A new Frolic Afield, back on Alcohol Professor and back in the state of my birth. This time around, we’re visiting Jim Beam’s American Stillhouse. The Jim Beam distillery used to be a waste of time, little more than a trip to the gift shop and nary a glance at the actual business of making the world’s most popular bourbon. In 2012, Beam substantially revamped the experience, and the result is now one of the must-see stops on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail.
I have a new Frolic Afield up on The Cultural Gutter: The Gentleman Adventurer takes a look at the BBC series Adam Adamant Lives! A swashbuckling Edwardian gentleman, quick with his cane-sword or a witty retort, is frozen in time and revived in swingin’ sixties London, where accompanied by his go-go girl sidekick, he immediately resumes his life of adventure and crime-fighting. Yes, they truly did pull an entire plot right out of my mental wish list.
There is little in the short story “The Magic Sword,” part of the compiled writing of Chinese author Pu Songling known as Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, that sets it apart from any other story in the collection. Written over the course of many years in the latter portion of the 1600s, Pu’s stories explore the world of ghosts, demons, monsters, spirits, and otherworldly folklore, usually with an eye toward tsk-tsking its audience over immoral, non-Confucian indiscretions. “The Magic Sword” takes up just a few pages and relays the tale of a young scholar named Ning who, upon finding himself unable to obtain lodging for the night, takes up residence in an abandoned temple. In the temple, he encounters another traveler, a man named Yin, and later that night witnesses a meeting between a couple mysterious people before being visited by a beautiful young woman named Hsiao-ch’ien who attempts to seduce him. Because Ning is righteous and has a sick wife at home, he banishes her from his makeshift chamber. He learns during a subsequent visit that she is a ghost cursed to prey upon men for her boss demon, and that Yen is a magical swordsman who fights devils. Impressed by the purity of his heart, the ghost implores Ning to help free her from her ghoulish master. From this rather humble story has grown practically an entire film genre, the leading light of which is Ching Siu-tung’s 1987 masterpiece of the Hong Kong New Wave, Chinese Ghost Story.
The small town of Wasseypur is located in northeastern India, absorbed in many ways by the larger city of Dhanbad. Wasseypur is sort of the Newburgh, New York or Camden, New Jersey to Dhanbad’s New York City or Philadelphia — a small, incredibly dangerous, largely lawless enclave attached to the outskirts of a much larger town. Or maybe like one of the many towns controlled by narco-syndicates south of the border. It was a coal company town. In the case of Wasseypur, it’s lawlessness was derived from when the British packed up and called it a day, and India was once again a sovereign nation. The coal mines, which had been entirely British-owned, were turned over to India, but they were basically dumped into the laps of a lot of people who may have been skilled laborers and assistant managers but had no experience whatsoever with how to run a single mine, let alone an entire network and industry. Sort of like the United States freeing its slaves with no real interest in actually equipping them for life, Great Britain folded its flag and wished the Indians good luck.
It’s been said that in an effort to appeal to as massive a population as possible, the average Hindi film tries to cram every film genre into a single movie. Asambhav is the rare entry that maintains a relatively narrow thematic focus — this is an action film, stripped of the romantic comedy and estranged mother that appear in almost every other film, be they action or horror or whatever — but it makes up for its lack of schizophrenic genre-hopping by trying to cram every single editing and camera trick from the last fifteen years into one film, and often into one scene, and occasionally into a single shot. The result is a dizzying nightmare of over-direction that turns an otherwise average action film into a complete wreck that could almost amuse you if it wasn’t so busy inducing seizures.
My time has come. Another Frolic Afield over at the Cultural Gutter. A Halting Fire takes a look at the first season of Halt and Catch Fire, a show with subject matter — the micro-computing revolution of the early 1980s — near and dear to my heart. It’s also about the unwillingness of so many modern television shows to commit to an emotion other than a sort of listless misery.
The shift of the whisky market toward whisky with no age statement on the label is causing all sorts of controversy. In my latest Frolic Afield at Alcohol Professor, I throw myself into the debate. Blinded By the Truth is an account of Diageo’s “Blind Truth About Aging Whisky” seminar at Tales of the Cocktail, a tasting meant to illustrate that a whisky’s age and its quality are not dependent upon one another. However, partway through, it became pretty obvious that the tasting was designed to stack the deck in favor of the point the presenters were asserting.
On August 4, 1914, Germany declared war on and subsequently invaded Belgium, a declared neutral in the escalating conflict between France, Russia, and the allied countries of German and Austria-Hungary. Europe at the time had been spoiling for a war, and the Byzantine tangle of pacts, treaties, and agreements ensured that it was only a question of when, not if, the entire continent would find an excuse to kit up and march off to battle. That excuse came in June of 1914, when Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated by Serbian radicals. And so the dominoes fell. Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia. Serbia was allied with Russia, who had no choice but to declare war on Austria-Hungary. Germany was allied with the Austro-Hungarian Empire and so declared war on Russia. France, which had treaties with Russia, thought about staying neutral in the matter, but that became a moot point when Germany declared war on them, launching an offensive that bulldozed its way through Belgium en route to France and brought the United Kingdom into the war as a result of a pact Britain had with Belgium.
I spent the better part of a week in New Orleans, seeking out voodoo hotspots and attending Tales of the Cocktail. My latest Frolic Afield for Alcohol Professor is about one of the many (very good) seminars I attended during that week. Bartender, There’s an Anchovy In My Drink is a look at the Italian Futurist movement and the futurist opinion on cocktails. And yes, one of the cocktails — or polibibita — had an anchovy chunk floating in it.
Time for another Frolic Afield over at The Cultural Gutter, where I am writing Einstein and the Bearded Lady, about the Czech science fiction comedy I Killed Einstein, Gentlemen (Zabil jsem Einsteina, panove) from 1970. The film asks the question, “What would men of the future be willing to risk to make sure women don’t have too much body hair?” Silliness ensues.
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