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Monday, Nov 26, 2007


When Bobby Darin went from teeny-bopper “splish splash” to pseudo-Sinatra swing, he brought along a vampy, jazzy update of an old Louis Armstrong number with him. Reinterpreting the lyrics to give the tune a ring-a-ding-ding kick, and working all the Brecht/Weill out of the thing, “Mack the Knife” became the singer’s signature song. It hit No. 1 on the Billboard charts, sold a million copies, and went on to win the Grammy for Record of the Year in 1960. Yet few, if any, knew of the original source material. In fact, Dick Clark warned Darin against cutting the track, telling him that if fans ever found out it was taken from an “opera” it would destroy his rock-n-roll cred.


Of course, he was wrong, but even today, the 3 Penny title will throw anyone not aware of the legacy behind Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s riotously influential stage work. Indeed, even a modern revival from 2006 featuring Alan Cumming, Jim Dale, and New Wave chanteuse Cyndi Lauper failed to ignite much interest. Perhaps if people had a chance to see G. W. Pabst’s brilliant interpretation of the material in his 1931 film, they’d realize how phenomenal The 3 Penny Opera really is. The movie is indeed one of the slyest, most striking masterworks ever.


On the day of his wedding, MacHeath, also known as Mackie Messer, otherwise notorious as Mack the Knife, wants everything to be perfect. After all, he is marrying longtime girlfriend Polly Peachum. It’s a very advantageous pairing - she’s the daughter of an infamous London racketeer who controls the beggar trade and his status as a heel remains intact. Also, he’s allowed to carouse and womanize (if only a little) on the side. While finding a preacher willing to enter his literal den of thieves is tough, Messer manages to get hitched. But when Papa Peachum finds out, he is livid. He demands his son-in-law’s head, and propositions corrupt police chief (and Messer ally) Tiger Brown to frame the felon.


When the lawman initially won’t cooperate, Peachum plays his ace. The Queen’s Coronation parade is a few days away. If Messer is not in prison and headed to his death, there will be a poverty row rebellion to interrupt the pomp and circumstance. With all sides playing against and into each other, it will take more than treachery and deception to outwit one another. As in any 3 Penny (or poverty) Opera, it’s the little things overlooked, and the twists of fate unexpected, that end up counting.


G. W. Pabst’s adaptation of Weill and Brecht’s 3 Penny Opera is an astounding cinematic experience - like watching M the musical as filtered through a neo-realistic view of silent-film German Expressionism. At first, you feel overwhelmed by the arch, stylized approach to the story. Told by traveling minstrels and lacking the initial elements of explanation and exposition, it immediately tosses us into London’s seedy port district, a locale overrun with scum, strumpets, and the scoundrels who take advantage of same. As we are introduced to the main characters - master thief (and murderer) MacHeath/Mackie Messer, his gal pal Polly Peachum, and the various members of the twosome’s felonious entourage - and watch the preparations for their soon-to-be grand wedding, we wonder where all of this is going.


For many, the 3 Penny is an unknown quantity, a non-traditional songfest that closely resembles the arcane entertainment referenced in the title. Indeed, the first few numbers - including the instantly recognizable “Mack the Knife” - resemble a Wagnerian war against Gilbert and Sullivan. They’re more arias and sextets than chorus/melody making. While each one of the drawn-out dirges is packed with psychological subtext and social protest, it all comes across as overblown and obvious. How the movie will manage from this point is anyone’s guest.


And then we are introduced to Polly’s corrupt father, a man who actually controls and licenses the beggars in the city. No one can work the streets without his permission, and such a setup is instantaneously intriguing. We want to know more and need it ASAP. But the story does something even better. It takes the situation and amplifies it one outstanding step further. Peachum has a list of possible panhandling personas - the cripple, the crazy, the mute, etc. - and candidates can only choose between those that haven’t met their citywide or regional quota. In one stellar sequence, a newcomer argues with the fierce Fagan over his employment possibilities. The crass, capitalist way Peachum handles his business, and the ragtag group of street trash that wanders through his door (most merely playing at their pathetic state) gives 3 Penny a wonderful cynical edge.


It’s clear why Weill and Brecht were attracted to this 18th century ballad opera (which they then updated). In a country just caving into Nationalism and accompanying Nazi power, the concept of corruption within even the most morose of social situations (the homeless as organized con artists) meshed perfectly with their growing political concerns. When we later find out that police chief Tiger Brown is linked to both Messer and Peachum’s criminal organizations, it adds fuel to an already foul fire.


