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In 1968, brilliant artist/pretentious weirdo Andy Warhol made a very strange, now famous prediction. "In the future," he said, "everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes." Though he had no way of knowing it, that prediction has proven incredibly true. Today, thanks to the wonders of Web 2.0, all it takes for someone to nab their 15 minutes (or more realistically, their couple of weeks) is a webcam and an imagination. And nab them, they do. Sites like YouTube, Myspace, and hell, even niche corners of the Interwebs like Newgrounds and 4chan are filled with cultural phenomena and "celebrities" that appear quickly and disappear even quicker. Will this always be the case? Can the entertainers of the Internet aspire to more than just heavy YouTube traffic for a week or a couple chuckles at a funny picture of a cat? I certainly think so, and the evidence is everywhere. It's an exciting time to be a consumer of entertainment, and it's an even more exciting time to be us Fourth Perspectivites, the creators of entertainment.

Allow me to make a prediction of my own. In the future, anyone can be world-famous forever. With the advent of the Internet and the decreasing cost of complex equipment, the line between amateur and professional is becoming more and more blurred each day. Modern technology, especially the Internet, provides virtually anyone with the tools to create and distribute art to an audience of millions, potentially billions. The only thing that separates us from them is money, and on the Internet, the final frontier of entertainment, money is irrelevant. Our chances of success aren't that far off from those of the big studios, and as technology continues to become more affordable to the masses, the playing field will continue to even out. Just look at all of the Internet sensations of the past and present. We're succeeding where the big companies are failing. And while one person will probably never be able to make a $200 million Hollywood blockbuster in their garage, the Internet also makes it so that even us amateurs don't have to go it alone. People on opposite sides of the globe can connect with each other and collaborate on projects. It's happening all over the place, from the innumerable Newgrounds collabs to a musical being written right here on Fourth Perspective.

The future is bright. I can envision a day not too far from now when all people, fed up with the crap churned out daily onto their television screens, will turn to the Internet not just for a couple of quick punchlines, but for more genuine, sincere, passionate, funny, serious, brilliant art than the studio system could ever give them. Or even better, they'll create it themselves. But until then...



P.S.
Yeah, I write for the front page now. Dream big, kids.

Yes folks, I'm talking about Fraggle Rock. Created by Jim Henson on January 10 1983, and written by a host of writers, most notably Jerry Juhl and famed poet bpNichol. Similarly choreographed by a dozen directors including Jim Henson who at that time was experimenting with the more realistic styles found in the appropriately named "Dark Crystal".
Despite the amount of creative influences this series has received, it has always in my mind stayed homogeneously brilliant and true to the style and character unique to the Fraggles themselves.

On face value this series is full of brightly coloured characters that spend their days singing, dancing and having fun; but underneath all that lies an underlying core of dire seriousness that would make the most hardened survivalist cringe. The Fraggles themselves are constantly under siege by bizarre creatures, plants and even the things that are normally taken for granted in children's stories such as the very light itself, without which the Fraggles soon enter a deep sleep and never wake up. Their only food source comes from a garden seemingly in a parallel dimension as it occurs in the same space as the real world except this one is occupied by a single family of giants (Gorgs) who grow the Fraggle's staple food of radishes in order to make potions to prevent themselves from... Non-existence!

Of course they hate the Fraggles for this reason, but they seem too large to perceive the tiny "Doozers" that share Fraggle rock with the Fraggles, endlessly creating crystaline structures that the Fraggles eat on occasion and don't seem to serve any other purpose than to keep the Doozers busy. Although Fraggles can talk with Doozers, they're not considered worthy of talking to. In this fantastic world Jim Henson has created, there is a muted but definitive howl of hostility that the fraggles are oblivious to, but always have a method of handling through common lore... The last episode I saw had members of a Creeper Control Force deploy against a mat of choking vines that would crush a Fraggle to death and drink it's blood, a similar sentiment met with a laugh and a little dance.

These are some of the most psychologically 'weighted' stories I've encountered and they're not a Hitchcock thriller or Shyamalan twister. This is a children's musical show taken entirely to the next level and will always remain a true classic that cannot be immitated or repeated.

Keep on singing and dancing Fraggles! Because if you don't, you'll die.
(I'm not kidding)
M.


P.S.
Will the horror ever end?

Syntacticians, grammarians and linguists attempt to quantify a language into certain terms to the point that it breeds uncertainty amongst their peers who have equally obscure and convoluted theorems, applying logical programs to a prosaic means of communication that can’t be broken down into ones and zeroes. The flaw in applying absolute terms stems from the incontrovertible fact that speech has derived from necessity and is the prodigy of primal posturing and emotional desire.

