“Yellow! Yellow! Yellow! Yellow!”

Darkon is a game. Darkon is also a movie about Darkon the game. Darkon is a not particularly good movie about Darkon the game.

Darkon the game is essentially live-action D&D, an elaborate role-playing game. Players dress up in medieval style costumes, wield foam-padded swords, staffs, battle axes, and shields. They meet every two weeks, with weekend-long campouts once a month, to play in forests and fields around the greater Baltimore area. Playing Darkon consists mainly of going to these gatherings and spending the entire time in character (as with D&D and other RPGs, each person creates a character, complete with costume, backstory, etc.). Characters form countries and vie to take over more and more land. "Winning" Darkon ostensibly means taking over the entire realm, including conquering other countries and seizing their land. Much of the time playing Darkon seemingly consists of political discussions (whether or not to take over another country, forming allegiances between countries, backdoor dealing, etc.), and battles. The battles are when two countries fight each other with their big foam weapons, resulting in a spastic melee of wood, foam, limbs, and yelling (there is an elaborate hit-point and armor system that goes into determining which side wins that involves waling on each other while yelling colors).

Here is a video of a Darkon battle, apparently filmed by a Darkon player, that is not in the movie:

At the beginning of the movie, there is a major conflict brewing between Laconia and Mordom, two Darkon countries. Mordom has been dominating the realm for an extended period of time, and Laconia has split from their alliance with Mordom to unite the smaller countries in an effort to stop Mordom from winning Darkon (it's never clear in the movie if anyone has even actually won Darkon in the past or if it's really even possible). There's some stuff about Bannor of Laconia (real name Skip) wanting to bring the Mordom leader, Keldar (real name Kenyon), before some kind of war crimes tribunal. Mostly there's a lot of yelling in pseudo-Shakespearian-medieval-speak, building to what appears to be a massive war. The movie jumps back nine months to introduce the audience to the world of Darkon, and the specific events that lead to this confrontation.

Darkon lays its cards down pretty clearly and pretty early. The movie follows a select group of players (they never state the actual number of Darkon players, but it appears to be quite a lot), both in their real workaday lives, as well as their fantasy Darkon lives. It's immediately apparent that we are to view the Darkon players as good-natured noble misfits, reluctant social outcasts, who can only truly express themselves and find happiness when they are playing Darkon. And that's OK. They don't care if you think it's childish or silly or embarrassing. This is where they go to get away from you and all your judgment.

That's one half of the movie. The other tracks the goings on in Darkon the game, presenting it mainly as an actual fantasy movie. This sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. There is the dramatic voiceover that starts the movie, and the music that swells as the battles rages, both of which work pretty well in a silly/fun sort of way. Unfortunately there is also the attempt to film and edit the fight scenes like something out of Braveheart, which doesn't really work, seeing as these aren't carefully choreographed battle scenes. The camera tries to dramatically shoot a horde of people running around hitting each other, but it can't get close enough or in the middle of it without getting in the way.

The pairing of players-in-their-real-lives paired with the Darkon-as-real is established from the get-go, and the film never really deviates from that. Ultimately, this means that even though the movie is less than 90 minutes, it gets pretty old by the end. There is some drama in what will happen in the world of Darkon, but not enough to make the movie very engrossing the whole way through. There is a sort of second order suspension of disbelief that the viewer has to buy into that presents some problems. There is little to no drama in the players' real lives. Most of the older players seem happy, successful, married, with children, etc. Some of the younger players seem more awkward and unsatisfied with their real lives. But there really isn't any progression beyond what is immediately presented as the players are introduced (with the exception of one female player who lives in her parents' basement because the father of her child left her and hasn't been keeping up on child support, but even that isn't particularly dramatic – the father starts paying and she gets her own place).

Darkon is enjoyable in that you get to watch a bunch of nice people have a ton of fun doing something they love. Unfortunately, it doesn't make for a particularly engrossing movie.

“Well, I’m not gonna get another [body], so I’m gonna use this one until it’s all used up.”

Bob Flanagan was born in 1952, and shortly thereafter was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. Ordinarily, Cystic Fibrosis, a genetic disease that causes the lungs to fill up with thick mucus, kills those who have it by the time they are 6 or 7 years old. Sometimes, suffers of CF live into their early 20s before dying, usually of a lung infection. Flanagan lived to be 43, gaining notoriety for his writing and performance art that focused on his pain and struggle with his disease, often through public demonstrations of extreme self-mutilation.

