Touch The Sound

OPENS IN BAY AREA THEATERS SEPTEMBER 23

Seriously in danger of being branded politically incorrect, I, Miss Goldie feel a moral obligation to sound the alarm, touched
or otherwise.  In the next few days and weeks, dear readers, you will most likely be assaulted by free flowing platitudes
praising this new documentary.

Oh, it all seems noble on the surface; uplifting even.  The subject, Evelyn Glennie is a world-renowned percussionist and is
paired here with the delightful Fred Firth, a leader in avant-garde music both as musician and composer.  Glennie and Firth
have changed the modern music scene as we know it.  Glennie, with her dogged determination to be the first solo
percussionist ever heard in the classical world, literally created the position where none had been heretofore.  She is featured
with the world’s finest symphony orchestras and won a Grammy with her first CD in 1988.

Miss Goldie confesses her own personal joy in hearing the music of Fred Firth – especially on KALW’s Sunday night
‘Hearts of Space’.  His sounds soothe the soul, expand the mind and allow creative ideas by the trainload to flow freely
without ever having to inhale.  I feel as though the entire universe is sneaking through my ears and into my brain.

However, this documentary by Thomas Riedelsheimer becomes overly long in the first twenty minutes.  Yes, it did win
heaps and heaps of prestigious awards, but Miss Goldie questions the reason why.  Evelyn adores sound and rhythm and
finds it in all things – discarded construction materials, old pot lids and the like.  And yes, she is deaf and does all her
‘hearing’ with her shoes off, allowing the vibrations to be felt through her bare feet.  We see/hear her playing solo on a
snare drum in the middle of New York’s Grand Central Station (and there were more than a few passing commuter
glares in her direction) and other unlikely locales.  She and Fred begin an experimental ‘duo’ in an empty warehouse
complete with a very loud gong and many of Glennie’s percussion instruments versus our hero, Fred whose only allowed
weapon is an electric guitar.

And here’s the thing, there’s not much more to the story.  Glennie and Firth do their thing, and there are some very nice
moments followed by many, many, many more moments of a highly similar nature.  Miss Goldie had to restrain herself
from singing out ‘gimme a pigs foot and a bottle of beer’ at inappropriate times during these lengthy passages while
attending the screening.

Yet the documentary runs for nearly two hours. ‘How do they do that’ you might well ask, and the answer is a simple one.
When in doubt, the camera comes in very close to Glennie’s face…far too many times…and for far too long.  To break the
monotony of this particular ‘technique’ the camera, on several occasions pans a full circle around Glennie, thereby \
creating a mild nausea within the viewer.

A few more gimmick necessitated ‘plot’ twists are employed to fill the time.  Glennie is plunked down into the madness
of Tokyo for the express purpose of observing her reactions as a ‘disabled’ person being taken as far as possible from her
‘normal’ realm – oh thank you very much.  We are also treated to a visit of the old family farmhouse near Aberdeen,
Scotland to meet her brother and view the mud and general bleakness of it all.  Soon after we are called upon to feel a
sense of loss for the place when told that the farmhouse has burned down.  As proof we’re given another visit and find
that while it has indeed burned down, it really doesn’t look all that much worse – only more bleak.

And as for the five minutes spent watching the subjects toss used EKG readouts from a high paint rack and streaming to the
warehouse floor, it is just a tad bit too esoteric for Miss Goldie.  But lest you think I liked nothing about this work, let me say
there are a couple of great visuals – one of gold and blue and green reflecting from rippling water on a NY Central Park pond
surface and another of grass blowing in the wind.  Yep, that’s about it.

On the subject of Evelyn Glennie’s deafness as addressed in the documentary, I’m pleased to report a complete absence of
pandering or skewed bias – wonderfully refreshing.  But for the majority of those attending the preview whose hearing is
still adequate, the documentary itself seems bent on changing that.  Excuse me, Mr. Riedelsheimer, but could you turn it
down just a notch during the gong portions?  Goldie says ouch.

As an added treat, a surprise Q & A session with Mr. Firth following the screening and served to illuminate the real obstacles
confronting Glennie in her pursuit of a success.  Sadly one of the audience members asked stupefying, inane and seemingly
endless question’s as to the extent of Glennie’s hearing loss and harped tirelessly on the perceived’ gee whiz’ aspect of her
accomplishments.  It was all too clear of a reminder that no matter the heights of her well earned achievements, Evelyn Glennie,
as a world class musician will be forever pigeonholed by most as the ‘deaf percussionist’.  Too bad, and Miss Goldie has so
very little tolerance for this particular brand of ignorance.

Troy

Helen Had Nothing To Do With It

Went to see the movie "Troy" this afternoon. Here's what I learned:

• Contrary to popular opinion, Greek men were not gay. This was clearly established immediately at the start of the film,
  and reinforced every five minutes or so thereafter.
  
• Most Greek and Trojan men had British accents. Those with American accents couldn't act.
  
• Trojans looked just like Greeks, but they tended to stay on the right side of the screen.
  
• Brad Pitt does not blink on camera.
  
• Helen of Troy's biggest line was, "They're coming for me."
  
• Trojan music sounded remarkably like modern Bulgarian music.
  
• Brad Pitt's thighs go all the way up.
  
• Achilles had a young male friend with whom he was very close, but it's ok. They were cousins.
  
• Peter O'Toole can tell an entire story with just an expression.
  
