Meet “Dashan,” the Canadian Comedian Who Achieved Accidental Stardom in China

West­ern stu­dents of the Chi­nese lan­guage tend to know Dashan. Some­times they don’t like him very much. The vari­ety of pos­si­ble expla­na­tions obvi­ous­ly includes sim­ple jeal­ousy, since Dashan (giv­en name Mark Rowswell) enjoys fame across Chi­na for his mas­tery of Man­darin. But just as this anti-Dashan resent­ment actu­al­ly springs from more com­pli­cat­ed caus­es, so the fer­vent­ly pro-Dashan feel­ings of mil­lions of Chi­nese fans spring from more than his unusu­al flu­en­cy. Ambas­sador to Chi­na’s Fun­ny Bone, the fifty-minute doc­u­men­tary above, traces Dashan’s seem­ing­ly uncal­cu­lat­ed rise from his under­grad­u­ate days in Chi­nese stud­ies at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to, to his break­through appear­ance on Chi­na Cen­tral Tele­vi­sion’s 1988 New Year’s Gala, to his inescapable pres­ence on the Chi­nese stage and screen — includ­ing but by no means lim­it­ed to endors­ing a “Cana­di­an fast food restau­rant.” This sort of celebri­ty makes one instinc­tive­ly want to para­phrase Samuel John­son’s line about the dog walk­ing on its hind legs: even if a west­ern­er speak­ing Chi­nese on tele­vi­sion is not done well, audi­ences are sur­prised to find it done at all.

But Dashan does do it well, and he does it in a con­text even more chal­leng­ing than a four-legged ani­mal walk­ing upright: the tra­di­tion­al form of lan­guage com­e­dy known as xiang­sheng. The doc­u­men­tary shows Dashan per­form­ing as part of a duo, and just above you can see him going solo. Out­side of this spe­cial­ized set­ting, observers have com­pared his mild, easy­go­ing, friend­ly — dare I say Cana­di­an? — per­sona to Dick Clark’s; one inter­vie­wee in Ambas­sador even describes him as harm­less­ly sym­bol­iz­ing Cana­da just as a pan­da sym­bol­izes Chi­na. Yet his detrac­tors have grown vocal enough to prompt some­one to pub­licly ask, on ques­tion-and-answer site Quo­ra, “Why do so many Chi­nese learn­ers seem to hate Dashan?” The top answer comes from Dashan him­self, who pro­vides a thor­ough, clear­head­ed, and self-aware analy­sis of the per­cep­tion of his char­ac­ter. He even cites, approv­ing­ly, the answer from Chi­na watch­er and rock­er Kaiser Kuo: “Dashan seems like a nice enough guy, but for some rea­son every once in a while I have the urge to punch him in the face.”

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

An Animated Interpretation of Billy Collins’ Poem, “Forgetfulness”

Some twen­ty-five years ago, my act­ing class spent an entire semes­ter on the plays of Anton Chekhov. At the time, it felt very vital, but like so much else I stud­ied in col­lege, what I wound up retain­ing is sad­ly piece­meal. One thing I do remem­ber is the youngest of the Three Sis­ters break­down upon real­iz­ing that they’ll nev­er make it to Moscow. At the heart of this freak-out is her despair that she, and every­one who mat­ters to her, is aging, a con­di­tion she defines as dimin­ish­ment. It seemed a bit over-the-top to me at the time. For god’s sake, she’s only 24. So what if she can’t remem­ber a few words of school­girl Ital­ian? Two and a half decades out, I was mis­re­mem­ber­ing her name as Anya, a momen­tary con­fu­sion eas­i­ly right­ed on my third Google search.

(IRINA. (Sob­bing.) Where? Where has it all gone? Where is it? Oh my God, my God! I have for­got­ten every­thing, for­got­ten every­thing… Every­thing is con­fused in my head… I can’t remem­ber what is the word for win­dow in Ital­ian, or for ceil­ing… I am for­get­ting every­thing, I for­get more every day, and life flies past and nev­er returns, nev­er, and we will nev­er go to Moscow… I see now that we will nev­er go…)

I flashed on this long ago melt­down while watch­ing “For­get­ful­ness,” the love­ly ani­ma­tion of the Bil­ly Collins poem, above. As Collins lists the seem­ing­ly incon­se­quen­tial things lost, it occurred to me that the cen­tral “you” could stand for any­body: you, me, an elder­ly rel­a­tive, Chekhov’s Iri­na. (Not Anya. If we’re to make it to Moscow, we bet­ter get crack­ing.)

