Nothing Rhymes With Heidegger
I know as much about philosopher Martin Heidegger’s writings as I know about how to stuff a turkey on Thanksgiving. Mostly because others have always stuffed the bird, all I have to do is stuff myself. But I want to understand philosophy. At one time I thought that Linus and Snoopy counted? But soon, when I have the time to delve, reflect and come up for air, I will return to the great books.. My father was philosophic and quoted the ancients a great deal. The Greeks got in there, of course, but often Hillel took top billing. Still, when I read that CUNY was showing a film on the anti-Semitic nature of the esteemed German philosopher and rock star of Western thought, I jumped. I have a strange penchant for exploring Nazi stories and I suppose I keep my self-esteem in check with a weekly update of anti-Semitic news. It also didn’t hurt that my Tanzanian friend, Ven Kwannin, a physicist, and my Greek pal, a beautiful jeweler, also think that Heidegger was the bees’ knees.
As I didn’t attend the entire conference at CUNY, I still can’t really speak to Heidegger’s contributions. Though I gather it has something to do with beingness and time. But that’s not primarily what the conference was about. His Black Notebooks, heretofore unpublished writings are now being revealed. So I made a promise to get to his more popular work later on. But after having seeing the documentary Only God Can Save Us , I am less and less inclined to do so. This guy was really anti-Semitic… So good at it that the Nazis gave him a job. How is it possible to speak of him without mentioning this glaring fact? One might say that all peoples were racist then, (as if not now) and that he was merely a product of his times. But he was a product with a big megaphone. His whole Volks idea didn’t leave room for the rootless people, the Jews, who couldn’t be tied to the same land for generations like his people, the people of Germany. Any farmer knows that you can tie a goat to a tree in a field but when the pogroms and Cossacks and Inquisition come stomping in, the goat has no choice but to break out and run for another field. That is if he’s lucky.
The film’s director, Jeffrey van Davis, is also a philosopher and teacher and was exceedingly modest about his film, excusing its technical qualities. He needn’t have bothered. It was well thought out, provided a variety of voices and gave a solid history of the times. At the Q&A, a Professor Karsten Harries from Yale was rather dismissive, saying that we all know these thing and to move on. Well, many people in the audience were not pure Heidergerrians and the film was informative and excellent.
I hope that we are now learning that the smartest people in the world may not always be right. (hello Henry Kissinger). Recently, a book has been published that refutes Hannah Arendt’s take on Adolf Eichmann as a lowly, banal bureaucrat. Bettina Stangneth, the author of “Eichmann before Jerusalem: The Unexamined Life of a Mass Murderer researched extensively and reveals that Eichmann was much more a creator and perpetrator of terror than Arendt suggests. Does that overturn all of Arendt’s critical thinking? When I discovered that she was not only Heidegger’s lover before the war, but even after, after his spell at playing Nazi, I must reinterpret what smart means. Talk about your self- hating Jews! According to the film, three of Heidegger’s lovers were Jewish. Who was his therapist? Certainly not Freud!
I think it’s very important to study history and history of war, especially as we are in the midst of so many global conflicts. And as we are hopefully on a big push towards at least consciousness about the idea of peace, every example of hatred as well as love is worthy of inquiry. But as irony is the only truth, the mini war that took place on the panel of experts seemed psychedelically fitting as a way of understanding the larger picture. Emmanuel Faye, a French expert on Heidegger’s anti-Semitism spoke about his new book which points out consistent clues in H’s thinking, living and writing. When the lady sitting to my right asked me if I could understand him, I said, “pas une mot”, not a word, as his accent was so heavy. But Thomas Sheehan from Stanford had no problem and after telling us about his close friendship and admiration of Monsieur Faye, launched into a laceration of Faye’s work which, may or may not have been correct, but was certainly not very polite. Debates are fine though this conference wasn’t called a debate but what I surely was left with was a clearer understanding of academic egos. Unlike Sheehan, Professor Richard Wolin of CUNY had no problem calling a rose a rose and is clearly on the side of the Heidegger as Nazi camp. But then, he is Jewish.
Will I pick up a copy of The Black Notebooks for winter reading this December? Doubtful. I’m sold on the idea that Mr. H was an anti-Semitic who didn’t blink an eye when so many from the non-Volk of his hometown Freiburg were sent off to die. But do I still need to read Heidegger to understand or at least appreciate why those who also accept his anti-Semitic stance can accept the good part of his philosophy as gospel?
When I told a friend about the conference, he mentioned that Thomas Jefferson had slaves. Yes, great men of history make stupid mistakes. But the story goes that Heideggernever like Eichmann never repented. This from a great thinker. I think not.
