Everybody was doin' the Percy Dance

For a small place, Trinidad & Tobago is never short of wonder. Its amazing that what passes for comedy in this land is nothing more than a pedantic pantomime of bad accents and poor taste, when there is an abundance of material to work with. Case in point, the recent episode involving the honourable (yes, I have used the lower case 'h' on purpose) Prime Minister and a pensioner, cum freedom fighter, by the name of Percy Villafana in San Juan.

As the report goes, the PM was on one of his weekly walkabouts when upon arriving at a house he was greeted by a pensioner whose arms were upraised in an 'X' - a gesture often used by exorcists to ward off evil. The PM, as he is wont to do in all other aspects of his public life, chose to ignore the elderly gentleman and his protests, and brushing him aside entered his property. This video puts the whole scenario to music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bfNyevZKoI&feature=player_embedded

What has transpired since that fateful Monday afternoon is the stuff of legend. The national outcry was only doused by the general 'doh!' when on the following Friday, and in Parliament, the PM decided not to apologize or to justify his obvious trespass, but instead to vilify Mr Villafana by casting him as a foreigner - a mere guest in a nation of fans. And when that side of the illogic took on more water than the Titanic (Foreigner or not Mr PM, the gentleman is a) the owner of the property and b) did not want you there!), the PM decided to train his guns on the media and alleged a link between the fourth estate and drug barons who wanted to get rid of him (or as he elaborated, they want a PNM Government but not with Manning as the PM). Sigh.

In the meantime, Percy Villafana - retired public servant and former PNM supporter - has become a national hero (see here: http://guardian.co.tt/commentary/letters/2010/03/23/villafana-now-national-hero ) and the incident has become a modern day Boston Tea Party. With over three thousand fans on his Fan Page (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Percy-Villafana-Citizen-Supreme/106164356073223?ref=ts) and growing, is this incident to be remembered in the future as the Mother of all Gaffes - the final straw that broke the camel's back?

As for my original assertion - this is the stuff that comedy writers and traditional calypsonians dream about. In my own (amateur) mind, I have an idea that this would make for a great song - possible road march in the next general election - and a dance of its own:

"Raise yuh arms like a X in the Air,

And wine yuh a$$ like yuh just don't care

Every woman and every man

Everybody doin the Percy Dance."

Who calling for an encore?

PS There is an irony between the PM's assertion that Percy V is a Canadian who visits Trinidad regularly and the well known fact that his 'ally' Hart Vader is a Canadian-born resident of this country. Given the tone and temerity of his 'allegation' in parliament is one to assume that as a 'foreigner' Percy had no right to the house that he owns let alone to accost and deny the PM? Or would Percy (as CH has no doubt done time and time again), have to display his undying affection and allegiance to the PM before being conferred the constitutionally enshrined rights of ownership of property and privacy?

What If? Vol 1: What if Vladamir Putin was Prime Minister of Trinidad & Tobago

http://www.smh.com.au/news/world/putins-an-erotic-dream/2008/10/21/1224351199797.html

As far as world leaders go, few are as colourful as Vladamir Putin. I mean how many world leaders can boast of being referred to as the sexiest leader in the world (see link). Vlad likes to practice his judo and shoot his gun, and from all appearances he is one of the poorest members of his party on the political scene with a net worth of less than US$200K.

With a leader like Putin, there would be nary a dull moment on the political front and surely there would be more bare-chested shenanigans to look forward to. At the very least, he would be a vast improvement on the PM that we have now.

So, what would it be like to have Vladamir Putin as Prime Minister? The following is my top ten list of all the ways he would make T&T a more 'interesting' place:

10. He'd build a pipeline to supply gas to the rest of the caribbean and then turn off the supply the minute they failed to pay their bill.
9. Instead of a church in Guanapo we would have Karate Dojo called 'The Lighthouse of the Lord Chuck Norris'.
8. T&T would invade Venezuela - because we can!
7. Putin would start off a President, make himself PM and then morph into the Prime President by the time those pesky term limits come knockin'.
6. We would never have spent $200M on the blimp. Instead two Putinesque gargoyles would patrol the skies 24/7 and would cost us far less than $27M a year in maintenance.
5. Calder Hart would have long been mistaken for an American and summarily shot on sight.
4. The Summit and the CHOGM would have been pre-empted in favour of the International Conference of all things Vlad.
3. New legislation regarding Criminal Penalties would be passed so that the maximum sentence for any crime would now be 'three minutes in the cage with Vladamir Putin'. Crime would be reduced by 95% the next day.
2. The Prime Minister's wife would know her rightful place is in silence and in perpetual adoration of Vlad.

