The Tandem

I’ve learned much from old appliances. On many occasions, a fuzzy television awoke my innate gift for engineering. Foil, paper clips, safety pins or the classic bent hanger, were my tools. I’ve even opened a T.V—I truly the believe manufactures, placing all those screws in the back, are a preventive measure. Maybe they expect you’ll give up, maybe that long process was a warning, giving time for the conscience to kick in. Whatever the intention, it couldn’t over shadow a trait, which either made me special or a glutton for punishment. Those green panels, with harden droppings of silver were calling, Fortunately (or unfortunately) for me. I’ve always been persistent.

Inside a metallic mesh, inanimate objects vibrated, releasing a burst of air. I clung to it. Like a venerated wise man, I sought a wooden console—really a flimsy wood coated with in adhesive paper. The speakers opened like barn doors, revealing shelves. It wasn’t always mine. The console was once off limits. Around 1995, my mothers friend, sold her Sony five compact disc changer, retiring the console, with the old tape deck stereo, to my room. It stood about three feet, making the final resting place for my thirteen-inch television and VCR—the tandem united.

I loved that stereo. It was perfect. It had two tape decks. The two speakers would open, like a hustler opening the flaps of his coat, and my index finger would scroll the sides of plastic boxes. I loved the tandem, not for what they were but for what they could provide. The needle, reading the metallic strip, produced my escape. No exaggeration. As the machines would break, I would operate: a hanger to fish out small pieces, a pair of pliers to turn up the sound, a pair of scissors to cut wire, a butter knife to pull out a stubborn VHS. I went through one obstacle, the machine, to find another. Ironically, the wires sending electrical signals, for me, became a conduit.

The art form is pleasing; yet the eyes distort. The ears can take in sounds, creating the most vivid images. When the eyes are closed, listening, one is internalizing, and the effects are life altering. The white or black suburban boy is now gangster or more street—something I can identity with. I would speak of music, film, television, and its effect on the actual street dweller, but I don’t know personally. However, I believe a person is more likely to internalize fantasy or a distorted reality before items closely related to the world they see.

As for my beloved appliances, which link me to my beloved content, they’ve taught me the strongest lesson. Though these inanimate objects never reproached my gluttony for their individual genius, I can’t blame them for their effect. The film KIDS and my present day Freudian slips about, about Latin women talking widely about sex, all point to my young mind, insisting that my thumb was justified in its repeated use of the rewind button.

Dodesukaden: By by Akira Kurosawa (1970)

Dodes-ka-den was Arika kurosawa’s film to revive his career. Prior to Dodes-ka-den, Kurosawa, was slated to direct an Epic film, Runaway Train, with American producers; do to complication with him and the production company, the project was scraped. He was slated to direct the Japanese actors in the film TORA TORA TORA, but do to differences; he was removed from the project. Five years had passed. Kurosawa hadn’t made a film. To prove his worth as a filmmaker, Kurosawa formed a band called the white knights to make Dodes-ka-den. The film had to be successful, win over critics, and grab international acclaim. To add more pressure, Dodes-ka-den was Kurosawa’s inaugural effort in color filmmaking. According to film “historians,” after the Dodes-ka-den was released in 1970 it was not well received. However, the film was nominated for an academy award.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

With the intro out the way, I like to say forget critics. My favorite comedian Richard Pryor said, “No one ever grows up wanting to be a critic.” I’m no cheerleader, but I have respect for man’s passion, for a person who performs with his or her heart and soul . Dodes-ka-den had themes centering on the human heart: delving into the quality of a person, the experiences that govern our choices, and ones philosophy or outlook on life.

In man or woman’s lifetime, they give others hell, and receive it just as equally. But the amazing quality about humans, we endure. All these elements are wrapped around a brilliant use of color. Vivid, striking and at times exaggerated, the colors in the film make Dodes-ka-den a joy to watch. But use of color does not overshadow the story. Dodes-ka-den opens with a young boy who is mentally ill, a boy who’s called the Train freak; he drives an imaginary trolly car through out a slum outside Tokyo. With his foot and his imaginary pedal, he takes us into the slum, chanting Dodes-ka-den, Dodes-ka-den, which seems to be the Japanese equivalent to Chug-a-Chug-a-Chug-a.

We encounter stories, told in episodic fashion, or like a cluster of vignettes. There is no identifiable plot. However, I feel Dodes-ka-den naturally is an entertaining film. The only thing that bothered me was the ending. I wanted to know the fate of the films most despicable character. However, the strongest parts are the scenes that contain real emotion. Overall, I enjoyed this film.
Lately, I've been going on a Kurosawa binge. I have a few more of his films on deck. Next up, KAN and Yojimbo.