We describe an idiom as an ostensible meaning, understood within the bounds of common colloquy. Any statement, question or utterance can have an ulterior meaning and we never actually say exactly what we mean, coupled with audible, physical, emotional and contextual clues that say nothing on their own, but combined, speak volumes; none of which can be entered into an equation or provide a product of absolute numerical truth which seems to be the object of the specialist’s obsession.

If language could be quantified in this way, lawyers, politicians and diplomats would become irrelevant. How we say a thing is just as important as what we say, sometimes it appears language and logic completely fall prey to delivery. Case in point, consider the illusionist and master of psychological conditioning Derren Brown, who can approach a stranger on the street and ask them for their wallet, mobile phone, house keys and anything else simply for the asking. Can the request for ones personal belongings by a stranger be interpreted in any other way? Or is this a demonstration that the unspoken aspects of language are not only important, but can completely dominate and thoroughly override not only the face value of a logical (and peculiarly unreasonable) request but also the understood conventions of communication and propriety.



Nuff said.
M.

Just the other night I was giving careful consideration to going to bed when I just happened to see that "Feast" would be coming on next. My ears immediately pricked at the name and memories came flooding back from the "Project Greenlight" competition that spawned it. A competition that I busted a gut to enter, hoping I'd get a placing or at least some useful feedback. As It would happen, I didn't get either.

Now, I was quite tired at the time but I considered it my duty- nay, my calling in life! -to stay up and watch the film that emerged head and shoulders above all else, the film that beat the best of many and deserved it's place as king of the mountain. The very pinnacle, zenith, acme, the magnanimous climax of the magnificent meridian that was the essence of what Project Greenlight set out to acheive! With all notion of sleep knocked from my head I sat anxiously waiting for it to start. Remote in one hand and notepad in the other I set out to capture the glory of first impressions, inspired plot and characters so real they can reach out and grab you!





I expected a feast, but I got a turd sandwich with a nutty aftertaste.




Normally I watch really bad films and I'm puzzled by the question, "Who would set out to make a really bad film?" Even if you're committed to it, you can see the results of the day and realize things are going terribly wrong. If you have faith in the project, you have to scrap the first day and try again, failing that, drop it completely and rethink things. What you don't do is keep on making one horrible scene after another, hoping the gods of bad taste will take pity on you.... And that's just the loathsome direction!

What upset me the most was the fact that it's probably the worst script I've ever seen. It had nothing, it was a complete non-entity in every way shape and form. A three year old with a crayon could forge a better plot line and compelling dialogue. I'd hear a line and it would just make me groan with annoyance. Of course it wasn't all bad... I made my own amusement by playing a game I like to call "Who makes mouth noises next" in which the formulaic dialogue is so transparent, I know who is going to "Blah Blah" (Like Charlie Brown's teacher) next.
This was the winner of a massive script writing competition for gods sake! It's also perhaps the weakest script I've ever had the displeasure of being tormented with.



But what does it all mean? This script was the best of many, could it be that public opinion is skewed toward stupidity? The similar director competition they had alongside the script competition finally yielded a neurotic shut-in who wanted to cast his extended family and pets for the lead roles. When asked "What could he bring to the film" in the interview, he let a crayon drawing answer all his questions for him... This man was chosen by a panel of specialists and not the public mind you. Or perhaps co-producer Ben B-Flick and then girlfriend Jenny from the hock, wielded their special brand of "Gigli" magic? Who knows, all I know is they should have built a kennel for this stinkin' mutt.

Don't worry, it won't be lonely in there for long, there's talk of sequels. Yes sequels... Looks like the organ that produced "Feast" as a lot more to give, and I'm not talking about the writer's brain.

Michael Danton.

As you all know I've done my Jury service and my name is back in the barrel for another spin. As much as I'd like to forget that fact, I'm reminded of the ineptitude of the law once more after I opened my mail and discovered a cheque that was designed to compensate me for three hours of what I like to call "Suit time".

Keeping in mind that the minimum wage in Australia is approximately 15 dollars per hour, they have decided that a fitting tribute to a civil-serving single-serving citizen should be no more than the staggering sum of eight dollars and twelve cents only. I would have been less upset if they'd simply said "thanks for coming" and left it at that, but no! Now I've got this bit of paper that I'm going to have to pay a teller five bucks to cash!

I guess the bottom line is, if crime doesn't pay and law doesn't pay? Then someone has to be wrong, I've got a pretty good idea who.

M.