Katherine Don

The Sari Soldiers

admin — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 09:09:00 +0000

The Sari Soldiers is a documentary that follows the lives of six Nepali women amidst the political turmoil that erupted in Nepal in 2001, after Nepal’s King and nine royal family members were massacred. The film is near perfect. It accomplishes the tenuous balance that only the best documentaries can provide: a bird’s eye view of a convoluted topic achieved through exploring the infinitely specific and intimate stories of the individuals involved.

After Nepal’s King was killed, the King’s younger brother Prince Gyanendra took the throne. Maoist opposition to the monarchy, which had already flourished in Nepal for years, multiplied. In February 2005, monarch Gyanendra Shah cited Maoist insurgency as justification for declaring a state of emergency. He disbanded parliament and established military rule. In the villages throughout Nepal, an environment of fear reigned. The Royal Nepalese Army kidnapped and killed individuals suspected of Maoism; Maoists terrorized villages with pro-government ties.

The documentary begins with the story of Devi Sunuwar, a woman who seeks justice for the disappearance of her fifteen-year-old daughter, who was kidnapped by government soldiers. Devi and her family must hide out in Kathmandu, Nepal’s largest city, because soldiers sporadically come looking for Devi in her home village. Director Julie Bridgham focuses the camera on Devi’s face as she tells her harrowing story. When the footage switches from a one-on-one interview to scenes of protest in the streets or political speeches, Bridgham does not forget to keep it personal—even when panning out on a massive crowd, the camera intermittently zooms in on a single face. The documentary offers clear descriptions of the overall political situation in Nepal, but never lets the viewer forget that politics is personal—especially when many have lost the lives of their family to the struggle.

The film looks unwaveringly at all sides of the war. We get to know Kranti, a Maoist Brigadier Commissar. From Kranti we learn that the Maoists are “guiding the Nepali people towards a beautiful future.” Yet we also learn about Krishna, an elderly woman whose village is chronically attacked by Maoists, who abduct the men of a village to either be murdered or recruited as Maoist soldiers. Just when sympathy for Krishna blossoms, the film moves on to Mandira, a human rights lawyer who represents the many victims of the military regime. The film also features interviews with Ram Kumari, an anti-government political activist, and Rajani, an officer in the Royal Nepalese Army.

The documentary was shot over a three year period, so the viewer is able to literally watch as the political situation unfolds into the country-wide protests that force the King to step down, all the way to April 2008, when free elections are held in Nepal, and the Maoists gain thirty-eight percent of the seats in the new parliament. We also see the stories of the six women unfold. When the monarchy disbands, Devi finally learns where her daughter’s body has been buried. Within the short film running of ninety minutes, the filmmakers somehow succeed in giving a comprehensive account of the Nepali Civil War, while also telling six separate and deeply moving narratives. This is the best documentary I have ever seen, and it reminded me how powerful a tool the documentary form can really be.

Written by: Katherine Don, June 10th 2009

Skeletal Lamping

admin — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 11:06:00 +0000

By Of Montreal

Polyvinyl Records

I absolutely loved this album.

Before laying down my justifications for such a grandiose statement, I must put forth a couple of caveats. First, this is the only Of Montreal album I have ever listened to. I was familiar with a few of their better-known songs, but that’s it. Skeletal Lamping is the band’s ninth studio album. Second, I don’t typically like the type of music Of Montreal makes. While their sound is notoriously eclectic and has changed over time, Of Montreal in its current incarnation is most accurately described as "techno-pop-funk glam." I don’t like techno, and the word pop makes me shudder.

Despite my ambivalence toward Of Montreal's particular category of sound, I still recognize brilliance when I hear it. The opening song, "Nonpareil of Favor" left me utterly confused, but in a good way. Packed into this one song I identified funk beats, brilliant lyrics, nonsensical and unmelodic grunge-like guitar riffs, Queen-inspired operatics, psychedelic meanderings, and pop-rock precision. Yet somehow it all came together—not perfectly perhaps, but I was left intrigued and excited for the rest of the album.

It was not until the third track, "For Our Elegant Caste," that I collected another reason for singing Of Montreal's brilliance. This song is ridiculously catchy. The second it ended, it was already stuck in my head. Of Montreal is certainly pop, and god, this song must be good to dance to. Other club-friendly songs include "Gallery Piece" and "Id Engager."

