notjustaboutsex

If all fairytales were like this version of Cinderella, our childhoods would be much less traumatic. Based on the baroque tale by Charles Perrault, this amazing production by Company XIV, known for Nutcracker Rouge, fuses dance, opera, burlesque and vaudeville in a dream evening that oozes with pleasure for eye and ear.

photo by Nancy Cohen
The stage appears as if a French courtesan had recently dipped her puff into her powder, pink dust lighting, floating, flattering and cajoling.

We are slowly introduced into a world of beautiful bodies, elegantly costumed to perfection, muscled buttocks leading the parade, transcending gender difference as they slither, catapult, prance and entwine around each other. Sometimes they’re on the floor; at other moments in the air on a circus ring.. Of course, it’s erotic, but there is so much humor in the singing and sensual play that you re-remember something about the body, long lost in a Puritanical over sexualized society. Here, there is acceptance, strength and vulnerability.

Cinderella, with its subtext of sexual jealousy and yearning is a perfect story to tell in this magical style. The evil stepmother is pure Grace Jones and vamps for all he’s worth. Artistic director Austin McCormick should get the genius award for his conception, choreography and direction of this adult dessert. That you can imbibe on champagne or other grown up drinks only makes the evening more perfect.

The cast for Cinderella includes Hilly Bodin, Katrina Cunningham, Lea Helle, Jakob Karr, Nicholas Katen, Malik Kitchen, Mark Osmundsen, Davon Rainey, Marcy Richardson, Steven Trumon Gray, Allison Ulrich and Brett Umlauf.
Shows take place at the Minetta Lane Theatre, located at 18 Minetta Lane between MacDougal Street and 6th Avenue in New York City.
Performances are Tuesdays – Saturdays at 8pm, and Sundays at 5pm. The shows
contain partial nudity – 16 & over admitted.

Palermo Shooting had never been shown in the United States before the IFC housed a retrospective of the films of Wim Wenders. In the after talk following the screening, admitted to being wary of making a film about death… he was told it’s always been success killer, Woody Allen’s Love and Death not included. But luckily for us, that don’t do death dictum didn’t stop him.
Palermo Shooting is not a perfect film. At points, I was thinking…ok, just go with it. But there are so many fascinating moments that it really deserves a wide US distribution. Not the least, America’s best bad boy, Dennis Hopper gets to play his old nemesis …death.
According to Wenders, Hopper faced and escaped death many times. Unlike James Dean, he continued to ride his bike into the sunset. When I last saw him at a gallery opening in Taos, he was surrounded by fans and friends…of his film work and his art. Of course, Wenders worked with him before, in My American Friend and speaks of him with real warmth.
Palermo Shooting centers on Finn (Campino, singer from German punk band Die Toten Hosen) a highly successful art and fashion photographer who has lost the plot. The world gives him everything that we all dream of…money, accessibility, artistic control and ex-lovers. But after a shoot with a very happy pregnant model in Palermo (Milla Jovovich), Finn decides to stay on in the old town and face his demons, most importantly his fear of death.
The cinematography by Franz Lustig is exquisite. Images bend and expand and we feel as if we’re living inside Finn’s visual head. His rock music, which we hear through his headphones, also helps bring us into his world; the rhythms that are broken only when he pulls them out of his ears and we’re back in the reality of everyday Italian life.
There is something of this film that is reminiscent of Don’t Look Now, by Nicolas Roeg, where a phantom in a little hooded cloak torments the leads, Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland, as she pops in and out of Venice’s vaporettos, leading the couple further and further to facing the death of their child.

In Palermo Shooting, it is Hopper in a hooded cloak, drawing Finn closer and closer to his own fears.

This film is as much a treatise on photography as it is death …and apparently the two have been closely linked in literature. Writer Roland Barthes in Camera Lucida:

In the final analysis, what I really find fascinating about photographs, and they do fascinate me, is something that probably has to do with death. Perhaps it’s an interest that is tinged with necrophilia, to be honest, a fascination with what has died but is represented as wanting to be alive.

Finn can’t stop shooting and perhaps it’s not until he loses his camera in the dangerous water yet survives, that he begins to enter the now of living again.
The film brought to mind my own memories of both Wim Wenders and Dennis Hopper. As an invited student to the Talent Campus in Berlin, part of the Berlinale Film Festival, I thought I remembered hearing Wenders speak about the change in his filmmaking… and that change was involved with falling in love and having a new partner. I didn’t get the opportunity at the IFC screening to ask him about the autobiographical aspects of Palermo Shooting, but in the film Finn do meet a lovely Italian art restorer (Givoanna Messogiorno) and things begin to shift.
That same year, Mr. Hopper was being honored by the Festival. I was excited because Hopper and I share a birthdate and I’m always hopeful to better understand my own life by studying  people born on the same day.  In an auditorium of thousands of liberal German film fans, I had the gall to ask Hopper a question. Here he was – getting a well-deserved award after so many years of having ‘issues’ and still I couldn’t help but ask him out loud why he had voted Republican in the last few elections. You could have heard a pin drop in the joint. Truthfully, I don’t recall his response as there was such shock from the adoring throngs…probably more at me for spoiling the ceremony… Hopper mumbled something, recovered and then continued to be cheered for his filmography, not his politics.
Hopper plays death very nicely. At the end you almost want to pinch his cheek. Of course, it is Mr. Wender’s writing; his attempt at trying to understand death’s role in our lives and inadvertently help his audience make peace with it.
Someone in the Q &A following the screening suggested that the film should be shown at hospices. I think that’s pushing it; but in the way that it is thought that Spielberg helped prepare our consciousness for the idea of accepting alien life through E.T. and Contact, Mr. Wenders takes on the mission of making this death character a whole lot friendlier. I believe he succeeds

My neighborhood gets sadder and sadder. As the greed machine grows and grows, so goes community and individual enterprise.

