In January, I went to Spain. This is always for pleasure, but I like to pretend there is a business purpose, too – so on this occasion I was doing location research for my film, DEAD MEXICANS, and also for a werewolf Western my friend Geoff Marslett intends to make: THE CURSE OF SILVER. So I spent a week in the Tabernas desert, taking pictures and getting prices, and looking for local crew. Usually films bring their cast and crew with them – from Madrid, or LA, or wherever they are based – but obviously there are sound reasons, fiscal and practical, to hire people locally. Anyway, I made my report and headed north on the train, back through Madrid, to a small city called Tudela, where I had never been.
My goal was to visit a small but supposedly picturesque desert which has been used in various films and TV shows – the Bardenas Reales. This was more for my film than for Geoff’s. DEAD MEXICANS ends with two of the protagonists in a very different place, so even though it’s still the desert, it’s a very different kind of desert. I’m sure you know what I mean. My thought was to shoot almost everything in Tabernas, and then pop up to Bardenas, with its striking monumental columns, for the final scenes.
The RENFE trip up – partly on an old passenger train, partly on a newer Ave, was flawless, and I settled into a nice hotel room on the main square. Downtown Tudela is a handsome place. Sunday morning I was up bright and early to go and pick up my rental car. A thick mist rolled in off the river as a taxi took me to an industrial park a few kilometers out of town. There it left me. I rang the bell of the auto rental place. No one answered. I waited there a while, wondering if the lessors would show up for their appointment to rent me my car. It being Sunday, the other car rental places in town were closed. As, it turned out, was this place. I hung out a while longer, enjoying my fog-shrouded surroundings, then walked back to town.
Next day I looked into renting a car at the railway station. But here, they won’t rent to a US license holder. Such motorists must take the train to Navarra, it is said, and rent a car there. As far as I could ascertain, there was no bus to the Bardenas Reales. So I returned to Madrid without seeing them. Was I downhearted? No! For in one of the side streets adjacent to the Cathedral I found a bar named (highly surprisingly) El Catedral. Magnificent tapas and raciones were to be had there. So all was well. Next day I went back to discover that they only open three days a week. So in lieu of the bar I hit the Cathedral, which is famous for the carvings in its cloister, and, among the artworks on display, a Bosch Last Judgement.
(Apologies for the poor lighting at the top of the frame.) The Cathedral Museum attributes this painting to the school of Bosch, but why be modest? It looks like the great man’s work. At the Prado in Madrid you can see The Garden of Earthly Delights and The Hay Wain: the Tudela painting reminds this viewer of the hell panel in The Garden… And the burning city on the right horizon anticipates Bruegel, and his Triumph of Death.
Looking at this example of the Christian day of doom – the last judgement where Jesus is scheduled to return, reward the good, and punish the bad – reminds me of the uniqueness of the Bruegel. The Triumph of Death is one big scene of skeleton mayhem and devilish punishment – without Jesus in the sky. Judgement is automated, run by the already-dead. God and Jesus have fled the scene. Here’s a closer look at the lower portion of our potential Bosch.
As far as the last scene of DEAD MEXICANS is concerned, there is always Tucson!
Variety reports that I am directing the official Repo Man sequel. Is it true?
It remains to be seen… At the moment, REPO MAN 2: THE WAGES OF BEER is a film without a budget or a start date.This may change.
In the mean time, I would like to thank the kind people who sent me resumes in connection with the picture. I promise to delve into these as soon as preproduction begins.
The death of Shane MacGowan has left the strains of “Streets of Sorrow/Birmingham 6” ringing in my ears for several days. Unsurprisingly, the mainstream media preferred to playback “Dirty Old Town” and “Fairy Tale of New York” rather than the political/poetic stuff which was Shane’s greatest achievement. But the romantic stuff was great, too. I’m particularly fond for “Haunted”, the song he wrote for the Sid Vicious/Nancy Spungen movie (originally a duet with Pogue Cait O’Riordan: Shane re-recorded it with Sinead O’Connor) And I love the rollicking hell-rides that came out of our trip to Almeria – “The Rake at the Gates of Hell”, “Down in the Ground Where the Dead Men Go” and “Fiesta.” The funeral is in two days’ time, in Tipperary. I’d like to go, but family matters prevent it. Still, the Pogues still able to make the trip will be there – including Terry Woods, who wrote and sang “Streets of Sorrow”. Also present, it seems, will the President of Ireland. (Shane’s burial has been put back to the late afternoon so that the auld feller can attend.)
The MSM befudgement of Shane’s artistic worth makes me wonder how they will celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of punk, due up in just a couple of years. The Sex Pistols will be reinvented as a cozy British institution, with help from the mega-monarchist, John Lydon. Uncomfortable lyrics (“God save the queen! A fascist regime / made you a moron…”) will be avoided. The Clash will be remembered for “Rock the Casbah” (a song for Israeli genocideers to rock’n’roll to as they bomb Gaza), and not for “White Riot” or “Know Your Rights”. The Jam’s “Eton Rifles” will remain unheard.
The anniversary of punk – like surrealism, not simply an artistic trope but a social movement which unfortunately failed – will be celebrated for all the wrong reasons (fashion! safety pins! the Union Jack! heroin!). What I want to write about here is what existed immediately prior to punk: to some extent, the influences which gave birth to it. Of course, Iggy and the Velvet Underground were major donors. And the movement also grew and flourished as a rebellion against the over-produced, over-financed, corporate rock and pop culture of the day. But within that techno-corporate-money storm appeared some bands which shared some of the concerns of punk, together with an obnoxious need for our attention.
My subjects are Alice Cooper and the Sensational Alex Harvey Band.
Alice Cooper (the name of the band and of its lead singer) began life in Phoenix, Arizona, as The Earwigs, in 1964. They were an entirely conventional American rock/pop group. Most of these bands, as they evolved, followed the progression of The Beatles – starting out a bit raunchy, but soon dropping the leather jackets and seeking to please marketing and appease the parents of their fans. Alice Cooper went in the opposite direction. Realising that they could never be The Monkees, they followed instead an earlier rock dictum: offend! Alice Cooper developed an aesthetic which was, if not dangerous, deliberately creepy. The band wore theatrical makeup. Alice wore a dress. They were horror movie fans: “The Ballad of Dwight Fry” celebrates the actor who played Renfield in Bela Lugosi’s “Dracula” (The linked video is the song performed years after it was written, when the band had developed an elaborate, grand guignol stage show).
Having decided to offend the parents, Alice Cooper went all-out to do just that, with “Billion Dollar Babies” – a concept album, the concept being, how much can we piss ’em off, and in how many ways? The fold-out album sleeve – bright green, studded with huge fake diamonds, opened to reveal a giant, billion-dollar banknote, depicting the band, with bunnies and babies. it contains what I think is the band’s best song, “Elected.” Richard Nixon was shortly to be reelected president, so it’s both poignant and prescient:
I’m a top prime cut of meat, I’m your choice / I wanna be elected. I’m Yankee Doodle Dandy in a gold Rolls Royce / I wanna be elected. The kids wanna savior, and don’t need a fake / I wanna be elected. You’re all gonna rock to the rules that I make / I wanna be elected.
This is such a rockin’ good song, powerfully played, with really funny, dead-on lyrics, that I’m surprised no US presidential candidate has adopted it as their anthem. No; on the other hand, I’m not. I can think of no US president, or candidate, who showed any evidence of a sense of humour. This video – made for Alice’s unnoticed 2020 campaign – is excellent. The album climaxes with “I Love The Dead”, a guaranteed parent-pisser-offer, which suggests the Coopers’ substantial debt to D.C. Comics. The song also showcases the talents of producer Bob Ezrin, who shows here (as in “Dwight Fry”) how to start small and grow really big. Ezrin co-wrote the song with Alice. “Generation Landslide”, a less-prominent song, demonstrates that Alice Cooper, the group, was also quite the poet:
Dad gets an allowance from his sonny, the dealer / Who’s pubic to the world, but involved in high finance. / Sister’s out till five doing banker’s son’s hours / But she drives a Maserati that’s a gift from his father. / Stopped at full speed at one hundred miles per hour / The Colgate Invisible Shield finally got ’em…
I’m not suggesting that theirs was The Rebel Way. Alice Cooper had become a big, corporate band. They had a contract with Warner Brothers, their album was number one, and the “Billion Dollar Babies” Tour involved massive quantities of stage props and supporting actors, including the magician the Amazing Randi, who managed Alice’s guillotine. But, then, The Clash would become a big, corporate band, with a Capitol Records contract. What I like about Alice, and this album above all, is its professionalism, and its dedication to obnoxousness, a trait essential to punk.
Closer to the punks, I think, was the Sensational Alex Harvey Band. Alex Harvey was a Glaswegian rocker, who had literally been down The Beatles’ road. Like the moptops, Alex played endless formative gigs in Hamburg and other German and Dutch hot-spots. His song “Action Strasse” celebrates that literally everything a young man could want was available there, twenty-four hours a day. Alex did many things. In the 1970s, I found, in a record shop in Liverpool, an album titled “Sacred Songs by Alex Harvey”. Would that I had bought that disk! The sleeve depicted someone who looked like Alex, though with shorter hair. Did Alex attempt a career in Christian pop music before forming the Sensationals? I don’t know… Like the Coopers, the Harveys wore stage makeup and had a distinctive look. Alex wore a red and black striped sweatshirt, like a cartoon burglar. His lead guitarist, Zal Cleminson, favoured a clown outfit. They cultivated a bad boy persona and sang about bad things. “Gang Bang” was the song which got them into the most trouble: when I saw them play, Alex sort-of repented it, urged us to care for our little sisters, and then the band launched into the song. Transgressive sex was one of the Sensationals’ themes. They also sang about Isabel Gowdie, a Scottish witch who claimed ot have had sex with the devil. And the Robert Louis Stevenson-inspired “Tomahawk Kid” suggests a romantic liaison between a boy and a pirate.
Let’s be bold, my captain / and I’ll hold your hairy hand. / Let’s forget the treasure / And we’ll skip across the sand.
If you listen to the song, you’ll see that Alex plays this liaison pretty straight-ahead. He doesn’t criticize it at all. In a similar way, the one song on “Billion Dollar Babies” which doesn’t cynically offend is “Mary Ann” – a second-rate show tune, played on the piano, addressed by the male singer to a man. We were not unsophisticated, back in the 1970s, and there was little shock value in either of these songs. So it’s odd that the only gay love songs I can remember from this time frame (1973-74) came from “shock rockers.” Despite his spraycan-to-the-wall persona, Alex Harvey was highly sophisticated. “Man in the Jar” is a clever noir detective song which anticipates Elvis Costello. And his version of Jacques Brel’s “Next” is quietly terrifying.
There were no theatrical props at a Sensationals show. And not all their great songs went on tour with them. “Next” required a violin quartet. “Man in the Jar” began with Isaac Hayes-style synthesizers. “Last of the Teenage Idols” started small and went orchestral-massive. According to Chris Glen, the bass player, the epic number was recorded in a single take. (Like the song’s protagonist, Alex was the winner of a teenage idol competition in Glasgow in the 1950s. He received 25 pounds and an audition.) In the end, the Sensational Alex Harvey Band didn’t need a stage set or an orchestra. It was a delivery mechanism for stripped-down, raucous, offensive rock’n’roll: excactly what punk aspired to be.
Alex Harvey died the day before his 47th birthday. Alice Cooper is still with us, a popular DJ who golfs with presidents. More to follow…
I vaguely remember Richard Edson’s camera. Maybe it was an Olympus. There was a lot going on and I didn’t examine it closely. In retrospect, we should have included that camera as part of his drummer boy costume. It would have fit the anachronistic scheme of things. But then we would have had to put charges in it, and blow it to bits along with the drum…
We were making WALKER in Nicaragua, in 1987. We shot in various cities including Managua, Granada, and RIvas, and what was then a small village on the beach, San Juan del Sur. Richard was acting in the film, playing William Walker’s drummer boy, Turley. He has a great speech, where he tells the Colonel that every picture of a battle scene he’s seen depicts the company drummer boy, lying dead beside his drum. Turley wonders if he can put down the drum, and carry a rifle instead. Walker smiles, puts a reassuring hand on Turley’s shoulder and declares, “As long as you are under my command, no harm will come to you.”
Next day Walker leads his little army into Rivas. Turley is the first to be shot down.
Tom Collins was our “official” set photographer: he played the journalist interviewing Walker in Granada. Lynn Davis, Rene Auberjonois, and others took some very nice pictures, on set and off. But until last week I hadn’t seen any of Richard’s photographs. Now he has sent me some, and generously given his permission for me to share a few here.
Above are Dick Rude and Edward Tudor Pole, standing in front of the church into which Walker (both the historical Walker, and our actor, Ed Harris) notoriously rode a horse. They too are actors, as you may have guessed. This was one of our Granada locations.
And here’s Joe Strummer. After playing kool, hipster assassins in STRAIGHT TO HELL, he and Dick were determined to do something different. Dick wore a fat suit and played the cook, Washburn. Joe chose to be the least-noticeable, scumbliest of all Walker’s Immortals as Faucet, the cook’s assistant. Several of Richard’s photos work like this, with different planes of action. In the forground, Strummer, distracted. In the background, the director and Dr. Jones (Rene Assa).
This is my favourite of Richard’s WALKER pix. It works on four or five planes. In the forground is Ed Pansullo, in character for his portrait, as Major Angus. But our eyes are drawn past Ed, to the wonderful Abbie Fields, one of the ADs, bringing Richard his drum. Following Abbie is another Ed – Colonel Walker. In the middle distance, Doc Holliday appears to have wandered in from TOMBSTONE RASHOMON. And in the background, taking advantage of the shade, are the Nicarguan extras, in costume.
This one has a somewhat vignetty, antiquy thing going on. On the left, Ed Tudor Pole again (there were numerous Eds in WALKER, including the executive producer, Ed Pressman). On the right, Zander Schloss, soon to become part of Joe’s Latino Rockabilly War. There was a lot of music in and around WALKER, which Richard E I’m sure enjoyed.
This brief gallery would not be complete without a portrait of the artist. Here is Richard, in civilian attire, with three of our extras from the Battle of Rivas.
The man is a serious photographer. He has a new book of photos which he took during the pandemic, YEAR ZERO. And also a previous collection, MOVIE LIFE, the cover of which features him and Frederick Neumann – the muleskinner from WALKER. (I assume the two shots of Richard were taken by Tom Collins — official photographer to The Pogues, with an eye for group portraiture).
There is also a film in the works, about Richard and his YEAR ZERO photographs, directed by Nick Ebeling.
Tomorrow is the first day of the Almería Western Film Festival. Unfortunately, family matters prevent my attending, but I have a film premiering there – a short which I made in the Tabernas desert, titled EVENTOS EN EL CAMPO. The audio is by Dan Wool, and it was shot by Geoff Marslett, who was at the Festival last year screening his splendid feature QUANTUM COWBOYS. If you haven’t seen that film, I encourage you to do so. It’s been to a lot of festivals and is currently playing in theaters across the US.
I almost put up a link to Geoff’s trailer, but it seems to be on youtube and I’m sick of that platform. It is a reactionary sink, full of horrible commercials which one is expected to pay $100 annually to avoid. It is also the poster child of political deplatforming, having recently scrubbed the excellent work of former US weapons inspector Scott Ritter, and “demonetized” the lively, radical (and dangerously popular) Russell Brand. I don’t post videos to “monetize” them, but some people do, and good luck to them – even though they make only a tiny fraction of the dosh Google or Microsoft or whoever owns the fetid platform earns from screening their original work.
So I will not be posting any more videos on youtube, or on vimeo – which has become quite filmmaker-unfriendly, and taken to “throttling” material with political content. Instead, I have posted a lot of my video work to Rumble, which seems much less censorious, and continues to host Ritter, Brand, and other worthwhile content. I’ve put EVENTOS EN EL CAMPO there, and you can watch it tomorrow, after its official, world premiere in Almería. The link is here.
