Well, I doubt whether Lana needs another BloggerDad chipping the fuck in with post-Lacanian accounts of her intentionality, sup(p)er ego, mirroring etc etc etc but she does Trash with élan and this little section of the Tropico short film (works better in the middle of the whole thing, naturally) understands the expert Trash at the heart of Ginsberg... This is what he saw, in the Beats particularly but in society in general (that was always the irony of the Beats,they were insiders all the way - just read Kesey's account of the Merry Pranksters meeting Kerouac); their real dark sexist heart and the beauty of their sexism, the poetry in realising that articulate young men wouldn't get away with this kind of shit with impunity ever again.
Without the totem of money, that is.
The first "garden of eden" section of Tropico makes me think the director (and Lana) ought to be thrown some cash and asked to have a crack at Garth Ennis's Preacher as well.
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