In the past two months I have seen four wonderful businesses pushed out by evil, selfish, greedy landlords. Yes, I spare no adjective. These are not humans…they must be pure corporate selfishness. I can’t accept that a decent landlord would make it impossible for well run, well served businesses to be forced to give up because they insist on tripling their rents.

Cafe Pick Me Up dished up wonderful and inexpensive food for twenty years. It was a meeting point for people from all over…coffee, wine, conversations and great pasta. The Italian owner couldn’t have been sweeter. Now an emtpy ugly closed building sits on the corner.

A sustainable green store closed last week. They sold terrific products made from recycled goods, from shoes to candles to art. They made good coffee and were a wonderful place to pick up a little last minute gift.

Dusty Buttons also closed down. The landlord threatened to raise their rent by 125%. For six years, Amanda sold adorable vintage and vintage like clothes along with antiques. She may move to Philadelphia.

My personal favorite, newcomer Glasgow Vintage, after only one year, has packed up the family to return to Scotland. They had always dreamed of having a shop in New York’s East Village, after successfully owning a top vintage store in Glasgow. What they didn’t bargain for was an avaricious  landlord who had scaffolding and a trash bin in front of his shop for most of the year. The company was very busy building upward on the old tenement. That meant that shoppers couldn’t easily see the shop to come in and browse. Naturally, the landlord wouldn’t give these decent folk a break.

Here is an email I received from the shopkeep, now headed back to Scotland:

Hi Nancy

We were walking by the shop tonight and got your card, thanks so much for all your kind words! We have tried our best to fit in here but it has never felt quite right for us and what with all the trouble at the shop we decided to stop trying. It has been a real experience being here and meeting real people like you has made it so worthwhile and given us a glimpse of what this city maybe once was.

Ok, so what’s next? More 7/11’s, chain stores  or bars which mainly serve visiting children who think that drinking below 14th street is their right.

We are in a country that calls out for a sense of community in every community.  Is it still possible in this unfettered capitalistic dream that  real estateNew York  has become? Let’s hope so.

psa

The New York International Fringe Festival offers a terrific opportunity to catch writers in their breakout plays. Even writers who have already had successes get a great chance to showcase new ideas. Schooled by Lisa Lewis, who has spent lots of time in the film world, really works because it offers the sticky truth about show biz… people will do anything to catch their dream. Even not sleep with somebody.

As an ahem, aging, screenwriter and professor, Quentin Mare’s Andrew starts off his class by telling his hungry cine- sharks that they will never be satisfied… the first ten minutes of success are the best and after that, it’s like catching up with yourself to stay on top. He is cynical despite the fact that he’s got a pretty good writing career, a young vital family and tenure. But his heavy drinking belies his satisfaction; when Claire (Lillie Stein) offers to drink with him in exchange for writing tips, they’ve both stepped into the place where the light doesn’t shine. Meanwhile, Jake, (Stephen Friedrich), Claire’s privileged genius boyfriend wants to move in together but still tries to sidestep her for the prestigious film grant offered by the school.

Lots of the dialogue is witty and on the mark. Lisa is smart. The characters are smart. They’re writers after all and they wear glasses. I did find some of Claire’s back- sob- story a bit tedious and questioned if Andrew really could confuse cocktail servers with purveyors of sex …he wasn’t that old? It might have been more riveting if the scripts they each were working on were mirrored more in their behavior. I liked it that he urged her to shorten her script’s endless narration; sort of wish Lisa had gotten them past their bantering wordplay into something deeper…earlier.

Three quarters through the play I realized why I was getting annoyed. Claire’s pretense at innocence slash nobility grated on me. At first I defended her and it as self-protection but then recalled my own dalliance with a mentor. The difference was in I fell in in love with mine  . Of course, I too wanted male approval but as a dyed -in-the-wool romantic, I never even thought of using him for my career. Times have changed and women realize that they have to push for their own breaks in film, even if it ain’t pretty.

The final redemption scene might have worked just as well if their lives hadn’t tied up quite so neatly. Still, it’s a play about movie making and with movies … between the focus groups, Tent Pole Films and twenty-somethings running Hollywood, a relative happy, hopeful ending makes sense.

Well-acted by all and neatly directed by James Kautz.

My name goes here!!
LA…the city that seduces but rarely delivers.