Among the other videos I’ve uploaded to Rumble are three videos I made with Yorkie – you can watch IN & OUT OF LOVE here – the complete reading of SPANISH TRAGEDY starring Derek Jacobi, Drew Schofield, Carla Henry, Marc Warren and other fine actors, a manic drama about reality TV, made in Liverpool and shot by Len Gowing, titled I’M A JUVENILE DELINQUENT – JAIL ME!, several feature “makings-of”, and the EMMANUELLE and KUROSAWA documentaries which Tod Davies and I made during our time in that fair city.
There are also three documentaries related to the JFK assassination (the one I made in response to Errol Morris’s “Umbrella Man” piece is here), and BLACK HILLS, the first film I ever made, when I was a student at Bristol in 1974. It too was shot in the Tabernas desert, back in the days when those Italian Western sets were nearly new, and there’s some nice footage of the Flagstone set (built for ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST) and the CECISA location (where we shot STRAIGHT TO HELL). As you will see, my taste in short films hasn’t changed much in fifty years. I’ll post more video to Rumble soon.
Speaking of decades past, it’s twenty years since the FACT centre in Liverpool opened. REVENGERS TRAGEDY was the first film to play there, and as part of their anniversary celebrations, FACT are screening a double bill of REPO MAN and WALKER on October 20th. I mention this because, after all this video stuff, both pictures are screening on 35mm film. The programmer even sent me a photo of the reels sitting on the bench in the projection booth.
And, speaking of the world of film, real film, a very kind film collector just sent me an interpositive of HIGHWAY PATROLMAN, which he had acquired somewhere. It was delightful to come home and find a huge box containing ten reels of 35mm waiting on the deck. I had forgotten how heavy film is, and what a pleasure it is to unroll a reel to check out the image quality. This print looks to be scratch-free. How wonderful!
ALEX: You’ve been asked this before, I know. But for the record, what is/was the difference between Dan Wool and Pray for Rain. And why?
DAN: The distilled version: Pray for Rain was a band, active in the 1980’s and early 90’s that I was in. It had four members and four songwriters. We played live, tried to get signed to a label etc, did normal band stuff. Film score was something I dabbled with on my own, outside of Pray for Rain. When you, surprisingly, accepted my score demos for Sid and Nancy and wanted me to score key scenes in the film (Joe Strummer and The Pogues were already on board to score other scenes), I asked the band to play on the score for those scenes. Since the band was my primary focus, at that time I decided to use Pray for Rain as the screen credit. Exact same thing for the next film, Straight to Hell. Eventually the focus became less and less about the band thing, and Pray for Rain went on to do more scores as a film score-collective, often with me as the principal composer, but many were highly collaborative with all members contributing substantially.
ALEX: When we met, you had a different band, or two. What kind of music did you play back then, and how did it change with Pray for Rain?
DAN: When you and I met I was in the band that I moved from St Louis to San Francisco with: The Strikers, later modified to The Model Strikers. We were quasi-post-punk I guess. Meaning influenced by punk bands like The Clash and The Jam, and then later, post-punk bands like Magazine, and New Order. After that I did a solo project called Big Race that then merged with another San Francisco band called Personnel. Big Race seemed like a better band name, so we went with that. Big Race was squarely post-punk with arty English bands as our main influences. By the time our bass player decided to grow up and leave the band a raft of other “Big” bands (Big Country among others) had come on the scene, so when we found a new bass player we used the opportunity to update our handle. The new bass player, Gary Brown, came with a host of new influences. He was fluent in Brazilian, Latin, Funk, Jazz and more. Pray for Rain incorporated those influences into our sound. That diversity didn’t help us get signed to a label, but became extremely valuable a little later when we collaborated on film scores. (picture below shows Pray for Rain in 1993 – Gary Brown, Dan Wool, and James Woody)
ALEX: Do you miss playing live?
DAN: I do not. Actually being on stage and performing was fun, but literally everything else involved with playing a live show (lugging gear, promoting shows, stressing about the draw, having to come up with witty stage banter etc) made me miserable.
ALEX: Of the film scores you’ve written – I know there are a lot of them – which do you particularly like, or feel pleased with?
DAN: That’s a tough one. And there’s a distinction between the scores I had the best experience creating and the ones I’m most pleased with. Whereas Sid & Nancy – the first feature I worked on – was probably the most exciting (a trip to England, hanging out with Joe Strummer and The Pogues, a New York premiere with movie stars), I was never completely satisfied with how the score sounded. I was a total novice as a composer and had spent very little time in a professional recording studio. The results were very good and literally started my career as a composer, but to this day those tracks don’t sound fully baked to me. They don’t completely capture the vibe of the demos that got us the gig.
So the scores I’m most pleased with? I’d say your film, Death and the Compass, is one of my favorite Pray for Rain scores. That one was highly collaborative, with fellow Pray for Rain members Gary Brown and James Woody playing on and co-writing most of it with me. That score allowed us to dive deep into the ‘synth-score’ genre, which we’d never fully embraced before. It was also the first feature film we didn’t go into a recording studio to record. It was done entirely in my home studio – a fairly new, and cutting edge approach at the time. No doubt that is a large part of why I’m still happy with it. The gear wasn’t as fancy, but being able to create, perform and mix in the same space without the studio money-clock running made it possible to get everything just-so. Most of the scores I’ve done since then were recorded in my home studio. (picture below shows Wool 30 years later – in 2023)
ALEX: I’m glad you’re pleased with Death & the Compass. It’s one of my favourite scores. It feels like you really went for it, with the sheer loudness and brashness of it, and the incorporation of Mexico City street sounds, like the whistle of the camote cart.
DAN: Another collaborative Pray for Rain score I really like was for a TV movie by David Burton Morris called The Almost Perfect Bank Robbery. It was (obviously) a comedy, and very fun to work on. David gave us a lot of freedom, which always improves the end product. The score was highly eclectic, with tinges of Latin, Folk, Flamenco, Country, Ranchera and more. Plus all kinds of instrumentation – accordions, autoharps, whistling, kazoos. Somehow it all hung together really well. Still does I think
Some scores that I’ve done on my own that I’m happy with are Andrew Chapman’s Standoff. Pray for Rain bass player, Gary Brown, contributed and played on that score, but an extremely tight deadline limited the collaborative possibilities. Perhaps because of the time constraint, I ended up creating a very spontaneous mangled guitar-score that lent itself well to the high-drama the film called for. I’m not usually fond in hindsight of scores that had tight turnarounds, but Standoff is a happy exception.
The scores for your films Three Businessmen, and Searchers 2.0, are definitely on the pleased-with list. Since you generally trust me more than other directors do, and have few notes about what I write, I’m able to spend more time to get things how I hear them. With Three Businessmen I was able to find a vibe for the score that I think was unique and cinematic.
ALEX: In Three Businessmen, there was that musical suggestion of sounds, or instruments, calling out to the protagonists with an urgent message from far away. It was very touching, and in tune with what the producer/writer wanted the film to say.
DAN: Yes, it still holds up well for me. Same with Searchers 2.0. Since you and I were on the same page about the direction of the music I had time create a Western score that I think earnestly builds on Morricone’s style rather than merely exploits or parodies it (although it does those things to an extent as well). I also went all out on making the S2.0 score as legitimately orchestral-sounding as possible. There wasn’t much of a budget but I hired and recorded, in my home studio, several top-drawer live players to sweeten the orchestral samples in the score. It wouldn’t have made the favorites-list without the live players.
ALEX: You visited the Monument Valley set on Searchers 2.0, and stayed with us at Goulding’s Lodge. I always appreciate it if you can take time to do that – to visit the location, smell the actors and hang out with the dust. It has some meaning, I think, beyond watching the footage when the film is done. That was one of the first ‘Dan Wool’ score, wasn’t it?
DAN: There were a number of films, including Standoff, and Three Businessmen, which I did on my own but used Pray for Rain for the screen credit (James Woody did coproduce the end title song for 3B, ‘Ghost Riders in the Sky’ with me). We were still doing other projects as a collective so using that credit made sense from a branding perspective. Searchers 2.0 was the second score I did using ‘Dan Wool’ as a credit. The first was another score for my particularly-like list, Daniel Lee’s Journeyman. Dan is and was the only director to have cold-contacted me via my website to ask for my services. Most of my practice at that time consisted of super-techy synth and sample-based music for advertising. Dan’s request to do his film came at the exact time I was getting sick of doing only ad work. Dan was charming, and his interesting, rather experimental film – made up largely of improvised dialogue – felt like salvation. That score is almost 100% organic instrumentation. Very little tech or synthesis. Mostly guitars and my new (at the time), but very old upright piano. Because there was zero budget, I played everything on the score – and it still came out good! (picture below shows Dan participating in Jem Finer’s 1000-year piece Longplayer)
And that brings us to Phil Tippett’s Mad God. I had the aforementioned ‘trust of the director’, and ‘time to create’ in spades on Mad God. Not only were Phil and I in complete agreement on the contrapuntal nature of the score. I had over ten years to create it! There was literally no budget for Mad God so it stands as the ultimate example of the ‘Good, Cheap, Fast: Pick Two’ model of creative production. Needless to say, I’m happy with that one.
ALEX: How about horrible experiences? Have you had any of those, or has your composing career been all beer and skittles?
DAN: Right. Obviously not all of my film projects have gone smoothly, but I generally like what I do, so a lot of the bumps come under the heading of boring technical difficulties or unclear directions from creatives – which means composing multiple versions of cues until I stumble on what the director is after. And even that is only a problem because of the deadlines inherent in post-production schedules. However, I can relate two war stories that fall mostly under the heading of politics. Paradoxically both projects were among the most positive experiences I’ve had as a composer, and both scores came out really well.
One was the score for David Schwimmer’s (yes, the guy in the TV show Friends) Since You’ve Been Gone. A smart and solid comedy with an insane ensemble cast of trendy 90’s stars (Lara Flynn Boyle, Teri Hatcher, Liev Schreiber, Jon Stewart, Marisa Tomei and more). It was a Miramax production, so the stakes were high for me and my co-writer Gary Brown (screen credit: Pray for Rain). The temp score was all big-band Latin from the 40’s and 50’s which meant we would have the opportunity to record a lot of live players in a nice recording studio (Studio D in Sausalito). Gary had a background in Latin music, playing in some serious heavyweight Latin and Brazilian bands, and by this time I had gotten pretty good at writing in that style. We’d written a few other Latin cues for other films, but this project was much more involved than anything we’d done before in that genre. Gary used his connections in the community to hire the top Latin players in the Bay Area for the sessions.
Gary and I did the musical arrangements, but a close friend volunteered to help us create the musical charts for the musicians. The budget for the score was slightly better than we were used to, but the score was quite ambitious. We had to keep it to a two-man operation as much as possible to stay within budget. While my music reading skills are minimal at best, Gary’s are excellent. But since neither of us had experience creating charts for all of the instruments needed for the project, the offer of free help was appreciated. There was a lot of music in the film. It took two very long nights with all three of us working together in my home studio to create and print out all the parts for the players. We finished only a few hours before the recording session began.
The first couple days of the session went fine. For a variety of reasons it was decided to do the recording in sections with basic percussion, bass and piano parts being laid down first so the horns, which are notoriously difficult to record well, would have something to play to. It was horn-day when things went south. It turned out that we got what we paid for in creating the charts. Every horn chart that we’d worked so hard on was wrong. Unusably wrong. So the only thing to do was send all the horn players home (with pay) and hope that their schedules allowed them to come back the next day (to be paid again!). It also meant all the charts had to be corrected that night. And that meant hiring the lead horn player on the session, Norbert Stachel, to stay up with me all night with me to create usable charts. By this time I was already operating on very little sleep, but Norbert, apart from being perhaps the most gifted musician I’ve ever worked with, is very patient and professional. He methodically guided my sleep deprived brain to create all the corrected charts in time for the rescheduled horn session. I never asked what we ended up paying Norbert for the overtime, and the other players to come back, but it all worked out. The chart debacle took a big bite out of how much time we had to record the rest of the score and mix, but somehow nothing about things going to shit mid-process affected the outcome negatively. The added pressure demanded maximum spontaneity and zero overthinking from everyone involved, so I think the chaos actually improved the end product in this case. The result is a somewhat loose but super vibey, authentic Latin-Mambo score that I couldn’t have been prouder of [an excerpt]. This score would have easily made my favorites-list if not for what happened next.
All did not end well. Just before the film’s theatrical release, which would have included a 90s star-studded premier, Harvey Weinstein himself killed the release of the theatrical film with no reason given whatsoever. There were vague assumptions that it was politics, but nothing was stated. I was back in the studio creating mixes for the soundtrack album when I heard the news. Suddenly what I thought was going to be my biggest career boost since Sid & Nancy became a sad, empty hole. The film did get an unannounced release on video a year or so later, but with no promotion it went virtually unnoticed.
I can only think of one thing worse for a composer (not to mention all the other people involved with the film) than having your work capriciously assigned to obscurity, and that situation occurred in my other story of composer woe…
I also had an absolute blast working on your film The Winner, a dark dramedy set in Las Vegas with another impressive cast (Rebecca DeMornay, Michael Madsen, Vincent D’Onofrio, Billy Bob Thornton, Delroy Lindo, Frank Whaley). The first fun thing about the project was that you arranged for me and my stepbrother, Zander Schloss, to collaborate on the score, something we’d always wanted to do. Also, you thought the maniacal, overwhelming interior sounds of Las Vegas casinos should be woven into the soundtrack, which meant me coming to Las Vegas during production to record the sound of casino interiors for that purpose – composers are often hired after filming is over, so it’s a glamorous treat to get onto a film set. But more than that, before production started, I went to LA to produce and record two songs that Zander and I had written that were to be lip synced to during musical numbers in the film. I even got to be a glorified extra in the film with big gameshow-host hair (the second biggest male hairdo in the film*), and pretend to play keyboards in the on-screen backing band for those numbers.
The focused creative fun continued during the composing of the score, with Zander and I mostly working in our respective cities (he LA, me SF), but then the two of us coming together at my home studio to collaborate on a number of cues and to mix the score. As usual you gave Zander and me a lot of latitude in what music we wrote. The only real direction being that we should use the film’s tilted noir-esque story and characters for inspiration rather than Las Vegas’s crass artificiality. The only hard parameter you insisted on was “no Jazz”. Not only were you not a fan of Jazz (to put it mildly) a Jazz score would be brain-dead obvious for a Las Vegas film-noir. What we ended up with was a dramatic, often experimental, off-the-money anti-Vegas soundtrack that served as counterpoint to frame the characters and the story, in an interesting and unconventional way
Post production was another dream come true. The film was mixed at post-production paradise Skywalker Sound, a short scenic commute from my home in San Francisco. There was no particular reason for me to attend every day of the theatrical mix, but I availed myself of every opportunity to absorb the rustic, but hi-tech, atmosphere, and to feed the animatronic fauna at the elegant and idyllic cutting edge facility.
The film was in the can and all the creatives involved were happy, but again, all did not end well. The score that Zander and I worked so hard on for months hit a brick wall of disapproval by the film’s producer Mark Damon, who without your knowledge or approval commissioned an entirely new score to be composed and mixed into the film. And what genre of music did Mr. Damon impose onto The Winner? That’s right: a Jazz score. Of course you fought vigorously against the changes (Damon had also made a few awful picture cuts), even attempting to take your name off the film as I recall, but producer Damon (a self described music-guy) was intractable in his Jazz-score position, so The Winner was released with music you’ve described as “the kind porno producers buy by the yard” as its underscore.
For a film score composer having your score replaced by another composer’s work is the ultimate drag. Rejection is never pleasant, but rejection after so much hard work, and after getting the director’s enthusiastic approval was devastating. I took solace knowing I’d been on the other end of the stick, once replacing a score by the great Elmer, Bernstein no less! [an experience I wrote about here] So while these types of situations seem completely avoidable in my view, they are an unpleasant fact of the film industry for composers.
There was a silver lining of sorts. The Japanese distributor agreed to distribute “our” version of The Winner (the Japanese are wonderfully respectful of directors’ vision – they even put out a soundtrack CD for The Winner!), so the work survives. In fact, now whenever The Winner pops up on streaming services it’s almost always “our” version, so Mark Damon’s laugh was not the last one.