Documentarian Kirby Dick chronicles Flanagan's final years in his film Sick: The Life & Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist. True to the title, the film follows Flanagan, as well as his long time partner/Mistress Sheree Rose, starting in his early 40s right up through his death in late January, 1996. Sick sheds light on the many aspects of Flanagan's life: his art, his relationship with Rose, the anger and humor he directs at his disease. Flanagan makes for a fascinating figure, be it because of his controversial art or his particularly unique perspective on life. One can't help but have a unique perspective on things when you've lived your entire life being told you're going to die and, by all accounts, you should already be dead. But you're not. (In Flanagan's own words, "All the articles about me start the same way, 'Bob Flanagan should be dead by now. But he isn't.' That's what they always say. 'Instead he nails his dick to a board.'")

In case that last comment about nailing his dick to a board or the term "Supermasochist" didn't clue you in, Flanagan made his name in the art world for his acts of extreme self-mutilation. These acts of supermasochism included, but were not limited to, hammering a nail through his penis into a wooden board, suspending himself upside down from the ceiling of art galleries, being physically abused in just about every conceivable manner, often accompanied by Flanagan's darkly comic monologues about living with CF. The film presents plenty of examples of Flanagan's performances, so be warned, this film is extremely graphic. So if you don't think you can handle watching a close-up of a nail being driven through the head of penis, near constant spanking, frequent cutting, and at least one instance of on-camera sodomy, you should probably stay away.

The film generally focuses on two aspects of Flanagan's of life: how his proclivities for BDSM, both in his art and in his bedroom, gives him a sense of control over his body, a body that refuses to function properly; and the intimate and trusting relationship he has with his longtime partner Sheree Rose. These two elements are, realistically, inseparable. Rose was not only Flanagan's SM Mistress, but also his partner in life and art. The trust and intimacy that is inherent in such a long term BDSM relationship is on full display. The film does not shy away from showing the couple's extreme intimacy, whether it is through homemade videos of their SM adventures or through quiet conversations in bed. It is apparent that there is a closeness, an intimacy, and a trust between the two of them that is rarely found in the most functional of relationships.

In terms of Flanagan's art, the film explores how Flanagan views his masochism and his self-mutilation as a way for him to reclaim control over a body that refuses to function as it should. His explorations of the limits of what he can endure forces him to engage with his body in a way that gives him a fuller understanding of his physical self, as well as teaches his body what it is capable of, despite its disease. It is as much about his own self discovery as it is about confronting audiences with shocking experiences. It is about bringing the audience into Flanagan's own experiences with his disease (including one art gallery exhibition of his work, a part of which included Flanagan sitting in a hospital bed, in the gallery, throughout the duration of the exhibition, allowing viewers to see him and talk to him).

Ultimately, Sick: The Life & Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist paints a very intimate portrait of a man who had to learn very young what he wanted and how to take it for himself. Up through the end, in which Dick films Flanagan dying in his hospital bed, Flanagan seems scared and, above all, confused by his own death. Even though he has spent his entire life confronting his own death, he seems just as terrified and confused as anyone else. Sick and its subject are extremely funny, intimate, heartbreaking, and, more than anything else, inspiring.

Jandek on Corwood

I’ve been fascinated by Jandek for a few years now. I don’t remember how I heard about him (I wish I did), but he has been one of those musicians I’d been meaning to listen to for years. I never have, because tracking down his music isn’t exactly easy. And here’s why:

Jandek is the pseudonym for a solo musician (real name unknown) apparently based out of the Houston area. In 1978 he self-released his debut album (as “The Units”) and sent it to various music magazines. The album was a single man speak-singing whispery stream-of-consciousness lyrics that were painfully personal over an acoustic guitar that seemed to be wildly out of tune and was played with hard single string plucking style. It was met with confusion, no one really seeming to know what to make of it. Jandek found one review in Option magazine to apparently be encouraging enough. A couple years later, Jandek released his follow-up, now calling himself “Jandek” after receiving a cease-and-desist order from a San Francisco band named “The Units”. He has continued to release roughly two albums a year ever since, making him one of the most prolific musicians in modern music.