Once again, I attempted to break through the mystique that is LA success. My real reason for visiting Los Angeles is to spend time with a beloved cousin, now suffering with issues of old age. But in the spare hours, I resume the role of ‘could I live here and prosper’ questioner, a role that I play out every few years or so.
This time I actually had an event. Reba Merrill, an award-winning journalist, PR professional and author, invited me to be a guest on her talk show, Reel Hollywood Live, a podcast production hosted with Ben Oberman. Reba, stunning at 80, found me through the internet, likes my writing and my brain. As that puts her in a class of two, I decided to honor her good taste and go on the show.

First challenge: the makeup. Not knowing how bright the lights might be, I only purchased a thin powder to deflect shine. I’m afraid I looked rather Geisha white. I also spent time worrying about whether to hair blow or not. At forty-five dollars a blow, I opted for the flat, listless look. But at least the dress was new.
While waiting in the Green Room, a tall brunette came in to wait for her radio interview. We chatted and she confided that she had lost three internal organs, had deep health challenges, and was leaving LA to care for her mother. I admired her strength. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jesus was also in the Green Room. She sincerely thanked him and the spirits for her life renewal and then came over to my seat to share a blessing. I have never been known to turn down a blessing, and as the singer was two parts Cherokee, I imagined that a little spirit magic might slip into the prayer as well.

It must have worked because in short time Reba and entourage arrived for the show pre-chat. Reba is warm and incisive. She gave me a copy of her autobiography and I presented her with a tin of mints emblazoned with Times Square’s finest, the Naked Guitarist.

A few minutes later, the real star guest of the show arrived with his blue beard and shades. Ira Steven Behr is a big deal writer…Outlander, Star Trek, Deep Six…and a pride to the South Bronx. His writer’s room stories were smart and funny –clearly he had done lots of these interviews before. As he went first, I had the chance to build up a case of nerves while watching from the Green Room. By the time I got into the studio, my hair had wilted like a summer’s lettuce but it didn’t matter — free sponsored wine was on tap. I thought we were supposed to drink it, not realizing it wasn’t the dinner scene from Tom Jones. Television can enhance every gesture.

When the show wrapped, we said our fond good-byes and I decided to do something I’d never attempted before. I toured up and down Hollywood Boulevard by foot. I was not alone in this idea. There were many families doing exactly the same thing. Did they step on the same cement stars I chose? Janet Jackson, of course, because we share a birthday and naturally Mel Brooks. Oh, but to step into his big shoes! I actually marched all the way to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and being a cinema junkie, bought a ticket for a little film called Mission Impossible.

The recently restored theatre is gorgeous as is the female lead, counter-spy Rebecca Ferguson. When you see a film in an edifice like this theater, you feel the occasion, even if the plot structure is a bit of letdown. There are only so many endings I can bear.

The next day I waited anxiously for the reviews of my interview to come pouring in. My film partner, Babis, admired my courage, but other than that, not a mention. But it didn’t matter. I had another goal for the trip. To experience 4DX!

I’m a huge fan of safe immersion. Danger, but virtual. I love the sensation without the risk. So when I noticed that Regal Cinemas were showing films in not only 3, but 4D, I bought. The sensation of being in your seat, moving and shaking according to the film script is a top idea. But it has to be the right film. Like the new film about Everest…because then you really do feel present with the characters, doing something most of us won’t ever attempt, like climbing one of the world’s highest mountains. But in The Man from Uncle, the shaking that is prompted by repeated and obnoxious car bumping is a drag. Before the film began, the logo presented a preview of the real possibility of 4DX…a roller coaster ride. That is really fun, with wind blowing in your face and water coming up from a nearby ‘lake.’ It’s a mechanical device that can either enhance a film experience or in the case of Uncle, merely prolong it.

Here seems to be a good moment to talk LA UBER. Though I have access to a vehicle, the prospect of having a couple of wines at night and not needing to negotiate the 405 was tempting. So I uber’d a lot and for the most part the rides were ok. The drivers were fun, sharing with me life stories of kidney replacements and devastating divorce settlements (Repo Man meets Kramer Vs. Kramer). I always arrived neatly to my destination and rarely tipped. But the night after the 4DX, I got into the car I app’d up and was heading home when my driver announced that I had gotten into the wrong vehicle or as I might put it, he picked up the wrong passenger. Apparently, I was in a town car and had only paid for a rickshaw. I apologized to him for both of our errors and then waited to be dropped off at my home. This he refused to do, which I believe is against Uber rules. He demanded cash for the privilege of being in such a luxury car and when I said I had none on me and my cousin would be asleep, he balked.

For a moment I thought I was either being extorted or kidnapped, being the product of too much noir. But no, he simply wouldn’t take me home because he was losing money and coldly dropped me off on Wilshire Boulevard at 12:30 am, without a charged cell phone to call another ride.

Maybe Mission and Man From inspired me… I found myself bravely hiking into Westwood, to find the, a New York-style pizza shop just before closing. There, I hitched up my charger and hailed another Uber. The sympathetic clerk gave me a hot slice of New York BMT pizza for the ride home.