*I originally had the biggest male hair in the film, but the actor Frank Whaley, who plays an important role in the film, caught a glimpse of me having my hairdo installed and got quite bent out of shape. It seems a great deal of the motivation for his character came from that character’s hair, and he felt strongly that if anyone else on the set (even a background extra) had higher hair than his, his character would be diminished. This high hair discussion all took place out of my ear shot. It took a while for people to figure out if he was serious or not, but he most certainly was. After a long time sitting by myself in Hair & Makeup, the hair person eventually came back in with a ruler, and took my hair down an inch or so. After Whaley came in and checked it, I was allowed to shoot the scene.
Whaley’s eccentric performance, as Joey, is as good a character-actor performance as I’ve ever seen. He created arguably the most interesting and magnetic character in the film. I’ll never know if the hair tantrum was some sort of methody actor Andy Kaufman behavior, or if he was just being a jerk, but since he was pleasant enough to me before and after the hair incident, I’ll assume the former. Either way it was fascinating to get a glimpse of, and take part briefly in what goes on in actor-world.
ALEX: How interesting that both these sad tales took place in the 90s, and were executive-producer-driven! The Winner was the only film I directed which wasn’t “my” film, in the sense that I, like you, was a mere hireling. But I thought we did a good job with the material, and that the cast, the score, and the production design were excellent. Later I wondered if the malfeasant producer had secretly hidden money out of the budget, and if stripping out your score and replacing it with a grossly inferior one was his way of accounting for the missing funds. But who knows? Your original score is quite beautiful, and I’m happy that the Japanese distributor preserved it, and released it on CD.
Let me ask you a somewhat different question. I imagine most people think of you as a film composer, but I know you’ve been up to a lot of other stuff as well. Can you tell us something about your other aural activities?
DAN: For better or, probably for, worse my life in music and sound has been a directionless, meandering road. Just following shiny objects and saying yes to whatever project presents itself isn’t exactly a career-strategy, but it’s led to a lot of wonderful unexpected creative endeavors, while paying the bills.
I’ve always done, and continue to do film score, but sometime in the early aughts the William Morris Agency, who represented me and Pray for Rain, dissolved their film score department. When subsequent agencies proved ineffective I had to get innovative finding work. Around that time my manager, Chris Coyle, introduced me to someone that repped a music supervisor who primarily coordinated music for television advertising in Japan, and I became a very active composer in his stable [ad work examples]. I found I absolutely loved that type of work. Japanese advertising is famously deliberately bizarre, and each 15 to 120 second spot was crazier than the last. I learned a ton about composition, style-writing and music production creating hundreds of those short ads. That quickly became the focus of my practice and lasted about ten years until the Japanese economy melted down (along with the Fukushima nuclear power plant) in 2011.
By that time I had made social connections in the Bay Area experimental music scene (for lack of a better term) that mostly grew out of Mills College’s forward-thinking music department. When a friend asked me if I’d be interested in scoring a contemporary dance piece I took advantage of my influences from that scene and jumped in. I adored this work too, but for very different reasons than ad work [contemporary dance work examples]. Dance scores are highly collaborative and extremely open creatively, with few limitations compared to advertising or film. Contemporary Dance then became my primary career focus until around 2016 when it overlapped with the next chapter.
While working on your films Searchers 2.0 and Repo Chick I met Phil Tippett, whose visual effects studio in Berkeley was doing the CG for those films. He recruited me to work on what was then his side passion-project, a short stop-motion film called MAD GOD (this project continued on for ten years for me and ultimately developed into a highly acclaimed feature film released in 2022). While having a meeting at Tippett Studio about that film, one day Phil and his wife, Tippett Studio CEO Jules Roman, asked me if I’d be into doing the music for a domed flying theatre ride-experience in China that the studio had been contracted to create the media for. Jules and Phil were familiar with my film scores and had also come to several of the dance pieces I had worked on. At least a couple of those pieces were multi-channel immersive audio sound-installations. Since the Chinese fly ride also required a multi-channel mix they thought I’d also be a good choice to create the sound design and mix the project on-site in China. Gigs that weird don’t come along every day so of course I jumped at the opportunity and now that shiny object became my career focus. (Picture below shows Dan’s construction debut in China – pihoto credit Chris Morley)
The fly ride project also allowed me to get much further into conventional sound effects and sound design, which I’d done here and there in over the years, and really wanted to do more of. I worked with Tippett Studio on two more similar Chinese flying theatre projects and was in development on two others when the pandemic made everything weird. Creating audio-media for what’s referred to as “dark rides” or “themed entertainment” is arguably the least sexy and most corporate work I’ve ever done, but it utilizes everything I’ve learned doing film, advertising, and performance installations at once and sits in the sweet-spot of my skill-set. I continue to pursue work in themed entertainment today [themed entertainment work samples].
So…Film Score > then Advertising > then Dance > then Dark Rides are the broad strokes of my timeline to date, but of course they’ve all overlapped at times, and still do. Some of my career also-rans so far: I’ve recorded and produced bands and artists extensively. I’ve done a lot of scores and sound design for documentaries. Audio-design for corporate branding. Corporate sound logos (including those little things that flash by after TV shows – I get 25 cents in residuals every time Family Feud is aired). Multi-channel audio installations for museums and art galleries. I did sound and music for streaming channel SHUDDER’s annual Halloween “Ghoul Log” last year. You once got me a gig recreating the voice of Ernest Borgnine and other actors, plus the sound design in several scenes of a Spaghetti Western where the sound had been lost (this meant engaging a lip reader to determine what the missing dialogue was, and hiring an Ernest Borgnine impersonator) For two years I was on retainer by the US Olympic Synchronized Swimming Team for musical services. So essentially I’ll do anything if you pay me.…or even if you don’t.
ALEX: You mentioned sound design on several projects. Is that something you want to do more of?
It is! It’s becoming a bit of a passion. I’ve done sound design on a fair amount projects over the years. Short films, docs, ads, corporate videos etc. The dance compositions I mentioned usually have a sound design component too, but the Tippett Studio ride projects really allowed me to get much further into conventional sound effects and sound design and mixing. Most of the sound design work to picture I’d done before that was on the creative and arty side, and delivered in stereo only. The dark ride experiences need to be very precise, hyper-real and delivered in anywhere from stereo, to 5.1 channel, to 20.1 channel audio and beyond. It also meant I had to get up to speed on recording my own effects (a field recording rig etc), rather than relying on sound effects libraries, plus installing a surround mixing environment in my studio. I realized at a certain point that my path to knowing what I was doing as a sound designer was happening in backwards order. My earlier mixes to picture were descent enough I think, but having to deliver straight up, conventional sound on some projects has given me more of a foundation to work from. I’m a lot more comfortable now in that role than I once was – I now feel that since I know a little more about the rules of sound design, that I have a bit of authority to break them. Also, I have about the best consultant/mentor a sound designer could have. Richard Beggs(Apocalypse Now, Repo Man, Lost in Translation, Harry Potter, and many more), who I met from working on your films, and whom I worked closely with on MAD GOD is inexplicably generous and patient with me, and is always up for answering my stupid questions. He’s also good at being quite blunt when evaluating any mixes I run by him. To my point regarding ‘the rules of sound design’, Richard’s vast experience and technical knowhow gives him near unconditional authority to be as creative as he wants to be with sound. I’m nowhere near that level of course, but his example is something I always have in mind when I have my sound designer hat on.
In fact the coolest projects I’ve done so far this year (2023) are, sound design projects (mostly). A 5.1 theatrical mix for the short film “Living in the Time of Uncertainty” an ambient experimental film by artist and filmmaker Masha Kechaeva that premiered at SF’s Roxie Theatre in July. And music, sound design and 5.1 theatrical mix for your film, “Eventos En El Campo”, another largely ambient, rather experimental film that will premiere at the Almeria Western Film Festival later this year. I’m not sure if it’s possible to make a living being an experimental ambient film sound designer and mixer, but it’s looking like that might be my next shiny object.
ALEX: What inspired me to interview you was a story you told about having to defend your own material against a YouTube copyright claim, and make a video to do it. Since I’m very interested in the misuse of copyright law by big corporations, I wonder if you could tell that tale.
DAN: Sure. It gets boring and lawyerly fast, but some of us are into that sort of thing.
Every few years since there’s been an internet, someone has emailed me to ask if they could license a piece of music from the Sid & Nancy soundtrack for their film, or whatever. Since I don’t own the rights to that music I would have to say, sorry no. That score was a work-for-hire, so the production company (considered the publisher of the music) is the only entity authorized to license it. This is a standard composer arrangement, by the way. Only on smaller, low budget productions, where the composer is under (or not) paid is the composer ever allowed to retain full ownership of the music. Larger productions, network projects etc. typically require the composer to give up the publishing rights to the score they’ve been hired to create if they want the gig.
There is however a maneuver artists can do to regain control of their music, and that is to re-record the music themselves. Since the arrangement above only pertains to the actual recordings of the music (not the music itself) that means they (the artist) would own the new recordings and the music. Taylor Swift famously is re-recording and releasing her entire catalogue from before 2019, to regain full control of her work (Swift is not a film composer of course, but the terms of the contract she signed as a young artist adds up to the identical situation). When someone contacted me recently to ask about licensing a Sid & Nancy track I decided to be like Taylor and re-record those old tracks for the same reason she did.
The redos came out pretty good (they are here – still working on “Off the Boat”). It was fun trying to recreate those old recordings using modern tools. People super familiar with the original versions might notice differences, if they’re listening for them, but the soundalikes are decent enough. But you know who definitely was fooled by these re-recorded tracks? YouTube’s listening-bots. Partly as a test to see if YouTube would allow me to upload these new recordings I decided to upload the tracks to my YouTube Channel (YouTube has algorithms in place to prevent uploaders from uploading copyrighted content). Before the first video (Taxi to Heaven 2023) even finished uploading (with just a still photo as the video. no scenes from the film) I got a Copyright Infringement notice via email. Universal Music Publishing was claiming the copyrights for the recording I had just created.
The notice assured me that the infringement wasn’t considered a “Copyright Strike” yet – a host of odious things can occur if you get a Copyright Strike apparently, including but not limited to being sent to “YouTube copyright school” (not kidding)! The notice said that the video wouldn’t be taken down, but I couldn’t monetize it. Not that the track would be a big earner, but since the point of redoing the tracks from Sid & Nancy was to regain full control of my music I clicked the “dispute claim” button provided on the internet form. That allowed me to submit a written explanation as to why Universal’s copyright claim was invalid. This seemed reasonable enough, but after submitting two more Sid & Nancy tracks (and the subsequent “dispute-claim” forms) I got a notice saying that my entire channel had been demonetized because of “reused” content. An odd, vague term but I figured it had to be referring to the problematic Sid & Nancy tracks. This notice said I could wait 90 days, at which time the issue would be reviewed again (by another bot?), or I could create a video of myself explaining why my channel shouldn’t have been demonetized. Among other weirdly specific criteria the video needed to adhere to was, the video had to be less than five minutes long, and had to explain and demonstrate my video creation process. I opted to jump through that hoop. If I’d have known my YouTube gravel-video would be seen by anyone other than the bots at YouTube I might have put a little more into it (it’s here), but it did the job. Within 24 hours of submitting the video my site was re-monetized and I was a happy capitalist once again.
ALEX: Thank you for this explanation! And congratulations on the copyright recapture. I was able to recapture the US rights to the Repo Man script, too, so who knows? Maybe we’ll soon be working on the Repo Man sequel…
DAN: Or Sid & Nancy 2.
ALEX: Yes! So what’s next for you?
DAN: On the front burner at the moment is a cinematic sound-effects-centric remix of the score for Phil Tippett’s MAD GOD. Waxwork Records put out a beautiful double-vinyl package of the score (also on CD) that I consider the official MAD GOD soundtrack album. This will be something more for cinephiles and hardcore MAD GOD fans, that incorporates a lot more of the odd and innovative sound effects by the film’s sound designer, Richard Beggs. I worked closely with Richard for many years on that film. The compositions were often built around his sound effects so I became acutely accustomed to hearing them, and miss them when they’re absent. I’m thinking others may appreciate such an album too.
Other than that, there’s a dark ride project coming down the pike later this year and into 2024. Also a contemporary dance installation commission that will be performed in SF and LA summer of 2024. In 2025 the Musée Cinéma & Miniature in Lyon is mounting a Phil Tippett retrospective that will include an immersive MAD GOD installation that I’ll be involved with. It’s looking like I’ll be in Spain this fall to attend the Almeria premiere of your film, the aforementioned “Eventos En El Campo” for which I did sound and music, and then also going to the Sitges Film Festival in Catalonia with Phil for a screening of MAD GOD, and where he will also receive a lifetime achievement award. So a fair amount going on, but I’ll happily can it all if the Repo Man sequel comes together, Alex. Fingers crossed.
Some years ago I made a film called REPO CHICK. It didn’t get much distribution, and most likely you haven’t seen it. Some people did, though. The conceit of the film is that the characters are all model railway figures, two centimeters high. They exist on a tabletop model railroad layout, where their tiny lives revolve inevitably around toy trains, miniature golf, and compulsory veganism. The protagonist is one Pixxi de la Chasse Obando y Bravo, a blonde, spoiled rich girl – wonderfully played by Jaqueline Jonet, who was also one of the leads in SEARCHERS 2.0. Alex Feldman played her rocker boyfriend, Marco. The cast is quite a splendid one – including Miguel Sandoval, Roseanna Arquette, Del Zamora, Jennifer Balgobin, Zahn McClarnon, Chloe Webb, Ben Guillory, Angela Sarafyan, and Robert Beltran.
I had a funny exchange with Robert, three days into the shoot, when he said to me, “When you told us on day one that we were model railroad characters, and that our greatest fear was falling off the edge of the table… you weren’t kidding, right?” Indeed not, I replied. That’s why directors must never tell jokes on set. If they do, misunderstandings may ensue. And the film turned out pretty good, I think: thanks to a fantastic crew, including Steve Fierberg (cinematographer), Alexis Scott (costume designer), Nicholas Plotquin (production designer), Barney Burman (makeup designer), and Eric Leven (visual effects), REPO CHICK has quite an extraordinary visual aspect.
At least, it used to be extraordinary. But now another film has come along which mysteriously resembles REPO CHICK to a remarkable degree, at least in the sense of visuals, costume, design and makeup. And the name of that film? BARBIE. One of the reviews of REPO CHICK made the resemblance clear (and there wasn’t even a Barbie movie then!) – check it out here.
I won’t include any comparison pictures – because those BARBIE images are the copyright of the studio, of course – but check out the REPO CHICK trailer here, and Kim Ryan’s “Making of” documentary here, and see if you can spot any resemblance. There’s also a documentary about the making of REPO CHICK’s visual effects, which is fun if you like model railways: you can watch that here.
The production designer of BARBIE was Sarah Greenwood, the costumer Jaqueline Durran, the d.p. Rodrigo Prieto, and the makeup artist Kat Ali. Original creatives all! I imagine the film had a director, too, but there’s a lot of AI around, so you never know. Am I upset that Warner Brothers “borrowed” the visual aspect of my supposedly copyrighted film? Not really, though I’m sorry they didn’t hire any of the creative crew who came up with REPO CHICK’s original look and feel. One grows to expect these things – ever since I made a film about a money-hungry punk and a mad scientist with a flying car which is also a time machine, and the studio returned the favour by coming up with a franchise called BACK TO THE FUTURE. So it goes.
One thing does continue to puzzle me, though. Why can’t Hollywood Studios cast Americans in these iconic American roles? Margot Robbie, who plays Barbie, is an Australian. Cillian Murphy, who plays Oppenheimer, is Irish. David Oyelowo, who played Martin Luther King in the Hollywood movie, was born in effin’ Oxford, England! Daniel Day Lewis, who played Abraham Lincoln, is a limely and the son of the English Poet Laureate. Gary Oldman, who played Lee Harvey Oswald, is from Bermondsey, London. And so it goes as well. Yet it tells us something about their confidence in US heroes (and iconic US villains) that the American studios and their tame directors are consistently afraid to cast top-notch American actors (of whom there are many) in quintesentially American roles.