And number 1.........National Elections would be replaced by a Text2Vote Poll searching for the candidate who looks best with his / her shirt off.

....And the winner is......George's Oscar Picks

If you know me at all, you would know that award shows such as the Oscars and the Grammys have left me quite jaded. I am particularly tough on the Oscars in part as a result of the deathly seriousness with which the Academy takes itself. I am also critical of the fact that for the most part, the Oscars has descended into a popularity contest very easily swayed by public sentiment and big marketing campaigns.

To the uninitiated, the Oscars often get things WRONG. How else can one explain the awards doled out to the likes of Mira Sorvino, Cuba Gooding Jr and even Roberto Begnini in the past twenty years alone.

Of course my criticism and cynicism comes with the benefit of hindsight. Would the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences have given an Oscar to Cuba for instance if they could have peered into the future and seen the body (nay, cadaver) of work (Snow Dogs, anyone? Boat Trip? Daddy Day Camp?) to come?

Personally, I cringe every time I watch a trailer that seeks to have the audacity to make mention of the fact that someone associated with the film is a past winner at the Oscars. Worse yet, the even more ridiculous trend, of mentioning mere nominees as the hype and shill crap not even worthy of late night on basic cable.

In spite of the above, I will probably watch the Red Carpet procession of stars, celebrities and show business types this Sunday and then, depending on how good a job Alec Baldwin does, I will watch the actual award show with a view to being vindicated by my choices or by my skepticism. Either way, people will lose. Fewer still will win. And careers will be made or lost based on their reactions.

So, gazing into my crystal ball and with some appreciation for the popularity 'game', here are my predictions for the 82nd Annual Academy Awards:

Best Foreign Film:

For this award, I am going to have to go with my gut and go solely with the benefit of hearsay and yes, hype. Une prophete (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/1213205-prophet/) has reviewed well and performed admirably in a slew of awards shows since it made its debut at Cannes last May. With all the notice that this film has received, one would would think its a 'sure thing' on Sunday. But given the way 'popularity contests' often work, the award could easily go to Ajami (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1077262/) for its latent message of Israeli integration.

Best Animated Film:

I have seen 'Up' and although I liked Coraline for its visual style, and Fantastic Mr Fox for reviving 'stop-motion' animation, I really think that once again the guys at Pixar have produced a winner. Up is touching, well written and fun - and above all else has an ability to connect with audiences of all ages. (See trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkqzFUhGPJg )

Best Original Screenplay:

This category is wide-open this year and will be largely influenced by the way that some of the bigger awards go on Sunday. Should for example 'Hurt Locker' be destined not to win the Best Director award, it would probably have garnered enough love and kudos for it to win this award. Should that not be the case however, my money is on Quentin Tarantino to repeat his 1994 win in this category and for Inglorious Basterds to take the prize. Perhaps its some deep ingrained desire to make the nazi phantoms to continue to pay for their sins against the jewish people. Or just a well played out fantasy of every jewish boy cum Hollywood executive since 1945 - but the world has taken a shine to Inglorious Basterds (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sQhTVz5IjQ&feature=fvst) and have conveniently ignored the fact that this bloody romp conveniently re-writes history and simplifies the whys and wherefores of the Second World War. Still, this was a throughly engaging and enjoyable movie.

Best Adapted Screenplay:

Many would recall that even before the Awards Season had begun, many were predicting that Up in the Air (http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117940965.html?categoryid=3222&cs=1) would be figuring among the awards. It quickly became the darling of the season. Some kind of existential exploration of one's raison d'etre with the economic recession as its backdrop. Its a solid film with good performances all around. But the territory is somewhat familiar in this one and hardly original. Still, Up in the Air has been making much of the pace throughout the season. And as is the case with the previous award, the Academy are a loyal lot, and if they anoint you its darling, you should be good for at least one award when the Oscars come around. So my prediction is that this film will win here provided it is not in line to win any of the other awards its nominated for (Best Actor / Supporting Actress) and in spite of the fact that I still maintain that District Nine (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6PDlMggROA&feature=fvst) was probably the most original and thought provoking movie of 2009.

Best Supporting Actress:

Penelope Cruz has won before. And I fully expect that Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick will cancel each other out leaving Mo'nique and Maggie Gyllenhaal as the likely choices. Mo'nique has traditionally played to the less dramatic in her career and could well suffer as much from her less deserving body of work as from her less recognizable brand. By contrast, Maggie Gyllenhaal not only has recognizability on her side, as well as a solid body of work that includes starmaking turns in Sherrybaby and Secretary (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28W3d3brIf0.) (If you havent seen these please do yourself a favour and pick it up - NOW!) And as a consequence could well find herself taking a certain Mr Oscar to be with her come Sunday night.

