Marvel vs Scorsese

In his Opinion piece for the New York Times of Nov 4^th, Martin Scorsese makes many good points. The threat to art, or rather to an environment that is conducive to and sustaining for cinema as art, has already been highly detrimental to our collective culture. This is a phenomenon which I think besets all artforms, and always has, but film being such a young medium it is being felt here acutely in recent decades. I myself as a kid noticed it in the late 90s. In many ways this began in the late 60s and 70s with a new aesthetic, a new model….but of course his argument is that art can still be written in book format even if the publisher has little reach, but getting on the big screen is very difficult.

Movie theatres face many challenges. Real estate of course is expensive, a problem for other commercial enterprises as well. In order for a cinema to stay in business it has to count on high-grossing films. Still, many theatres have multiple cinemas to showcase both the blockbuster hits and a variety of other films. Perhaps Scorsese is being overly pessimistic about the industry in general. True, any film needs financial backing to be widely screened, and that power and marketing reach are concentrated in the hands of a few studios—which was also the case in the golden years of film, although now they are owned by multinational corporations that are even more distanced from the culture of art and driven exclusively by profit motives and publicity.

But what is Scorsese’s animus against comic-book adaptations? “I don’t think they’re cinema”, he writes. OK—big deal! One man’s trash…and Hollywood has been churning out trash since before he was born. Personally, I think Scorsese has a very narrow idea of what constitutes cinema.

“The pictures are made to satisfy a specific set of demands, and they are designed as variations on a finite number of themes”, he writes of the Marvel films.

I take no issue with his elitism; that’s the point of art to a certain extent. To define by exclusion. But his focus on a certain criterion for art dependent upon elements of surprise and novelty betrays a prejudiced misunderstanding of the role of storytelling that I think is even more endemic in highbrow literary society than it is among disgruntled filmmakers. The myths of the Greeks, Hebrews, Germans and Celts were a perpetual fount of creative, captivating storytelling, both orally and in writing, precisely because the outcome was known, the characters were stereotyped and static, and the themes perennial. The best of these tales commanded the attention of audiences from all strata of society and resonate today. Maybe Scorsese is just jealous more Americans care about the latest Marvel film than about (does he still make movies?)

And audiences care not only because they are entertained but because the stories are timeless. Parents who read the comics when they were young now take their children to see these film adaptations, and in many cases fans have come of age while this saga played out onscreen. At the conclusion of the Avengers series I saw teenaged girls crying, and reflected that they had probably been drawn into this universe, watching it unfold since childhood.

“What’s not there is revelation, mystery or genuine emotional danger”, the old man laments. But what is there is truth, inevitability, and inspiration—elements that were there in many Hollywood classics as well, but not necessarily some of the films Scorsese fetishizes in his elegy for what he mistakenly thinks of as the Golden Age.

 Comics, the best comics, have become a new mythology for many Americans, much as bipedal dragons and giant robots have in Japan. I loved Marvel comics, and the television programs and merchandise, when I was a kid myself, but I never really appreciated at the time Stan Lee’s genius in delving deep into questions of philosophy and ethics, of personal autonomy versus collective security, of the interests of exceptional (and potentially dangerous) individuals against societal norms. It’s all very Nietzschean, very religious, very political: very American. These are questions that have no answers and therefore, to explore them amidst dazzling special effects and heroes in skintight bodysuits is far from the worst way to spend two hours. Granted, some of the films are, artistically speaking, lesser than others (although this is relative). But at the theatre, for the best of them, there is absolutely a communal experience with the audience, and it is far more thrilling than just collective terror or suspense; it is the sharing, even if vicarious, of our common virtues and the vindication of our values.

