THEIR HANDS

"...But those who toiled knew nothing of the dreams of those who planned. And the minds that planned the Tower of Babel cared nothing for the workers who built it..."

If we don't, remember me.

PROXY: A SLENDER MAN STORY

 

Dir. Mike Diva

BAD OMEN

“It was just after my election in 1860, when the news had been coming in thick and fast all day and there had been a great “hurrah, boys,” so that I was well tired out, and went home to rest, throwing myself down on a lounge in my chamber. Opposite where I lay was a bureau with a swinging glass upon it (and here he got up and placed furniture to illustrate the position), and looking in that glass I saw myself reflected nearly at full length; but my face, I noticed had two separate and distinct images, the tip of the nose of one being about three inches from the tip of the other. I was a little bothered, perhaps startled, and got up and looked in the glass, but the illusion vanished. On lying down again, I saw it a second time, plainer, if possible, than before; and then I noticed that one of the faces was a little paler — say five shades — than the other. I got up, and the thing melted away, and I went off, and in the excitement of the hour forgot all about it — nearly, but not quite, for the thing would once in a while come up, and give me a little pang as if something uncomfortable had happened. When I went home again that night I told my wife about it, and a few days afterward I made the experiment again, when (with a laugh), sure enough! the thing came back again; but I never succeeded in bringing the ghost back after that, though I once tried very industriously to show it to my wife, who was somewhat worried about it. She thought it was a “sign” that I was to be elected to a second term of office, and that the paleness of one of the faces was an omen that I should not see life through the last term.”

— Abraham Lincoln

 

TEOS RECOMMENDS: WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP

It's a tall order to successfully adapt a book of photographs and small passages of non-narrative text. To do so requires creating a visual representation of the strange assortment of photographs found in Michael Lesy's infamous book, Wisconsin Death Trip.

Part documentary, part art film, James Marsh (Man on Wire) successfully transports the odd and terrible beauty of the 1973 book, which chronicles genuine news stories taken from a ten-year period in Black River Falls, Wisconsin. This strange decade between 1890-1900 contains stories of murder, mysterious disappearances, as well as the completely indefinable profile of Mary Sweeney, who suffered from an unexplainable condition that compelled her to smash windows.

There are even re-occurring "characters" - not just Mary, but an opera singer who goes to great lengths to deny her irrelevance, and a young boy who steals his father's rifle, murders a man for no real reason, and lives in his house by himself for the winter.

There are spurned husbands and wives, unrequited love, and more than one botched suicide. There's also a little levity thrown in from time to time just to lighten things up.

Mary Sweeney: Hair-whipper, window-smasher.

All the still photographs that appear are lifted directly from Lesy's text, and re-enactments (thankfully dialogue-free) bring to life the photograph's origins. Captured in striking back-and-white photography, like the original photographs, Marsh's adaptation manages to paint a portrait of middle-America that's disturbing, horrifying, saddening, bleak, and yet still beautiful.

According to Marsh (via the film's website):

“The title immediately intrigued me. And it certainly lived up to its promise - the book is a catalogue of strange, disturbing, and darkly humorous vignettes of real life tragedy, from a forgotten place and a forgotten time. As you read it, the photographs begin to resemble these weird apparitions from the past, staring right into your eyes. I wanted to convey in the film the real pathos contained in a four-line newspaper report that simultaneously records and dismisses the end of someone’s life. I also sifted through hundreds of newspapers from the town as well. Certain themes began to emerge, which the film was structured around - the anxieties of the time focus on suicide and madness. That is what the people of the town seem most afraid of...”

Images of 1890s Wisconsin are randomly juxtaposed with its modern day counterpart, showing that in some ways an awful lot has changed, but in others, not much at all. A nearly unrecognizable Ian Holm (Alien, The Lord of the Rings) provides narration culled directly from the pages of Lesy's text.

Wisconsin Death Trip has proven to be a very polarizing experience for audiences since its debut on BBC's Arena series. This can be chalked up to any number of reasons, such as the possible misunderstanding as to the origins of the adaptation (a film based on photographs); others seem to find the content itself shocking, though one would think the film's title would have been a dead giveaway. 