I mentioned the spiritual experience in the Green Room. It seems that a lot of LA people are talking about faith and the G word. From Uber drivers to singers to caregivers, religion is alive and well in Southern California. It may have something to do with the idea of California sinking.

After some good Pacific Ocean inhales, I was climbing up the plank at the Santa Monica pier, when an older beach boy- man, in blue trunks and deep tan, confided that we might all be walking towards The Mark of The Beast. I asked him if he were talking about that beast; he concurred and while I do agree the world is in a mad state, I am not au fait with the Book of Revelations. He assured me that it would all end soon though he wasn’t without hope. Now this man did not look or sound crazy and had been a musician in San Francisco in the sixties. If he hadn’t started talking about once working for renown Satan worshiper Anton LeVay, I might have thought he just took global warming too far. He insisted I check out a Dylan interview on YouTube where Dylan “practically admits to having sold his soul to the One for success.” Luckily, Ye Old King’s Head Gift Shoppe appeared and I dove in for a Cadbury’s chocolate and The Guardian in print.

Socializing in LA requires party invitations and luckily a good friend invited me to one. The host was a writer on two of my favorite comedy shows, so I expected to be peeing in my pants all night…What a surprise when I found myself instead, sitting alone at the barbecue pit, wondering whether I no longer spoke English. I had tried valiantly to engage in at least five conversations but failed to hit a mutual chord. I asked questions, I flattered…nothing. It seems that a lot of the guests knew each other from Ivy school land and were resume-citing. What I’ve noticed in LA is that there is a strong urge for people to talk about themselves for at least ten minutes straight, take a puff of air, and then talk about their work for another fifteen. The most interesting man I met was named after a Canadian river fish and the really big laugh of the night came from a French economist who lives in New York City.

One of the things about Hollywood royalty is that they are unfazed by the desperate clinging of those without Hollywood blood history. I was lucky to get to hear William Wellman, Jr. speak about his biography on his father, the great director (A Star is Born, Beau Geste) Wild Bill, Sr. Mild Bill, as he calls himself, is an articulate and witty man who through his dad and his own career as an actor, really knows film history. He shared his father’s stories and his own acting experiences like dealing with an arrogant Marlon Brando. It was like stepping back in time with a charming train conductor.

As LA is the land of dreams, I do dream a lot there. A dream is a wish your heart makes, and often the subject of my dreams is bags or purses. So I wasn’t surprised that on my last day, while walking down Wilshire Boulevard, a big expensive-looking black leather wallet drops from nowhere. (Sierra Madre!) I scooped it up, looked around, and saw a figure in the not so far distance. Torn between rifling through it for ID and interesting business cards or actually catching the person who might have dropped it, I opted for the guilt card. I had spotted someone not terribly far ahead and gave a “hey” yell twice.

After the third “hey”, I got a reaction. The man turned and I asked if he had lost something (no, I would never do this in New York). The guy felt his pants pocket as I ran ahead. Apparently, he had just come from the optician and was in enlarged pupil outer space. Not having his full bearings, he had dropped the wallet. I intuitively knew it must be his… he looked Brentwood. He looked like he had a big wallet. We introduced ourselves and off he went with my short-lived treasure. If you’re out there, Joel Rudnick of Paradigm Talent Agency…yes, that’s what I said… and you read this, I have a terrific script, once written for Ed Asner, but now perfect for the Divine Ms. M. I’m back in New York. I’ve got flight points on Jet Blue. Call me!

End of Film….or beginning of web series.

At last!! My first big interview in Hollywood since interviewing for an usher job at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
Reba Merrill is a hot tootsie whose age mystifies… she asked good questions and created a wonderfully friendly environment with the help of Curmudgeon Wine…not bad for 1:30 PM. Her co-host, Bob Oberman is very sweet and though I rue not having put on real make up, and of course, like many things I’m in, will refuse to watch until my critical response has softened, believe it all came off well.
I got to blab on about , our film on the John Lennon phenomenon and accept praise from Ms. Merrill for all sorts of things I didn’t realize I was.
The co-interviewee, a very successful writer and show runner, Ira Steven Behr, was actually very interesting…a lot of peeps in LA like reciting their track record, but Ira is a smart Bronx boy with a real philosophy behind his story telling and very, very funny. Plus, he sports a BLUE bear…LET’S PRAY FOR HIS WIFE!!

Reba gave me a copy of her book, Nearly Famous: Tales from the Hollywood Trenches, which I will devour as soon as I finish the Joan Rivers’ Diaries.

Stepping into the new world of storytelling at the Museum of the Moving Image is a sensory treat experience. I’ve been hooked since first experiencing some of these innovative forms of narrative at the Tribeca Film Festival 2014. As soon as I put on the head visors, and was transported to a virtually 360 degree world, I was part of the action.

Sensory Stories invites visitors to encounter new immersive technologies and creative experiments that engage sight, hearing, touch, and smell. These virtual reality experiences, interactive films, participatory installations, and speculative interfaces offer insights into a possible future where stories engage more of our bodies than just our eyes and ears. http://www.FoST.org

The possibilities for sharing life’s stories and identifying with others are incredible through these mediums. In Clouds Over Sidra, created by Gabo Arora and Chris Milk, we enter a Syrian refugee camp and hear from the children who have spent much of their childhoods far from home. The way it is shot from a height, increases the feeling of children talking to adults and the narrator, a young girl, shares her dreams and, her frustrations as she tours us around the camp. We are so close to the action that you can almost smell the breads being baked in the camp bakery.

