Emptying the Bucket List

A few years ago a movie starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman came out, popularizing the notion that everyone should make a list of all those things one wanted to do in life, and then try to do them before you “kick the bucket.” This list should not be merely a bunch of life duties, but the extravagant, unnecessary, personal dreams that only fear or laziness has kept you from fulfilling. I’ve always had a kind of inchoate list floating around in my head, and being a bookish and sedentary type of fellow it hasn’t included snowboarding down Mt. Everest or diving with sharks in the Great Barrier Reef. Having recently passed my fifty-first birthday (which I celebrated Hobbit style, by providing the feasting and giving presents instead of getting them—cross that off the list!), I realized that even if I live to be a hundred (unlikely) the bigger part of my days was past. So during the otherwise paralyzing heat of a Texas August, I’ve been steadily pursuing items on my bucket list and checking them off. Here’s what I’ve done so far.

1) I’ve completed the first chapter of a memoir of my life, covering the early years from birth to the age of six. While my autobiography might best be described as the story of a nobody who accomplished nothing, I’ve found it satisfying to preserve memories that, with the passing of my parents and my elder brother, are increasingly to be found only in my own mind. It is, of course, all from my point of view, and probably only of interest to my younger siblings and my nieces and nephews. One of my treasured possessions is a bundle of a few pages my mother wrote about her early life, and which I have found very enlightening about our own family history. I’ve often thought how fascinating it would be if all the members of the family had done so; now I’ve made at least a start on mine.

2) I’ve finally got and read a copy of On Pirates, a limited edition chapbook purportedly written by William Ashbless (the dual nom de plume of famed authors Tim Powers and James P. Blaylock) and definitely illustrated by the great Gahan Wilson. Besides the short story “Slouching Toward Gayalou” and the poem “Moon-Eye Agonistes, A Tragedy” by Ashbless, there are the forwards and notes by Blaylock and Powers, continuing the long literary joke of them assuming that the old poet is finally dead and publishing some of his work as a memorial, only to be confronted by the irascible and very much alive Ashbless breathing fire at them for tampering with (and profiting from) his work. This little book also has ties with Blaylock’s Langdon St. Ives and Magical California books in the (fictional?) person of William Hastings, who supplies an afterword about the aftermath. It was very satisfying to me to finally supply this missing link in the chain of my enthusiasm for Blaylock’s work.

3) On the action figure collecting scene, when I went to a local “con” with my brother and his family I was able to get an Auron from the Final Fantasy series put out by Square Enix (desired by me for its connection to Kingdom Hearts II, where he appears as a character) and a Meryl Stryfe from Trigun: The Planet Gunsmoke. I’ve wanted them for quite some time, and they were both there for very reasonable prices. These were not huge items on my list, but they were nagging little lacks that have been put to rest.

4) To continue on the anime theme, I finally sent away for the complete Read or Die series, which includes the original three part OVA and the two TV series. I had started to watch the first TV series almost a decade ago, but never got to see how it all played out, so it was a relief to see that at last. I found this show very appealing: its main themes are the joys and rigors of reading and writing, the power of books and the dangers in the control of knowledge, all garnished with the occasional gainaxing. These qualities are embodied in the Paper Masters, a group of people (mostly women) whose love of books give them bending skills that allow them to shape and manipulate the actions and material properties of paper, so it becomes sharp enough to split steel or hard enough to stop bullets. I could have watched it all streaming on various sites over the years, but I’m a material kind of guy who wants a hard copy around.

5) Speaking of copies, I broke down at last and sent off for a VHS copy of You Can’t Take It With You, starring Jason Robards. I had watched and recorded this way off in the early Eighties, but sometime in the late Nineties my tape of it went astray (I suspect my brother Mike recorded over it). I hadn’t seen it in years, and now this official release was the only format available. There have been other incarnations of the play over time (I’ve seen Lionel Barrymore and Art Carney play the pivotal role of patriarch Grandpa Martin Vanderhof, and I hear that James Earl Jones is now trying out the part), but the Jason Robards version is mine. The gentle, humble philosophy of the play had a lasting influence on my outlook on life (“Life’s not so crazy, just the people in it.”), and I definitely wanted to see it again, both for nostalgia’s sake and to find out how it holds up. After a little finoodling with a long disused VCR (thanks, John!) I was able to watch it once more, and it is great.