We’re lucky to have artists like Chekhov, Collins, and by exten­sion, ani­ma­tor Julian Grey, all pos­sessed of the abil­i­ty to imbue one of mankind’s most depress­ing and time­ly real­i­ties with ten­der­ness and lyri­cism. Per­haps you’ll remem­ber some­one with whom to share “For­get­ful­ness”.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bil­ly Collins Poet­ry to Ani­mat­ed Life

The Ani­ma­tion of Bil­ly Collins’ Poet­ry

Ayun Hal­l­i­day describes some of the places she has been (not Moscow) in No Touch Mon­key! And Oth­er Trav­el Lessons Learned Too Late.

Harder Than It Looks: How to Make a Great Stop Motion Animation

Ever find your­self watch­ing a great lit­tle stop motion ani­ma­tion and think­ing, “Hey, I could do that?”  What’s that? You made one with some friends in mid­dle school? Great! Maybe you should bang one out tomor­row morn­ing, slap it up on YouTube, and brace your­self for the onslaught of pub­lic ado­ra­tion that’s so damnably dif­fi­cult to avoid when one’s cre­ation becomes a viral sen­sa­tion overnight.

Hold your hors­es, Gum­by. Film­mak­ing has grown increas­ing­ly demo­c­ra­t­ic in the dig­i­tal age, but a real­ly elab­o­rate stop motion ani­ma­tion is still a ton of work. Care to con­sid­er all that goes into one?

Try 382 Mole­sk­ine note­books; days of painstak­ing, no doubt bor­ing, labor; a cam­era dol­ly, a green screen, and a live, albeit less-than-pro­fes­sion­al, cat and mouse team. These are the pri­ma­ry ele­ments of Dutch “graph­ic motion design­er” Rogi­er Wieland’s “A Year in Full Colour,” a cun­ning salute to old-school dai­ly plan­ners. Unsur­pris­ing­ly, this flight of fan­cy was com­mis­sioned by Mole­sk­ine, a brand whose inroads into the iPad cov­er mar­ket would like­ly not be enough to keep things in the black should jot­ting things on paper go the way of the dodo.  Per­haps instead of mak­ing a stop motion of your own, you could pour your cre­ative efforts into record­ing your upcom­ing appoint­ments in a Mole­sk­ine clas­sic.

As to which you should view first—the fin­ished prod­uct (above) or the equal­ly brief, but high­ly illu­mi­nat­ing Mak­ing Of  (below)–we leave that in your capa­ble hands.

Relat­ed Con­tent

Spike Jonze Presents a Stop Motion Film for Book Lovers

Going West: A Stop Motion Nov­el

Ayun Hal­l­i­day’s plan­ner of choice is the Sling­shot Orga­niz­er  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

MAKERS Tells the Story of 50 Years of Progress for Women in the U.S.

Among the many thou­sands of items in my news­feed yes­ter­day, three popped out and stuck with me: First, a con­ser­v­a­tive pan­el called Inde­pen­dent Women’s Forum con­vened to dis­cuss their sense that “con­ser­v­a­tive lead­ers and fun­ders… don’t take women’s issues seri­ous­ly.” Pan­el mod­er­a­tor Christi­na Hoff Som­mers joked, “I’m not sure what’s worse: con­ser­v­a­tives ignor­ing women’s issues or con­ser­v­a­tives address­ing them.” The tone was light, but the sense of frus­tra­tion these women feel with their male col­leagues was very clear.

Sec­ond­ly, a UK come­di­an, Michael J. Dolan pub­lished a soul-search­ing piece much dis­cussed state­side in which he admits he was “a misog­y­nist come­di­an.” Dolan claims that, like racist come­di­ans of old, “Those ped­dling misog­y­ny, homo­pho­bia or oth­er vari­eties of hate to drunks who don’t know bet­ter are going to find them­selves out of favour.” And final­ly, for­mer pres­i­dent Jim­my Carter wrote an edi­to­r­i­al to announce that he is sev­er­ing his six-decade-long ties with the South­ern Bap­tist Con­ven­tion because of their view that women should be “sub­servient” to men. “It is sim­ply self-defeat­ing,” wrote Carter, “for any com­mu­ni­ty to dis­crim­i­nate against half its pop­u­la­tion.”