In Way To Go, I found myself standing instead of sitting and becoming almost dizzy from the power of the interaction with Vincent Morisset’s cartoon like character who runs on the edge of a forest path.

Chris Milk’s Evolution of Verse is a gorgeous poetic vision of nature with overtones of the film 2001: A Space Odyssey.

You don’t need a headset to see the possibilities and yes, magic of this art form. Cube, created by Google’s Creative Lab, is literally a cube that tells stories that move and transform depending on how you turn the sides.

If it’s smells you’re after, Goldilocks and The Three Bears: The Smelly Version, created by Melcher Media and Vapor Communications, delivers whiffs of coffee and chocolate. Now if that could only be combined with the bakery of in Sidra, I’d never leave the home.

John Lennon: The Bermuda Tapes directed by Michael Epstein and Mark Thompson is a great way to remember the genius of Lennon as we are privy to his creative process while writing music in Bermuda.

There are many more wonderful exhibits that offer new ways of looking at the world. The power of these methods, beyond dazzling with the technological virtuosity of the work, is that it can help communicate empathy. In Herders, by Felix Lajeunesse and Paul Raphael, we are invited into the home of people’s whose way of life is disappearing, made even more poignant by the dance and prayer of the lone Mongolian Shaman in the steppes.

On the third floor, Parade by Laurent Craste is pure magic. you’re asked to move a light and make vases dance…and they do. I’ll say no more, but the charming guard, Chris, will help you figure it out.

The exhibition can be seen until July 26th and is traveling to the Phi Centre in Montreal, where it will be on view from August 11- September 27.

https://phi-centre.com/en/events/id/FoST

What I appreciate about Irrational Man, Woody Allen’s latest effort, are the unexplored moments, or better put, the places I explored after suitable reflection. It’s true that his idealized society, this time, a small university town (Brown?) is like other locales in his films; places of privileged where the mundane survival issues are hushed. Emma Stone (Jill) is a pianist who never once thinks of her future arthritic fingers and Joaquin Phoenix (Abe Lucas), a disgruntled and disappointed, but brilliant philosophy professor who doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve heard speak at Cuny University’s Heidegger Conference. But his enthusiasm for what he teaches comes through as much as Stone’s enthusiasm for him.

The story for me begs the most important meaning- of- life question: why are complicated men so damn interesting? Are they smarter than the rest of humanity or is a tragic personality the greatest aphrodisiac going? I, too, have fallen under the spell of ‘l’homme miserable’, but they were usually a little funnier than Abe Lucas. And though he is quite cute, the bloated stomach that Mr. Phoenix’s Lucas carries around hardly makes the heart beat faster.
But bad boys are irresistible, and once Stone crosses over, moving further and further from her loyal nice bland guy (Jamie Blackley), all bets are off. Still, there was something not quite passionate enough…but then the professor is a depressive who can’t even get it up for another teacher, desperate Rita (Posey Parker), or himself. That is until… he finds purpose.
Now here’s where I found the particular remote quality of the dialogue unsettling. Stone and Phoenix overhear a conversation about an unjust child custody situation. It was great that Woody wrote the story in favor of the woman at the hands of a derelict husband… it is more and more frequent that male judges rule against good mothers. At least upstate. But the entire conversation didn’t sound authentic…it was like they were eavesdropping on a stilted soap opera, with the mother even saying something like, the “kids sit all alone, when he’s at the garage…where he works.” Obstensibly, her friends would have already known that her ex is a mechanic. And the mother speaks like an English professor which is also confusing.

What would have been fun is if Emma and Joaquin heard two different stories. Or interpreted them slightly differently. But they in fact, agree on the immorality of the situation, which no amount of philosophy can defend and so they bond even tighter.
When Abe Lucas decides to do, not not do, to be, not not be, the story kicks in. He has finally found a purpose, something to live for. But even a depressive, alcoholic might notice that in judging the judge, he too is a judge and where as a philosopher does that take you?
Still, we see serial killers every day who may be convinced that their murdering of others and playing god is justified and to them feels as if they are finally alive. One may not believe in God, but in taking specific actions, it seems that humans think we can act like our idea of a God. The bigshot who takes no prisoners.