Nick Corbishley reports in Naked Capitalism that the US is sending military personnel to Peru for “co-ooperation activities” with that country’s army and police. US armed forces suddenly flying in to “co-operate” in Latin American countries is widely considered unacceptable – especially when the Peruvian police and army just have killed almost seventy citizens opposed to the most recent coup, which put its first working-class president in jail. TeleSur reports that “training” lasts from 1 June to 31 Dec:
“The U.S. military will carry out operations with the Peruvian Joint Intelligence and Special Operations Command (CIOEC), the Joint Special Forces (FEC), the Navy’s Special Operations Forces (FOE), the Air Force’s Special Forces Group (GRUFE), the Anti-drug Directorate (DIRANDRO), and the Police’s Special Forces Directorate (DIROES).
“The training will take place in Lima, Callao, Loreto, San Martin, Santa Lucia, Huanuco, Ucayali, Pasco, Junin, Huancavelica, Cusco, Ayacucho, Iquitos, Pucusana and Apurimac.
“The largest group will be made up of 970 members of the U.S. Air Force, Space Force, and Special Forces. Besides carrying their personal regulation weapons, they will arrive in Peru with planes, trucks, and rapid response boats to take part in the Resolute Sentinel 2023 maneuver.”
The MRTA occupation of the Japanese Ambassador’s residence, a piece of history from 1996, is a great, sad story. At the time, I thought it would make a dramatic feature film, like Sacco & Vanzetti or The Mattei Affair. But these were the 1990s, not the 1970s. Much had changed in 20 years, and there were no funds for such a film. So I approached the story as a written piece – and it still took me a long time to get it right (assuming I have got it right – if you’re familiar with these events, and have corrections or improvements, please advise me). I tried to approach it as a book, a literal day-by-day account of the 127 days of the seige. But what stopped me, when I tried to write it that way, was how repetitive the occupation became, after only a few days. It was meant to be a revolutionary action to free political prisoners and bring about political change. It was supposed to last two weeks. Instead it became a strange, cyclical saga which spread out for months, and ended – for its protagonists – in disaster.
DAY ONE
17 DECEMBER 1996
Lima is a city where many poor people and a few rich people reside. San Isidro is one of its wealthier neighbourhoods, not far from the city centre. Its streets are lined with old trees, and high-walled homes, and tall iron gates where drivers and bodyguards hang out on cracked pavements, in the shade.
One of the grandest of the high-walled homes was built to resemble Tara, the white-columned mansion where Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler trysted, in Gone With the Wind. The property had been acquired from its original owner by the government of Japan, and it was here that the Japanese Ambassador, Morihisa Aoki, resided.
Not all the buildings in the vicinity were mansions. Behind the Ambassador’s residence, and facing it, were apartment buildings. Here is was possible to rent a flat with plumbing, electricity, and a telephone line – amenities many Peruvians had no access to. There was no wireless internet. People used dial-up, or sent faxes. If you were in business, a bureaucrat, or a journalist, that phone line was important.
It was the Christmas season – summer in Peru – and the Ambassador was throwing his annual reception in honor of the Emperor, Akihito. Diplomats, politicians, business executives, journalists, high-ranking military and police – the dullest of crews – were his invited guests. Tents were set up in the gardens, alongside bars and buffets. The Ambassador was doing his best to keep his guests outside, and stop them wandering about his house. This, like Tara, featured a ballroom and a grand staircase, sweeping in a graceful curve up to the second floor. The rooms off the second floor corridor were less grand: still impressively large, but utilitarian. The Ambassador’s office was up there.
The official hours of the reception were from 7 to 9pm. The guest list had grown to more than 700 persons. Peruvians, particularly in such large numbers, could not be relied upon to all arrive punctually, so it was anticipated that the event would start late and run later. For that reason, no opening toast was planned. Food was to be served at 8.30.
The American Ambassador – thrillingly named Dennis Jett – left early at 7.45. President Fujimori’s family were there, though the President himself had not yet arrived. As they were of Japanese origin, they were honored guests. (It would later emerge that Fujimori had been born in Japan, and concealed the fact.) The party was going well. The hoped-for diplomats, captains of industry, and military brass were in attendance.
The first explosion occurred at 8.20. The Ambassador, struck by the force of the blast, thought it was a car bomb in the street. But it was not. Later, it would be claimed that rebels entered in three groups: disguised as waiters, carrying floral arrangements, and aboard a phony ambulance. Others would assert that the rebels smuggled their weapons inside a cake. Aoki’s recollection was more prosaic. Two walls surrounded his residence. The inner wall separated the mansion from the kitchen and the servants’ quarters. This was the wall which had been breached. As he watched, black-clad figures poured into the garden through the hole. They were heavily armed, and the Ambassador’s first thought was that they were Peruvian special forces. He marvelled, for a moment, at how fast the military responded to any emergency. Then one of them cried, “We are the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement!” and the screaming started.
Nestor Cerpa, leader of the MRTA commando, had meant to calm the partygoers’ fears by explaining to them that they were the MRTA, the less violent, “good guerrillas” and not the brutal Shining Path – Sendero Luminoso. “We’re not Sendero Luminoso! Don’t worry!” he shouted. No one listened. Cerpa was dressed all in black, with a red and black bandana and the initials of his group sewn onto it. He wore a black baseball cap, backwards, and carried a walkie-talkie in a chest mount. He carried a pistol, grenades, and an AK 47. He terrified them.
To the guests, it seemed that there were twenty-five or thirty rebels, all dressed like Cerpa, waving guns at them and shouting at them to calm down. In fact, there were fourteen. But they seemed many more as they ran to take up positions in the windows, and began dividing their hostages into groups. They had trained for this.
“We are the Oscar Sanchez Special Forces!” another rebel, bearded behind his mask, shouted. “This is Operation Oscar Torre Condesu!” What did he mean? What was he talking about? Two guests emerged from the bathrooms, having flushed their IDs so the rebels wouldn’t know who they were. “Stay where you are!” yelled a masked woman. “Obey and nothing will happen to you!” She fired a round into the air, to prove she meant it. The other rebels followed suit. Outside, the police began a fusilade.
From the very beginning of the attack, the police were locked out of the building. The MRTA barred the doors and took up positions above the street. No one yet knew how they had entered the residence. So the police and bodyguards rained gunfire on the outer walls and windows, ran about, and argued among themselves. During breaks in firing, the cops yelled for the rebels to come out, and the rebels swore, homeland or death, that they would win.
In the garden, the guests were seated on the ground. The rebels walked among them, asking who they were. “Don’t look at us!”. Above and around them, the gun battle continued. The MRTA returned fire from their vantage points. There were no casualties. Roly Rojas was the bearded rebel. They called him El Arabe. Checking IDs, he encountered a tall, lean, middle-aged Japanese. “You are the Ambassador? Get up and come with me.” There were gasps as Aoki rose to his feet. Some thought he was about to be killed.
Rojas walked Aoki across the garden and the parking area, to the gatehouse in the outer wall. Two other masked rebels were there. One of them handed Aoki a bullhorn. “Here’s what you’re going to do, okay? I’m going to tell you what to say, and you say it!” Rojas spoke to him in Spanish. The Ambassador’s Spanish was not good, and he was frightened. “Ready? Tell them you’re the Ambassador! Tell them to hold their fire!”
“Je suis… je suis l’Ambassadeur! Je vous prie… laissez vos armes…” In his alarm, Aoki was speaking to the police in French. A further hail of gunfire was their response.
In the garden, the MRTA continued to issue conflicting messages. “Don’t waste your bullets,” one said loudly. “We may need them for this group here.” He directed his AK at a group of police and military, the latter in dress uniforms, seated on the ground. Then Cerpa gave an order, and the rebels passed it on. “Get up! Hands behind your heads! Proceed inside!” Here he addressed his several hundred prisoners, crowding into the ballroom. “As soon as the shooting stops, we’re going to let the waiters, the women, and the elderly leave. Separate into new groups, accordingly.” He raised his weapon, but did not fire it.
Rojas peered through the gatehouse window. The cops and bodyguards still seemed in disarray. Cars and vans continued to arrive, headlights washing across the walls, disgorging dozens of police agents from different units, private guards, and embassy security teams. “This is the MRTA! Listen up!” he yelled into the bullhorn. There was another gunshot, then a brief lull. “We’re letting the waiters out! Also the old people and the women! Hold your fire! Okay?”
Aoki took the megaphone and repeated what Rojas had said – in Spanish, this time. There was no reply from the police ranks. But no gunfire either. “You should let all these people go,” Aoki told Rojas. “They have nothing to do with this. I alone am enough of a hostage for you to bargain with.” “We’re not here to bargain,” Rojas replied.
The crowd shifted uncomfortably on the ballroom floor. Evacuees were being separated from the rest. There was a constant trickle of guests to the bathrooms, unsupervised by the rebels. IDs continued to be flushed. But there was no escaping via unlocked back doors or bathroom windows. The high security measures, in place to prevent people breaking into the residence, also meant that people couldn’t break out of it.
Tito and Salvador, two high-ranking rebels, assembled more than a hundred people – waiters, women, elderly – under the mansion’s columned portico. Tito’s real name was Eduardo Cruz. Salvador’s was never known. On a signal from Cerpa, Salvador walked the large group down the driveway towards the gatehouse. Rojas addressed the police again, via megaphone, telling them the hostages were coming out. Then he and the young rebel raised the bolts which anchored the big doors to the driveway, and swung the doors wide.
At once, the police began lobbing tear gas canisters. Later the cops would claim that elite military forces had launched the tear gas attack, forcing a police rescue unit to retreat. Either way, the gas bombs flew through the open doors and exploded in front of the hostage procession, driving them back in panic. The MRTA had come equipped with gas masks, which they quickly and professionally donned. But the choking prisoners were forced to cover their faces with handkerchiefs and paper napkins, as the gas blew through the house.
As President Fujimori’s mother and sister Rosa went among the guests with a bowl of water, to moisten their handkerchiefs, a Swiss named Michael Minnig approached the rebels. He identified himself as chief of the International Committee of the Red Cross, and offered his services as an intermediary. They let Minnig go outside with his hands raised. He called to the police to stop shooting and throwing tear gas, then returned to the residence. Here, the rebels had found a guest list and begun calling out names: it appeared all the ID destruction had been for naught. As the prisoners were identified, Cerpa stepped up onto the curved staircase and addressed them.
“We are not murderers. Nor are we terrorists. We are politicians.” The crowd was unconvinced. “It’s true! I intend one day to be president of Peru. Elected president! We do not menace, or rob, or otherwise mistreat our prisoners – unlike the repressive forces of the oligarchy. We’re here for a short time. With your cooperation, we will quickly achieve our political goals, and you will all go free.” At the conclusion of his speech, a small group of journalists – for there were reporters among the guests – surged forward, including Sally Bowen of the Financial Times. Minutes earlier, she had been gassed, and assisted by one of the guerrillas. “He spoke very fluently”, she later said of Cerpa. “He seemed very sure of what he was about. He had his arguments well-prepared. He was not frightening, because he was very calm.” Cerpa told the journalists that his group had targeted the Japanese ambassador because Japan was meddling in Peruvian affairs and supporting economic policies that caused poverty. He pulled a book from his knapsack: Compañeros, Toman Nuestro Sangre. “This is where it all began.” He handed Bowen the book. She turned the pages. It was about a strike, some two decades previously, which ended in a military assault and the deaths of workers.
Meanwhile, the phones upstairs were ringing constantly. The MRTA rebels answered, and, when NHK News called, they decided to let them interview the Ambassador – provided he speak in Spanish and not disclose how many rebels there were. “There is no panic,” Aoki told the reporters. “It is under control. The guerrillas are calm. There are no deaths or injuries.” Meanwhile, the rebels were issuing their first communique – by telephone and via their website, maintained by a sympathizer in Germany. “Communique No. 1” called the attack a “military occupation” carried out by the Edgar Sanchez Special Forces, commanded by Comrade Edigirio Huerta (this was the nom-de-guerre Cerpa was supposed to use, though he quickly abandoned it). The communique demanded a change in economic policies, the release of MRTA prisoners, safe passage to the jungles of central Peru, where the last hostage would be released, and payment of a “war tax”.
The rebels completed the separation of prisoners. Business captives, including Toyota, Nissan and Mitsubishi executives, were housed on the first floor, adjacent to the ballroom. Government officials and diplomats – ambassadors from Brazil, Cuba, Canada, Bolivia, Venezuela and South Korea – were moved to one second floor room, military and police to another. Tito instructed each roomful of captives to designate a “coordinator.” Meanwhile, on the phone to journalist after journalist, Cerpa repeated the MRTA’s demands.
It had been a bad year for revolutionaries. The leaders of Sendero Luminoso and the MRTA had been captured. Abimael Guzman – Comandante Gonzalo – the dreaded founder of Sendero, had been displayed in a cage and jailed underground at the Callao naval base. Peter Cardenas and Victor Polay, heads of the MRTA, had also been arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment in the same dungeon. Various other Sendero and MRTA members were in custody. The reason for the raid on the Ambassador’s residence, Cerpa insisted, was to get his people freed. Tito got on the phone with the reporters, too, and said that the MRTA wanted to negotiate directly with Fujimori. Together, the rebels elaborated on their demands: freedom for their imprisoned comrades, safe passage to a Peruvian jungle valley, a change in the economic system, and payment of that “war tax.”
While the rebels explained their position, President Fujimori was meeting with police and military agents in a windowless room in the intelligence police headquarters – the SIN building in Chorillos. (SIN was the national intelligence agency.) Most powerful among those present was Vladimiro Montesinos, who had been at the centre of Peruvian political intrigues and conspiracies for three decades. In the 1970s Montesinos had been an aide to the military golpistas; he was also a CIA agent, a key player in the drug trade, Fujimori’s most trusted advisor, and the head of the intelligence police. Fujimori, who maintained a reputation as a tough guy, had seized dictatorial powers in a US-approved “self-coup.” He had no intention of negotiating with terrorists, and proposed an immediate counterattack. Montesinos advised against it. He had ringed the residence with 200 of his own police agents – but as yet little was known about the attack. How many rebels were there? His people estimated as many as thirty. It was necessary to wait.
The MRTA’s second attempt at releasing hostages was successful. They opened the front gates and freed some 180 prisoners – waiters, children, and women – including the President’s mother and sister. Within the residence, the remaining hostages prepared to bed down on the floor. The Ambassador gave up his bed to sleep in the same fashion, and handed out clean shirts and shaving gear. He continued to apologise for the ordeal his guests were suffering. Crowded into every corner of the various rooms, the prisoners were watched by a guard in each doorway.
The Nissan chairman, Carlos Chiappori, felt relief that his wife had been allowed to leave, together with considerable trepidation. During the night, the MRTA rebels burst into each of the rooms, turned on the overhead lights and brandished guns and hand grenades. “If Fujimori attacks us, you’ll all get it!” one of them yelled. “Victory or death!”
Then the lights went out, and the prisoners produced their cell phones – which had not been confiscated – and made serruptitious calls. When not harassing their prisoners, the rebels took catnaps and stood watch. They’d made a successful start of a bold and desperate plan: to exchange these highly-placed, important oligarchs and capitalist stooges for their imprisoned friends. Was such an outcome possible? There were precedents. In 1974, five years before the triumph of the Nicaraguan revolution, a small group of Sandinista rebels had carried out a spectacular action: 10 men and three women raided a party at a wealthy businessman’s home. The rebels took several highly-placed hostages including the Nicaraguan foreign minister. Two and a half days of negotiations, mediated by the office of the archbishop, secured the relase of fourteen imprisoned Sandinistas, one million dollars in cash, and a flignt to Cuba. The story had inspired a screenplay by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, El Secuestro, though the film was never made. And in 1978, the Sandinistas repeated the action even more boldly, seizing the national parliament building and holding 200 legislators hostage. A two-day standoff earned them the release of sixty comrades, and a payoff of $500,000.
And in 1980, a commando of 15 M-19 guerrillas in Bogota captured the Dominican Embassy and took 57 hostages. Two months later, they left with a two million dollar ransom on a flight to Havana…
Not that this was about ransom money, or an escape to Cuba. If things went well, it would all be over in a few days. The MRTA would be back in the Amazon jungle, reunited with their comrades, stronger than ever… Why look at the downside, or recall the M-19 attempt to capture the Colombian palace of justice, which had ended in a military counterattack, and hundreds of deaths?