I men­tion these exam­ples because they seem to be part of a gen­er­al trend of cul­tur­al reassess­ment, after sev­er­al dis­mal­ly low points in the dis­cus­sion of gen­der equal­i­ty this past year, about the con­tin­ued institutionalization—in pol­i­tics, reli­gion, the work­place, and enter­tain­ment—of dam­ag­ing atti­tudes toward half of the human species. While it some­times seems that social change takes place at a glacial pace, with sev­er­al steps back for every step for­ward, there are always strong under­cur­rents of progress that aren’t read­i­ly appar­ent until some­one takes the time to orga­nize them into nar­ra­tives.

This is pre­cise­ly what the film­mak­ers of MAKERS aim to do. A “mul­ti-plat­form video expe­ri­ence” from AOL and PBS, the project show­cas­es “hun­dreds of com­pelling sto­ries from women of today and tomor­row… both known and unknown.” Unlike world­wide, pol­i­cy-based efforts like the just-end­ed 2013 Glob­al Mater­nal Health Con­fer­ence, MAKERS restricts its focus to women in the U.S. and, it seems, relies pri­mar­i­ly on indi­vid­ual women with promi­nent pub­lic roles—journalists, activists, writ­ers, and celebri­ties, or at least that’s the sense one gets from their intro­duc­to­ry video (above), which might open them up to charges of elit­ism. But there is more to the project than celebri­ty pro­files. In their own words, the pro­duc­ers of MAKERS describe the project thus:

MAKERS orig­i­nat­ed from a very clear premise: over the last half cen­tu­ry, the work of mil­lions of women has altered vir­tu­al­ly every aspect of Amer­i­can cul­ture. MAKERS fea­tures ground­break­ing women who have sparked change, been first in their fields and paved the way for those that fol­lowed. This ini­tia­tive also extends to pro­file hun­dreds of sto­ries of women who are dri­ving social change today.

Delve into the wealth of short doc­u­men­tary videos on the MAKERS YouTube chan­nel and you’ll see that there are dozens of women pro­filed who aren’t celebri­ties in the con­ven­tion­al sense. Sure, we’ve got stars of the screen and the pow­er cen­ters of gov­ern­ment and the cor­po­rate world, e.g. Ellen DeGeneres, Hilary Clin­ton, and Yahoo CEO Maris­sa May­er, but there are also less­er known “mak­ers,” like 15-year-old Tavi Gevin­son, founder and edi­tor-in-chief of webzine Rook­ie. Gevin­son is a prodi­gy who has built her own online media empire, begin­ning at the age of 11, when her fash­ion blog Style Rook­ie became one of the most pop­u­lar of its kind. Watch her (below) dis­cuss her own approach to typ­i­cal teenage inse­cu­ri­ties in an excerpt from her longer pro­file.

Anoth­er mak­er with a deeply inspir­ing sto­ry that you won’t hear in the dai­ly news cycle is Kather­ine Switzer, the first woman to enter the Boston Marathon in 1967. She did so by sign­ing the form with her ini­tials, mak­ing marathon offi­cials think she was a man. Below, Switzer recounts the curios­i­ty, bile, and dis­turbing­ly vio­lent harass­ment she faced dur­ing the race. It wasn’t until five years lat­er that the race was offi­cial­ly opened to women. By that time, Switzer was an activist for female run­ners.

The MAKERS project pro­files dozens of oth­er women—like civ­il rights lawyer and founder of Children’s Defense Fund Mar­i­an Wright Edel­man—who nor­mal­ly fly under the mass-media radar, but whose pres­ence in the cul­ture has an enor­mous impact. Keep your eye on PBS listings—on Feb­ru­ary 26th, they will air a three-hour doc­u­men­tary called MAKERS: Women Who Make Amer­i­ca, which promis­es to tell the “remark­able sto­ry for the first time” of the sweep­ing progress Amer­i­can women have made over the last half-cen­tu­ry.

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness.

152 Big Thinkers Answer the Question “What Should We Be Worried About?”

Edge_2013_Flower

It’s a new year, which means it’s time for the Edge.org to pose its annu­al ques­tion to some of the world’s finest minds. The 2013 edi­tion asks the ques­tion, “What Should We Be Wor­ried About?”. And the replies — 152 in total — fea­ture thoughts by Nas­sim Nicholas Taleb, Daniel Den­nettSher­ry Turkle, Lawrence Krauss, and Esther Dyson, plus the ones excerpt­ed below. If you’re will­ing to go down the rab­bit hole, you can access the com­plete col­lec­tion of respons­es here.

