The Verdict is...

...Very, very good.

V For Vendetta is right up there (under Spider-Man 2) as one of the best comic book movies I've seen so far. It was one of those rare movies in which nearly every scene, every character and every bit of dialogue felt necessary...genuine. The Wachowskis et al have created a generally faithful and almost disturbingly relevant screen version of Alan Moore's work, and it's unfortunate that after the laughable LXG and the plodding From Hell, he decided to excise his name from this film. The movie deviates a bit from Moore's core themes to offer a deviously scathing perspective of current world events...and it works.

Strangely, the scene that probably resonated the most for me was one that was created specifically for the film. Reading about the procession of masks at the film's end, I thought that it was cliched and might appear forced. But looking at it in the proper context, amidst scenes of V's triumph, it fit perfectly, and created a resounding affirmation of the idea that V tried his best to personify throughout the film.

As the costumed crowd proceeded in unison through the city streets to create the Land of Do-As-You-Please, I kept thinking...Carnival. It felt, on so many levels, like what Carnival should be, once was, and is no longer. The masked masses, the multitude, of one mind and motive, moving together to mash up dem mudder...look. Magnificent.

(Yeah...the alliteration monologue was mad :P)

It doesn't quite offer the ambiguity and depth of the comic, but it's an outstanding piece of work nonetheless. The DVD and the trade paperback will look good together on a shelf.

Now if only someone does as good as this (or better) with Watchmen...

Marlon Griffith

Just a big-up to Marlon Griffith, a partner I first met in the Trinity Art Foundation where he worked for a few years with Hackett and Warren.

Marlon's moved on over the last few years, and has exhibited and completed residencies in South Africa and Japan. (Man get free trips to two of the three places I want to visit in my lifetime. Like I pick de wrong art.)

I recently bounced up with him while covering an artists' workshop in Aripo (another post in itself) where we finally got a chance to sit down and talk about his time in Japan. It was enlightening, and encouraging.

While I've longed to experience Japan for years, I've always been discouraged by reports of racism and insularity in the society. My nightmare would be to spend thousands of dollars to get there, only to be treated like a subhuman because of my skin. Marlon said that the society is not without its negative nuances, but assured me that a positive, respectful approach to their customs is all that is needed for a smooth stay. He encountered his own challenges as a Trinidadian artist staying with a Japanese family, but he put his best foot forward and made a great impression. How great?

De man left Japan with two samurai swords. TWO! Mudder...

Anyway, here's a sample of some of the work he did using traditional washi paper, and a link to another blog post with some more details of his trip.

The center cannot hold

Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart was an even more satisfying read the second time through. The novel sheds light on what Achebe believes were some of the factors within West African society that made it incohesive and ripe for exploitation at the hands of a foreign social and religious force.
It also explores different concepts of masculinity, particularly the idea of "real" manhood, and how it relates to society and self.

This was one of my favorite passages in the novel.

Whenever Mr. Brown went to that village he spent long hours with Akunna in his obi talking through an interpreter about religion. Neither of them succeeded in converting the other but they learned more about their different beliefs.

"You say that there is one supreme God who made heaven and earth," said Akunna on one of Mr. Brown's visits. "We also believe in Him and call Him Chukwu. He made all the world and the other gods."

"There are no other gods," said Mr. Brown. "Chukwu is the only God and all others are false. You carve a piece of wood—like that one" (he pointed at the rafters from which Akunna's carved Ikencja hung), "and you call it a god. But it is still a piece of wood."

"Yes," said Akunna. "It is indeed a piece of wood. The tree from which it came was made by Chukwu, as indeed all minor gods were. But He made them for His messengers so that we could approach Him through them. It is like yourself. You are the head of your church."

"No," protested Mr. Brown. "The head of my church is God Himself."

"I know," said Akunna, "but there must be a head in this world among men. Somebody like yourself must be the head here."

"The head of my church in that sense is in England."

"That is exactly what I am saying. The head of your church is in your country. He has sent you here as his messenger. And you have also appointed your own messengers and servants. Or let me take another example, the District Commissioner. He is sent by your king."

"They have a queen," said the interpreter on his own account.

"Your queen sends her messenger, the District Commissioner. He finds that he cannot do the work alone and so he appoints kotma to help him. It is the same with God, or Chukwu. He appoints the smaller gods to help Him because His work is too great for one person."

"You should not think of Him as a person," said Mr. Brown. "It is because you do so that you imagine He must need helpers. And the worst thing about it is that you give all the worship to the false gods you have created."

"That is not so. We make sacrifices to the little gods, but when they fail and there is no one else to turn to we go to Chukwu. It is right to do so. We approach a great man through his servants. But when his servants fail to help us, then we go to the last source of hope. We appear to pay greater attention to the little gods but that is not so. We worry them more because we are afraid to worry their Master. Our fathers knew that Chukwu was the Overlord and that is why many of them gave their children the name Chukwuka—"Chukwu is Supreme."

"You said one interesting thing," said Mr. Brown. "You are afraid of Chukwu. In my religion Chukwu is a loving Father and need not be feared by those who do His will."

"But we must fear Him when we are not doing His will," said Akunna. "And who is to tell His will? It is too great to be known."

In this way Mr. Brown learned a good deal about the religion of the clan and he came to the conclusion that a frontal attack on it would not succeed.

I remembered this passage today while checking out some dashikis in New City Mall. The propietor was playing an African music video, which I was enjoying until I read the translation captions at the bottom. It was something about Jesus being a great warrior.

One of the most depressing images of modern-day Africa to me is the zeal with which Africans embrace the religion of their oppressors. Achebe (a Christian himself) argues that it wasn't a case of simple brainwashing, but that Christianity offered the right social outlook at the right time.

To say much more would be to spoil the novel, which is a short, compelling read, and which I encourage yu to check out.