A film like ‘Iron Man’ can probe deep inconsistencies in our nation’s altruistic stance in the world and the profiteering of arms dealers, yet portray international tragedy as rightly what it is, the actions of individuals, and offer a symbolic hero who represents the best in us, in our country, in the desire to protect the innocent and deal out justice. Other films in the Avengers universe deal more deeply with the paradoxes in geopolitics and international law that sometimes, in the name of caution, can stifle our best hopes for change. And even if one could instead watch a gritty, pessimistic work of cinéma vérité instead, does reality bring us any closer to truth? If anything, our culture has become too obsessed with realism and we need fantasy and myth to inspire us and remind us that we do not live in a mechanistic, deterministic universe but a living, breathing world that we are all blessed to be a part of.

I know this may seem excessive praise for the subject matter. But being inspired and connected to popular culture beyond a television program or cable news is not trivial. If anything I think this is Scorsese’s best point, that we are spending less time together sharing that common experience at the movie theatre and instead everyone is in a separate world with their own private screen. So if these modern demigods in less-than-fully-convincing masks can bring audiences together in the theatre, wasn’t that always the purpose anyway, since the days of Athens?

-G.T. Evans 

'Merry Perry' - Joe Perry's Merry Christmas

            ‘tis the season to listen to Christmas carols…sometimes it seems I’m the only one who actually looks forward to this. I must admit, though, I do get tired of just hearing the same versions of the same songs over and over and am always looking for something new. Sometimes it’s a Christmas album by an artist I love (although this doesn’t always work; Dylan’s is painful to listen to), othertimes I actually discover a new artist, or open up to someone I was never able to appreciate before.

            This one by arguably the greatest lead guitarist in hard-rock history, “Joe Perry’s Merry Christmas” is five years old and it is short but sweet. Of four tracks, two are big-guitar instrumentals and the other two are classic rock-n-roll Christmas tunes. ‘White Christmas’ and ‘Silent Night’, with Perry playing the melody on a heavily-sustained guitar, prove that muzak can sometimes be powerful and exciting (think Tommy Emmanuel or Carlos Santana’s solo career). ‘White Christmas’ even comes on with a talkbox intro a-la ‘Sweet Emotion’ that, rather than seeming clichéd actually helps to make the season bright. ‘Run Run Rudolph’ shows Perry to be one of the few guitarist who can hold up to Chuck Berry; the arrangement is big and reminiscent of his old band’s ‘Big Ten Inch’ from the Attic days; it’s as if Joe Perry is saying, “I am Aerosmith.” ‘Santa Claus is Back in Town’ is similarly orchestrated and more Blues Brothers than Elvis.

            All in all a jolly rocker…Ho Ho Ho!

G.T. Evans

Slushy Morning

Cambridge, MA—It’s a slushy morning in Cambridge, as those of you unfortunate enough to have ventured outside already know. Frankly, I’d rather not be writing now but curled up on the couch with a book and the cat, as my boots dry by the radiator, wet socks hung across the back of a chair at the kitchen table.

         The snow was beautiful last night. Schoolchildren weren’t the only ones praying for another day off, but all the workers and college students still hungover, looking up therapists after dealing with relatives and in-laws, and still running continually to the bathroom after all that feasting. You know what I’m talking about.

         The sidewalks are awful. Shoveling and salt are needed; an abundance of autumn leaves still unraked are strewn about, encased in snow and ice. This is a day for poetry, for hot soup, coffee, cocoa, young lovers lying in bed in pajamas, old folks sitting in their favorite chair, reading the news—but this is the news: what more to it?

-G.T. Evans

McCoy Tyner 'Illuminations'

McCoy Tyner              “Illuminations”           2004 TELARC

McCoy Tyner, piano

Gary Bartz, saxophones

Terence Blanchard, trumpet

Christian McBride, bass

Lewis Nash, drums

            What does it matter if a review is belated? It’s not a preview—that would be different. Great music is timeless anyhow, while extemporized jazz is already old before it’s mixed & mastered.

#1 Illuminations (Tyner) kicks off with Lewis Nash’s tight skinwork and disciplined horns—then Blanchard takes it, paced and deliberate through a celebratory hard-bop mysticism until Bartz completes his thought with deft agility that bespeaks a mystery lurking beneath the pulsating surface of rhythm sustained by Nash, Christian McBride and Tyner, who now takes over and lets rip—a very different pianist than used to lay the harmonic foundations for Trane—then suddenly segues into a bass solo by McBride of rare staccato reverberation—a bit of ensemble, some more feisty drumming by Nash and a lingering flourish to bring the track to a close.