What I fear most is that we will lack the will and the fore­sight to face the world’s prob­lems square­ly, but will instead retreat from them into super­sti­tion and igno­rance. Con­sid­er how in 375 AD, after a dream in which he was whipped for being “a Ciceron­ian” rather than a Chris­t­ian, Saint Jerome resolved no more to read the clas­si­cal authors and to restrict him­self only to Chris­t­ian texts, how the Chris­tians of Alexan­dria mur­dered the philoso­pher and math­e­mati­cian Hypa­tia in 415, and real­ize that, at least in part, the so-called dark ages were not some­thing imposed from with­out, a break­down of civ­i­liza­tion due to bar­bar­ian inva­sions, but a choice, a turn­ing away from knowl­edge and dis­cov­ery into a kind of reli­gious fun­da­men­tal­ism. [Read the rest here.]

Tim O’Reil­ly, Founder and CEO of O’Reil­ly Media, Inc.

Death is what makes this cycli­cal renew­al and steady advance in organ­isms pos­si­ble. Dis­cov­ered by liv­ing things mil­lions of years ago, aging and death per­mit a species to grow and flour­ish. Because nat­ur­al selec­tion ensures that the child-who-sur­vives-to-repro­duce is bet­ter than the par­ent (albeit infin­i­tes­i­mal­ly so, for that is how evo­lu­tion works), it is bet­ter for many species that the par­ent step out of the way and allow its (supe­ri­or) child to suc­ceed in its place.… So impor­tant is death that we have, wired into our genes, a self-destruct senes­cence pro­gram that shuts down oper­a­tions once we have suc­cess­ful­ly repro­duced, so that we even­tu­al­ly die, leav­ing our children—the fresh­er, new­er, shinier ver­sions of ourselves—to car­ry on with the best of what we have giv­en them: the best genes, the best art, and the best ideas. Four bil­lion years of death has served us well. Now, all this may be com­ing to an end, for one of the things we humans, with our evolved intel­li­gence, are work­ing hard at is try­ing to erad­i­cate death.[Read the rest here.]

–Kate Jef­fery, Head, Dept. of Cog­ni­tive, Per­cep­tu­al and Brain Sci­ences, Uni­ver­si­ty Col­lege, Lon­don

Most of the smart peo­ple I know want noth­ing to do with pol­i­tics. We avoid it like the plague… Is this because we feel that pol­i­tics isn’t where any­thing sig­nif­i­cant hap­pens? Or because we’re too tak­en up with what we’re doing, be it Quan­tum Physics or Sta­tis­ti­cal Genomics or Gen­er­a­tive Music? Or because we’re too polite to get into argu­ments with peo­ple? …  It’s pol­i­tics that’s bleed­ing the poor­er nations for the debts of their for­mer dic­ta­tors. It’s pol­i­tics that allows spe­cial inter­ests to run the coun­try. It’s pol­i­tics that helped the banks wreck the econ­o­my. It’s pol­i­tics that pro­hibits gay mar­riage and stem cell research but nur­tures Gaza and Guan­tanamo.… What wor­ries me is that while we’re lais­sez-ing, some­one else is faire-ing. [Read the rest here]

–Bri­an Eno, Artist, Com­pos­er, Pro­duc­er

You can dive into the full col­lec­tion at Edge.org. The pho­to above was tak­en by Katin­ka Mat­son.

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Wake Up and Smell the Coffee with Blind Master Roaster Gerry Leary

Close your eyes. Makes it kind of hard to read your screen, huh? You can imple­ment a text-to-speech workaround, but after that, your sens­es are pret­ty much exhaust­ed as far as this forum is con­cerned.

Mas­ter cof­fee roast­er Ger­ry Leary, of Boul­der, Col­orado, would not be daunt­ed by such an exer­cise. You’ve like­ly heard oth­er DIY suc­cess sto­ries cit­ing a will­ful­ly blind eye with regard to all the things that could have gone wrong ear­ly on. Leary, who’s been blind since birth, may have blun­dered onto his life’s call­ing in a San Fran­cis­co cafe where he mis­took a roast­ing machine for a rock tum­bler, but after that, his route seems care­ful­ly plot­ted. He enrolled in a pro­fes­sion­al train­ing pro­gram. Before tak­ing over the lease to what is now the Unseen Bean Cafe, he tuned his ears to the pre­cise num­ber of feet con­sti­tut­ing near­by foot traf­fic. He is one of the very few with­in his field to roast by sound and scent rather sight, not­ing that the fla­vors of any bean is sub­ject to fla­vor vari­ance with every new crop.

He’ll have to take some­one else’s word for it that he’s best­ing the com­pe­ti­tion in the area of logo design. The Unseen Bean’s blind­fold­ed, cup-sniff­ing guide dog strikes this view­er as apt on every lev­el.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day depends on her dai­ly buck­et of black snakes to get her through.

