Todd Swift is the poetry editor for nthposition, and has published numerous poetry books, most recently Rue du Regard (2004) and anthologies such as 100 Poets Against the War (2003).

He wrote a very interesting post today regarding David Cronenberg's upcoming film, A History of Violence and why a Canadian filmmaker like Cronenberg should have the right to comment on America and its history. It's an interesting read.

I've actually had a chance to look at the graphic novel the film is based on so I am quite eager to see Cronenberg's interpretation. His credits include mindbogglingly twisted movies like The Fly (1986), Videodrome (1983), Naked Lunch (1991), and Spider (2002).



Todd Swift's post:

Cronenberg's History of Violence

Today on the BBC radio show, Today, Cronenberg was asked why a Canadian has the right to comment on America and its history. An absurd question, which displays the current lack of historical perspective enjoyed by the British media class - yesterday, the same program featured a plummy British voice claiming that "Inuits have nothing to teach me of the city, though they could name 50 kinds of snow" - a stereotype from perhaps the 50s, but utterly reprehensible now - when, for instance, the Inuit are often well-educated and live in urban centres as well as in the wilds.

Cronenberg answered well, citing MacLuhan, another famous Canadian often not thought of as Canadian. The analogy used is that of the river, and the observer on the bank having a better vantage to critique its rough flow. American history has been part of ours, and vice versa (after all, North America was the scene of many battles that crossed shifting borders, resulting in the formation of the USA and Canada as ultimately semi-independent entities) - and its history of violence never far from our borders, and our screens. You might as well ask the people of Bhopal what right they have to question Union Carbide.

Croneberg's new film, due out shortly, is A History of Violence. He noted, in his radio broadcast, that the film relates to American history, individually and collectively, and could be an allegorical comment on the Bush regime. It could also be a textbook title for his filmography.

The Dead Zone remains one of my favourite films - and the scene where the killer-cop swallows scissors in his American Gothic bathroom is indelible. Can Cronenberg, who has used the display of extreme and terrifying imagery of violence (of bodily violation, mutilation and mutation), preach on violence, though?

This remains a significant aesthetic question. The use of violence in film, for example, for purely aesthetic effect (as Tarantino uses it) is often morally repugnant but thrilling, in a fin-de-siecle way; however, it appears that Cronenberg's exploding heads are poetic symbols, whose subtext, a la Eagleton, is all about interrogating the body politic.

On the subject of Canada, and disappearing bodies, the Canadian artist reminds me of the man in the book standing beside Bob Dylan, who is tagged as "unidentified man with". How often "Canada" and "Canadian culture" is described as dull, boring, unmarketable, etc. by British commentators is striking - especially when the same media continues to lionize Atwood, Cronenberg, Gould, The Arcade Fire, and various singer-songwriters from Montreal. You can't have it both ways - either Canada is recognized as America's troubled Other, producing alienated and powerful art, or it is a frozen wasteland filled with bland native snow-experts.

If MacLuhan was right, Canadians need to get the message out.

In the meantime, check out Swifty Lazarus, a MacLuhan-inspired collective whose composer/musician (Tom Walsh) has worked with Cronenberg, Ondaatje, etc; and whose poet/ performer helped shape the current cabaret indie scene in Montreal, and featured Rufus Wainwright in his early shows. Dear reader, I confess I am part of this group.