#2 Angelina (Tyner)

Intro: more the familiar modal Coltrane-Tyner sound, although smoothed and softened with the years; that Latin tinge sparks up, then we are lulled back into dreamy indolence, wisps of other great keyboardist/composers like Hancock and Corea, then McCoy lays on sharp, spare notes emphasizing modality before proceeding to shred the changes—a pause, a question mark?—and Bartz suggests a tentative answer, building confidence as he builds tension until his spectral possibility becomes an affirmation. Blanchard takes his time as if testing each note before he takes us on a journey, an impassioned pilgrimage inside the harmony. Now Nash gets deep into an introspective meditation but before you can say “Om” the lulling, seductive head returns, somehow richer and more evocative now that we are all a little wiser from the experience.

#3 New Orleans Stomp (Tyner)

Marching snare snaps into Beethoven-heavy creole piano riff funky as Hell—surprisingly this one is also a Tyner original—Blanchard hits some hot, blues-inflected frontline jass and gets you shakin’, underpinned by Tyner’s insistent comping, Bartz interweaves a few lines before taking the stand himself, swinging legato and then punctuating rests like a trumpet player (effecting a labial, rather than interdental stop, for the linguists out there—the reed players out there know better than I how feasible this is vis-à-vis their embouchure) winds to a perfectly cadential close, the band makes a dynamic pause before Nash and McBride take a relaxed, casual stroll through the French Quarter, McCoy gives us a few more tinkles and the whole ensemble flare up again to bring this delectable little number to a close (if you’re like me and can never get enough hot sauce you may want to repeat the track again.)

#4 Come Rain or Come Shine (Harold Arlen)

As usual, Nash sets the pace, this time with a highly syncopated and ponderous post-bop rhythm—Tyner quickly moves from sparse chords to quicksilver runs, smoking minarets that tower above us in sheer cliffs which drop off abruptly, leaving us alone with McBride’s best solo thus far, all muscle and sinew; then McCoy and Lewis trade 4’s, Tyner builds it back up to an urbane blues, finishing with that glassy twinkle that is the timbral envy of any pianist, jazz or classical.

#5 Soulstice (Bartz)

This is a brilliant composition by Gary Bartz. Christian counts the tempo with a Blakeyan fill before the quintet take off in a sophisticated melody reminiscent of Shorter-era Miles—Bartz dazzles with ribbons of silken metal before Blanchard chills on the downpulse, subdividing into a crescendo of assured pleasure—then, oh boy, we’re given the Real McCoy, chords stacked like brick and suspended, while Tyner moves ivory faster than a Portuguese privateer—a contemplative solo from McBride swings into a brief spotlight by Nash, again conjuring the bop greats, and then a hurried finish.

#6 Blessings (Blanchard)

This number by Terence Blanchard is a dramatic pivot from the preceding—plaintive, rich harmony, a Silenian lament; Blanchard shows off Milesian arrogance before Bartz ponders the meaning of it all in rich tenor vibrations—McCoy gets vaguely Latin again, a-la a hungover philosopher poolside at the cabana in Havana; an almost tribal, insistent statement by Nash (so far my only complaint with this disc is the brevity of the drum solos; clearly L.N. could keep at it, heavy and inventive, for many a measure without dulling.)

#7 If I Should Lose You (Leo Robin, Ralph Rainger)

Sweet and soft, this piece, Tyner’s reverberations of marble giving way to demonstrations of ferocious virtuosity, fingers that know every scale and chordal extension…McBride gives one of his heaviest, drowsiest, most lolling yet precise solos, then Bartz picks up a higher-register sax and lays lyrical lines reminiscent of Coltrane near his relaxéd best. A pure, perfect ending.