And then Act III arrives. Peachum, angry that his daughter has married Messer, wants the hoodlum hanged. He threatens Brown with a peasant riot during the Queen’s Coronation if the lawman doesn’t frame his unwanted son-in-law and place him before the gallows. While Messer is mired in the court system, he leaves his racket to his bride, and she turns the burglary and pickpocket ring into a legitimized version of the very same enterprise—otherwise known as a bank. Using their newfound status, and an excess of cash, they save Messer and call Peachum’s bluff. The result is a mass melee between the peasant class and the upper crust who constantly shun them.


As staged brilliantly by director Pabst, this last-act anarchy is unforgettable. A collection of faces both found and fashioned, it speaks volumes about the power in protest while suggesting the senselessness in fighting right with might. Epic in scale if not in visual scope (this was a studio production, limited by the logistics of creating all of London on a soundstage), the clash of classes is then overridden by a last-act truce that speaks more about modern society and who pulls the strings than any movie since, post-modern or otherwise.


When it’s all over, when The 3 Penny Opera wraps up its cutting condemnations and finishes with a flourish, we wonder why we ever doubted it. Even the unusual sonic cues and melodious complexity that keeps everything at arms length suddenly seems silly and easily embraceable. Because of the knotty narrative turns, the backdoor wheeling and dealing, and clearly defined criticism of Germany’s lax citizenry (it’s a similar statement made by Jean Renoir’s revelatory Rules of the Game), what started out stark and dated turns timeless and all too telling. Hats off to Austrian Pabst, who channeled fellow greats like Fritz Lang and F. W. Murnau to create an amazing monochrome landscape of shadows and light for the intrigues to play within.


He also does a magnificent job of keeping his characters clear and beyond the obvious caricatures. This is especially true of Papa Peachum. One gets the clear impression that a slight amount of anti-Semitism could be present in Weill/Brecht’s interpretation of the original character. He sure looks and acts like Shylock from The Merchant of Venice. But thanks to Pabst’s careful control of the material, as well as Fritz Rasp’s multifaceted performance, all potential racism is avoided. In fact, even though the entire narrative deals with society’s most unsavory element, 3 Penny never resorts to such cinematic name calling.


It’s safe to say that this ancient allegory, first formulated back in 1728 when Irish satirist Jonathan Swift (Gulliver’s Travels) suggested John Gray take up the cause of the downtrodden and disenfranchised, is more potent in 2007 than in pre-World War II Europe. Back then, criminals and lowlifes were a cause for scandal, an unacceptable breed given over to censure and individual exile. While Messer makes a compelling mobster, we are never allowed to forget that he once killed an entire family just for the fun of it. Today, thanks to tabloid television and the 24-hour-a-day news cycle, we semi-celebrate such antisocial heroes. They become the “there but for the grace” grooves that feed our need for holier-than-thou judgment.


3 Penny takes such a sentiment and turns it right back at our self-righteous, sanctimonious faces. It asks us to explain why these kinds of characters are so engaging, and makes us realize that they truly exist in all corridors of power—even in ourselves. Weill and Brecht may have been rebelling against a war-weary nation headed toward a complete totalitarian meltdown, but their musical makes us look at our own lack of action in light of such situations. It places us directly in the line of the poor-person maelstrom, and asks us to question why we still don’t care.


Even better, it belies our already staunch cynicism. Everyone thinks the police are corrupt, the wealthy are wicked, the government given over to special interests, and that corporate coffers are lined with white-collar criminality. 3 Penny pushes it all further into farce, suggesting that there’s unbridled badness even among the already unlawful. When Polly proudly celebrates the buying of a bank, we see the simple substituting of one racket for another. When Peachum and Messer talk truce, we witness every backroom deal that drives ethics even further from the standard business/legislative model. It’s all so very modern and yet locked deep within its Victorian England setting. That it suggests such static history makes for an even more disconcerting entertainment.


While you won’t be humming its tunes on the way out of the theater—or while removing the DVD from the player—the music is memorable, especially since it easily encapsulates everything we see onscreen. Indeed, The 3 Penny Opera probably plays better on film than in the theater. Live, the inherent ambiguity of the staging can ruin even the greatest writer’s intentions. But when pasted to celluloid, the tendencies become timeless, and their motives remain solid and concrete. Over the decades, revivals of the show have been less than successful. Movies remain the best way to experience this classic social commentary.