Best to plan on emulating the terrific coup the MRTA had scored, a few years back, when forty-eight MRTA political prisoners escaped from a high security prison via a tunnel. The escapees included the group’s founder, Victor Polay, and Roly Rojas. Victor Polay had been rearrested in a Lima cafe only two years later, and a round-up of other escapees followed. But the escape from Canto Grande Prison had inspired a popular book and been a morale booster for the remaining rebels. Revolutionaries had achieved great things before. Who said they couldn’t do it again?
At forty-five minutes after midnight, President Fujimori received a call from the Prime Minister of Japan. Ryutaru Hashimoto was understandably concerned. This was his country’s ambassador, its business representatives. After the United States, Japan was Peru’s largest foreign investor. Perhaps the Japanese took a certain pride in Fujimori’s ancestry, too – although, of course, he had been born in Peru. The two heads of state spoke only briefly. No doubt Hashimoto urged Fujimori to proceed with caution. Most likely Fujimori was ambiguous in his reply.
DAY TWO
18 DECEMBER 1996
At nine, those who had not been long awake were roused by the sound of an explosion. The MRTA had tossed a stick of dynamite into the street. It was a warning to the police and soldiers, too keep their distance. Shortly thereafter, Cerpa gave another phone interview. Were the remaining captives unharmed, the reporter wanted to know. “Right now they are. But in an hour they might not be.” Yet as the morning passed, the tension in the building lessened. The guerrillas removed the scarves which had hidden their faces. Cerpa went among the rooms, addressing his prisoners and expounding on his political philosophy. Again, he was keen to differentiate his group from Sendero, which executed peasants, hung dogs from lamp posts, and shot domestic animals. The MRTA, he said, rejected apocalyptic violence, defended the poor, and were ready to run the country.
According to the Los Angeles Times, the rebels gave Fujimori a noon deadline: if MRTA prisoners in government hands weren’t released by then, the guerrillas would execute their first hostage: foreign minister Francesco Tudela. Fujimori, who detested Tudela, his political rival, did not respond. Around noon, Prime Minister Hashimoto called him again. Fujimori promised immediate military intervention if any hostage was harmed. Hashimoto urged him not to be impatient. The deadline passed.
In the garden of the mansion, there was another explosion. The MRTA had rigged charges to deter potential invaders. By accident, one of them went off, blowing out some second-floor windows. But there were no injuries. According to Chiappori, the situation was quite jolly. Secret cell-phone calls continued to be made. The captives spilled out into the corridors and chatted. Chiappori recalled, “It was like a cocktail party without drinks, no? And the guerrillas would come up and say, ‘Everybody back to your rooms and don’t come out.’ But ten minutes later we would drift out again and start talking.”
Another hostage, Vice Admiral Luis Giampietri, wrote a memoir of his captivity. Unlike the Nissan exec, Giampietri was a hardcore military man who hated his captors and spent every moment thinking about escape. He reported that Tudela and other hostages were greatly disturbed when they saw a TV report – apparently filmed the previous night – in which Cerpa, masked and standing between the mansion’s doric columns, threatened to kill Tudela. Giampietri tried to reassure the foreign minister that the rebel leader wouldn’t kill anyone important. “He knows Fujimori would order an immediate assault.”
Strangely, this did not reassure Tudela, who kept on trying to raise Fujimori on his cell phone. “I spoke to him briefly. Told him how desperate our situation is. I said conditions were deplorable and urged him to begin negotiations – if for no other reason than to get us food, water, and portable toilets.” Tudela was right to complain: the toilets were backing up; the party food was sitting outside, untouched and starting to rot; their only water was the questionable stuff that came out of the tap. “What did the President say?” Giampietri wanted to know. “He thanked me for the call and hung up. Now he refuses to take my calls. No one answers.”
Giampietri had no time for Tudela, a liberal politician. He wanted to see these rebels crushed, their plans defeated. Ironically, a special police division dedicated to pursuing the MRTA had been shut down only three days previously. DIVICOTE 2, a branch of the DINCOTE police agency had been dissolved due to the assumed annihilation of the guerrilla group. Obviously, this had been premature. Giampietri claimed that the rebels physically abused him and other police and military prisoners. But the ones the rebels threatened to kill were politicians. According to Giampietri, Cerpa addressed those present outside the residence via a megaphone.
“For the last time, Mr. President, release fifty prisoners as a sign of your good faith. I have already sent you a list via the Red Cross. It you do not free the prisoners on the list within thirty minutes, I will execute a hostage every five minutes until you do. Tudela and Aoki will be the first to die. Their blood will be on your hands!”
Did Cerpa really threaten this? It seems like an impractically tight deadline: thirty minutes to identify and free fifty political prisoners? A dead hostage every five minutes, starting with the most “valuable” ones? Giampietri and the English-language press claimed that the MRTA threatened to execute their captives. Other witnesses recalled nothing of the kind. Cerpa’s demand, as Giampietri reports it, wasn’t achievable and would surely provoke a military response. It doesn’t seem like the action of a man who went among his prisoners trying to convince them about his political programme.
After the toilets overflowed, the Ambassador toured the building, apologizing profusely once again. Giampietri intercepted him, and asked him to speak to Cerpa about the night-time gun-and-hand-grenade drills. According to Giampietri, Aoki did so, and the drills ceased, though the MRTA continued to brutalize their police hostages, in particular former DINCOTE director Carlos Rodriguez. Meanwhile, Tudela and others got hold of the Ambassador’s fax machine, and sent a communique emphasizing the precariousness of their situation. “The guerrillas of the MRTA are determined,” they wrote. “The situation is getting increasingly tense, because of the lack of dialogue and the overcrowding.” It was signed by Tudela, Supreme Court justice Carlos Giusti, and several ambassadors.
Shortly after dark, the MRTA released three ambassadors, Canadian, German and Greek, and the French cultural attache. Before leaving in a car for the Presidential Palace, the ambassadors read a statement. “We have been liberated to serve as a bridge to the government, and to search for a negotiated solution without bloodshed.” According to Anthony Vincent, the Canadian ambassador, the MRTA’s demands now included the release of 458 rebels imprisoned in Peru, Bolivia, and Uruguay; the repeal of an Amnesty Law which favoured paramilitaries; abolition of a new land law; reestablishment of trade union rights; and an end to the government’s neoliberal policies. They requested that Peru’s human rights ombudsman lead the negotiations.
Instead of the Presidential Palace, the freed ambassadors were taken to SIN headquarters. Here, Fujimori kept them waiting for five hours. They were suitably offended: the German ambassador made plans to leave the country the next day. When Vincent reported the rebels’ request for the ombudsman, Fujimori rejected it. His education minister, Domingo Palermo, would lead negotiations. Palermo had negotiated with the MRTA twice before, gaining the releases of kidnapped businessmen. Ambassador Vincent also offered his services as an intermediary.
In Tokyo, the Japanese foreign minister, Yukihiko Ikeda, boarded a plane for Lima; and the Imperial Household Agency announced that the Emperor’s 63rd birthday party, scheduled for Monday, would be cancelled.
DAY THREE
10 DECEMBER 1996
Fujimori was already at his command center at SIN when Bill Clinton called. The US President told him to take a hard line, and release no prisoners. He offered to send US Delta Force and Navy SEAL hostage rescue teams to assist the Peruvian police and military. Fujmori declined the offer.
The desk before him now contained a model, two meters by three, of the Ambassador’s mansion. The roof had been removed, and small plastic figures were arranged throughout: blue for hostages, red for rebels. Montesinos’ men had come up with a plan they called Operacion Papa Noel. The idea was to attack the residence on Christmas Eve. It was estimated that 20% of the hostages would die during the operation, and 40% would be wounded. “Too many”, Fujimori declared. “Come up with another plan.” In the mean time, he ordered them to cut off power to the residence.
Cerpa was expounding his vision when Chiappori approached him. Shadowed by two armed guerrillas, he explained that he had been politicized during the Cromotex strike some seventeen years ago. The strike was two months long, and ended with the police storming the factory. Several strikers were killed, and Cerpa had been jailed. Thereafter, he decided that the armed struggle was the way forward. The Cromotex strike was the subject of the book he’d given Bowen, two nights ago. Chiappori said he understood Cerpa planned to launch a political career. If that was so, he should keep the momentum going and release some more hostages – “especially the elderly.” Cerpa laughed, and asked the 72-year-old his name. A few minutes later, the guerrillas called for him. One of the hostages had mentioned that Chiappori was recovering from lung cancer surgery, and therebels had decided to let him go.
The MRTA gave permission for two Red Cross doctors to examine and treat sick hostages. Two rebels also needed attention. Cerpa had sprained his ankle in the attack, and received an ace bandage. More seriously, Tito had shot himself in the leg. One of the doctors told him that the bullet was lodged between tibia and fibula, and that he needed x-rays. Cerpa advised Michael Minnig of the need for surgical supplies and an x-ray machine. They arrived within an hour. In a nearby clinic, a specialist studied the x-rays and concluded it was too dangerous to remove the bullet. Tito would spend the next fifty days wearing a cast.
Suddenly, it occurred to the rebels to search their prisoners, and confiscate their cell phones (by now, most of the batteries had died). Lt. Col. Roberto Fernandez, however, was able to conceal his pager. And just after six, four more hostages were freed: Chiappori, a Red Cross official, and two elderly Peruvians of Japanese descent. In the US, a State Department spokesman revealed that a team of “counter-terrorism experts” had flown to Lima, to help Ambassador Jett “protect the lives of the nearly ten thousand US citizens who live in Peru.” The experts included agents of the FBI.
These were the salad days of the hostage-taking. The guerrilla leaders fraternized with their prisoners, discussing the electoral system and the privatization of state industries. To the surprise of the industrialists and politicians seated on the dining room floor, the rebels weren’t dogmatic. “it wasn’t the old debate of ‘business should be appropriated’” one hostage recalled. “We talked about privatization, the rate of privatization, and what types of industry should be privatized.” As the hours passed, some of the hostages plugged in vacuum cleaners and pushed them around; others engaged in impromptu lectures, and rounds of joke-telling. “The first two nights, guards from the MRTA came in and asked us to keep it down to a dull roar…” According to a sympathetic source, this was the night that Cerpa assured a fearful general that there would be no executions. “Don’t worry… we’re not killers.”
DAY FOUR
20 DECEMBER 1996
Today, according to the newspapers, the Americans got involved. FBI agents were supervising surveillance of the residence. A Delta Force group from Fort Bragg, NC, landed in the Panama Canal Zone and awaited instructions to deploy to Peru. Members of the British SAS posing as diplomats flew to Lima, bringing secret monitoring equipment microphones, and ‘pinhead’ cameras, in their diplomatic bags. The RAF also flew weapons including stun grenades and explosives to the Delta Force commandos. Why the Americans were unable to rely on their own explosives and cameras is unclear.
It was, as the rebels observed, the seventh anniversary of the US invasion of Panama. The MRTA sang rebel songs and did jumping jacks. Then the power went out and the water pump shut down. A diesel generator kicked in, restoring power till its fuel ran out. Hostages were seen in the second floor windows, holding hand-lettered signs written in Spanish, English, German, and Japanese. “No food. No water. The hostages.” Other signs called for a resumption of telephone service and electricity.
Then a convoy of Red Cross trucks arrived, bearing 500 liter water tanks, apples, chicken, medicine, toilet paper, and bologna and cheese sandwiches. The MRTA allowed the hostages to give hand-written messages to the ICRC personnel, to be passed on to their families. And they permitted the installation of sixteen portable toilets in the compound. Giampietri watched as the rebels commandeered two thermoses of hot coffee, which they carried into their downstairs operations centre. Both contained listening devices: tiny radio mikes. This was the first of multiple surveillance penetrations of the residence.
The MRTA waited till after the hostages had eaten, in case the food or drink was drugged. Per Giampietri, the rebels demanded extra portions of food, “so as to confuse the government as to their numbers”. They would continue to eat double rations thereafter, growing fat and lethargic, he claimed. But they were not lethargic now. After they ate, Cerpa sent a note, via Minnig of the ICRC, to the President, asking him to reciprocate and free some of the MRTA prisoners – first and foremost, Peter Cardenas. Fujimori promptly replied, via Minnig. He insisted that the rebels release more hostages first.
At seven thirty, the MRTA did so. They opened the gates and let out thirty-eight more hostages: politicians and journalists. Congressman Javier Diez Canseco, bathed in TV lights, read a statement from the remaining 180 prisoners. It urged the government to rule out any military intervention. “We find ourselves in an extremely difficult and delicate situation. A peaceful solution is complicated but indispensable. A military attack “not only would cost many lives, but would leave deeper wounds.” Needless to say, Giampietri detested Diez Canseco, whom he viewed as a liberal appeaser of terrorists. He reported that Diez Canseco, grandstanding as he was led to safety, promised to return the next day, at one in the afternoon.
Alfredo Torres, the director of a polling firm, Apoyo, was one of the group of freed hostages. Before he left the residence, Torres surveyed his fellow prisoners with an impromptu opinion poll regarding their situation. Clearly, this was a poll taken under extreme duress: several hostages refused to participate. He released the results of his poll on his release:
How would you rate the treatment you’ve received from MRTA?
Very good: 0%
Good: 78%
Average: 21%
Bad: 0%
Very bad: 0%
Undecided: 1%
What troubles you most about the situation?
The uncertainty: 80%
Living conditions: 8%
Lack of communication with family: 3%
Condition of the bathrooms: 7%
Food: 2%
What do you think the government should do?
Negotiate: 95%
Attack: 0%
Undecided: 5%
Do you think MRTA is a terrorist or guerrilla movement?
Terrorist: 50%
Guerrilla: 41%
Undecided: 9%
In general, the answers were positive. The clients had few complaints about the food and wanted a negotiated settlement! But the response to the last question preoccupied Cerpa and his fellow rebels. It was the MRTA’s ardent contention that they were not terrorists; they were legitimate combatants in a guerrilla war against a corrupt despotism. Thus they differentiated themselves from Sendero, and from the police and military. But why did it matter what their enemies called them?
According to one definition, a guerrilla fighter’s targets are military ones, while a terrorist deliberately targets civilians. By this definition the Edgar Sanchez Special Forces were both guerrillas and terrorists. The captured generals and police were military. But the diplomats and businessmen were victims of a terrorist kidnapping. According to another definition, guerrilla warfare is violent action taken within the normally accepted rules and procedures of international law, whereas the violence in terrorism is directed against civilians, and the terrorist’s goal is publicity. The MRTA had concrete goals, yet seeking publicity was also part of the plan. This was a political, more than a military, action. A third distinction between guerrillas and terrorists proposes that the former occupy physical territory, whereas the latter do not. The MRTA’s plan was to free their comrades and decamp to the Amazon jungle. Presumably they controlled territory there, or believed that they did. Or did they?
That evening, in a garage a couple of blocks away, agents of the SIN began the excavation of a narrow tunnel, in the direction of the residence.
DAY FIVE
21 DECEMBER 1996
According to Aoki, the MRTA began each day at six, singing their lugubrious and sombre revolutionary hymn. The Red Cross provided breakfast at six thirty: bread, cheese, and jam. A Japanese institute had sent 600 rations of instant ramen, which fascinated the guerrillas. The rebels gathered again at eight, received instructions from Cerpa, and sang more hymns. Then they did exercises and jogged along the corridors, while the hostages tidied and cleaned. There were already tensions among the hostages. In his memoir, the Ambassador remarked that he never saw Tudela do any cleaning.
That morning, Tudela was giving an interview, via a guerrilla radio. He complained about the absence of communication between the government and the MRTA. Tudela urged the government to examine the MRTA’s demands “deeply and with reflection.” He and several other hostages had been struck by the obvious impasse – the rebels’ inflexible demands and Fujimori’s intransigence – and come up with a proposed “political alternative.” This they gave to the MRTA and forwarded via the ICRC to Fujimori and the foreign ministers of other impacted nations. Their proposal called for both sides to embrace dialogue and negotiation as a means of resolving the larger crisis of the nation; to negotiate the demilitarization of the conflict; and to discuss the possibilities of reducing jail sentences and freeing prisoners. It laid out a concrete plan for the liberation of the hostages, the safe passage of the MRTA commando out of Peru, and subsequently a new negotiation to find a political solution to the violence which had devastated much of the country.