Peace Train Comin’
While waiting for my physical therapy appointment at the Rusk Institute, I found myself eavesdropping on a lady speaking rather passionately into her cell. I really listened hard when , when I heard her mention John Lennon. Given that I’m working on a film about the same, I waited until she was finished before jumping up to query her. Of course, Lennon was mentioned along with the song Imagine… Rev. Susana Bastarrica, the founder and organizer of the Annual Vigil for International Peace and Ecology, a peace event held every year at the band shell in Central Park was busy on the phone setting up the event. This year is the 13th Vigil and it’s coming up on Sunday, along with the March for the Environment.
Susana, warm and spirited has worked at the United Nations. She told me that in 2001, the United Nations unanimously passed a resolution designating September 21st of each year as an “International Day of Peace.” The intention of this resolution is to have the entire world observe a full day of “global ceasefire and nonviolence.” Being on the peace train many years myself, Susana invited me to come to along to meetings. Although my schedule didn’t permit me to immerse myself in the group, it didn’t take long to realize that their commitment to make this year’s Vigil is immense. The core group consists of people from a myriad of countries, some only recently moved to the U.S. Everyone is about peace…be they be holistic workers or record producers
The Vigil offers up an opportunity for people to think about peace as a true possibility. When groups come together be they over me ala John Lennon, or peace, the energy is that much more powerful. The idea is to promulgate peace through music, art, poetry, dance and prayer. When you activate the higher chakras through the muses, anything is possible.
This year’s Vigil is triple loaded… here is a short list of some of the participants: Peter Yarrow, Spook Handy, Karen Hoyos (Karen Hoyos International), IMOV (Imov International), Soul Dogs-Love Wins, We, The World, Peace Flag Ceremony, Danny Garcia, World Peace Violin, Technicolor Lenses, Tom “Lennon” Raider, Inma Heredia, Roland Mousaa, Pocodust Colors, Left Banke, Claudine Mukamabano, Lu Dragon, Danny Darrow, Angelo Romano & Art Kartel, GEMMA, and Mana, Cecilia St. King,
Susana anticipates this to be the biggest vigil for International PEACE and ECOLOGY ever. On Sept 21 there will be global synchronized meditations taking place all around the world, with organizations like Peace One Day and climate events.
The Vigil team asks everyone to join and bring friends and family to this free event. They invite you come and share the spirit and dreams of Peace with people from all over the planet.
In a climate of increasing conflict with global horrors offered up on a daily basis, surely this day is an antidote for all that…and perhaps, just perhaps it will be much more. Perhaps, this is good medicine, not a placebo, but the real deal. If enough of us can stir, wake up and say NO, we don’t want that…but YES, we want peace and a balanced environment … if we say YES loud enough, together, and sing it out…most assuredly the gods and goddesses will finally hear.
Join at the Central Park Naumburg Bandshell, near Bethesda Fountain…Sunday 10 am to 5pm
www.vigil4internationalpeace.org
Let’s Hear it for the Irish– Man in the Moon
The Irish deserve their reputation for being the greatest storytellers. And an actor who spits is usually very, very good.
From what could have been a simpering complaint tale about the growth of suicides in his hometown, Pearse Elliott has created a wonderfully layered picture of one man’s life on the council estates of Belfast and the demons and angels that fill his imaginative head.
As played by the most amazing, Ciaran Nolan as Sean Doran , we are on a trip — travelling through smelly bogs, to a day in the life of a roaring lion and his pride to a movie premiere with Brad Pitt—all of this in only an hour and fifteen. This one man’s show produced by the fantastic Brassneck Theatre Company and directed by Tony Devlin, swept them away in Edinburgh and will do the same for you if you can get over the thought that you might not understand the accent.
Mr. Nolan is such a gifted performer that even the colloquialism don’t concern you because his energy and physicality convey everything you need to know to understand this guy whose lost so many pals to suicide. His self-effacing portrayal of the loser of course belies the power of the true survivor…the one whose left to tell the story. And boy is he funny. He has all the moves – from a wee bit of a lost soul named Hatchet who survived the ‘troubles, to an itchy guy who dispatches bad tips on the horses, to a young gay kid from pampered Boulder.. When he attends the wrong wake for a different Soupy Campbell than the one he thought had suicided and turns into Elvis, you think “ shit, I hope he comes to my funeral.”
This is Belfast…this is today…with all the sense of loss that a perpetually poetic country can offer. There is something really noble about having terrible experiences with love and jobs; you build if not character, an absurdist view that this author has in pounds.