Ken Kesey Talks About the Meaning of the Acid Tests

For me, there have always been at least three Ken Keseys. First, there was the anti­au­thor­i­tar­i­an author of the mad­cap 1962 clas­sic One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Inspired by Kesey’s own work as an order­ly at a Men­lo Park men­tal hos­pi­tal, the author’s voice dis­ap­pears into that of the nar­ra­tor, Chief Brom­den, and the dia­logue of the most mem­o­rable ensem­ble of trou­bled per­son­al­i­ties in twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry lit­er­a­ture. Then there’s the Kesey of the 1964 Some­times a Great Notion, a Pacif­ic North­west epic and the work of a seri­ous nov­el­ist pulling Amer­i­can arche­types from rough-hewn Ore­gon log­ging coun­try. Final­ly, there’s Kesey the Mer­ry Prankster, the mad sci­en­tist who almost sin­gle-hand­ed­ly invent­ed six­ties drug cul­ture with his ‘64 psy­che­del­ic bus tour and acid test par­ties. It’s a lit­tle hard to put them all togeth­er some­times. Ken Kesey con­tained mul­ti­tudes.

The acid test par­ties began after Kesey’s expe­ri­ence with mind-alter­ing drugs as a vol­un­teer test sub­ject for Army exper­i­ments in 1960 (lat­er revealed to be part of the CIA’s mind con­trol exper­i­ment, Project MKUl­tra). Kesey stole LSD and invit­ed friends to try it with him. In 1965, after Hunter S. Thomp­son intro­duced Kesey to the Hell’s Angels, he expand­ed his test par­ties to real hap­pen­ings at larg­er venues, begin­ning at his home in La Hon­da, Cal­i­for­nia. Always present was the music of The Grate­ful Dead, who debuted under that name at one of Kesey’s par­ties after los­ing their orig­i­nal name, The War­locks. The cast of char­ac­ters also includ­ed Jack Kerouac’s trav­el­ing bud­dy Neal Cas­sady, Allen Gins­berg, and Dr. Tim­o­thy Leary. Out of what Hunter Thomp­son called “the world cap­i­tal of mad­ness,” the psy­che­del­ic counter-cul­ture of Haight-Ash­bury was born.

In the inter­view above, Kesey talks about the acid tests as much more than an excuse to trip for hours and hear The Dead play for a buck. No, he says, “there were peo­ple who passed and peo­ple who didn’t pass” the test. What it all meant per­haps only Kesey knew for sure. (He is quot­ed as say­ing that he and his band of com­pa­tri­ots, the Mer­ry Pranksters, were try­ing to “stop the com­ing end of the world”). In any case, it’s a strange story—stranger than any of Ken Kesey’s works of fic­tion: covert gov­ern­ment mind con­trol pro­gram turns on one of the generation’s most sub­ver­sive nov­el­ists, who then mas­ter­minds the hip­py move­ment.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Ken Kesey’s First LSD Trip Ani­mat­ed

The Acid Test Reels: Ken Kesey & The Grate­ful Dead’s Sound­track for the 1960s Famous LSD Par­ties

Take a Trip to the LSD Muse­um, the Largest Col­lec­tion of “Blot­ter Art” in the World

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian. He recent­ly com­plet­ed a dis­ser­ta­tion on land­scape, lit­er­a­ture, and labor.

James Brown Gives You Dancing Lessons: From The Funky Chicken to The Boogaloo

Don’t go into this expect­ing Arthur Mur­ray-lev­el clar­i­ty of instruc­tion. This is Soul Train-era James Brown, shak­ing way more than any sim­ple foot­print pat­tern could con­vey. That’s not to say there isn’t con­crete infor­ma­tion to be gleaned here, espe­cial­ly if you nev­er real­ly knew which moves con­sti­tute The Funky Chick­en.  Dit­to The Booga­loo, The Camel Walk, and some­thing I swear sounds like The Mac Davis.

James proud­ly demon­strates them all, as uncon­cerned as a pea­cock would be when it comes to break­ing things down for the folks at home. (Trust me, your kneecaps will be grate­ful he’s not more explic­it.) Enjoy this lit­tle dance break any time you need a boost. Or what the hell, see how your Robot stacks up against James’. (Be fore­warned, he blows Shields and Yarnell out of the water.) If — as the song goes — You Don’t Give A Dog­gone About It, you’ll have a lot of fun. Leave the shades open, and your neigh­bors will too.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day has nev­er shied away from embar­rass­ing her­self off or on the dance floor. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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