Best Supporting Actor:

Woody Harrelson has received many good notices for his work in the Messenger. And Christoph Waltz has so far won twenty six awards for his role in Inglorious Basterds - a fact that on the face of it should shorten his odds. Still, at the end of the day, the Academy are a sentimental bunch as well and given the fact that Christopher Plummer has never won an Oscar in his long illustrious career, Sunday could well be his night.

Best Actor:

Things get sticky when we get to this one. Jeff Bridges has been making much of the pace this season for what can only be described as a reworking of the role that earned Robert Duvall an Oscar for Tender Mercies in 1984. Will the similarities dawn on the Academy this year? Bridges has made a career of playing likeable characters but he has never received any love from the Academy in the past and this is in fact his fourth nomination - his first in twenty six years! Similarly, Morgan Freeman is nominated for playing one of the most beloved figures in the world today, Nelson Mandela, in Invictus. Although this is fifth nomination and in spite of the fact that he has won previously (Best Supporting Actor for Million Dollar Baby) there may be a growing sentiment that could earn him the 'big prize'. Lastly, as deserving as Colin Firth's performance in a Single Man might be, it is unlikely that this first time nominee will walk away with the prize on Sunday night - although bigger surprises have been known to happen on Oscar night.

Best Actress:

Of the acting categories, this one is possibly the most difficult to predict this year. We have heard the chorus of kudos sung for most if not all of the nominees. I'd hate to stick my head out on this one, but it seems likely that Sandra Bullock, America's Sweetheart, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaoJbMOUkcE&feature=related) will win the Oscar this year. But dont be too surprised or disappointed should the veteran (Meryl Streep) or the rookie (Gabourey Sidibe) were to win instead.

Best Director:

Its no secret that I am less than impressed by Avatar and as a result it would never get my vote for any of these non-technical awards. My dislike aside, history has shown us that the movie that wins the DGA wins the Oscar. And in 2010, that movie is the Hurt Locker. No woman has ever won the Oscar for Best Director and it appears more than likely, the 82nd Edition of the Academy Awards will finally put that bogey to rest.

Best Picture:

As unimpressed as I am by Avatar, there is one feat which will probably swing the pendulum (and the award) its way on Sunday: the fact that it singlehandedly saved the movie industry. Will James Cameron's peers gratefully surrender the biggest jewel in the Oscar crown as a result we will find out soon enough. With the new format that includes ten nominees in this category, Avatar is by far the most recognizable 'brand' of the bunch and that as well as the unnecessary guilt that will come as a result of the fact that JC will NOT win the award for Best Director, will ensure that this BEHEMOTH of a movie will go down in history as one of the biggest films and biggest Oscar let downs of all time.

Poetry Break #3 - Pierced

1. Whispers grow to screams

In the busy coffee houses

That I frequent,

The waiters – they don’t know me

But lately, they spill my latte

(Almost) at will.

Grungy gamines

Trip and fall on the lines and verses

That I feed them;

They’re never hungry –

And they only sniff at

The pages of the books that I leaf.

2. Prying eyes make it difficult

For me to ascend the staircase

To the stage where

A podium and the microphone

Long fashioned into a lonely noose

awaits me;

My trousers soaked through

With hot coffee

and cold spite

Cling to me

like the words that I peel off

One by one and discard upstage.

3. I rise and take my place

in the lonely spotlight

nevertheless

To aver the angst

On behalf of my

Shiftless generation;

Scared shitless generation

With too many stories

To tell

And bubbles

like the bile to the back of my throat and spills out of me like so:

4. A goth-ed chick

Stands before me

The Dark around her eyes

Absorbs the light

In a monotone drawl

She says:

‘I am the queen

of mono-syllabic rage’

And bludgeons me

With her soliloquy.

5. ‘Shit!’ She calls me.

‘Bitch!’ I reply

And shift my eyes downstage.

I search the glare

For a love long lost.

And try not to recall

How I was once impaled

On that love

Pierced and tattooed

And Twisted as you.

6. Was I Ever more

Than the object of

Your murderous fixation?

Another one of your

Trampled flowers

Another door

That you preferred to keep closed

And the retreating light

From above the threshold

In the face of your rage

7. Your eyes juxtaposed

Bring me

Sharply into focus

And line me up

With the horns

On your face

Four legs and four feet

Hastily scratch

The dusty ground

Shaking the folds

Of her dark grey

Skin

8. And shakes

the empty branches

of a tree long silent

And a heart that

still trembles

And pines,

For the shadows

That haunt its every corner,

And the yearning

Each time

the rhinoceros climbs down

And peers in.