• Trojan gods apparently all had Greek names, but their statues either looked Egyptian or like Peter O'Toole in drag.
  
• Greek men never touched each other unless they were fighting, much like American men.
  
• All of the thousands of extras in the movie had exactly the same skin color..... Light Egyptian, by Max Factor.
  
• Troy had only three women.
  
• There were lots of blond Greeks, which is good news for Brad Pitt, who would otherwise have really stuck out.
  
• Despite their coastal desert locale, Greeks had the uncanny ability to find unlimited amounts of timber to build fires,
  funeral pyres, Trojan horses and the like.
  
• British actors look silly with Greek hairdos.
  
• Brad Pitt changes expression only when the sun is shining directly in his eyes.
  
• Greek soldiers fought constantly, but their outfits always looked impeccable.
  
• Helen of Troy always had impeccable hair and makeup. She looked gorgeous in all of her brief cameo scenes which,
  though numerous, were probably all filmed on the same day, one after the other, with the director saying,
  "Alright, now look beautiful...... good..... ok, now look frightened......
  good...... now look depressed...... good....... now look interested.......
  good...... now look beautiful again..... good......"
  
• Greek soldiers wore underwear under their skirts.
  
• Apparently Greek temples were always in ruins, even back when they were all new.
  
  Tom Reed
  
  
  

Who Killed the Electric Car?

Documentary directed by Chris Paine

Opens in Bay Area Theaters July 7th       Rating: all systems go

Okay, you think you’re as angry as you’re gonna get when it comes to corporate greed and manipulation of the American people through blatant lies, innuendo and our leader, Howdy Doody.  Well guess what…you ain’t felt nothin’ yet!

            A documentary coming straight atcha, ‘Who Killed the Electric Car’ is an astonishing look at the EV-1.   Making its appearance in 1997, it was among the fastest, most efficient production cars ever built.  It ran on electricity, produced no emissions and catapulted American technology to the forefront of the automotive industry.  The lucky few who drove it never wanted to give it up. 

‘Who Killed the American Car’ chronicles the life and mysterious death of the EV-1; examining the cultural and economic ripple effects caused by its conception and how they reverberated through the halls of government and big business.

            The year is 1990.  California is in a pollution crisis.  The smog is so bad that the state is on the verge of returning to the hazy days of the 1970’s brown outs.  Desperate for a solution, the California Air Recourse Board (CARB) targets the source of its problem: car exhaust.  Inspired by a recent announcement from General Motors about an electric vehicle prototype, the Zero Emissions Mandate (ZEV) is born.  It requires 2% of California’s vehicles to be emission free by 1998, 10% by 2003.  It is the most radical smog-fighting mandate since the catalytic converter.

            Eager to satisfy the largest car consuming market in the world, GM’s EV-1 electric vehicle is launched in 1997 with great fanfare from California consumers.  It was the first perfect car of the modern age, requiring no gas, no oil, no mufflers, and no brake changes (a billion dollar industry unto itself).  A typical maintenance checkup for the EV-1 consisted of replenishing the windshield washer fluid and a tire rotation.

            Fast forward to 6 years later…the fleet is dead.  EV charging stations dot the California landscape like tombstones, collecting dust and spider webs.  How could this happen?  Did anyone bother to examine the bodies?  Yes, in fact, someone did.  And it was murder.

            Systematically sabotaging its own product, GM told us how the car’s battery was inefficient and problematic – not so.  GM financed large editorials in major newspapers stating that the demand for these cars was non-existent, that manufacturing costs made the car unaffordable and that it was impossible or ‘years off’ to an efficient and trouble free battery design – all LIES!

            In return, CARB director, Andrew Lloyd abolished the Zero emissions mandate and then went to work for the hydrogen powered vehicle program.  Currently, several million tax dollars are being spent to develop this technology, which is destined to fail.  And in the meantime thousands dies in the Middle East, gas process rise, and the fat cats make another trip to the bank.

            Yes, we are addicted to oil.  All other alternatives have been systematically crushed – just as GM reclaimed all the EV-1 vehicles, trucked them to Arizona and destroyed them in the hope we’d forget all about it – or at least the few of us who’d ever heard about it in the first place.

No, I’m not making this up – not any of it.  See the movie, get angry and call your congresspersons.


Director’s Statement

This project began for me in 1996 when after many years of hearing rumors about an electric car (EV) coming to market, it happened.  GM’s EV-1.

It blew the doors off of any car I’ve ever driven.  And it made you fell like the 21st century had arrived.  I charged it at nights, and I drove it almost exclusively.  The EV-1 was super fast, quiet, tune-up free and fun.  And it turned me into a car lover.

When GM cancelled the program, they refused to sell it or extend the leases.  I thought about stealing it, but the contract made that a nightmare proposition.  So when GM repossessed it and then reportedly destroyed it, there was only one thing left I could think to do:  make a film.

Two years later and we’ve arrived here.  The actual evidence in this story really shocked me.  Some of the suspects were obvious.  But the politics, entrenched interests, hand-outs and cynicism we discovered seemed like a microcosm of why America can’t get out of its 20th century.  On the flip side, the electric car introduced us to some of the most amazing designers, engineers, thinkers and leaders I’ve ever met.

With global warming, increasing smog issues, and oil wars as backdrop, I hope this film will shed some light on how we can break the oil habit and plug in to much better ideas.

- Chris Paine