Mr. Allen is a magician even when the story sticks a bit. If magic is an illusion, then perhaps hard principles of right and wrong may also be illusion. And he creates the situation that raises the question of consequence.
I recently handed over a taxi to Mr. Allen, who had slipped unnoticed out of a memorial for a show biz colleague of his. He was there even though no one else saw him.
And the same thing is true in his films. He’s always there. Not just by the talent he attracts, the music he employs and the great look by Santo Loquasto; but by raising hard questions about life, cleverly disguised in the cloak of comedy. His questions and concerns about life and morality become ours, even when the voyeurs of us are busy trying to figure out how much of the story reflects Mr. Allen’s own personal voyage. Still, at the end, there’s always the eggs.

photo courtesy of Telegraph
Tunisia is viewed as the lone democratic success story in the Arab Spring. But the North African nation has many issues, including an uneven economy and, according to the International Centre for the Study of Radicalization in London, the distinction of having more citizens — up to 3,000 Tunisians — thought to have gone to Iraq and Syria to fight as jihadists than any other country. It has now suffered a recent terrorist attack on foreign tourists. I decided to ask a fellow member of I.A.W.R.T. (International Association of Women in Radio and Television) her thoughts. I.A.W.R.T. deals with women in the media, images of women and violence against women
After finishing film studies in Paris, Khadija Lemkecher worked as an assistant director to Georges Lucas, Cedric Klapish, Rachid Bouchareb, and Nouri Bouzid. Following a career making commercials, documentaries and fiction films, she became the youngest Tunisian woman to own a production company making her film “Bab El fella-the Cinemonde.” Her latest short film is the award-winning “Night Blind Moon”. She is in post-production on “Women of The Pseudo-spring” and writing her next feature “Sirens Isolate Themselves to Sing.”

Her films always have women as the central focus and she advocates for the rights of women through her art and her activism.
N: Were you near the event?

K: I live in Tunis—it’s about 120 km from Sousse.

N: How does it feel to have violence so close by?

K: Fear and also rage are the predominant feeling I have.

N. Do you think it will affect tourism? And do you think most Tunisians blame the West for the creation of ISIS, with Afghanistan, Iraq, etc.

K. Sure it affects tourism and all our economy–, almost one person from ten is living from tourism!

Tunisians don’t blame the West at all; we blame ourselves and how we chose this government after these two elections.

N. As the lone democratic success story in the Arab Spring, why do you think terrorists groups are breaking in?

K. No one believes that democracy can exist in an Arab country and no one can believe that Islam can be modern and moderate — these fanatics have their own view about religion and they will make anything to break our successful story.

N. Glenn Greenwald on Stop the War Coalition says this terrorism is not a threat in the west, and is overblown causing more bias against regular practicing Moslems? Do you concur?

K. Sure, Muslims are the first victims. We have from the first election (when the Islamist party was in the government) faced the terrorism and the murders. And till now every month policemen and military are targets, especially in Ramadan!

N. Are you a Moslem? How do you feel about the way women are faring today and in particular in these terrorists’ clans? Do you have or know any woman who has been recruited?

K. I am Muslim. These young women that join this pseudo-Jihad are indoctrinated in a cult. They are generally young and socially in difficulties… sometimes they are following a lover who is fighting with these groups. These girls can’t imagine that they will make prostitution in the name of Jihad! They come back home pregnant with disease like Aids….

N. As a woman and media person, what can be done to stop the movement?

K. We must fight the evil at its source. Why do our young people become terrorists and the youth suicide rate is so high in Tunisia? We have to review our education system and put culture at the center of young people’s lives, who abandoned no longer know how to gather for a music concert or a movie, but gather around these black flags, listening to that bearded sow hate speech, murder and jihad. These voids young of any personal judgment, they are hypnotized and become desperate to die. So I say education and culture, the two concepts that the dictator Ben Ali has removed, are the only ones who can save our youth indoctrination.

I want to note that the budget of culture in Tunisia is 0, 38 per cent while the budget of religious ministry is 16 per cent!!! . No theatre, no concerts, no dance, no library … No sports either!!! How can they live in a village where there’s only a coffee and a mosque?!!! See who is teaching in this mosque?!!!! You understand, Nancy?

Peace?! I think in Tunisia we need year to build a peaceful Arab democracy. It will be hard years especially for us who are in the culture. After my last movie we were threatened with death and I think the next one will be harder, but we have to continue the fight for my daughter and my son. I know that they are suffering but don’t want to give up now. I want to work for the peace of my children and all the children of the future.

I know that one day, maybe I will not be with them, but they will live in a real democratic Arab country, and it will be the first.

In honor of Danny Schecter’s birthday and beautiful memorial service held today at Judson Church, I’m printing for the first time my story about ‘the laptop’ and Danny’s foreward, and final analysis at the foot. When he offered to print the story, I was thrilled, but then got cold feet because I wasn’t clear on legal ramifications. Even now, I’ve left blank spaces for the ‘redacted’ material, just in case. But this shows how Danny supported my efforts. The bold italicized type is all Danny.

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I almost didn’t make my film Plunder about the crimes of Wall Street
because I knew how hard it would be to get top executives to sit for interviews,
or find documents detailing the scams that led to the collapse of our
economy.

It took the government’s Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission millions of
dollars and hundreds of hours of interviews to produce a detailed report on
the issues which has been faulted for being incomplete and largely ignored.

So investigating a crisis that goes so deep is certainly beyond the reach
of most individuals with limited resources and even less access to major
media outlets.

At the same time, sometimes you can find information you didn’t even know
was there or try to. Sometimes, sensitive information can fall into your lap
—and even your laptop when you least expect it.