Jandek has done this while maintaining what may be the lowest profile in the history of music. He has only conducted two interviews (one of which involved having drinking with friends and refusing outright to discuss his music), the occasional written correspondence, his first live appearance was in 2003, an unannounced concert appearance, and he has only played live a handful of times since. Some of his album covers feature pictures of a tall thin man with blond hair, and this is assumed to be Jandek, though there is nothing to suggest that it is actually him besides the fact that this man appears on multiple covers. Even these very limited contacts are all conducted under the guise of contacting “a representative of Corwood Industries,” a man claiming to not actually be the musician Jandek.

Corwood Industries is a company that appears to only exist as a PO Box in Houston, TX, and the only thing is seems to do is release Jandek albums. Up until recent years, if you wanted to contact Jandek or purchase one of his albums, you had to write to Corwood’s PO Box. Unless you lived near a record store that improbably carried Jandek albums, you had to simply send money and a request for a specific album, and hope that Corwood would fulfill your request and mail an album to you. In this, the Internet age, fans have created music videos to post on Youtube and someone has even created a Myspace page for him. There are even a couple of online music retailers that will now fulfill your Jandek orders. These all appear to be fan-driven developments, as Jandek still seems to only be available via Corwood’s PO Box (the same box for 30 years – PO Box 15375, Houston, TX, 77020).

As I said, I’d been curious about Jandek for a while now, and recently found out that Chad Freidrichs had released a documentary about Jandek in 2003. Jandek on Corwood seemed like the perfect way to dip my toe in the mysterious Jandek pool. Here is the trailer for Jandek on Corwood:

Jandek on Corwood consists of two basic elements. There are the sections made up of interviews with musicians, music writers, DJs, record store and record label owners who are all Jandek fans discussing Jandek. The other element is simply montages of imagery set to Jandek’s music. This second element is handled beautifully. The images that creep across the screen are perfectly matched to Jandek’s intense, raw, minimalist music that seems to ooze a sort of decrepit, timeless Americana. It is like watching a beautiful, haunting, long-form art house music video. If you have any interest in hearing what Jandek sounds like, these sections of the film provide an amazing introduction to the listening experience.

The interviews, on the other hand, are odd at first. It is apparent that the people being interviewed are by no means objective. They are fervent Jandek fans. They acknowledge that the music isn’t traditionally beautiful, and many times isn’t even remotely entertaining to listen to. But they have obviously bought into the mystery that is Jandek, they revel in playing the guessing game of who Jandek is, what his life is like, where this music comes from. They expound on what makes his music brilliant and singular. They discuss the elements that make art, especially outsider art, high quality. They seem to be almost making a sales pitch for Jandek.

At first this is off-putting, but after listening to the music, it becomes apparent what is happening. This is not the music that can generate casual fans. The only people who could possibly sit down and discuss this music are the people who have bought so whole-heartedly into what Jandek is doing and what he is about. Anyone who hears this music will have one of two reactions. Either they will abandon it and forget about it forever, or they will be drawn in and left endlessly fascinated by it. There simply is no one out there who can speak objectively about Jandek, he is simply too polarizing. Ultimately, you’re given something akin to an indepth tour through the cult fanbase of this wildly idiosyncratic musician.

Now that I’ve seen the movie and heard the music, what is my take? Personally, I’m hooked. Jandek’s music is intense, filled with such raw intimacy that it is almost scary to listen to. It is like you’re listening to something you’re not meant to listen to. The music brings to mind visions of a broken, reclusive man spewing his deepest, barest, most honest thoughts and emotions alone in an empty room. One of the contributors to the film described Jandek’s music as a 30+ part, 25+ year suicide note. Everything is imbued with such heavy finality, that every note seems like it might be the man’s last. While the content of Jandek’s music may not be that dire (though sometimes it is), the concept of listening for years to something as intimate as a suicide note written by a total stranger is not far off in describing the experience of listening to such emotionally raw music.

For a documentary about a reclusive musician, I found myself actually being kind of scared by the end. Listening to this unbelievably haunting music, seeing these images of rotting Americana, listening to people speak so obsessively about this man who has rarely been seen, whom no one knows, I felt like this is something I should stay away from.

But it’s too late. I’ll be writing to Corwood Industries, PO Box 15375, Houston, TX, 77020 to request my catalogue.