 One of Dafoe's best Director: Julian Schnabel Writer: Jean-Claude Carrière, Louise Kugelberg, and Julian Schnabel Cinematographer: Benoît Delhomme Producer: Jon Kilik by Jon Cvack I had recently watched Vincente Minelli’s Lust for Life (1956) about six months ago, not knowing about this film. For those who want a better experience, I’d suggest checking it out in order to better appreciate and fill in the blanks of At Eternity’s Gate. It stars Kirk Douglas as Vincent Van Gogh, following him from early in his career and up to his suicide (or murder in Schnabel’s case murder). There are three stories that I’m glad I knew of before - his close friendship to the firebrand painter Paul Gauguin who, alongside Van Gogh, were the vanguard of an artistic revolution; that Van Gogh’s creative pursuit was funded by Theo van Gogh; that Van Gogh slowly started to go insane, ending up in various institutions (especially after he cut off his ear) where he produced some of his best work; and that Van Gogh was considered a failure up to his death, his paintings considered gaudy and unrealistic (from my limited understanding, impressionism was at its zenith of popularity). At Eternity’s Gate takes place in the last few years of Van Gogh’s life. He’s played by Willem Dafoe (who received an overlooked Oscar nomination for the role), who's aware that he is slowly going insane. The film opens up in Paris where he befriends the ruthlessly self-centered and self-righteous painter Paul Gauguin (Oscar Isaac). Unable to sell a painting or handle living in the city, Van Gogh journeys to the Southern France countryside where his mind continues to deteriorate, landing him either voluntarily or compulsively into various institutions; all while he continues to paint some of his most famous pieces of work. The reason I’d suggest watching Lust for Life (or at least reading up on Van Gogh’s) is because the biography is operating far in the background. The story is about the mind of Van Gogh, told entirely through his perspective. What we get is a handheld camera (a style I’m starting to love with period pieces; such as Soderberg’s "The Knick" (2014-2015) or The Favorite (2018)), where with frenetic speed and wide lenses it wanders around and explores the scene; looking for character to person to landscape. The frame is often half distorted and out of focus when in Van Gogh’s point of view (inspired when Schnabel tried on bifocal glasses), and what seems like such an easy trick, creates a wildly disorienting experience; feeling as though Van Gogh is trying with all his might to bring the world and his mind into focus. All the while, Van Gogh paints with rapid speed; vowing to finish paintings all in one sitting as it’s when the muse is freshest. With great trickery and talent from both Dafoe and Schnabel we see the act of painting and the way in which Van Gogh would pile on globs of paint, creating what Gauguin described as sculpture rather than painting. Taking inspiration from Malick (though being one of the few filmmakers to pull it off) we follow Van Gogh as he wanders the natural world around him, falling into the fields and staring into sunsets, most often shot during some of the most beautiful golden hour photography I’ve ever seen, and allowing us to fully grasp the beauty that the artist was so overwhelmed by. It’s this immersion within Van Gogh’s mind that allows painter turned filmmaker Schnabel to pile in aphorisms about the creative process; something I imagine most artists can relate to in their pursuits; which only seem pretentious for those who fail to make a serious leap. And yet given Van Gogh’s story - dying before ever realizing even a modicum of success - they should serve to inspire anyone who struggles. “I paint, as a matter of fact, to stop thinking. I stop thinking, and I feel that I'm a part of everything outside and inside of me.” “I'll show what I see to my human brothers who can't see it. It's a privilege. I can give them hope and consolation.” “Because my vision is closer to the reality of the world. I can make people feel what it's like to be alive.” “Of all the miseries that afflict humanity, nothing maddens me more than the lack of money.” “Sometimes they say I'm mad, but a grain of madness is the best of art.” “I wanted so much to share what I see. Now I just think about my relationship to eternity.” Everyone I know who’s pursuing the arts has experienced one, if not all of these emotions. They’re thoughts we often don’t share publicly, as it seems as though if it was truly how you felt, then you should be successful, and if you’re not, you either must not be serious or good enough. As life further creeps in, and a new job, more money, a wife, child, or your aging relatives slowly creep into the pursuit, most are confronted with the question - do you have to do it, or can you stop and make it a hobby? It’s what makes the closing quote about his relationship to eternity so powerful; will we stop thinking about the adulation and fame and simply create for the very act of creating, hoping that honesty will allow the work to one day live beyond us, or remain forever yearning for that acceptance? In the age of cloud drives and streaming services, all art could theoretically live on for the next 7.5 billion years. We are all creating content that could and will exist forever, even if no one sees it now. It’s hopelessly naive, but it makes the alternative cynicism sting just a bit less. BELOW: Why do you _____? Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 The boys are back. Not sure why, but they are Director: Doug Ellin Writer: Doug Ellin Cinematographer: Steven Fierberg Producer: Mark Wahlberg, Stephen Levinson, and Doug Ellin by Jon Cvack NOTE: I wrote this a few months before diving into the series, which I actually loved, both as a combination of living in LA and having interesting characters/stories. So I’d probably have to revisit the film, but given how quickly the series hooked me in, I’m guessing the following would stand. I'm still not why sure why this was made. I’m not sure what prompted my friend to send me the first forty-seconds of this film with Johnny "Drama" Chase (Kevin Dillon), Eric Murphy (Kevin Connolly), and "TurtleAssante (Jerry Ferrara) who’re cruising in a speed boat toward a massive yacht in the distance, where the vast majority of the people aboard are half-naked women in bikinis. In close up, we see Johnny lower some binoculars and say in his thick Brooklyn accent - “I should have jerked off first.” I haven’t seen much of Entourage, though I believe I randomly went through a decent chunk of the third or fourth season, back when the nascent Netflix streaming service would have select seasons of a show. It played as though a continuation of Swingers (1996) should one of them have gotten big, complete with all of the ball busting, women chasing, and camaraderie that someone in their early twenties might have found so enticing. It presents an (male) individual’s wildest dream of what Hollywood stardom could be; where even if you’re not all that ambitious, talented, or good looking, or some combination, a person could make it big by being close enough to someone is. This film might be closest to the line between pre and post #MeToo, as to think that this movie was made in 2015 just goes to show how quickly a movement has had an impact. This film is one of the most misogynistic films I’ve seen in recent times and I’m pretty sure I’d have to go back to the 80s to find anything comparable. The plot is almost comically absurd - Chase has directed his first film, went over budget, and the Texas investors want to significantly recut before providing additional mmoney (that is, something that could easily be the plot of a thirty minute episode). And it’s because of that plot that most of the film is about a bunch of now rich dudes are trying to fuck as many women with the least amount of resistance as possible (Turtle has launched a successful Tequila company and Johnny has worked his way into C+-level acting, including a part in Chase’s movie). In one scene, during a major-rager party for Chase’s test screening, we see the vast majority of women in bikinis, while beyond the attractive half naked guys, most of the men are fully clothed; including the celebrity cameos that the show was known for, including: Mark Cuban, Tom Brady, Gary Busey, Jon Favreau, and others I can’t much remember. Going through the list of cameos further proves the point, as over 90% of them are from dudes, often featured in the debaucherous parties, drugged up, soused, and playing the worst - or Busey’s case actual - sides of themselves. During the party, Turtle and Johnny find Eric in one of the room’s fucking a girl on the chair; who does nothing more than smile and laugh it off. They then confront their friend, asking how many girls he’s banged in the last week. He believes it’s at least three. This is in addition to his pregnant ex-girlfriend. Eric couldn’t be any less interested in the fact that he’s soon to be a father, and due to his daliences soon finds himself as father to yet another girl he hooked up.* This turns out to be fake and, come the end of the movie, he heads to the hospital after the water breaks and they have the baby, to which Johnny, Turtle, and Chase all show up to congratulate him, to which just minutes later, he leaves the woman who just gave birth to his child, to head off to another restaurant/bar/party. My other friend mentioned how the characters are always going somewhere in the series. It often involves one of the characters showing up with the other three, to which they talk or argue, then hop in a car and drive around. It all serves to provide an image of a life that 99.9999% could and will only dream about. Who wouldn’t want to wake up each day to a beautiful and perfect breakfast, either at home or at a pristine restaurant? Who wouldn’t want to constantly be surrounded by beautiful people, in which you could have your choice of any of them with minimal effort? Who wouldn’t want to have a job where the work is simply going to these drinking and hanging out with celebrities? The show is purest escape, and while it’s definitely a show for men, I don’t think it’s probably all that different than what Sex in the City did for women; inviting viewers into a life that most will never live, but in a way that makes them feel as though they’re there. Beyond the most glaring offense in having the women play little beyond sex appeal