That’s what happed to Nancy Koan, a sensitive and brilliant
filmmaker/artist friend of mine who admits, “What I know about finance you could tattoo
on my forehead.”

But it was Nancy who quite unexpectedly was given a computer that formerly
belonged to Goldman Sach’s most flamboyant and controversial trader whose
sleazy scamming triggered a hard-hitting Senate investigation, his own
suspension and a cash settlement of a whopping $550 million dollars—with no
admission of guilt of course.

In an article she wrote and could not get published, (of course!) she
explains that after losing her own computer, “a good pal friend called and
offered me a laptop he had found in the basement of his building. I
gratefully took it, bought it a new battery and hungrily loaded it up with
storylines, lyrics, photos –“

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

“The laptop worked fairly well, though every time I logged on, a funny
name popped up on the screen. But I was only interested in my own name and
cheerily ignored it. That the machine heated up like a toaster was a problem,
and occasionally I worried what it might do to my future eggs.

“Then last May as I was trawling through the Saturday Guardian, I spotted
a name in a column that looked strangely familiar. The short article had to
do with a character in the financial world, a galaxy as far removed from
my planet as Vonnegut’s Tralfamadore; but the name rang a bell.

“I thought I recalled seeing it somewhere, but for the life of me couldn’t
t remember where.

“The article mentioned a flashy banker, known as FAB, who was being touted
as the inventor of a smarmy financial scheme at Goldman Sachs. After a
hostile media reaction, GS was distancing itself from the young turk and had
sent him to London to cool his jets.

“For me, the financial world is such a labyrinth of secret corridors and
tunnels where only a few have the flashlight, I was in the dark. I didn’t
know beans about Goldman Sach’s or their business…GS called their deal “
ABACUS.”

“My friend Mike always says that irony is the only truth. How could an
artist like myself living in an east village tenement, develop a totally
unexpected if distant connection with one of the shakers of this financial
drama.

“In the film The Adjustment Bureau, all of the details of the characters’
lives are preordained by The Chairman. And they all happen for a reason,
to push the character along in his/her path. Was there a Chairwoman who was
setting me up in this Fabulous situation?

“Through circumstances as banal as they are bizarre, I innocently became
linked to the media’s poster boy/archetype of the Wall Street slickster, the
fabulous Fabrice Tourre,

“This strange quirk of timing and coincidence was not easily ignored. Like
the bedbugs now crawling all over New York, Goldman Sachs’ tentacles
crawled out of my very own laptop and into my lap.

“If there is a financial spectrum with Fabrice Tourre and the Goldman
Sachs crew at one end, I would be at the far other. I have no shares in their
company, no investment with them or anyone tied to their crowd.

“As I said, the discovery that my laptop is related to one of the kingpins
of the money world had put me into a quasi state of l shock. Also, was the
realization that this Gallic wizard was now in newsworthy trouble.
And if he were in trouble, could I be since we had become—unknown to him—
technically tethered.

“My first response was fear. I wondered if by virtue of my possession of
his “artifact,” I had become an unwitting accomplice. I placed a call to a
man I respect and admire. He publishes a liberal magazine, teaches
journalism and understands my lack of financial knowledge. I knew he’d suggest the
right thing to do.

“While waiting to hear back from him, I spoke to X, the friend who had
given me the laptop. He suggested I get in touch with a British newsgroup.
They would love a story like mine and besides, if I had to give up the
computer to authorities, they might pay me enough for some information so that I
could buy a new one. Maybe even get a printer!

“So I called a friend who I knew people in British media. He
suggested a journalist who was beside herself with excitement over my little
discovery and asked to inspect my computer immediately.

“While waiting to hear from lawyers as to the legality of my ownership, I
made an appointment to meet with the British Lady Z. Lady smoked like a
chimney and regaled me with the potential monetary rewards that her newspaper
would bestow on me for offering up the goods. She said that if the
information were useful; I could have a huge story.

“Fab had just moved to London and apparently there were very few photos of
him available. I was of so many minds at this juncture: was there
anything really to show buried in my laptop?

“And was it fair/ethical to show it at all? Was I doing something wrong by
not giving it to the SEC immediately? Would the Brits keep my personal
info anonymous? And how much second-hand smoke would it take to kill me?

“All of these worries, Lady X attempted to assuage, by insisting that we
were all in this together…fighting the greed of Wall Street. She even put me
on the phone with her editors who assured me that their solicitors would
take care of any legal issues if they were to arise.

“I do read tabloids, but never really gave much thought as to how the
reporters found their stories. The combination of my own doubts and Lady Z’s
aggressive style made me very nervous indeed…it felt improper and
exploitative.

“When I began to run scared from her, she looked me in the eye and asked, “
What is the most important thing in life luv?” I blurted back ‘a
relationship?’

“She laughed and insisted that it was money, knowing that I was in dire
need of it.

“As I gazed dumbfounded, ———I came to and insisted our time was up. She was
miffed. The promised fee was not forthcoming – she insisted she wouldn’t pay
me anything until she got more time.

“I felt a sense of betrayal. She tried to assure me that the paper was on
the right side of the argument; that this Wall Street Greed had to be
stopped. Perhaps she was telling the truth.