Calypso # 1: Blame it on de Gardener

As per the post immediately preceding this one, I'm as serious as a heart attack when I say that I have written a Calypso this year. Initially, I had intended to write one about the introduction of the Breathalyser and the lengths people were prepared to go to avoid it (including in one case a lady who offers to blow something else). But that just hasn't gotten off the ground as yet due to an apparent lack of either a) confidence or b) inspiration.

Enter the very latest in the series of gaffes perpetrated on this nation by the current band of Government officials: Water-Lawn-Gate!

The background:

The country is in the midst of a severe drought and as result the authorities have taken to extreme measures to ensure that water is being conserved.

The sin:

It would appear that the Prime Minister (or someone on his household staff) takes a serious issue with the idea of dry, brown grass adorning the front lawn of his palatial $180M palace and decided that it was best to run the sprinklers until the heavens open up. The authorities intervened (after the press highlighted the oversight) and ordered them to stop.

The outcry:

This happened less than 24 hours after the PM called on his constituents to do all they can to conserve water - so you can well imagine the hue and cry.

The aftermath:

The Landscaping Contractor whose apparent duty it was to keep the grass green was fired forthwith (mercifully without the benefit of Commission of Enquiry or the appointment of a Special Investigator). Forget the Butler, the Gardener did it!

Post-script:

So touched were the Jamaican people by the plight of the Prime Minister's lawn that several forward-thinking citizens decided to ship $8M worth of the finest Jamaican 'grass' to Trinidad to make up for any deficit caused by the drought. (See story here: http://www.newsday.co.tt/crime_and_court/0,115717.html ).

Inspired by the above, I was able to write a calypso in all of four minutes as the lyrics literally flowed out of me faster than the water out of a Hotel standpipe. I've called my masterpiece 'Blame it on de Gardener' and I have every intention of recording it - so doh pirate meh. Yuh hear?!

Blame it on de Gardener

Verse One

It would take a degree

in Patopsychology

To understand truly –

what happenin to we

Wid all kind ting taking place

And all kinda people runnin de place

It is plain to see

It is plain to see

Bridge

Before you bawl and you complain

And point a finger at Minister ‘Wha he name’

Blame it on de man

Wid a big hose in his hand

Chorus:

No water in yuh pipe – Blame it on de Gardener

No police in sight – Blame it on de Gardener

No judge to protect yuh rights – Blame it on de Garnener

How we goh sleep tonight? – Blame it on de Gardener

Verse Two

I doh mean to strain yuh brain

Or cause you undue pain

I cyar plant at all

I only wettin lawn

All kinda big men cryin here

And big, big money spendin – where?

It is plain to see

It is plain to see

Bridge

Next time you bawl and you complain

And point yuh finger at Minister Wha’ she name

Blame it on de one

De one wid de green thumb

Chorus :

Panday lose he stand – Blame it on de Gardener

Kamla break she hand – Blame it on de Gardener

Hazel have a plan – Blame it on de Gardener

Sleep alone in St Ann’s – Blame it on de Gardener

Instrumental / Percussion break:

(Now wet meh…….)

Chorus:

Million dollar flag – Blame it on de Gardener

Summits full of swag – blame it on de Gardener

New Taxes – cat in bag – Blame it on de Gardener

Calder start to brag! – Blame it on de Gardener

Verse Three:

Wid de IQ of a flea

Dat Sando duncee

Have all of T&T

Like a set a damn bobolee

De kinda tiefin going on

Not a soul see nuttin wrong

But it is plain to see

It so plain to see

Bridge:

Next time instead of bawl and complain

Pelt a stone at Minister Wha he name

Blame it on de man

Who yuh tell to wet de land

Chorus:

Swine flu come and gone – Blame it on de Gardener

Students watchin porn – Blame it on de Gardener

Comission takin long (Right Max!) – Blame it on de Gardener

Whatever going wrong – Blame it on de Gardener

Wid all kind ting taking place

And all kinda people runnin de place

It is plain to see

It is plain to see

De Mighty Sobriquet is born!

This week I gave birth to my latest alter-ego: De Mighty Sobriquet. I have written poetry since I was ten. And admittedly I tried (and failed) at being a calypsonian before in High School although in one particularly memorable year I sang (attempted to sing, whatever!) my own tune, sang back-up on two more AND made an important appearance as 'Soca Smurf' during yet another performance. Its not that calypso has ever been my first choice for artistic expression - but in this island you sometimes need to give something a try before you decry it.