If I have one bone to pick, it’s the tie in of all the suicides…I wanted to understand that they were economic based with a dash of war wounds. But when he throws in a Gazelle…a jogger from the upper classes who takes his fancy and who also perishes by her own hand, I am set adrift. Obviously, people don’t off themselves just because of a laundry list and rich people are miserable as well as poor. But something about the landscape Mr. Elliot created in the top of the play felt right for keeping it in the realm of the caste system… in this case, council estates.
But that’s a small criticism for an otherwise wonderful production. Mr. Elliot is a feminist whether he knows it or not and yet the story of the online monster who shows up at the Sean’s door, is as awful as any man on the prowl but as played by multi-accented Mr. Nolan, much, much funnier.
All involved have wonderful credits. Go to the show, read the playbill. Or just take my word. This is a beautiful piece of art.
Sorry, Joan, the Script didn’t get there in Time!
darling waiting outside Temple Emanual
Forget doctors — forget lawyers. How many lives could have been saved if only my screenplay had gotten into the right hands in a timely fashion?
A fellow writer and I were discussing our feelings of personal responsibility in light of the recent deaths of so many beloved performers. Is it insanity, hubris or wisdom to actually believe that the work we created with star players in mind might actually have altered their lives…. if we had only known how to get to them? Obviously our own stalled careers might have shifted, but when you put your heart and soul into projects that really seem destined for a particular actor, isn’t that a powerful calling?
I loved Joan Rivers and after seeing the Joan Rivers..A Piece of Work, I loved her even more. In the documentary she complained about not being offered substantial film roles, so I bit. I took the character of Brooklyn bagel mogul Morris Levy from McLevy’s Ghost and rearranged the hormones… Ed Asner had suggested a strong interest in playing the role, but the film hadn’t moved forward despite his great talents. Now with a tough talking Rivers as the conflicted capitalist who moves to Scotland to expand bagels and live in her own castle, it was a shoe in. A Lairdess with no lard! But how to get to her?
Eventually, a friend knew someone who knew someone and so forth and I sent the script out. Somewhere in transit, the reader didn’t feel it was right for Ms. Rivers and passed. So me and the rest of the deprived world never got to see how deftly she could have added her comic charms to this Highland romp? What a shame… the blonde mouth leading a dance of Hava Nagila with the Druids… perhaps she could have been filming in Perthshire this very Autumn,dealing with good Scottish medicine or not even needing a doctor because she was being creatively satisfied.
I went through a similar obsession with Heath Ledger for the very same project. As anthropologist Andrew McTavish, posing as a valet for reasons only he and the audience would know, Mr. Ledger could have used his knack with accents and physicality to great joy for him and us. And who could do copious amounts of drugs while working on a film set?
My therapist would call this guilt another delusion but I see it as something else…T.T.P.V. –thwarted theatrical psychic vision. It is so much more than wish fulfillment. A writer spends years with a character and if not drawn from real life, is imagined with someone from the world, someone who could breathe life onto the page.
Show biz cynics would reject this theory out of hand and talk only box- office. I say fye on that! The writer is Dr. Frankenstein, giving new life to old bones…and when the fusion works, it’s alchemy. A popular actor who doesn’t fit the skin of the character might not be successful. But a role that fits like a glove or even a mitten… then at least you’ve got a good synthesis of type and character.
My writer friend spent years trying to get work to Richard Pryor. Someone else I share groupons with tried to place the perfect song with the perfrect voice… but the plane went down just when the connection was about to happen. It’s reverse kismet.
Now, sadly it’s too late for me to work with Ms. Rivers, Mr. Ledger, Philip Seymour Hoffman or Mr. Williams about a small play idea. But Scotland is hot what with elections and such so please, Hugh Jackman, Alec Baldwin (Levy made younger, Al, don’t worry), David Nighy and Judy Dench…. Hurry the hell up. This project just might be a life saver.
Swiss in New York Yah
Dieter Meier, known as the Godfather of techno pop along with collaborator Boris Blank, kept Le Poisson Rouge jumping Sunday night, though the uber polite Swiss obeyed the New York cabaret laws and didn’t dance. Dieter’s new project “Out of Chaos” starts with madness…the wailing violin, video images bouncing off the back screens aided by the alchemical zap of electro punk pioneer T.Raumschmiere.