In the meantime, my mentor in all things media found out that I owned
everything that was on the hard drive and that the intellectual property was
legally mine.

Still I didn’t feel comfortable with the Brits and when I realized that
their version of the story might be similar to the piece they did on Mariah
Carey’s curves I wanted to do the right thing, but what was it?

My mentor suggested I could do one of three things: one, sell the computer
to the Brits outright; two, do nothing and not lose my computer and go
back to normal life; or three, give the laptop back to Fabrice.

Well, I didn’t know Fab except from reading…… he might
even turn out to be a really delightful guy. Then how could I vilify him?

True, he was being scapegoated by his own institution on Wall Street; but
he was still a player, and hardly innocent to counts of greed… didn’t his
arrogance contribute to the present financial mess this country finds
itself in?

“Then again, was he just doing his job? He was not acting alone. If he had
been, Goldman would not have coughed up so much money to cover up his sins.

“I backed off from the Brits when I quickly realized that I didn’t have
the stomach for Murdoch-style media. But after rejecting them, I didn’t know who to
turn to with this potentially explosive leak (well before wikileaks.)

“In the old days I might have called political activist Abbie Hoffman. (I
had made a film on him; he had street smarts.)

“Abbie is, sigh, long gone—so now who could I trust? One guilt-ridden
friend, working in the financial arena, wanted me to offer the machine to
Bernie Sanders; another, said to call Jon Stewart. Even my gestalt therapist stepped up
to the plate, suggesting that this ‘case’ might change the banking
regulations for all time.

“So much pressure — so many suggestions.

“In Burn after Reading, a Coen Brothers, film, (sadly, no relations) the
protagonists wrestle with a found CIA artifact that only brings them
trouble. In the characters’ case, they are only interested in the financial reward
of the disc. But even they had to make the right moves… which of course
they didn’t. It’s a comedy after all.

“My life is not yet a movie even if I am trying to make one, so I tried to
be circumspect. Like Julian Assange, I talked to so many people … if
anything ever happened to me, my friends would know why.

“Paranoia? You betcha.

“Suddenly I spotted helicopters flying over my roof and began to hear
unusual clicking noises on my telephone. I even took my battery out of my cell
phone when I talked to friends, forgetting that they couldn’t hear me with
it out. I wasn’t much of a spy.

“Once I recovered from the shock of ownership, I tentatively I began to
scan the computer, searching for anything that hollered ABACUS or Paulson,
the other villain from this story. I needed no code to open up old emails…
they came up automatically on outlook hard drive… something I had never
opened in four years as I don’t use it.

“But hard as it is to believe, I didn’t look. I’m a coward.. Even if there might be some clues…to do what with it? Could I save Fab from perdition.

I did spot that the year 2007 was totally missing from the dates listed in the computer history. It jumped from 2006 to 2008. That meant a year was possibly deleted for a
reason.

“How to crack this case? I remembered reading that researchers at Stanford
University had been using x-rays to decipher the writings of the ancient
mathematician Archimedes. A 10th century manuscript of the classicist’s work
had been obliterated by a Christian monk who wrote over the text with
prayers. And now scientists were going to reclaim one of the most important
works from the great mind with X-rays.

Could someone do this with Fab’s stuff?

“Once I realized that old documents are never truly erased, I was still
skeptical about giving up the laptop. Not that I have so much to protect, but
I really didn’t want the Men In Black reading all my rejection emails from
grant providers.

“In the meantime, my own unemployment is soon due to run out, and Fab for
his part is probably having a hell of a good time. Love to join him.

“I decided to give it one more try and handed over the information to
everyone’s favorite big league newspaper. Will its innards produce something
still be revealed that could help the ‘little people’ make sense of the new
financialized world that is growing around them?

“This Big media outlet was intrigued but I found like many outsiders who
try to collaborate with media cognoscenti, they weren’t in a
rush especially since they would have to do some work to advance the story.
At the same time, they wanted to push my personal story out of the picture. Facts
they adore, a strange context like the one I offered doesn’t fit their
script.

The gap that is separating the rich from the once considered middle-class
is growing as wide as the break in the Arctic ice.… how to survive in this
new world is the question on the minds of not only the traditional poor of
the world but of people like you, me, and the penguins.

“We do need to know, really, how TRILLIONS of dollars have been stolen and
VANISHED. Does the answer lie somewhere in the depths of my little laptop?”

Nancy never found out after months and moths of worrying through a bad
B-movie, while trying to outwit the IT wizards at Goldman Sachs who have since
moved on.

She had the guts and gumption to blow a whistle but she never got the
chance.

Her story is still fun to hear about. The point? There are, we can be
sure, tons of information about this financial crisis still buried, still
invisible to the to most of us who can expect to find out even less about what
really happened as the government avoids the kind of court battles that
could make public hidden documents by forcing them into discovery.

All praises are still due to Michigan’s Senator Sandy Levin who hauled GS
and Fab’s ass up to Capitol Hill where they were righteously ventilated at
in one televised afternoon.

Afterwards, GS “settled” the matter and went back to playing with its own
abacus.