OVER THE EDGE

October 24 - November 7, 2007

Arts 2 Culture 15

‘Shortbus’
Pushes and
Shocks Movie-
Goers

By Danie. Kaszor

THe Gareway (UNIVERSITY OF
ALBERTA)

EDMONTON (CUP) -- Does the idea
of one man singing the American nation-
al anthem into another man’s erect penis
make you uncomfortable? Would seeing
Sook-Yin Lee have hardcore sex make
you ill at ease? Could the sight of a man
masturbating to conclusion onto his own
face make you squeamish? If you an-
swered “yes” to any of those questions,
then you might be a bit wigged out by
“Shortbus”.

Of course, that’s sort of the point.
“Shortbus” is all. about people push-
ing their boundaries, both sexual and
emotional, and it definitely plays out as
the film pushes what’s acceptable to be
shown in a film, as well as the boundaries
of what an audience is comfortable with.

And in that respect, it succeeds. Even
in a popular culture saturated with por-
nography, “Shortbus” probably pushes at
least a few things that a mainstream audi-
ence hasn’t seen before. Unfortunately,
though, once you get past the sex, the rest
of the movie feels somewhat scattershot.

The movie centres on a group of hip-
ster/yuppies in post-terrorist New York.
Primarily, the film follows the story of
Sofia (Sook-Yin Lee) as a marriage coun-
sellor who has never had an orgasm, and
then relates her story to several others,
including that of Severin, a dominatrix
who takes pictures of Ground Zero be-
fore having sex, and Jamie and James, a
gay couple dealing with James’s depres-
sion.

When separated from the relatively
shocking depictions of sex in the movie,
everything hinges on the audience’s abil-
ity to relate to the characters on a basic
level. And at that level, the film is incon-
sistent.

At some points, such as when James
is talking about how he used the amount
that his johns would pay him as a way
of validating his existence, are poign-
ant. Other moments, such as how James
finally gets past his depression, are much
less effective.

And that’s the crux of the film’s prob-
lem. I was often wrapped up in the prob-
lems and emotional lives of the char-
acters, but just as often I wanted to tell
them to get over themselves.

So, if the emotional lives of the char-
acters aren’t worth going to the film, is
it worth it for the titillation? The simple
answer is no, as the sex isn’t especially
appealing, but the question is deeper than
that: Does the sex enhance the rest of the
film? That depends.

If you’re going to see the film because
it has a lot of sex in it, you’ll probably be
disappointed. If the idea of the kind of
sex described in the first paragraph of this
review is unsettling to you, then it will
probably help you get alongside what’s
going on in the heads of the characters
in the film, all of whom have to confront
something that makes them uncomfort-

-able on a fundamental level.

For a piece of rebellious art, check out
“Shortbus”. But if you want to see some-
thing that has consistent emotional depth
to it, you should probably keep on look-
ing.

| The blurry line between

noise and music

By Travis BolsvENvE

THe Futcrum (University or Orrawa)

OTTAWA (CUP) -- The best cover songs are the ones that are completely unlike the original.
A great cover song uses the original as a springing board to launch their own ideas of what the
song is about. 3

In 2000, a group of musicians and philosophers gathered to discuss and prepare one of the most
ambitious cover songs ever -- a 639-year-long performance of John Cage’s “ASLSP” compos-

* ition for the organ.

A weighted church organ in a German town called Halberstadt is currently performing the
song. It has been playing it since Sept. 5, 2001. The first year and a half of the piece was complete
silence, and there have only been four chord changes since it began making sound.

When Cage composed the piece before his death, it was 20 minutes long; but the name of the
composition is a reference to his request to have it played “as slow as possible.”

John Cage certainly wasn’t a stranger to controversy when he was alive. He became notori-
ous for composing “4’33”” in the 1950s. The song consisted of four minutes and 33 seconds of
silence, and was first played to a packed auditorium by a classically trained pianist (and in the
spirit of absurd covers, the song was later re-recorded by noise-pioneers Sonic Youth).

During the performance, the time was filled by the ruffling of programs, the chatting of the
audience, and the pianist flipping the pages of his sheet music.

The story goes that Cage had discovered a disturbing fact the first time he had walked into an
anechoic room: even when in complete silence, he could still héar the high-pitch whining of his
nervous system, and the low rumbling of his blood.

No matter how hard you try, you will never be in complete silence. “4’33”” was the theory that
music was noise, and if you can never escape noise, you can never escape music.

The problem with Noise (capital “N” noise, the kind that’s recorded and listened to) is the line
between noise and music. What separates a Merzbow composition from a Beatles hit? At what
point does a band like My Bloody Valentine stop making pop music and start making melody-
less noise?

It’s always been a struggle for Noise musicians to make noise and still keep it exciting. It al-
ways ends in pesky songs, or dreamy ambience.