#8 The Chase (Tyner)

Exciting, down-South N’Orleans feel again, courtesy of Tyner’s profound grasp of rhythm and harmony which he can bend to any occasion—quickly becomes an insane bopacalypse of almost arbitrary harmonic tension, all driven by purposeful rhythm and Nash’s indefatigable yet never repetitive trap work. Despite the fabulosity of the horns and the enviably sharp but resonant timbre of McBride’s double-bass, this group is never as exciting as when McCoy and McBride are trading and interweaving their contrapuntal apotheoses.

#9 West Philly Tone Poem (McBride) is rich in angular melodies and incessant rhythms and

#10 Alone Together (Arthur Schwartz) is best left for the listener to discover without further descriptor.       

Pizza in Cambridge

            With all the ramen shops and other culinary trends sweeping our city, at times it seems hard to find good pizza at a decent price. These are a few of my favorites, as well as some that simply hold nostalgic value for me. The list is by no means exhaustive; I’m sure there are some good places I remain ignorant of, and far too many have closed their doors in the last ten years. But here you go: just sprinkle some red pepper flakes and you won’t go wrong.

The Best

Armando’s (Huron Ave, near corner of Concord)

When in Rome,

do as the Romans;

when in West Cambridge:

eat at Armando’s!

            If you have never eaten at Armando’s; if you have never had pizza in Cambridge, or the Boston area generally; if you have never had pizza before, do yourself a favor and hop on the 78 bus from Harvard Station and tell the driver to let you off at Armando’s.

            Just make sure you have cash – you won’t need much though. Prices may have gone up ever so slightly in the last 5 years; but if you factor in Cantabriflation, it’s a better deal than ever!

            Seriously, what else is there to say that hasn’t already been covered in the local press? This is hands-down the best pizza in Cambridge, and the prices are unbelievably reasonable. Even if you only have your debit card, the $2.00 fee at the ATM across the street will hardly make a dent in what you’ll save compared to any place of remotely close quality around here. If only they would open a second location elsewhere in Cambridge for those of us not so fortunate as to get out there enough. But honestly, I could see New Yorkers or even Italians coming out here for the amazing food and great hospitality at this cozy gem of a pizzeria!

Pinnochio’s (Harvard Square)

            The only other place in Cambridge serving up quality Italian-style pizza worthy to be mentioned in the same breath as Armando’s is Pinnochio’s in Harvard Square. In fact, their pizza is fantastic; it’s just not such a bargain and the place gets packed, all of which is understandable given that it’s Harvard Square and the food is really good. You will see photographs of celebrities on the wall who used to frequent the place when they lived or studied in Cambridge. They are not posing for the camera to keep atop the trends; they still come back for the food.

            Aside from the basic pizza pies which are second only to Armando’s, you will find a variety of Sicilian slices to choose from round the clock (they’re open pretty late) as well as my favorite steak and cheese sub anywhere, with thinly sliced succulent shaved stake and perfectly melted provolone instead of that American-cheese crap. It can be dangerous: when I worked in Harvard, I came in for my sub one day and the boss greeted me with,

                        “So, what, one of these a day keeps the doctor away?”

The Rest

Greek-Style

            Let no man say that the Greek pizza house is inferior; that greasy, pan-Hellenic aroma is so indelibly a part of my memory of childhood, it is still the height of bliss for me on a perfect Cantabrigian Summer’s day.

ABC (Mass Ave)

            Anyone who has spent any time living and/or working around Central Square, on a tight budget, who is not taken in with the fads of vegan, gluten-free, paleo etc. must surely have been to ABC. It can get crowded at lunch time but the delicious, crispy slices, quick and cheap, are more than worth it. Call ahead if you want a sub or, my favorite, the chicken fingers – absolute perfection, especially if you ask for a side of marinara sauce (far better than ketchup, in my opinion; my kids would disagree.)

Cambridge House of Pizza (North Cambridge)

            Some say that “happy childhood” is just a myth – a shame for them; for me it was very real, and this place was as close to Heaven on Earth as my mind could then conceive. Back in the 90’s they had arcade machines – I spent many hours playing Street Fighter II, but the owner’s son could always play longer as his father gave him endless quarters!