So its been two decades since I was pelted with wet toilet paper and booed off the stage (by my own classmates mind you!) and since that time I have not put pen to paper once (out of jest) but I cultivated a serious appreciation for Calypso as an artform.

Now, I love Machel as much as the next guy but please be mindful that Soca and Calypso (as characterized by calypsoes in its heyday) are at best third cousins, twice removed with suspicious grandparents all round. What passes as music nowadays is utterly disposable and largely forgettable. Even now as Carnival fast approaches I am still experiencing a great deal of difficulty in discerning between this year's crop of 'jump / wine / jam' songs and those of prior years. It says alot that the favorite for this year's Road March competition (for the uninitiated, the Road March is simply that one song played the most times during the Parade of the Bands on Carnival Monday and Tuesday) is the first attempt by two renowned radio DJs with no past pedigree or linkage to the industry. As infectious as Palance is this year, will people still be palancing down de road two, five or even twenty five years from now?

Even the main competition among more traditional calypsonians appears to be suffering the effects of a combination of the creative drought and the shortened collective attention spans. Not only are the songs largely unoriginal and oftimes fall far short of the double entendre brilliance and rebellious protest of past masters such as Sparrow, Kitchener, Cypher and Spoiler, but the format of the competition has now adapted so that modern day calypsonians need only expend the energy of producing just one worthy calypso to be judged upon. Needless to say - this has not helped at all.

I am certain that I am not alone when I say that I miss calypsoes of yesteryear and their ability to make one laugh, to titillate, to tell a story, to reflect the ills of society, to build up heroes, and to tear down would be kings. Calypsoes are the original rebel songs born from the ribald tradition of the European minstrels crossed with the rhythms of Africa and India. They were a means of expression for the generations before now. And a way to make the world around us seem so much closer.

Certainly the world started to take notice and for a while came to us. The Andrews Sisters hit 'Rum and Coca-Cola' is originally a calypso written and sung by Lord Invader. And calypso was popular enough for actor Robert Mitchum to record an LP of them in 1957. I have long held that Calypso was on the crest of becoming a very relevant, popular and international artform in the 1940's and 50's and were it not for Bill Haley and the Comets it could have well been. In reality, Rock 'n' Roll became the choice of the mainstream and Calypso was duly consigned to being an exotic and niche delicacy known and appreciated by a dwindling number of admirers.

Even here locally, and in spite of this being its birthplace, Calypso is underappreciated and overlooked routinely and like the traditional mas that I wrote of in my previous post, appears to be facing a certain death. But as with my other ambition (playing Bookman) perhaps there is still time (and place) for De Mighty Sobriquet to bring aid to Calypso and ultimately play a part in its revival.

Viey la Cou

I have long harboured a burning desire to portray the 'Bookman' in our local Carnival celebrations. Bookman is in short a caricature of Lucifer who spends the two days of our national festival making annotations into his 'book' as to which souls are his to claim come Judgement Day.


I have always approached the character with a great sense of levity and irreverence, and have tended to ask half jokingly: Are the masqueraders the dammed? Or is Bookman in fact jotting down the names of those who fail to take full advantage of two of the greatest days of revelrie and abandon known to modern man?


Traditional 'mas' is rich in its history and its portrayals. From Bookman to the Pierrot Grenade to the Burokeets - each comes with own sense of origin, history and significance. Sadly, traditional mas is dying and could soon be extinct.


The last bastion of this form of carnival, an event known as Viey La Cou is aso apparently making way for the death knell of bikinis and mind-numbing music and has been moved out of Port of Spain altogether this season, suffering the ignominy of a mundane name change as well. (Its now to be known by its less impressive Creole to English translation: 'The Old Yard'.)


I have not yet read any of the reviews of this year's Old Yard event but I can surmise from the level of local support and patronage in previous years as well as the fact that Viey La Cou had become a true tourist event, that it was probably a poorly attended affair.


Isnt it ironic that it is always the foreigner who seems to fully appreciate Carnival when it tends towards its most interesting and creative?


I hope that for its own sake that in the same way that so many other aspects of our Carnival has been exported to cities around the world, that perhaps traditional mas could be granted one last reprieve, and perhaps in the years to come we will all be poring over photos of Pierrot Grenades in Boston. Minstrels in Toronto. Firemen in Miami. Burokeets in London. Dame Lorraines and Baby Dolls in Tokyo.


And of course, among them all, the solitary figure of Bookman, (pronounced nose, horns, goatee and all) taking careful note in his oversized ledger, of those who have deigned to preserve the artform and the names of those who have chosen to forget it.