THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI (Wiene, 1920)

(rewatched: fri/20220902 via Kino Lorber Blu-ray; directed by Robert Wiene from a screenplay by Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz; starring Werner Krauss, Conrad Veidt, Friedrich Fehér, and Lil Dagover. Released 26 February 1920 )

First time watching CALIGARI in at least 20 years, and it's even better than I remember: madness, manipulation, and murder wrapped in a sublime and unsettling package – save the frame story, see below –, one of the first and finest horror films made even more stunning through Kino's 4K Blu release (now I'm excited to watch the latest Blu versions of NOSFERATU and METROPOLIS), from the intertitles – I don't recall having seen the original German ones in the version I saw years ago – to each brushstroke of the beautifully warped set design to the grit and filth between Caligari's teeth.

While I adore CALIGARI, I agree, fully, with the vituperation of the films' writers over the frame story and twist ending to a twist ending: it does subvert CALIGARI's anti-authoritarian message, a message made even more potent when considering the context and time of the film's making and release in post-WWI Weimar Germany, a message that remains all-too-relevant 102 years after its release, not only across Europe, but on this side of the pond as well: we are nothing if not a land populated by easily-manipulated sleepwalkers at the beck and call of a madman, history's penchant for repeating itself (or rhyming) the great horror of the day.

(Definitely read the whole Wikipedia page: fascinating stuff.)

Random aside: I wonder how much of an influence CALIGARI played on Tim Burton's look for Danny DeVito's Penguin in BATMAN RETURNS: once I saw the similarities, unseeing them was next to impossible – though maybe I'm seeing things. Wouldn't be the first time.

wires wires wires and more wires

68ºF, clouds: if I ever learned that my end was imminent, I might consider adding this as one potential avenue of going out, scrumptiously, on my terms.

A struggle to stay awake and get anything done but here I am. The TD-1K has arrived and I managed to assemble the kit itself (first new kit I've ever assembled of my own; I did assemble a few when I worked in a music shop for two weeks): today's job will be to get all the electric bits hooked up and running – and to get The Sanctum back to a general ordered and comfy cluttering befitting my preference for toiling in an antique mall booth – though I would rather it not feel as though an estate shipment came in. Getting there.

That festival challenge on MAKING THE CUT was bullshit: they didn’t have enough time.

i am/will be drumming again and only for myself (unless EJK asks) for the first time in 20 years and other auditory news

60ºF, sun: yes, Scott, I ordered the electronic kit (Roland TD-1K) and it's due to arrive today. VERY excited: can already tell that my informal workings with a regular practice pad are helping to reduce hand pain and increase wrist strength. Movement, movement, movement: working to get my main problem from previous drumming life – too right-hand dominant (even though I'm left-handed; have a feeling that the drumming past explains my ambidextrous acumen in all things but writing – efforts at writing with my right hand look even worse than with my left) and a blind spot for flams – ameliorated before I let myself move forward: cobweb and rust dust-off/pressure wash via metronomic warm-ups and flam accent (without terrifying the dogchildren) variations for FTW. If nothing else, it helps me think.

In other audio news: Phone-maleXLR cable arrived so I'm ready to continue fiddling with the next part of the Vocaster Two: so far I love the thing. The gain feels right, and the auto-enhance/gain is perfect: while I can do the production side of things, I prefer to focus on the conversation - anything that lets me focus more on the conversation is worth the expenditure. Test run this weekend then first for-real conversational trial on Tuesday evening. Sorry, Maud.

meanwhile, in timespace warping

60ºF, sun: dogchildren are frolicking in the backyard and by frolicking I mean that Kirby is trying to get his sisters to play with him and they're growling and lunging at his face. This is the way.

I've somehow managed to convince myself for the last three weeks that Labor Day weekend was two weeks away; clearly, school starting tends to warp my sense of time, which has a weird habit, here at least, of seeming to stand still and then move ahead in scattershot fashion to the next stalling out – even the local rooster can't get his schedule straight.

I think I'm going to let myself buy an electronic drumset (amazing how small and cheap they’ve gotten since I started playing 30 years ago) to start playing again without terrifying the dogs. Having fun with the warmup exercises and my little practice pad: first time playing not for a grade or as a fuck you or as an occasional job but for fun – with traditional grip, which I was never allowed to do in my more formal training – in longer than I care to remember.