Meier, strolling out in a red velvet jacket and shades, looked like he could play the regal vampire Tom Hiddleston’s uncle in Jim Jarmush’s Only Lovers Left Alive. Dieter Meier, the legendary voice behind the Swiss electronic pop pioneers Yello, renowned for the ’80s underground hits “Oh Yeah” (featured in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and The Simpsons) is a true Renaissance artist, making films and writing books; in 2013 he was the subject of a solo exhibition, Dieter Meier and the Yellow Years, at The Watermill Center in Long Island. His music is a combination of Brecht, Weill and Leonard Cohen. Though raised in a banking family, he has redeemed himself by being a poker player, an activist and now runs an organic sheep farm with the decidedly Swiss viticulture in Argentina.
His presence in New York is due to the generosity of Zürich Meets New York: A Festival of Swiss Ingenuity, a week of events highlighting the contemporary relevance of visionary movements and ideas born in Zurich and their impact on American culture. It is all building up to the 100th anniversary of the Dada movement and Zurich’s role as a 21st century hub for artist and scientific innovation.
One of nice surprises of this festiva.l besides falling in love with Dieter. was sitting next to a real live Nobel Prize Winner… Kurt Wüthrich, the 2002 winner for chemistry. Never happened at Starbucks.
A music sample: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/ym1blr908hodjov/gH7hWppnk1
At another Swiss Fest event, Elizabeth Bronfen, Professor of English and American Studies at the University of Zurich, talked about her latest book.Night Passages maps the cultural history of the night in literature and films. She was joined on the New York Film Academy stage by Anastas Michos, cinematographer of Freedomland and Mona Lisa Smiles. Unfortunately it was hard to hear her some of her serious thoughts but Michos was enlightening, sharing the artists’ approach to shooting darkness and delivering the right look for a scene. He, analyzed the film clips of Taxi Driver along with his own Freedomland and Untraceable. Moderator Ben Cohen could use a new adjective to substitute for his exhausted ‘fantastic’, though he did mention that his new film with penis in the title is soon to (ouch) come.
For a list of events, ZHNY.eventbrite.com.
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory, no one can steal.
This quote refers to both plays infused with Irish sensibility.
A lovely revival of Sea Marks has opened at the Irish Repertory Theatre. The play was written by one time television god, Gardner Mckay, star of the sixties hit Adventures in Paradise. I feel strangely close to this play as Mr. Mckay lived in my apartment in here while working on changes for its New York debut. The play won the “Los Angeles Drama Critic’s Circle Award” for Best Play in 1979.
Sea Marks tells the story of a lonely virgin fisherman (Colm Primrose) from a remote island in Ireland who falls for woman from Liverpool (Timothea Stiles) he meets at a wedding. Writing her, they develop a relationship primarily driven by his passionate prose. He speaks of life in ways foreign to urban ears and it’s his poetic voice that brings them together.
Facing his fears, he…
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Hanna Ranch Despite the Odds
If one accepts symbolism, then the idea of Mother Nature, is surely the feminine aspect of reality. And as global chaos reminds us every day, the Mother is having a fit. Our environmental urgencies are like menstrual outbursts…the damn is breaking. Some say these changes are inevitable; most think that we have toyed with the earth for too long…she’s mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore.
Hanna Ranch tells the story of a four generation cattle ranch in Colorado. These are hard- working people who really look good in cowboy hats. The Hanna family suffered when Clark, the patriarch was killed in a freak accident and leadership fell to the hands of the sons… …from the original family and a second group, the Frosts, who joined the posse when the mom, a widow, married a neighbor rancher. That’s a lot of land and a lot of fighting kids.
View original post 330 more words
Hanna Ranch Despite the Odds
If one accepts symbolism, then the idea of Mother Nature, is surely the feminine aspect of reality. And as global chaos reminds us every day, the Mother is having a fit. Our environmental urgencies are like menstrual outbursts…the damn is breaking. Some say these changes are inevitable; most think that we have toyed with the earth for too long…she’s mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore.
Hanna Ranch tells the story of a four generation cattle ranch in Colorado. These are hard- working people who really look good in cowboy hats. The Hanna family suffered when Clark, the patriarch was killed in a freak accident and leadership fell to the hands of the sons… …from the original family and a second group, the Frosts, who joined the posse when the mom, a widow, married a neighbor rancher. That’s a lot of land and a lot of fighting kids.
The family members each give their side of the story and it is Shakespearean in its drama and impending tragedy. Brother against brother, big expansion against the purity of the ranch. Kirk Hanna, the dynamic and visionary second son takes the reins and leads his ranch to becoming environmentally friendly; he’s a first to do this in his world makes daring moves. All of his progress, however, is weighed against a deteriorating relationship with an older brother Steve, converted to Mormanism, and much less interested in keeping the homestead whole.