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Monday, Nov 26, 2007

Recall the day you gazed upon the weirdo in your life and finally accepted that yes, he really is an alien, just like he’s been saying all these years? This book, a guide to an alien’s first visit to Earth, is your peace offering, for all the years you made fun of him. For example, little alien, if someone pulls a gurning on you, frightening as a “fish face” is, do not fear, it is not a threat. It’s just… human. Billed as an “... irreverent, sideways look at the many bizarre occurrences on our sometimes twisted planet…”, this book is filled with facts about human behavior and expression that will have the most stout believer in his familial roots wishing he that he, too, were from another planet. Ian Harrison’s collection of “arcane and interesting information” is, well, funny and… weird. Just like your little friend.


Monster Spotter’s Guide to North America by Scott Francis [$14.99]

I worked with a guy who believed the stories from X-Files were real. I mean really real—and not just the conspiracy stuff, but the monsters, too. Who doesn’t know someone who, despite being well past the age one should hang on to their “child-like imagination” secretly harbors—or not so secretly harbors—a belief in monsters? Who still doesn’t get that feeling, sometimes, that they’re being followed by something under-worldly? With this book in hand, light-weight hiking boots on feet (the better for traction and speed, when he must turn and run), your monster hunter can hop in his Hyundai and be there—right there… that is somewhere… in the forests of Wisconsin, binoculars in hand, ready to spot the legendary Hodag that chases down and gores lumberjacks, or bird watchers—whatever. This is a terrifyingly fun stocking-stuffer for the monsterly inclined, be they explorer inclined to see for themselves, or storyteller in need of fresh ideas.


Far Out: 101 Strange Tales from Science’s Outer Edge by Mark Pilkington [$11.95]

And for those who truly believed the stories from X-Files were real, especially the alien conspiracy ones, well, this little handful of a book will prove them right. Just one example: not long after the Wright Brother’s first flight, an Ohio teen created the first electrogravity field, causing a glass tube to spin (the prelude to a flying saucer’s hover)—in his garage. But did the US government know about it way back then? Our gentle reader might ask. Well, if it didn’t then, it does, now, and it knows a lot more about early inventions, bizarre dreams become reality, and otherworldly phenomena going on about us, right now—and who’s responsible for it. Whatever became of young Thomas Brown is not disclosed… but still, this beats any science textbook your beloved geek will ever read.


 


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Monday, Nov 26, 2007

For fans of David Lynch’s delightfully obtuse hour long drama, previously released DVD versions were missing two major elements—the original pilot and input from the director himself. This latest digital incarnation hopes to change all that. The noted filmmaker personally oversaw the new transfers of the episodes, hoping to recapture the specific color schemes he designed. Equally important, the opening installment of the series has been preserved, including both original and ‘theatrical’ endings (which wrapped things up for international audience unable to follow the series). The show itself remains as majestic as ever—that is, until Season Two.


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Monday, Nov 26, 2007

Do you have a high-end PC? Not like a high-end PC that you bought a year or two ago, but something from this year that you bought with all of the bells and whistles and the high-end graphics card and the extra eight gigs of ram and the Vista? Looking for a piece of software with which to show it off? EA has your game. Crysis, developed by the minds who brought us Far Cry, is bar none the most visually impressive game, well, ever. Crysis outdoes everything that any of the consoles have to offer in the graphics department, offering an utter feast for the eyes in terms of landscape visuals and human/alien models. The even better news about Crysis is that even with the obvious concentration on the visual side of things, the gameplay is fantastic as well. Crysis is a well-paced, beautifully executed first-person shooter that every PC gamer with a killer machine circa 2007 or later should absolutely get a hold of.


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Monday, Nov 26, 2007

San Francisco in the late ‘60s is one of the most highly mythologized places and times in rock history, and not without reason. The area spawned at least a half dozen top-tier bands, and figures like Jerry Garcia, Sly Stone, Janis Joplin, and Grace Slick became icons. Steve Miller wound up being one of the biggest pop acts of the ‘70s, and Carlos Santana, of all people, found a new life as a collaborator with younger pop figures in the late ‘90s, a role which he continues to play. The Dead soldiered on in various permutations after Garcia’s death 12 years ago, and they remain one of the biggest moneymaking groups in the industry. But it’s the music these folks recorded in the late ‘60s that serves as their legacy, and some of their best work can be found on Love Is the Song We Sing. For the first time, the musical and attitudinal highs and lows of the Bay Area scene are on full, accurate, and coherent display. Forty years was a long time to wait.


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