6) The last item to be scratched off my list has got to be the oldest. This is the 24-volume set of Man, Myth and Magic, an encyclopedia produced in the early Seventies covering mythological, magical, and religious practices. This used to be advertised everywhere when I was a kid, and the cover of the first volume scared the heck out of us. My uncle eventually got a set of them, but we were allowed only a limited access, not because of the occult subject matter so much as the native ceremonial and satanic ritual nudity. These books are a snapshot of the supernatural styles and obsessions of the time, dangerous, transgressive, and daring, before the New Age came along and washed it all twinkly with crystals.

Oddly enough, my pursuit of most of these items was facilitated by sudden price drops that made them more accessible to my budget, sometimes by half of what they had been going for before. It was almost as if things were conspiring to help me along with my bucket list, which, depending on how you look at it, is either encouraging or a little scary. One positive thing I have found out is that when you finally clear the decks of the past you have only the present and the future to think about, and you can sail on a little freer.

Panda and the Magic Serpent: Movie for a Summer Afternoon

If anyone had asked me a few months ago what was the first anime that had engaged me, I would have said that it was the run of Dragonball Z on Cartoon Network that premiered about twelve years ago. Then with a start I might have remembered Alakazam the Great, Toei's take on Monkey and his journey to the west, which I had watched and enjoyed as a toddler in the Sixties. But what had become a vague, fugitive memory in my brain, and which was just as old, was Panda and the Magic Serpent.

Panda and the Magic Serpent (a.k.a. Hakujaden, Legend of the White Snake, The Great White Snake, The White Snake Enchantress) was the first color anime feature film, created by the Toei Company and released in Japan in 1958 and then (edited and dubbed) in the US in 1961. Although it had won awards overseas, it did not do as well in an America with its expectations set by Disney, and in less than a decade Panda was appearing on TV. This is where I saw it, before I was even in first grade.

The movie begins with a vast, supernatural storm striking China. In its wake, a magical white snake is transformed into a beautiful maiden, Bai-Niang, and a stranded fish is turned into her maid-servant, Xiao Chin. Years before (in snake form) Bai-Niang had been friends with a boy called Xu-Xian, whose fearful parents had parted them. Now that she is human she goes in search of him once more.

Xu-Xian, now an orphan, lives with his friends Panda (an immature Giant Panda) and Mimi, a Red Panda, in a tumbledown little house. Mysterious music responding to his flute playing and the mischievous Xiao Chin lead him and his friends to Bai-Niang, now living in a magically restored great estate nearby. While youth and maiden woo, their three sidekicks frolic. Their antics bring a wooden dragon decoration to life and the comedy relief is carried off, to plunge through the roof of a state treasure-house. The maid-servant finds two jewels shaped like stars and she gives them to the lovers.

Fa-Hai, a local monk with a magical crystal, has been on the trail of Bai-Niang and Xiao Chin, whom he believes are evil spirits. When he hears the jewels are missing, he sends the local authorities to the magic palace. The girl and her maid escape, but Xu-Xian remains and takes the fall. He is arrested, convicted, and exiled to a distant province. Panda and Mimi go in search of their friend. Fa-Hai follows the boy, feeling sure the spirits will seek him out.

Panda and Mimi finally find Xu-Xian, with the help of the White Pig Gang, whose gigantic leader Panda has defeated (making him the original Kung Fu Panda, by the way). Bai-Niang sends the boy a dream, telling him to meet her at the Thunder Pagoda, but the monk finds out about it on his crystal ball. He interferes before they can embrace, and a magical battle ensues.

Bai-Niang and Fa-Hai ascend to a spiritual space and match their powers against each other. The resulting fight leaves the monk hanging from a rooftop by his robes and the lady weakened and reverting to her serpent form. When Xu-Xian hears from the monk that he has defeated the evil spirit, he rushes back to Thunder Pagoda to find her.

Bai-Niang decides that she can never be with Xu-Xian unless she becomes truly human. She changes to her astral form and starts to leave; Xu-Xian rushing into the top of the tower sees her, tries to follow, and falls to his death. Fa-hai sadly takes his body to the Temple of the Golden Isle.