The proposal received little attention. Fujimori rejected it at once; the MRTA was unwilling to give up the liberation of its prisoners. This was a compromise no one liked – and yet, in retrospect, it was a route to ending the occupation without bloodshed, and and to a possible defusing of the wider conflict. Javier Diez Canseco supported it. He later observed that Fujimori, Montesinos, and army general Nicolas Hermoza Rios were all committed to a military solution, while the rebels overestimated their position, and the possibility of success.
Diez Canseco did not return to the residence. At one that afternoon, according to Giampietri, it became a standing joke among the hostages for someone to call out, “What time is it?” “One o’clock!” someone replied. And a chorus of voices would yell, “Has Javier returned yet? Where’s Javier?” In a TV interview, Diez Canseco warned that the rebels were well armed and carried dynamite and plastic explosives, and cautioned against a violent resolution. “I’m saying this so that the North Americans will understand.”
A Red Cross spokesman said that the organization was “quite preoccupied” by the pitch darkness in the residence. “This has to be solved. The lack of electricity has a destabilizing effect on the hostages, and it can be a real security problem.” He complained that the government refused to supply fuel for the diesel generator, and would not restore the water supply.
After the evening meal, Cerpa sent Fujimori a message via his negotiator, Palermo, suggesting a mutual release of hostages and MRTA prisoners. Fujimori refused, telling Palermo not to encourage any more hostage releases. “We want to keep the numbers up, so that he’ll have problems of control.” The President proceeded to give a TV address to the nation, in which he denounced the MRTA as terrorists. He offered no deal. He told them to lay down their arms and let the hostages go.
According to Giampietri, that night the rebels abused the hostages, and resumed the execution drills.
DAY SIX
22 DECEMBER 1996
Sunday. According to the English language press, “tens of thousands” of Peruvians marched to the residence to demand the hostages’ release. Peruvian media reported a march of several hundred San Isidro residents. Dressed in white and green, the protesters were stopped a block from the building, by police. There was no response from within. In Rome, Pope John Paul II condemned the rebels. He told a group of pilgrims, “I ask that the Lord illuminates the minds and converts the hearts of those responsible for such a deplorable action.”
Jesuit priest Juan Julio Wicht, a hostage, held mass on the spiral staircase of the residence. Per Giampietri, the chalice and crucifix were both bugged. Meanwhile another hostage, former labour minister Sandro Fuente, announced via megaphone that the MRTA would release 255 more captives. “We are releasing everyone who has nothing to do with the government,” he read. The process of calling out names and separating the hostages into groups again was time-consuming. It was not until nine in the evening that a fleet of buses pulled up in front of the mansionh, and the hostages were released. Many of the departing hostages wished the rebels luck and shook hands with them. Some asked Cerpa for his autograph. Among those freed were a number of Americans, including US embassy political officer James Wagner, economic officer John Riddle, senior narcotics officer John Crowe, and several US AID employees. Wicht, the priest, declined to be liberated. He asked for Oscar Mavila, a car dealer, to be freed in is place. The rebels agreed.
An Austrian diplomat, Artur Schuschnigg, praised the “impressive discipline” of the guerrillas. He said that the two women rebels were 15 and 16 years old. Other released captives reported that the women complained they missed watching a Mexican telenovela, Maria del Barrio, having become addicted to the show while waiting long months in a safe house for the action to begin. “I have some respect for the calm with which they handled the situation,” said Andre Deschenes, co-director of a Canadian development group. “They are obviously professionals in what they do and believe in what they do deeply.” Kieran Metcalfe, director general of the Cominco mining company, agreed: “At no time did they lose their cool.”
The release was a setback for Fujimori’s plan to stress the rebels with an excess of prisoners. As the buses left, power in the neighbourhood went out. The remaining hostages feared an attack was imminent. Michael Minnig, of the Red Cross, volunteered to spend the night with them, to allay their fears.
106 hostages remained: government-affiliated individuals, the ambassadors of Bolivia and Uruguay, Japanese industrialists, and the unfortunate Pedro Fujimori, brother of the President.
DAY SEVEN
23 DECEMBER 1996
In Tokyo, Takeo Nishioka, general secretary of the Shinshinto Party, criticized Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto for telling Yukihiko Ikeda to return from Peru. Nishioka said the foreignminister “should have stayed longer” in Lima so he could make unspecified political decisions. All political parties expressed their support for the government’s stance that the safety of the hostages was paramount.
A Japanese government spokesman dismissed as baseless a report in London’s Independent newspaper that the MRTA was demanding a ransom for the remaining hostages.
DAY EIGHT
24 DECEMBER 1996
At last, there was progress on the prisoner front. In Uruguay, an appeals court denied a Peruvian extradition request, and freed two MRTA militants, Sonia Rivera and Luis Samaniego. The two had been in custody for over a year, having entered the country on false Bolivian passports, and were accused by the Peruvian authorities of masterminding the kidnapping of a Bolivian businessman. Immediately Cerpa and co. responded, releasing Tabare Bocaldandro Yapeyu, the Uraguayan ambassador. The ambassador, head bowed and wearing a rumpled navy suit, was taken away in a police car.
As Bocalandro left, the Red Cross arrived, bringing a Christmas Eve dinner, holiday cards, sacramental wine and wafers. A guitar containing a tiny microphone and transmitter was given to the hostages. It broadcast audio to a receiver 100 meters away.
DAY NINE
25 DECEMBER 1996
Christmas day. Around noon, Keiko Fujimori, the President’s daughter, showed up with eight roast turkeys As usual, the food was cold by the time it has been inspected by the police and MRTA. Michael Minnig of the Red Cross arrived with Juan Luis Cipriani, the Archbishop of Ayacucho. Cipriani was a member of the far right Opus Dei, and a close associate of Fujimori. Nevertheless, the rebels allowed him to enter the residence, and conduct Christmas prayers. To everyone’s surprise, Cipriani engaged with the rebels, and after prayers spent several hours in conversation with Cerpa, Tito, Salvador, and Rojas.
Ambassador Aoki remembered the scene differently. He reported that another archbishop, Augusto Vargas Alzamora, visted the hostages, and that Cerpa fell to his knees before him. Vargas was Vargas Llosa’s cousin, and an enemy of Fujimori. Did rival archbishops visit on Christmas Day? And why had Minnig brought Cipriani? Apparently he hoped to get the MRTA to agree that Cipriani supplement Palermo as a negotiator. Minnig had pitched this to Cerpa before, and Cerpa had refused. “That reactionary son of a bitch? Absolutely not. Anybody but him.” But their long talk apparently changed his mind.
Cipriani left the mansion with another freed hostage – a Japanese diplomat. Tito settled down to read all the letters the hostages had just written to their loved ones. He read slowly. After he was satisfied, the letters would be passed on to the ICRC, who would give them to the police, to read.
Beside the two girls, who confessed their addiction to soap operas, the media had focused on the four most prominent guerrillas. The others were described as athletic, campesinos, “from the jungle”. Who were these rebels? Ironically, the writer who describes the MRTA in the most individual detail is the one who detested them the most: Giampietri. In his book about the siege, the General described the MRTA team thus:
NESTOR CERPA – HUERTA Says he was formerly a member of Sendero Luminoso and M-19 in Colombia. Became political and military leader after the arrest of Victor Polay. Responsible for numerous bank robberies, kidnappings, and assassinations, mastermind of the Canto Grande escape and the aborted raid on Congress.
ROLY ROJAS – EL ARABE Friendly with the hostages, studied sociology at university, joined MRTA after graduating. Allegedly trained by Hizbollah; wears his MRTA bandanna like a burnoose. Always pleased to talk of the Canto Grande episode.
EDUARDO CRUZ – TITO “Intelligent, astute and persuasive”. Soft-spoken, cynical, avoids eye contact. Allegedly raised by Liberation Theology Jesuits. “The revolutionary conscience of the group, the political commissar, the worst ideologue.”
SALVADOR Military leader and best-prepared. Told Giampieteri he had been a corporal in the marines, with expert badges for marksmanship. Drills the MRTA in military exercises and rehearsals. Disposed to violence; apt to knock Gumucio to his knees.
CONE – EL PALESTINO “A crazed narcissist who was continually looking at himself in mirrors.” Practices marksmanship at imaginary targets, while talking to himself. Brutal in the early days, calmer later. Charged with killing TUDELA if necessary.
“22” Mid-twenties, tall, muscular. “Obviously a weightlifter and obviously on the precipice of insanity.” Claims to have beheaded policemen and eaten their hearts in the jungle. Near the end, he bleaches his hair with peroxide, then denies he’s done it, and wears dark glasses.
MARCOS A teenage recruit who follows CERPA everywhere. “CERPA was fond of the boy.”
ROLANDO, LUCAS (GATO SECO), EL MEXICANO, and ALEX Late teens or early 20s, short and dark, from the Amazon jungle, speaking a mixture of Indian dialect, Spanish, and Portugese.
LUZ MELENDEZ CUEVA – BERTA or MELISA Early 20s, reserved, lover of TITO. Constantly running errands for him.
GIOVANNA VILAS PLACENCIA – LA GRINGA Sixteen, girlfriend of GATO SECO, with whom she has frequent sex in the corridors. Also involved, perhaps platonically, with one of the young Japanese hostages.
Giampietri’s list only includes 13 MRTA members. Did he forget one? Still, it contains the most distinctive descriptions of the rebels. It makes some of them sound like Hollywood movie villains. It may not all be true, and it isn’t the whole story. The Admiral perhaps didn’t know, or care, that most of the MRTA commando had family members in jail. La Gringa’s brother, Juan Carlos, was an imprisoned MRTA militant. So were two of Roly Rojas’ six siblings. So was Cerpa’s partner, Nancy Gilvonio Conde. Their mission wasn’t simply one of principle, or revolutionary fervour. It was also personal.
Cerpa had pulled off kidnappings before. He had negotiated their successful outcomes. According to some sources, he had been ejected from Sendero for trying to negotiate a merger between it and the MRTA. Nine days into the mission, nothing yet suggested it might fail.
On Sunday, 28 December – DAY 12 – Domingo Palermo, Fujimori’s negotiator, entered the mansion for the first time. He was accompanied by Minnig and Cipriani. Cerpa, seated in an armchair in the grand ballroom, supposedly harangued them for an hour. Three hours of discussion followed. Afterwards, the MRTA released another twenty hostages, and a communique in which they asked media and politicians to stop “calling us a terrorist or genocidal gang” and “comparing us with Sendero Luminoso, an organization which we have condemned repeatedly for its use of irrational violence.”
In response, Fujimori issued a press release of his own, stating that Cerpa’s and Palermo’s meeting was not a negotiation. “The President of Peru does not negotiate with terrorists. These are merely conversations.”
On new year’s eve – DAY 15 – a group of journalists managed to gain entry to the residence, and Cerpa gave them an interview. “I don’t see an immediate solution… We are not in a hurry.” According to the LA Times, the mansion was pervaded by the smell of rotting fruit, garbage, and human waste. According to Giampietri, a police agent disguised as a reporter gave Cerpa a camera, film, and a radio with which he could contact “the station”.
On 1 January 1997 – DAY 16 – the MRTA released seven more hostages. This was the last big release. The hostage numbers reported by the media continued to fluctuate: by some counts there were 75 hostages now, or 73, or 72. Following a brainstorming session with Montesinos, the President had seized upon a new attack plan: the army would descend via helicopters, through the residence skylights. He visited Naoko Aoki, the Ambassador’s wife, to grill her about the layout of the skylights above the stairs. She could remember nothing about them. But she provided Fujimori with a complete set of plans of the mansion.
The blueprints would enable a full-size replica to be constructed at a secret miliary base, for training puroses. Meanwhile, in a walled building site in San Isidro, sixty miners from the mining town of Oruro began the first of three daily shifts, digging a new, ambitious tunnel system which would undermine the Residence and its grounds.
The days passed. Several hostages started giving classes. Congressman Eduardo Pando gave two levels of Spanish conversation to the Nikkei. Congressman Samuel Matsuda taught Japanese to the Peruvians – including several guerrillas. Aoki reported that, during the occupation, Tito learned to read and write hiragana and katakana, and to speak Japanese. Cerpa, whose mother and sons had political asylum in France, took French lessons from DINCOTE general Carlos Dominguez.
Every morning, the rebels gathered at six, and Cerpa asked them the purpose of their mission. “The liberation of the MRTA prisoners!” they replied in unison. Then revolutionary songs were sung.
Aoki decided to risk a daily cocktail hour. The residence was well-supplied with booze, and his first secretary, Mimura Haruo, was appointed bartender. Haruo served whiskey, cognac, gin, vodka, and Okinawa bandy. Whiskey was the preferred beverage. If you arrived promptly, you could manage three drinks before the ICRC served dinner. The Ambassador reported no drunkenness, and that he personally lost weight and became healthier during his captivity.
Rumours came and went about ransom demands. The MRTA denied that they were seeking any ransom. Fujimori insisted that the rebels were seeking to extort money from Japanese corporations. Newspapers reported that American satellites and spy planes were using infra-red photography to track the movements of the rebels in the building, and the placement of their mines. El Espreso reported that Cerpa considered a ground attack most likely, but had not ruled out one from the air.
Palermo dangled a couple of initiatives, including a negotiation commission which would include Cipriani. But it was always easy to make the MRTA suspend the dialogue; all Fujimori had to do was issue a press release. On 21 January 1997 – DAY 36 – the MRTA ordered a dozen Japanese hostages to sleep on the ground floor, supposedly as a shield against a military attack. The hostages heard the sound of digging beneath the floor. For several days thereafter the military flew helicopters overhead while armoured vehicles violated the ICRC’s “neutral zone” around the residence. The Red Cross suspended the provision of food and water to the hostages for four hours, in protest. The police also staged simulated night attacks, with further helicopter overflights.
On DAY 40, one of the hostages claimed he was suffering heart pain. This was Colonel Jose Rivas, deputy chief of the Peruvian National Police. A doctor, accompanied by Minnig and Cipriani, entered the Residence and diagnosed a probable heart attack. Rivas must go immediately to hospital for further tests, he said. At this point, Cerpa called bullshit. He thought the Colonel was faking it, and declared, “If anyone dies here, his blood will be on Fujimori’s hands!” Tito, Salvador and El Arabe were in agreement: Rivas must stay. But stern words from the Archbishop caused them to reverse their decision. Rivas was released next day. Cerpa ordered the remaining hostages into the foyer and yelled at them, “If one more of you sons of bitches gets sick, you’re going to die right here!” The rebels already regretted their decision. They felt sure the Colonel was far from sick, and already providing his fellow cops with information on the number of guerrillas (the newspapers still reported that there were twenty of them), their weapons, logistical support, and daily routines. They were almost certainly right.
A day later – DAY 42 – the police installed massive speakers outside the residence and began blasting the building with military marches. All this – like the helicopter overflights and fake attacks – was intended to cover the sound of the ongoing tunneling. Meanwhile, four or five dump trucks made nightly visits to the construction site in San Isidro, carting away quantities of earth, and Fujimori engaged in a series of foreign travels. He arrived in Toronto on DAY 47 to meet with the Japanese prime minister, then heading on to Washington DC for a meeting with US President. Clinton praised the Peruvian President for “skillfully walking a very fine line … between resolving this crisis peacefully without giving in to terror.” In a press conference, Fujimori stated that he had discussed the possibility of Cuban asylum for the guerrillas… with the Canadians.
Suddenly, Canada and its ambassador, Anthony Vincent, were involved. In secret, a group of Canadian Joint Task Force II commandos was dispatched to Lima, with instructions to prepare a surprise attack on the MRTA. There, they “armed themselves with local resources.” The plan was for Ambassador Vincent to guarantee the MRTA safe passage to Cuba, and for the Canadian commandos to ambush and kill the rebels when they boarded a Canadian Airbus.
