Editor's Notes
written by Ken Carlson
I always get a kick out of the term, “responsible adult.” It’s a catch phrase tossed around as the primary goal in raising a child. You’re supposed to teach a child to become responsible for this, responsible for that, and yet grown-ups spend most of their lives denying responsibility for anything: “I didn’t cause the national debt.” “The Jay Leno show wasn’t my idea.” “Bangor? I don’t even know her!”
Recently the New Haven Register reported a story in nearby Ansonia, CT where some kids who were throwing snowballs and hit a passing car. Not the biggest deal in the world. Sounds like something out of every little scamp’s upbringing, like running with scissors or hacking into national defense systems. Of course this time, a driver of one of those cars stopped, got out, charged at the kids with knife, and grabbed one to teach him a lesson. The police got involved, the kid was fine, and the driver was charged with everything from assault with a deadly weapon to kidnapping to driving in Ansonia without an excuse.
What caught my attention when I read this story online was the Comments Section at the bottom. As a rule, I ignore those remarks because they tend to be typed by frantic, crazy people hellbent on returning this country to the way it used to be, whatever the hell that means.
But on this occasion I looked some of the statements over and was surprised to see the majority of them in favor of the psycho brandishing the machete in his Oldsmobile for just such an occasion. Phrases like: “About time we teach these kids a lesson!” and “Serves them right!” were tossed around and also the ever present, “Where were the parents?” – as if parental supervision is the key to a well-behaved society. How many times do we have to hear about parents getting caught buying crack who brought their kids along for the ride? Well, I guess it could be considered a field trip, just make sure you have buddy and a bag lunch.
I recall an incident several years ago in Boston where some kids shot up a skating rink. At the court date, one of their mothers asked where were the police when this was going on? Why didn’t they take the guns away from her little darlings? Probably because they were too busy diving for cover from her little Mansons to read them Curious George or Madeline.
One of the central tasks for a responsible parent is to get their child to go to bed at night. Sounds simple. Often it is. But some nights, all the cajoling, threatening, ignoring, bargaining, reading, or warm milk doesn’t take.
So that’s when I, as a parent of two little insomniacs, get creative and invite them back to the living room to watch TV.
Now, my kids love to watch TV. One of their favorite movies is The Princess Bride, which interestingly was recently voted the most romantic film by The Boston Globe. My munchkins love to run through the house shouting, ‘Hello! I am Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!’ Makes me proud to think they’ll avenge my death someday, or at least take an interest in the Montoya family. But if you’re going to invite your child to watch TV with you late into the evening you have to present something you want to watch but will bore them to sleep. In The Princess Bride, a young Fred Savage winces at the thought of the story he’s being read as a “kissing book.” My oldest daughter is the same way about “talking shows.” Nothing bores her more than a show with adults just going blah-blah-blah. That’s why she doesn’t like Bill Cosby but finds the physical antics of Emo Philips hilarious. That’s why when my kids can’t sleep, I put on documentaries.
I’ve watched a batch of really great documentaries of late. Sometimes the subject matter is tame enough for children, sometimes you have to lunge for the volume control or think of something fast. “Daddy, if they say this is the Donner Party, why doesn’t it look like anybody’s having fun? Where are the balloons?”
Man On A Wire (2008) is an astounding piece about a man who walked between the Twin Towers in 1974; at roof-level, not the sidewalk. If you care at all about another man’s survival, and even though this guy was a snooty Frenchman - you have to, to see the footage from his escapades is frightening. We get so desensitized by all the special effects from action flicks and video games, to see true quiet action like this is intense.
Who Killed The Electric Car? (2006) made me as angry as any film I’ve seen. If you want to discuss adult responsibility and the arguments for trying to save this lousy planet while battling big business, this flick takes the cake. I knew a kid growing up in the 70’s whose dad had an electric car. It wasn’t fancy but not any more hideous than the Pintos or Gremlins of the time. It couldn’t go very fast, but was perfect for getting around town during an energy crisis. That was thirty years ago! Forget the jet packs! What the fuck are we doing driving these polluting barges? Watch this movie and prepare to feel self righteous.
Anvil! The Story of Anvil (2008) touches on everything it means to be a tragic performer, much like La Vie en Rose (2007). I know that sounds hokey, but in watching Anvil!, with a film crew following a down and out metal band from Canada, you can read so much into what artists go through. Where does aspiring for fame end and delusion begin? When is it time to hang it up? How selfish is it to pursue those goals if they’re all you’ve ever known?
When Stand-Up Stood Out (2003) covers the Boston comedy renaissance of the late 70’s/early 80’s. There are times when it gets a little hung up on itself, much like stand-up or even my fellow Sox fans for that matter, but it plays fairly true to the end. It combines the elements of small town vs big times entertainment, how something that starts out as fun can lose its luster when jealousy and drugs run rampant.
Zach Galifianakis: Live at the Purple Onion (2006) is not a documentary at all, but plays like one. Loved by many and labelled as one of the most influential comedy DVD’s of the last decade, I found it frustrating to endure. It plods along with mock interviews, tedious crowd work, and way too many close-ups of him drinking. I dig the guy’s work, love his Wrightesque non sequiturs, but this piece illustrates why so many straight ahead comics point to the alternative scene as merely having ‘comedians who can’t find a punchline.’ Of course, that’s what someone else said. It’s not my impression so it’s not my responsibility.
Ken Carlson is the editor of The Comedians Magazine.
editor@thecomedians.org