Bai-Niang travels through the heavens to the Dragon God, Master of All Spirits, who for the price of her immortality and magic powers gives her the Flower of Life to restore Xu-Xian. She returns to earth, where Mimi is waiting to lead her to the Golden Isle, where Panda and the White Pig Gang have followed Fa-Hai. The monk does not believe the now-mortal maiden, and will not let her boat land on the island. He turns the maid Xiao Chin back into a fish, and the Flower of Life falls into the sea.

But Xiao Chin still has her powers, and with the help of the Great Dragon Fish stirs the sea into a storm, and another battle with Fa-Hai and his crystal begins. Bai-niang's boat capsizes. Mimi and Panda retrieve the Flower of Life and restore Xu-Xian to life; seeing Bai-Niang in trouble on the stormy seas he plunges in to save her. Fa-Hai finds the Flower and realizes that the girl was telling the truth.

The monk tosses his crystal ball into the sea, which stills the storm and transforms into a boat, rescuing the lovers. Fa-Hai now gives the young couple his blessing; Bai-Niang and Xu-Xian sail off together under a rainbow sky, Xiao Chin returns to her life under the sea, and Panda and Mimi wave a tearfully joyous farewell.

The version of this film most widely available is presented by "Cartoon Craze" (Digiview Productions), and seems to have been created from stock in very poor condition. It is full of skips, jumps, and scratches; the beginning is particularly rough. This is a film that could truly benefit from a restoration and remastering, perhaps even a new editing and English dubbing (though it would be a shame to lose the narration of Marvin Miller, whose voice-overs included work on Pink Panther and Rocky and Bullwinkle; his most famous job was as Robby the Robot in Forbidden Planet). A little polish on this historical gem could really make it sparkle.

But even in its present condition it is full of considerable nostalgic charm, redolent of old times and different sensibilities. To me it speaks of long summer afternoons, when you could lose yourself for a few hours in strange worlds of fantasy and adventure, and sudden unknown by-ways to distant lands and ancient legends could open up before unsuspecting eyes. It is a splendid kind of movie for little children, whether in front of the TV or inside the heart.

Rokurokubi

I first ran across a version of the rokurokubi when I watched the classic anime movie Vampire Hunter D on the USA Network years ago, although (as the old picture [fig.1] by the famous artist Hokusai shows) the rokurokubi are a long-standing traditional figure in the Japanese realm of Yokai (a term meaning, apparently, both a supernatural being and the realm or family to which it belongs, rather like the English terms fairy and Faerie). In Vampire Hunter D they identify themselves as "The Snake Women of Midwich," but I take this to be rather poor '80's English adaptation: they look and act at some points exactly like traditional rokurokubi, draining the life and power from D while twining their long prehensile necks around him [fig.2].

There are several different kinds of rokurokubi. One is a type of fury, cursed by their own failings to torment other transgressors against karma. Another tries to live a normal life among humans, but cannot resist showing off and scaring fools, children, drunkards, or sleepers, as they know that no-one will believe them. A third has been so successful in living life as a human that she forgets she is a rokurokubi, and only elongates her neck unconsciously while sleeping, giving anyone who is watching (like her hapless husband) a scare. This third kind may relate dreams of observing things from odd angles, unaware that this is caused by her head snaking around the room.

I next saw a group of rokurokubi while watching the "Operation Specter" part of Pom Poko, where the tanuki (supernatural raccoon dogs) are staging a parade of traditional Japanese ghost and fairy tale characters in order to inspire belief and fear among the humans who are destroying their woodland home. In one of my favorite scenes, two elderly gentlemen are drinking in an outdoor bar, opining on the foolishness of childhood beliefs, while behind them wondrous and horrific apparitions tumble by. The idea that if they would just turn away from their little lighted pool of comfort and explanations they might see that the world is full of more than they acknowledge [fig.3]. It's when I saw the three ladies behind them that I began to see there must be something behind this image.

It was further confirmed when I watched Hellboy: Sword of Storms. In this animated feature Hellboy is whisked away to a visionary, legendary Japan and encounters traditional characters, including a spider-woman, a fox-spirit, and a trio of rokurokubi [fig.4]. This third time interested me so much I finally looked into the legends and found out what was behind it all. What is still unexplained for me is why there are always three in these animated movies; I haven't seen any tale or tradition that insists on the number. Perhaps it is only because the tripling of female figures is always more threatening: three witches, three furies, three fates, all ganging up and surrounding the adventurer.