an Irish-American take on the Pogues and “Army Bound” cuts Leo’s razor-barbed guitar riffs across a martial rock beat. But “The Unwanted Things” is a surprisingly fluid, sweet angle on the punk-reggae combination explored so well by Elvis Costello and The Clash, while “La Costa Brava” mixes crunchy pop-rock with a romantic urge to travel to sunnier climes. If Leo weren’t in such good, tuneful voice, these stylistic transformations would be even more surprising than they are. Producer Brendan Canty of Fugazi helps to keep the music lean. Ted Leo’s intelligence and intensity come through quite clearly, each undimmed by the other. Living With the Living keeps the promise. VS
Mar 1st, 2007 by Jon Gilbertson