“ASLSP” has finally found the perfect example of noise. In someone’s lifetime, they will never
hear enough of the song to get a feel for what it sounds like. If they are lucky, they will get to
experience a chord change, otherwise it’s simply a massive unwavering tone -- noise in its pur-
est, most grating, and unmusical sense.

When I finally got around to listening to a section of “ASLSP”, I realized the other half of
equation. In the 10-minute sample I heard, the noise became overwhelming and unbearable.

In true Cage fashion, however, a German tour guide, or maybe a priest, can be heard filling
in the song by speaking loudly to a group of people in the echoey church. At the 8:36 point, the
organ finally switches to a three-note chord, creating a disturbing, but beautiful effect.

Cage and his followers have discovered the relation between noise and music: There isn’t any
division, they are one and the same at all times. To make noise, sometimes you have to let a bit
of music get in the way. .

THIS IS THE FOURTH IN A SERIES OF INSTALLMENTS OF ALAZAR SHAAM SEMERE’S NOVEL Sones AnD Souitupe. See NEXT ISSUE OF OvER THE EDGE FOR MORE.

2:30am: Predawn

It’s Friday, has been for awhile. That means yesterday was
Thursday. I fucking hate Thursdays. If anything shitty is going
to happen, it'll happen on a Thursday, I promise. Either that or
itll be so late on Wednesday night or so early Friday morning
that nobody could tell the difference. It’s starting to get light
outside. The sun isn’t coming up yet, but it is definitely think-
ing about it.

One more shot for the iPod. But one more slip up like before
and the mp3 player gets it.

3:15am: Beautiful Music and Being Facetious

Alexi Murdoch, Jimi Hendrix, The Postal Service, Pink
Floyd, R.E.M., Sia, The Tragically Hip, Tricky, and Zero 7.
A divine collection of music if there ever was one. A holy
musical trinity of sorts, a trinity of triplets, a trinity of tribu-
nals, there we go. Them and a few others, of course. It doesn’t
really matter if it’s the “End of the World”. You could waste all
your “Courage” by spending a “Long Time Running” or you
could have us all figured out and be “Ahead By A Century” or
be so far behind on everything, so alone that you can’t help but
be “Scared”. The days may leave you feeling so “Overcome”
with emotion, or worse yet, leave you so “Hollow” or “Numb”
that you just want to “Rewrite” everything from the very be-

ginning. Maybe you’ll end up making a decision that takes

you right instead of left and far from wherever you are, but
that’s just wishful thinking. Still, have no fear! There is a song
for you! At least one tune somewhere by someone is guaran-
teed to take the edge off. If you just close your eyes, you’ ll
find yourself far from the place you are. You’ll be enjoying the
“Simple Things” and you’ll “Breathe” easy, or easier, at least.
And if you stand up (in your imagination, of course) you'll
see that you’re towering at “Such Great Heights” and you’ll
be embraced by the “Salt Water Sound”. Just “Look Up” and
you’ ll see the “Castles Made of Sand” stretching up to an “Or-
ange Sky”. Then a gentle breeze will pick you up and carry
you past the “Eclipse” and off to “The Great Gig In The Sky”.

And if, by then, you aren’t totally Zen...well, you were prob-.

ably well and truly fucked from the outset. Nothing personal,
but these songs are really good.

5:00 am: Recalling the Bombers

Sun is up now, peeking through my window from overtop
the Psych Ward. Shafts of light have been scaling the walls for
about an hour now, drying the streaks of rain and the puddles
of water, rousing a band of crows that seem to have been wait-
ing outside their window, quenching there thirst and looking
for breakfast. The sun startles them, though, and they take
flight together, a black cloud blowing up towards an orange
and blue backdrop and baking behind the helipad and a flag

that flapping with a gusto before they disappear from view.

The last song I heard last night was by this Icelandic band
named Sigur Ros. The song was called “Vidrar Vel Til Loftar-
asa” and in English it translates to, “Today, the weather is good
for air strikes.” And it is a good day for them, come to think
of it. Clear skies, no clouds or fog. Probably warm enough to
fly with the windows down. If someone wanted to bomb the
hospital, today would be perfect. Well, it is kind of windy, but
the pilots can compensate for that. But the song isn’t proud or
boastful or even happy. It is probably one of the most melan-
choly songs I’ve ever heard, almost depressing. I can imagine
a pilot in his cockpit, flying over the same smoking ruins day
after day, looking for his next target with detachment. Like
he’s tired of fighting or tired of caring. And then I imagined
him just dropping the bomb on his target on a beautiful day
like this, resigned to his fate, resigned to fighting again and
again. And I imagined him flying over his target, leaving it be
and veering off into the sky, taking respite next to the sun. To
fight or not to fight, when you know that nothing will change
as a result of your actions or inactions and the consequences,
that is the question. Heavy thoughts, but it calmed me down a
bit. I may have even slept for awhile, but I’m not entirely sure.
I can’t remember.