I’ve been to these parts, it’s stunning and this film shows Colorado’s beauty off to great advantage. One of the producers is Eric Schlosser of Food Nation. He helps relate this family tale as well as explain the intricacies of ranching and the importance of grassland to our world. Mitch Dickman, the director, really knows and seems to love his subject, patiently leading his story along, as we get to graze in the lushness of Zachary Armstrong’s cinematography.
The golden cowboy Kirk may be too utopian for his own good. His world is not keeping pace with his dreams. When Kirk’s baby half- brother Jay rides his pony up to a butte and stays there, in grief, we are reminded of Kirk Douglas’s Jack Burns in Lonely Are the Brave, struggling to get his horse across a speeding freeway.
For me, the issues with his brother Steve are not fully realized; did the Mormon church put a spell on Kirk that sent him into a downward spiral? I would like to hear a more honest reckoning from this side of the tale, but perhaps it’s still too touchy for the truth to come to light.
What we do discover is that the feminine, his wife Ann and two daughters, twenty years later, are now the stewards of the land and they like Kirk work to keep it whole. The mothers prevails.
Soon at the Quad.photo by lambstar
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory, no one can steal.
This quote refers to both plays infused with Irish sensibility.
A lovely revival of Sea Marks has opened at the Irish Repertory Theatre. The play was written by one time television god, Gardner Mckay, star of the sixties hit Adventures in Paradise. I feel strangely close to this play as Mr. Mckay lived in my apartment in here while working on changes for its New York debut. The play won the “Los Angeles Drama Critic’s Circle Award” for Best Play in 1979.
Sea Marks tells the story of a lonely virgin fisherman (Colm Primrose) from a remote island in Ireland who falls for woman from Liverpool (Timothea Stiles) he meets at a wedding. Writing her, they develop a relationship primarily driven by his passionate prose. He speaks of life in ways foreign to urban ears and it’s his poetic voice that brings them together.
Facing his fears, he goes to the big city where he finds himself entrenched in the glories of first love and overwhelmed by the onslaught of sudden celebrity. It’s hard to imagine in this day and age of anyone turning down the chance to be famous…but not everyone is Colm Primrose.
Besides the celebrity issue, the innocence of the man is a wee hard to buy except that Patrick Ftizgerald does such a good job of making Colm quirky and original, that we do indeed buy it. As Timothea is written, Xanthe Elbrick has a real challenge. The character is so coolly tempered. She is ambitious and loves her urban life and also loves Colm, but it’s sometimes not clear whether she is interested in being his agent more than a lover. Still, her surprising independence is refreshing and though I was confused somewhat by the accent choices, Welsh to Liverpool to London, she is a strong partner for this budding love affair.
Lighting and sound are evocative of the seascape we all dream of running to.
Beautifully directed by Ciarán O’Reilly, Sea Marks never lets the fish tale become more important than the emotions of the lovers who get caught in its net.
…………….
At another Irish inluenced theatre, the Cell, has been showcasing The International, an amazing production by the Origin Theatre Company. Written by first time writer, actor Tim Ruddy, the play explores the horrors and occasional humanities of the Balkan War, seen through the vistas of three separate characters linked through time and space.
Carey van Driest as the Balkan villager is every lover, daughter and mother who has had to withstand the atrocities of war at her doorstep. She effuses warmth and charm as the local native who holds on to hope until the word is erased from her mind. She is the center for this three person piece…the one you root and perhaps even pray for.
The UN solder Hans, played by Timothy Carter shares with us his confusion at what his job requires. Is he there to actually help these people he has begun to admire? And what about his own fear and the life back in the Netherlands that he wants to protect? No character could have felt as impotent as this poor Hans, the soldier without direction.
As the lost American Dave, played by Ted Schneider, is unemployed, depressed and riveted by the possibility of watching a war on television and even betting on the outcome. The goal? Disneyland! He is real as well as a metaphor for the lack of comprehension most Americans exhibited during this horrible history. Has it changed much, however, with equally incomprehensible atrocities happening in Africa and Syria every day?
Many questions are raised in this riveting show which should be seen by everyone in the political sphere who can make decisions for our exhausted war worn world. By witnessing this play, one is also being a witness to history.. The truths of the emotions of these three characters have been so beautifully written by a man who never visited Bosnia, but who as an actor has the empathy to truly understand the lives of others.
Christopher Randolph directed this production, keeping it moving elegantly along from one voice to the other; separate at first and then closer and closer as the three distinct worlds begin to collide.
The play is no longer at the Cell but keep eyes opened for productions at other venues. It should not be ignored.