DAY 50 – Tuesday, 4 February – began with the MRTA firing six shots into the air, to commemorate the victims of the police attack on the Cromotex strikers. The killings had occurred eighteen years ago to the day, and were still fresh in the mind of Cerpa, the organizer of the strike. One of the criticisms levelled against Palermo as a negotiator was that he viewed Cerpa as a disgruntled trade union representative, and treated him like an employee. Each side, as a result, hardened its position. In an attempt to bridge the gap between Palermo and Cerpa, a new mediator group appeared, calling itself the Commission of Guarantors, and consisting of Cipriani, Minnig, and Vincent. A house across the street from the residence was selected and furnished to facilitate the negotiations. It was swept by explosives experts, and fortified with sandbags. Meanwhile, waltzes and Afru-Peruvian music replaced the military marches on the police’s speakers – still played at maximum volume.
On DAY 57, a Red Cross vehicle drove Roly Rojas across the street to the house where the negotiations were to occur. There, he met Palermo, the Commission of Guarantors, and Japan’s observer and ambassador to Mexico, Terusuke Terada. Nestor Cerpa was also present, via closed circuit TV and a direct phone line. The talks went nowhere. The MRTA insisted on freedom for their imprisoned members. Palermo said the government would not consider this. While Cipriani counseled Cerpa to be more patient, El Arabe ended the dialogue and returned to the Residence. The talks continued in this fashion on DAYS 60 and 61. Rojas insisted on freedom for 371 prisoners. Palermo proposed in response that the MRTA commando should leave Peru for another country. Talks broke down again, and the next day La Republica published details of a secret Army plan to storm the mansion “should talks falter.” The attack would take place by night, from helicopters. It was anticipated that three quarters of the hostages would die, and all but one of the guerrillas.
As the ongoing tunneling attested, there was no such plan. The leak was a feint, designed to deceive and disorient the guerrillas. But it had clearly been coordinated with the Americans. A US embassy spokesman told reporters, “We are not advocating the use of force… but if the Peruvian government were to ask us for helicopters, surveillance equipment, or Spanish-speaking commandos, we would definitely consider such a request.”
Talks resumed on DAY 66, this time between Palermo and Cerpa, face to face. The rebel leader was accompanied by Roly Rojas. Palermo was partnered with a member of the SIN. Cerpa and Rojas rejected the offer of a flight to Cuba, and insisted that they would take the hostages to the Peruvian Amazon. Before that, the MRTA prisoners must be liberated. Stalemate again. Further talks were postponed to DAY 70. As Cerpa and Rojas were driven across the street by the Red Cross, the rebels played a revolutionary anthem and chanted slogans. “We are the ones who have taken the residence! Until death, damn it!” Cipriani proposed that the government free 85 MRTA prisoners, in return for the release of the hostages. Palermo responded that the government would consider pardoning a certain number of prisoners. No names were specified. Cerpa asked to communicate directly with the MRTA prisoners. The government would not agree to this. After the meeting, the Commission of Guarantors made a statement. Both sides had met “in a cordial atmosphere”, and broached “important issues.” A sixth round of negotiations would be held next day. Cipriani read the statement in Spanish; Vincent read it in English.
Fujimori was in the jungle town of Mazamari at the time. He gave a brief statement, emphasizing that he would release no prisoners, and that the police and security personnel who had allowed the rebels to invade the residence would be identified, and punished. The next day the guerrillas rejected the Guarantors’ proposal. Fifty-five freed prisoners wasn’t enough. Speaking for the government, Palermo said that MRTA leaders like Victor Polay could not be released, and that the release of lower-ranking prisoners could not be simultaneous with the liberation of the hostages. This was a response designed to insult and infuriate the guerrillas, and prolong the crisis.
The seventh negotiation occurred on 27 February – DAY 73. The rebels again asked to contact their imprisoned comrades, and for ICRC visits with the prisoners – suspended since DAY 2 of the siege – to be resumed. Palermo said the government would think about it. The meeting ended early. Cerpa remarked as he left that they weren’t getting anywhere. Back at the mansion, Rojas told Giampietri – of all people – how frustrated he felt. “In the meetings we talk, tell jokes, and make friends. But there’s no progress at all.” Cerpa complained to a group of hostages that Fujimori was the only one who made decisions, and that he never attended the talks. In Fujimori’s absence, Cerpa threatened to stop negotiating.
More days passed. The guerrillas chanted that they didn’t care how long it took. But they did. Captivity was wearing down the captives, and their captors. Some of the younger rebels told the hostages that they’d expected the siege to last no more than two weeks. That was what they had prepared for. One hostage said he found La Gringa crying. He asked her what was wrong. She told him she missed her family, and wanted to go home.
In March, Giampietri received a Bible containing – or course! – a hidden microphone, with which he was able to deliver “real-time intel.” At some point he advised Aoki that he and his military colleagues were planning an escape. Aoki became very upset, and a shouting match ensued. He apologised next day, and asked not to be included in any further plans for a break-out. The Admiral says a breach developed among the hostages; the Peruvians formed an escape committee, he wrote, while the Japanese and Japanese-Peruvian hostages opposed the project. According to Giampietri, the only Nikkei who joined the escape committee was Pedro Fujimori. Francisco Tudela, for all Giampietri’s dislike of him, was also on the escape team.
The Admiral reports that he and other hostages were subjected to mock trials and threatened with execution at the hands of “Twenty-Two”. Giampietri was brought before the MRTA leaders (one imagines in Aoki’s office, in front of a big desk with bookcases behind them … but perhaps the bookcases were all gone, having been used to block the downstairs doors and windows). He was accused of being the chief of naval operations, and ordering the murder of MRTA members. Giampietri denied this. He told them he had been a naval attache to the Peruvian embassy in Washington, when the killings occurred. Cerpa left the room. Salvador, Tito, and the designated executioner, Twenty-Two, scowled at him. Then Roly Rojas asked him a question: “When you were in the United States, did you ever visit Disneyland or Disney World?” Cerpa returned with Colonel Orlando Denegri, who confirmed Giampetri’s status as chief of naval operations. Somehow this satisfied Cerpa, and the trail was over.
The rebels had taken to moving the hostages from room to room. Now the practice ended. Henceforth, the highest-profile hostages, including Tudela, Aoki, Gumucio, Giusti, and Pedro Fujimori, would sleep in what they ironically called the VIP room. On DAY 77, the eighth meeting between Palermo and the MRTA went nowhere, and Fujimori diverted his executive jet to Cuba. There he was greeted with full honours by Fidel Castro, and the two met for several hours in the Presidential Palace. Castro agreed to accept the rebels as political refugees, as long as the MRTA, the governments of Peru, Canada, and Japan, the Guarantors, and the Vatican all formally requested it.
“Resistance! Resistance to the end!” the MRTA chanted in a radio transmission. At the ninth meeting, Cerpa turned down a flight to the Dominican Republic – “a country which oppresses its people” – and criticized Fujimori’s Cuba trip as a distraction. The MRTA’s priority remained “to stay in our own homeland… to fight on the side of our people.” Then Cerpa suspended the talks. He shared his reason with the Guarantors: increasing concern – among the guerrillas and the hostages – about the tunneling. He invited them to visit the residence, and all three turned up within minutes – Cipriani, Minnig, and Vincent (interestingly, an Agence France Presse report of this incident refers to Anthony Vincent not as Canadian Ambassador, but as “an anti-terrorism expert”). As helicopters buzzed the mansion, the three left without comment. The MRTA ordered all hostages to the second floor. Via radio, Cerpa insisted that the Guarantors agreed with the MRTA’s assessment: that the residence had been comprehensively undermined, in preparation for a military assault. Minnig spent the next day with the hostages, while Vincent and Cipriani met with Fujimori. The President assured them that he remained committed to a peaceful solution, as long as hostages stayed healthy. “The state, in consequence, will remain alert at all times.”
Government negotiator Palermo took offence at recent interviews by Cerpa, and began threatening foreign journalists with arrest and deportation. A Mexican reporter, told by DINCOTE that they had a cell waiting for him, fled the country. Media reports about the occupation continued to decline in number. On 10 March – DAY 84 – Cerpa, Rojas and the Guarantors showed up for talks, but Palermo did not appear. He sent a message, complaining that “the conditions for resuming the preliminary negotiations are still not sufficiently defined.” Fujimori issued a statement blaming the MRTA, and insisting that “both sides need a period of reflection.”
The MRTA went back to nightly rehearsals of the execution of the hostages. “If they attack us,” Cerpa warned his captives, “No one’s getting out alive.” Ambassador Gumucio would later claim that the guerrillas’ drills included their own suicides. It was reported that Cerpa now slept surrounded by hostages, watched by one of the guerrillas throughout the night. The women rebels shared their own room. Tito and El Mexicano patrolled the passages and shone flashlights on Pedro Fujimori.
Pedro’s brother gave an interview, in which he promised to pursue the path of peace, then lurched into another violent fantasy: “I will not say if there is a tunnel, or several tunnels; I will not say if there are air-transported commandos ready, or if we have commandos who could work with paralyzing gas or other methods… I neither confirm nor deny anything…”
On 12 March – DAY 86 – Cerpa and Palermo embarked on the tenth negotiation. Neither gave any ground. Afterwards, Cipriani said there had been “small advances.” The MRTA and the government’s negotiator never met again. A week later, the rebels received a letter from Fidel Castro, urging them to abandon the liberation of the prisoners, and to seek refuge in Cuba. The Commission of Guarantors announced that it had formed a working group, which had begun visiting prisons to check on the status of MRTA prisoners. According to the National Penitentiary Institute, there was a total of 456 sentenced MRTA prisoners.
La Republica reported that the Guarantors were planning to offer the rebels a multi-million dollar ransom for the hostages. Instead, they approached Cerpa with a list of 271 MRTA prisoners, and asked him to select ten names. The government would then release five. In response, Cerpa demanded freedom for all 271 prisoners. According to Aoki, during Easter Week the government actually shifted position, and proposed a solution, in four parts. The MRTA would leave for Cuba, with two freed prisoners; the Guarantors would supervise the improvement of the other prisoners’ conditions; an independent human rights commission would study possible releases or reduced sentences for the prisoners; and, in due course, the MRTA could return to Peru as legitimate politicians. To Aoki’s dismay, the rebels rejected the plan in its entirety. The Ambassador concluded that they simply lacked the capacity to negotiate. They had a finely-worked plan to get into the residence, but no plan to get out. When the government rejected their initial demands, the rebel leaders had been unable to agree upon a response. As the weeks went by, things did not improve. Fujimori had remained intransigent, and the rebels could not reach a decision. Aoki felt that Cerpa’s priority was to free his wife. Rojas seemed to have given up his faith in the MRTA, and was hoping to start a hardware store.
26 March 1997 was DAY 100. The MRTA replied to Fidel Castro’s letter, stating that they would not abandon their demand to have their prisoners freed. Frustrated by the breakdown in the talks, Hashimoto called Fujimori, and urged him to release some prisoners. It was the last time the two spoke, before the resolution of the crisis. Fujimori reiterated his position the next day: he would release no prisoners. Cipriani visited the residence, and Cerpa told him once again that the prisoners had to be released. Worried that his team were out of shape, Cerpa encouraged them to engage in games of five-a-side football in the ballroom. At first a couple of hostages played with them. But the rebels were much fitter, and before long the MRTA only played against themselves. The ICRC provided a soccer ball, jerseys, shorts and sneakers. But when the MRTA requested warmer clothes – they had not planned for a long occupation, and the coastal winter was cold and damp – their request was denied.
According to the press, Nancy Gilvonio Conde was transferred from a mountain prison to Callao Naval Base, supposedly as a concession to the MRTA. “It is completely false”, a spokesman for the National Penitentiary Institute told Agence France Presse. “There has been no transfer.” Via the Red Cross, Cerpa sent a verbal message to his companera, asking her to “understand the underlying reason for the seizure of the residence,” and saying she would always be in his heart. In Lima, the crackdown continued. Diez Canseco was briefly kinapped and interrogated by assailants wearing police uniforms. His car was torched. The editor-in-chief of La Republica was similarly kidnapped and interrogated by assailants who did not steal her purse. Gustavo Saberbein, a former hostage and critic of Fujimori, was attacked by machine gun fire outside his house. The government said common criminals were to blame.
The Guarantors met among themselves. According to Giampietri, Michael Minnig brought him his lunch, and urged him not to proceed with his escape plans. Minnig claimed a breakthrough was at hand. Giampietri, who hated Minnig and considered him “the enemy within”, swore that he would do nothing detrimental to his fellow hostages. On DAY 117, the Commissioners held separate meetings with Palermo and the MRTA. Cipriani and Cerpa came up with a list of 21 MRTA prisoners whose liberation the rebels would accept. The list included Gilvonio, Polay, and the American journalist Lori Berenson. Cipriani took the list to Fujimori, who rejected it entirely. A week later, Cipriani was back, trying again to persuade the rebels to quit the residence and fly to Cuba. He promised he could get Fujimori to liberate Gilvonio. Cerpa told Cipriani he and the other rebel leaders would discuss the matter after he had gone.
It was 19 April 1997 – DAY 124. Cerpa proposed that the leaders take a vote on whether to accept the deal and go to Cuba, or hang on. He voted in favour, the other three voted against. Tito and Salvador were adamant about liberating all the prisoners. Gumucio said he heard Tito declare, “I didn’t leave my family and my crops to come here, sell out, free three or four people, and move to Cuba. I came for my 450.” Roly Rojas was fine with going to Cuba – they had hardware stores there – but he was distrustful of Cerpa’s motives. And he felt it was still too early to leave.
How could Rojas and his colleagues have misjudged things so? They had planned for this operation to be over in fourteen days. Everyone was exhausted, depressed, and saw no end in sight. I’m sure one of the rebels carried, in his or her backpack, a book by the Peruvian revolutionary, Hugo Blanco – Land or Death. Blanco had been a legendary rebel of the 1960s, in the Castro style, with a lot of hair, a beard, and much charisma. Those were different times, and even after he was captured and imprisoned, Blanco was permitted to write and publish books of revolutionary thought.
Regarding the duration of an action, Blanco wrote, “The urban strike, though it hurts the employer, also means a sacrifice by the workers. Generally, if it is not widened, the longer it lasts, the weaker it tends to become.” Blanco was writing about a strike, like Cerpa’s Cromotex action. If a strike needed to be short and swift, how about a hostage-taking? “The longer it lasts, the weaker it tends to become.”
Blanco stressed that mass actions were the route to success. He cautioned against “the substitution of audacious actions by a courageous group for mass actions.” Yet what was the MRTA’s occupation of the mansion but an audacious action, by a small courageous group, backed by no mass movement at all? In Blanco’s view, such an action, especially if it dragged on, was doomed to fail. “The party is not a collection of exceptional individuals who can substitute themselves for the action of the masses.”
Indeed not. Cerpa and Rojas and all the rebels might have been exceptional individuals (Tito, who learned written and spoken Japanese during the occupation, certainly was). But there were only fourteen of them. The masses hadn’t been inspired to follow their example. They controlled no territory. Their comrades remained in jail. Near the end of his book, Hugo Blanco observed, morosely, that “the masses still do not have the leadership that their courage deserves.”
And what if the MRTA had agreed? Would Fujimori have let them fly away to Cuba, with a trophy prisoner or two? Or would that commando team have been waiting to ambush and dispatch them, aboard the Air Canada jet?
So the rebels and the hostages went back to doing… not very much. Enthusiasm for language classes and economics lectures had waned. The guerrillas sat around doing puzzles, with their rifles lying on the floor. In the afternoon, most of them played fulbito in the ballroom. Cerpa wrote a letter to his two sons. “I’m especially in solidarity with your mother, because you need her by your side, and there’s no other way to get her out of prison.” The boys were ten and three years old.