Of Montreal's lyrics are top-notch. They maintain the descriptive poetry of indie rock without the accompanying pretension. Suffused throughout is a sense of frustrated disorientation on the part of singer and songwriter Kevin Barnes. It seems Barnes is afflicted with both hatefully destructive and lovingly life-affirming thoughts. In "Death Isn’t a Parallel Move," Barnes bemoans that, "All my thoughts are from a foreign host/Now I feel just like a ghost," a sentiment which oddly mirrors what it's like to read Barnes' lyrics: the concurrent onslaught of such unalloyed spite, tenderness, anxiety, fear, and elation results in a certain sense of free-floating alienation and disembodiment.

Nowhere is Barnes more confused that in the sexual arena. Some of the lyrics drip with dirtiness, while others are drenched in romantic love. Barnes recently reunited with his estranged wife, which explains a lyric like "When you're dead, I’ll look for you like Orpheus/I’ll find you some way," from "Plastis Wafers." Yet from the same song is the less romantic declaration, “I want you to be my pleasure puss/I wanna know what it’s like to be inside you.” The juxtaposition of pornographic lust with romantic yearning is prominent in almost every track, and in "An Eluardian Instance," Barnes whines, "This inbreeding of ideas is intolerable."

Baffling incongruities bleed into every facet of the album. Dark and dreary lyrics are paired with flamboyantly upbeat tunes. Illicit lyrics are paired with jazzy, romantic melodies. Kevin Barnes is a befuddled mess, and he takes us along for the ride. Sometimes so many sounds are packed into one song that a jarring discordance results. If you like uncomplicated, easy listening, this is not for you. Other music critics tell me that while Skeletal Lamping is good, the albums Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? and Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse are Of Montreal's true masterworks. Be that as it may, I can tell you with certainly that Skeletal Lamping took me by surprise and served as welcome antidote to the musical mediocrity that I've come to expect.

Written by: Katherine Don, March 1st 2009

Practically Perfect in Every Way: My Adventures through the World of Self-Help—and Back

admin — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 11:44:00 +0000

By Jennifer Niesslein

Putnam

As a person who has always been suspicious of self-help culture in all of its forms—from the traditional I’m Ok, You’re Ok quick-fix-for-life bestsellers, to the recent influx of mega-preachers and spiritually informed The Secret-style fads—I was grateful and delighted to discover Jennifer Niesslein’s debut non-fiction book, Practically Perfect in Every Way: My Misadventures Through the World of Self-Help—and Back. Jennifer tracks her readers through a two year experiment in which she follows, verbatim, the advice of our country’s most popular self-help gurus. The mission, quite simply, is to find out whether these self-help programs will really improve her life.

At the bequest of Suze Orman, personal finance expert extraordinaire, Jennifer writes journals about her “money memories” and dutifully organizes the contents of her wallet. To appease Dr. Laura Schlessinger, Jennifer puts lipstick on every night and French-kisses her husband hello, which allegedly makes a man feel appreciated and is therefore an integral part of a successful marriage. Other hoops the self-helpers make Jennifer jump through include spiritually cleansing her house (yes, this involves incense and holy water), exercising for eight minutes every morning and forcing her husband and child to fill out various questionnaires that are pertinent to Jennifer’s relative success as a wife and mother.

What makes this book so revelatory is Jennifer’s carefully balanced combo of open-mindedness and critical thinking. She approaches each program with the attitude that this one just might work, yet also points out any and all cases of sexism, contradiction and just plain absurdity that she encounters on her journey. No secrets are kept from the reader—we are clued in on the details of Jennifer’s familial and social life so that we know what she is aiming to improve. The result is an entertaining and thought-provoking adventure through what must have been two very strange years in Jennifer’s life.

The best part of all is that you are able to see what happens when a person actually follows these self-help programs—without having to do them yourself. Most people pick and choose which components of a given program they will follow, and this is precisely Jennifer’s point. No one person can purport to know how to help the impossibly specific lives of millions of individuals. Not to mention the time and effort that these programs entail—keeping a clean house, eating healthy foods, exercising daily and managing one’s finances assumes a person with expendable income and a good deal of free time.

The bottom line? There is something to be found on the self-help journey, but be sure to pack in tow a very large grain of salt.

Written by: Katherine Don, June 22nd 2007