The first time I watched Wisconsin Death Trip, I thought, "That was beautiful, but it's something I never have to watch again."

I've watched it three times so far, and I'm sure there will be more viewings in the future.

The DVD is out of print, but it's been known to show up from time to time on Netflix's streaming service. Here's hoping with the explosion of blu-ray that the film will receive another lease on life.

FAN RAGE

Soccer Referee Killed And Quartered By Fans In Brazil After Fatally Stabbing Player 

SAO PAULO -- Police say enraged spectators invaded a football field, stoned the referee to death and quartered his body after he stabbed a player to death. 

The Public Safety Department of the state of Maranhao says in a statement that it all started when referee Otavio da Silva expelled player Josenir Abreu from a game last weekend. The two got into a fist fight, then Silva took out a knife and stabbed Abreu, who died on his way to the hospital. 

The statement issued this week says Abreu's friends and relatives immediately "rushed into the field, stoned the referee to death and quartered his body." 

Local news media say the spectators also decapitated Silva and stuck his head on a stake in the middle of the field. 

Police have arrested one suspect.

Story source.

Image source.

CEMETERY SQUATTERS

REVIEW: THE TERRIBLE TALE OF EDGAR SWITCHBLADE

If you catch up on my earlier post here, you’ll gain a little background on the idiosyncrasy of Lonesome Wyatt (of L.W. & the Holy Spooks as well as Those Poor Bastards). If I had to describe him to someone curious but unaware, I'd perhaps compare him to Rob Zombie, only I'd clarify he's a little more subtle, soulful, and genuine. This comparison isn’t just based on the oogy-boogy style that pervades their music, but also on their legitimate appreciation of the genre we all hold so dear in our little black hearts.

After having devoured all of Lonesome Wyatt’s albums, I’m not surprised at all that he can write the hell out of one wicked little novel. The Terrible Tale of Edgar Switch Blade, a tale of a knife-wielding, cloven-hoofed, cannibalistic miscreant who tears through the night striking down “werewolves, ghosts, and other strange creatures,” works as a companion piece to the album Behold the Abyss by Those Poor Bastards; themes introduced in the book are explored lyrically in the album.

Terrible Tale is told in the first person by our titular anti-hero. He does, indeed, tear across the landscape with his only companion in the world—a horse named Red—keeping an eye out for threats of the supernatural. During his misadventures, diary entries from a Ulysses S. Levitcus, his adoptive father of sorts, provide some background on Edgar’s rearing, and proves to be perhaps the most interesting part of the novel.

The story moves at a rapid race and doesn’t get lost in masturbatory details. It’s a simple story and simply told, but not without flair. Wyatt pulls no punches with what he’s willing to have his creation do—like eat his departed foster mother, for example—and I suppose it’s this kind of content that forgives the brevity of the novel itself. It's short to be sure—150 pages—but the story is never not engaging or entertaining. Besides, sometimes such subject matter works better in smaller doses.

Wyatt’s style reminds me a lot of Donald Ray Pollock (The Devil All the Time), in that what he is willing to write about is unflinching and unquestionably horrific. Pollock at times dares you to read him, whereas Wyatt knows his fan base quite well and he’s confident he is delivering just what they have come to expect from him. To be blunt, Terrible Tale is fucked up, but in a fun, EC-Comics-turned-up-to-eleven kind of way.

The design of this little novel is killer; great paints were taken to make it look like a pulpy dime-store novel you would have found in a pharmacy in the 1950s…perhaps on the highest shelf away from children’s hands. The cover, while not graphic, is certainly questionable in its depiction of Edgar threatening a prostitute with his knife as she lays sprawled across a forest ground. The cover itself looks bent and tattered, enforcing its so-called age; the edges of the pages are even colored red. It’s a remarkable little creation.

I hope Terrible Tale’s association with its companion album Behold the Abyss doesn’t prevent the possibility of Wyatt writing more novels in the future—either featuring Edgar Switchblade, or a new morbid creation. If he can tie it into a past or future album, great, but here's hoping he can go hog wild with a new story, even if it's not related to his music.

The Terrible Tale of Edgar Switchblade is available in multiple formats, and you can find them all on the Those Poor Bastards site.