8/8/2023 0 Comments Mr natural keep on truckin![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() It was a simple, non-sexual part that burrowed in there - yes, even more than that one brother who swallowed a string bit by bit so he could pass it bit by bit. It’s the very definition of engrossing.Ī sequence in the film always stuck in my head. And the mother. And then your head feels like it’s going to explode. The brother that sleeps on a bed of nails and the other one that never leaves the house and talks openly about his suppressed pedophilic inclinations. You start delving into the world of this small, strange, shy, but disarmingly sweet man (with glasses so thick it’s like he’s looking at you through an aquarium), you start thinking he’s the weirdest goddamn son of a bitch you’ve ever come across in all your born days, and then you meet his family. If you’ve seen it, you know of what I speak. I first saw it on cable in the ’90s, back in the days before DVRs that let you pause what you were watching, and it didn’t matter how bad I had to piss or who thirsty I was, there was no chance in hell that I was getting up and missing a second. (I’m sure I spotted a Keep on Truckin’ mudflap or two during any of the interminable family car rides of my youth, but we won’t count that.) Crumb has the distinction - along with Schindler’s List - of being a film from which I quite literally could not tear myself away. Like many people not of the counter-culture generation, or who grew up in the sticks and wouldn’t know an underground comic if it bit them on the ass, my first sampling of his world came in the unspeakably compelling 1994 documentary Crumb. There’s a vicious yin and yang to the work. As you sit in awe of a deft hand that could turn cross-hatching, because of the fetishistic intensity with which it was wrought, into something more than just the illusion of shadow, you stifle the gag reflex when confronted with sexual perversion that looks like what would happen if Escher were a sex fiend and had a thing for the funny pages. To know his work is to at once marvel at the all-encompassing expression of his talent, while at the same time lamenting his art’s degradation of women and minorities - hell, anything with a pulse. Crumb. There has never been an artist in the comic book industry - under or above ground - who has had such a capacity to simultaneously inspire and repulse. ![]()
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