On Sunday, 20 April – DAY 125 – Giampetri, Tudela and the escape committee decided it was time to break out. They had the key to a locked, barred door on the second floor. If they could make make it down the steps and avoid the land mines, they could reach the outer wall… At nine a.m., Colonel Fernandez started getting messages on his pager. Code words for locations within the building – FIRST FLOOR HELL – SECOND FLOOR HEAVEN – SPIRAL STAIRCASE PURGATORY. The hostages, rescuers and rebels were all given code names. Giampietri texted back, asking if this was a drill. After five minutes a reply came – DRILL. GO THROUGH SEQUENCE. OPEN DOOR. Giampietri did not believe it was a drill. During the course of the day he and Fernandez sent more than eighty messages to whoever was out there. They received few replies. Convinced the “drill” hadn’t started, they didn’t unlock the door.
Cerpa suspected that the doctors who attended the hostages were carrying secret messages for them. He decided to clamp down on this. Henceforth, he announced, medical visits would be weekly, not daily.
According to an interview Fujimori later gave to the New York Times, this was the day he ordered his commandos to take their positions in the tunnels beneath the mansion. He described the tunnels as four feet wide, and said they were ventilated, and very comfortable. The next morning, he called Cipriani, who had been planning to visit the residence, and told him to stay away. Cipriani sent a message to the rebels that he had a stomach ache. He still didn’t know that they had rejected his proposal. Surveillance reports in the afternoon advised Fujimori that Cerpa and two other leaders had not joined in the fulbito game. The attack was postponed.
DAY 127
22 April 1997
At six, the MRTA gathered in the ground floor hall for exercises and chants. Cerpa led the refrain: “One month is nothing! Two months is nothing! A year is nothing!” At nine, the rebels summoned Ambassador Aoki to the ground floor. There, they congratulated him on his wedding anniversary. At one, the ICRC brought lunch: sushi and tempura for the Ambasador, ravioli for the rest. After lunch, Anthony Vincent turned up. In halting Spanish, he addressed the rebels and the hostages, apologizing for Cipriani’s debilitating stomach ache, attempting to assure them that all was well. Giampietri later wrote, “I grew impatient for Vincent to leave so that the soccer would start.” If the Admiral had known of the Canadian plan to murder the rebels aboard the amnesty plane, he might have been more sympathetic to the final visit of the ambassador/counter-terrorism expert.
At three, Giampietri observed the MRTA assembling downstairs, dressed in their football shirts, shorts and sneakers. He sent a message to the pager recipients, advising them. At three fourteen, a return message came – OPEN THE DOOR. The escape committee unlocked the metal door in the Ambassador’s bedroom, then lay down as if napping.
Fujimori was testifying in a court case brought against him by his former wife when he receive a phone call from Montesinos. His spy chief assured him all the rebels were downstairs. The President gave the go-ahead, and at three-thirty explosives went off below the ballroom. The soccer-playing rebels were all killed. Simultaneously, an army group blew open the Residence’s front doors, and 140 troops and marines stormed the residence, via the tunnels, the entrance, and ladders over the walls.
Cerpa and three survivors grabbed their weapons and ran up the spiral stairs. They were killed in a crossfire. A surviving rebel entered the second floor room where high-level government hostages were held. He had practiced executing them with a grenade on numerous occasions. “With a look of agony, he lowered his gun, turned around and walked out the door” hostage Rodalfo Munante reported. “He was going to shoot me. He could have done it. But he didn’t.” The guerrilla turned and left the room. Seconds later, he was dead.
Fujimori, wearing a bullet-proof vest, rushed to the residence to be filmed and photographed among the bodies of the dead. It was reported that US Navy Seals or Delta Forces, or UK SAS commandos, had been involed in the raid. Fujimori denied this. In the immediate aftermath, numerous hostages, Peruvian and Japanese, stated that several MRTA rebels had surrendered. Some said that Tito was among them. He was last seen handcuffed, pleading for his life. According to these sources, the security forces marched the surviving guerrillas into the tunnels under the building. None of them emerged alive.
Five years later, after the downfall of Fujimori and Montesinos, the Peruvian Institute of Forensic Anthropology reported that eight of the fourteen guerrillas were shot in the head while physically immobilized. A protected witness stated that Montesinos had ordered the killing of at least two hostages during the “liberation” – Supreme Court justice Carlos Giusti, and foreign minister Francesco Tudela.
Col. Roberto Huaman Azcurra was assigned the two murders, according to the witness. Huaman succeeded in killing Giusti. But in attempting to kill Tudela, he shot another Colonel, Juan Valer Sandoval, instead. According to another officer, who spoke to La Republica, Huaman was charged with ensuring that all the guerrillas were executed. The executions were carried out by another army Colonel, Jesus Zamudio Aliaga. Huaman headed the National Electronic Division of the SIN. Zamudio was chief of the “Zeus Group” – the military company in charge of Montesinos’ personal security.
Three years after the raid, Fujimori turned against Montesinos. The spy chief was accused of bribery, and selling Russian rifles to a Colombian rebel group. Engulfed in multiple crises, Fujimori fled the country for Japan and saught asylum there. It turned out he had been a native-born, Japanese citizen all along, hence never eligible for the Presidency of Peru. Montesinos was arrested in Venezuela and returned to Lima. Fujimori was also extradited to stand trial. Both men are currently in jail.
I signed up for an online discussion of Artificial Intelligence and the audiovidual sector, being run by the US Copyright Office. Somehow I was promoted to being a speaker. So I thought, I’d better take this seriously, and did a little experiment involving “AI software” and my own film, REPO MAN. The Copyright Office session started late and the first two panels ran over time (it was like being back in academia!) so in my little section we were limited to two minutes’ speaking time. These were my words:
My name is Alex Cox. I’m a writer and film director. Among my films are REPO MAN, SID & NANCY, WALKER, and TOMBSTONE RASHOMON. REPO MAN was made in 1983. The film is still under copyright. The copyright is owned by Universal Pictures. I own the US copyright to the original screenplay, sequels and remakes. So, in preparation for this panel I took my film as a test case and asked a friend at CU Boulder if a third party, who was using an AI program, would set his software this task: Write an outline for a feature film, Repo Man on Mars,
He got a response in seconds. It is a copyright litigator’s delight! Not only does the AI-generated document steal the plot, it steals specific sequences, dialogue suggestions, and uses the original character names – Otto Maddox, Bud, Leila, et al… The only substantive change the AI made was to relocate the story from LA to Mars.
The software which did this is called ChatGPT4. When its creators decided to “scrape the internet” so as to “train” or “educate” their program, they hoovered up the script and the film of REPO MAN, together with hundreds of thousands of other scripts, and films, and books, and plays, and pieces of music, and visual works of art. Some of this stuff was in the public domain. Much of it was not. In “scraping the internet” the creators of ChatGPT4 gained access to copyright material without a license. They did not even contact the copyright holders. This isn’t fair use, or fan fiction. It’s corporate theft of property, on an enormous scale.
ChatGPT4 is a project of Open AI. Open AI is a multi-billion-dollar, for-profit corporation. Microsoft owns 49% of it. Another 49% is owned by private investors, one of whom is said to be Elon Musk. When Open AI secretly entered my copyright material into their searchable database, without a contract, for a commercial purpose, they broke the law. By “scraping the internet” the AI companies have engaged in massive copyright theft. This is not a “potential problem of AI.” It is a signifigant, on-going criminal enterprise.
Who has the power to oppose this? In theory, the studios, music companies, and big five publishers should be all over it: they control the copyrights, so aren’t their interests at stake? In fact, I suspect we’re talking about the same corporate interests, the same handful of billionaires. John August of the Writers’ Guild explained why his Guild’s members are on strike. AI portends an artistic dystopia, where a producer can push a button and receive a third-rate manuscript full of stolen material, then hire a lowly-paid writer-technician to fix it and finesse the copyright theft.
Creators and artists look to the US Copyright Office to protect us!
(Sighs)
That was what I said, more or less, in my two minutes. Overall I thought the participants in the event fell into two categories: AI grifters, and well-meaning librarian types. The AI grifters clearly hate “legacy” art and artists; they worship electrons and themselves. The librarian types are strangely defeated and apathetic. They know that this is all bullshit, and should be opposed. But they’ve given up before they started. “It isn’t going to be possible to label or identify AI” they say, dejectedly. “It’s in everything people use. It’s in Google, in Google Docs, in Facebook, in your personal home assistant…” Hasn’t it occurred to them that they can do without those things? That alternatives exist? That some things are just stupid, and not worth bothering about? And that others should be hurled into the fiery pit?
Clearly, the oligarchs and their corporations are trying to pull off yet another magical monpoly theft — ironically, of the copyright music and movies owned by the very same oligarchs and corporations, or their next-door neighbours. Thanks to benificent capitalism, a tiny fraction of the money copyrights generate currently trickles down to the artists who created the original material. AI should not be a tool to screw creatives by further denying them their copy rights.
Now, if you seek further suffering, here’s that ChatGPT AI-generated “Repo Man on Mars” outline:
Title: “REPO MAN: RED PLANET”
I. Introduction
A. Year 2050: Life on Mars is a reality, and humanity has been living there for a decade. B. Introduction of Otto Maddox, a 20-something Martian-born man with a rebellious streak, currently working in an Martian supermarket. C. Otto’s frustrations with his mundane life, desire for excitement and adventure.
II. Discovery
A. Otto gets fired for his rebellious antics. B. Befriending Bud, a seasoned ‘Repo Man’ working for the Helping Hand Martian Repo Service, who introduces him to the repo business – repossessing vehicles of those who can’t keep up with their payments. C. Otto’s initial resistance, followed by acceptance after realizing this is his ticket to adventure.
III. Training and Life as a Repo Man
A. Bud trains Otto, teaching him the laws and philosophies of being a Repo Man – “The life of a Repo Man is always intense.” B. Several adventurous episodes of car repossessions. Otto’s skills and confidence grow. C. Otto learns about a mysterious “bounty” vehicle with an astronomical reward – a rover said to contain an alien artifact.
IV. The Mysterious Rover and the Artifact
A. Otto crosses paths with Leila, a member of a UFO conspiracy theorist group, who tells him about the alien artifact. B. Introduction of rival repo men, the Rodriguez brothers, who are also after the bounty vehicle. C. Otto becomes obsessed with finding the rover, starting a race against time and competition.
V. The Journey and Confrontation
A. Otto and Bud embark on a dangerous journey across Martian terrain, dealing with rival repo men, law enforcement, and the harsh Martian environment. B. Confrontation between Otto, Bud, and the Rodriguez brothers. Bud gets injured, leaving Otto on his own.
VI. Unveiling the Alien Artifact
A. Otto finds the bounty vehicle, revealing the alien artifact – a device capable of terraforming Mars into a green planet. B. A stand-off between Otto, Leila (who has been tracking Otto), and the Rodriguez brothers.
VII. Resolution
A. Otto outsmarts the Rodriguez brothers, secures the artifact, and decides to activate it for the greater good. B. Leila chooses to help Otto, revealing that she has been trying to ensure the artifact doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.
VIII. Conclusion
A. Mars begins its rapid terraforming process, shocking the entire colony and causing a frenzy. B. Otto and Leila, now fugitives, leave Mars in the bounty vehicle, which is revealed to be a spacecraft. C. Closing with the iconic line, “The life of a Repo Man is always intense” as they embark on their journey into the unknown, leaving a rapidly changing Mars behind.
{If you like listening to podcasts, I just did another one, mostly about the making of REPO MAN, forty years ago this summer, with the Hollywood Reporter.)
Last month I was invited to an event at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. It had been a while since I last attended a rock’n’roll show, but I couldn’t say no to this one, as it was a live performance of the REPO MAN soundtrack – as far as I know, the first one ever. As you might expect, I enjoyed it: much more than I expected. The performances were great, and I was reminded what an excellent score the picture has – perhaps the best of all my films. Not that this has anything to do with me! The soundtrack is a sampler of the amazing energy, irony, and political astuteness of LA punk circa 1984.
The band leaders were Marc Capelle and Allyson Baker, who have apparently done this kinda thing before, under the shingle of the Red Room Orchestra. Their chosen location was superb – as you can see form the picture above, it features booths, boxes and balconies, demented quantities of gilt, and looks like it was built around the time Charles Crocker, Leland Stanford and other kindly benefactors of humanity decided to construct the transcontinental railroad. It is a fantastic venue in the middle of absolute destitution: the Tenderloin. I don’t spend a lot of time in our great cities, and one of the reasons is that it makes me sad to see so many homeless people living on the streets. The Tenderloin makes LA or Portland look insipid – it is a literal movie set of wretchedness, with addicts shooting up on the sidewalk, huffing crack on street corners, while poor people root through garbage cans, and the middle class dine in upscale restaurants watching them (or attend punk rock shows).
But enough of misery! Frolic, Hieronimo! Star of the show was Tito Larriva, co-composer of the original score. I hadn’t seen him in decades but recognised him instantly from afar due to his splendid posture and massive charisma, which bounces off the walls, irradiates the room, and obliges you to stamp your feet and sing. In addition to his theme song, LaBamba, Tito played Hombre Secreto, Flor de Mal, Reel Ten, and my favourite, which circulates through my system to this day, El Clavo y la Cruz.
Tito was far from alone. Joining the Orchestra was original cast member Zander Schloss, who recreated some of his immortal scenes from the film, including the “stop singing” incident, and entertained us with Feelin’ Seven Up, and the Circle Jerks’ popular lounge song, When the Shit Hits the Fan. Zander invited me on stage to tell some lies and recount the story of the Elks Lodge Hall police riot, which it turned out was instigated by Tito’s manager.
Don’t Zandy and I look like a pair of aged crypto salesmen? Give us your money and we’ll make it disappear … I mean reward you with Non-Fungible Punky Monkey Tokens! Zander was back from a year-long tour with the Jerks. They play very fast these days, and he said it felt good to slow down … a little bit. All the musicians seemed to have brought their favourite instruments. Listening to Tito and Zander discussing their axes, I felt like someone overhearing Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday perusing Buntline Specials and shotguns — especially when they were joined by Billy the Kid, in the form of Adam Dubov. Adam is another Repo veteran, who provided radio voices (“mysterious showers of tiny cubes of ice…”) and impersonated Elvis for Milk Cow Blues.
Needless to say, these veterans of the film itself were not alone. They were joined by a truly splendid Orchestra which played not only the rock’n’roll material, but also performed the “old style” songs which Harry Dean Stanton listened to on his car radio. Karina Deniké, Dina Macabbee, and Petra Haden performed Rhumboogie and TV Party, while Karina soloed See See Rider and Petra essayed Let’s Have A War.
And there were other notable contributers. Blag Dahlia of The Dwarves sang Iggy’s title song; you can see his performance here. And Eugene Robinson, lead singer of the band Buñuel, did a fine version of Sy Richardson’s song Bad Man. I am the author of the Bad Man lyrics, which are based on Sy’s dialogue in the film. Somehow this fact has eluded the rights authorities, but I’m sure BMI and ASCAP will be getting in touch any day now, to sort this out.
There were some veterans in the audience, too: among them producer Jonathan Wacks, musician Dan Wool (who refuses to play live), actors Tod Darling and Linda Jensen, and audio mixer Richard Beggs. But most of the crowd were authentic volunteers, who seemed to have a good time. Afterwards, Tito and Zander expressed a desire to do this again, in the City of Angels, where Repo Man was born. Tito modestly felt we should play the Hollywood Bowl. I called my friend Satya, who lives adjacent to the Bowl and knows about these things. He tells me it seats 200,000 people, and is booked up three years in advance. So maybe its’s not the venue for this year’s Fortieth Anniversary Repo Show.
But who knows? LA is still the home to some of the Repo crew, including Sy and Dick and Miguel and Del and ’em… Maybe Mike of the Suicidals still lives in Santa Monica, and would like to perform his chef-d’oeuvre, Institutionalized, with us. Where does Lee Ving live? Perhaps he can join us, for Let’s Have A War. And what of Iggy? I got an email from him only yesterday: he’s gigging in Chicago, and it’s snowing. Maybe he could come and gig with us in LA, where it never snows! Oh, wait…
Anyone with a decent LA venue is invited to get in touch. And you can do this too! Organize your own Repo Man show, and get the musicians to play some scenes (recommended are ‘stop singing’, and Miller’s and J. Frank’s speeches). Now that the US screenplay rights have reverted to me, you have my permission.
alexcox.com 