            Now he is running the place, and the arcades are gone, but the food and the wonderful smell remain the same, even as this charming part of Cambridge finally succumbs to the same gentrification that pervades the rest of the city. Like ABC, this isn’t diet food, although they do have salads. Come here for cheese pizza, chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks – but the Greek Pizza with feta and tomatoes is incredible, and when I was a vegetarian I lived off their veggie subs, better than most places make, with oil & vinegar and Provolone cheese.

Harvard House (Mass Ave, between Harvard and Porter)

            This is an underappreciated part of Cambridge. There used to be more pizza places around (3 Aces, which used to be nearby, is gone, and up Mass Ave in Porter Square, Pizzeria Uno is long gone – currently a Target) but the Half Shell and Harvard House are still serving good food to regular people every day. I will never forget the time in high school when I went to Harvard House with a friend, ordered us a large cheese pizza, and was so eager to eat it I consumed my half as soon as they took it out of the oven, severely burning the roof of my mouth. It hurt for days but was completely worth it.

Modern “Hipster” Pizza

            The new pizza is very different from the traditional family-run Italian and Greek places. The quality of the ingredients is often very high, and some of their pies are incredibly creative. The staff are often young people and turnover is more frequent, so a lot depends on the staff to make your experience either great or mediocre.

All-Star Pizza Bar (Inman Square)

            I love the people that work here. If you are in the neighborhood and need a quick lunch, definitely grab a slice or two. The cheese and pepperoni are quite good, more-or-less that old Boston Italian-style. Every day they also have three other slice options, one vegetarian, one “funky” with meat, and now a daily vegan slice as well. I always peek through the window to see what the daily slices are; it’s not always up my alley but when it is it’s superb.

            The options increase if you want a whole pie; not only do they have a range of vegetarian or meaty pizzas, this is one of the few places to get some interesting vegan pizzas (made with Daiya shreds) for those who avoid dairy. Again, not my thing, but those I have tried were surprisingly good. Don’t forget if you order a pie for dinner to go two doors down to Inman Square Wine and Spirits for a six-pack.

Otto (Harvard Square)

            For dairy eaters, Otto offers even more options on slices than All-Star. Their name is Italian for “8”, signifying the eight slices a pizza is usually cut into, but also the eight different choices they always have available for slices or whole pies. I used to eat here every day when I worked close by, and I was sad when they stopped making the mushroom and cauliflower pizza—it was so good, and completely unique—although its replacement was good too. But someone told me recently that it’s back on the menu again.

Honorable Mention

Angelo’s (Broadway across from the Main Library)

           

            Make no mistake, this isn’t “fine dining”. But they have been feeding CRLS students for decades. Back when I went to Rindge about 20 years ago, we weren’t even allowed to go to Angelo’s during school hours—you’d have to go to Mass House on Cambridge Street (now Mona Lisa’s, not bad but not worth writing about either) and wait in line your whole lunch break just to get a slice of the greasiest yellow half-way-between Greek and Italian pizza I’ve ever had, but definitely filling and worth it, although you’d be late to class and receive detention, for no fault of your own.

            As for Armando’s, we would sometimes sneak in for very-basic Italian-style slices and, more importantly, cheese fries—an aluminum foil pan filled with crisp-yet-soggy French fries covered in a blob of artery-clogging melted cheese. The best! Just squirt some ketchup on and go meet back with your friends.

            Nowadays the kids are allowed to go, and it will be packed at lunchtime with these normal working-class students, mostly African American, whose parents don’t give them $20 a day for coffee and sandwiches at Darwin’s which used to be a Laundromat and, although I love Darwin’s, I never would have gone there for lunch in high school. But Angelo’s is for the students; I don’t even think they’re open on the weekends. But “Lou” is still running the place, and if you see him, tell him, “Robo Cop sent me!”

            He’ll understand.

-G.T. Evans