or as cumbersome attachments to the males, it’s not worth pinpointing each offense. The show is too self-aware to care. It knows what it’s doing and given all the fans out there, I’m sure it does it fine. But in 2019, not being familiar with the rest of the series, I saw something that, while providing such escape, also felt from a different era. In some ways, it almost felt like the most extravagant close possible to the Bro Period of popular storytelling. To think that four years later, this would likely have had a fraction of the success it did should make anyone optimistic for how quickly culture can change. And yet somehow, even with how little I like the characters, I find myself interested in checking out the first season and how far they’d take things. *It must be mentioned that this confrontation provides the film’s most bizarre scene, in which Eric goes to get breakfast with Johnny and Turtle, finds another girl he recently slept with who confronts him over the herpes he gave her, for the other girl (not his ex-girlfriend) to then exit with a coffee and pretend to wonder what he’s doing with yet another woman; only for the two girl’s to then reveal it was all a prank. This all happens in about forty five seconds, in which I had to actually rewind the movie to comprehend what just occurred. BELOW: Never would thought having this 90 second clip shared would lead me vacuuming down eight seasons of television Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A very cute couple Director: Boots Riley Writer: Boots Riley Cinematographer: Doug Emmett Producer: Nina Yang Bongiovi, Kelly Williams, Jonathan Duffy, Charles D. King, George Rush, and Forest Whitaker by Jon Cvack It’s April and I’m still working my way through the remaining 2018 films. I had first heard of this flick after seeing Blind Spotting and seeing that Sorry to Bother You was another Oakland-based film helmed by another black filmmaker and hiphop icon Boots Riley, a self-described democratic socialist who blended those ideas into a story of magical realism. It involves a job-seeking Cassius “Cash” Green (Lakeith Stanfield; who I’m excited to see a lot more from [I saw this before Uncut Gems (2019)]) who lives in his uncle’s garage and dates an artist Detroit (Tessa Thompson). He soon gets a position at a soul sucking telemarketing company, taking advice from his neighbor (Danny Glover) that if he uses a white man’s voice he could make better sales and make it up to the mysterious and enticing top “Power Caller” floor. The strategy proves a success, yet while Cash is gaining the attention of middle management, his co-workers are starting to assemble and push for a union. Cash agrees to help until he’s finally provided the Power Caller promotion, making it up to the top floor where he enters into huge sales and begins raking in more money than he’d ever dreamed of; quickly ditching his friends and their attempt to unionize Meanwhile, there’s another company called Worryfree which exchanges free labor for room and board in order to sell arms, led by CEO Steve Lift (Armie Hammer). Combined with the telemarketers, the two companies fight for workers rights as Cash moves further up the corporate and social ladder, soon invited to a infamous “Steve Lift Party” where Cash is pressured to freestyle in front of hundreds of people before they enter in an endless coke-filled orgy. Steve offers what looks like some coke to Cash who rips a line and then goes to pee where he takes a wrong turn and discovers a minotaur Jim Henson-level practical creature chained to the walls. By chance his phone records the creatures, leading him to tell the world, but between the vapid entertainment most people want and the labor riots, no one seems to care. By now he’s ditched the few friends he made at the telemarketing company; one of which sleeps with Detroit after her and Cash break up, Detroit is pissed that Cash has abandoned his friends (though, in fairness, he’s known them for about a week before his promotion occurs). Things come to a boil and the workers fight the police and while I appreciated the Marxist film, it felt as though it didn’t have the resources to fully pull off the world it wanted to create. The issue being that should the film seems to take place in an alternative universe, it presents a world that’s very much similar to our own; far too dependent on animating certain elements while leaving others the same. This is no fault of Boot Riley’s, as given the limitations, he’s able to create a vibrant film that pops off the screen. I would have liked to see how the culture and people of Oakland were struggling with gross unemployment and the choice whether to sell themselves into indentured servitude versus trying to find a low paying job such as a telemarketer. Everything else, from the company to Worryfree to Steve Lift’s universe and the monsters all felt like it took a real concept and amped it up. Perhaps that was the point, but it felt as though two realities were competing with each other rather than blending together. However, for a first feature, this might be one of the most exciting debuts to come out in years. BELOW: Interesting explainer on the film Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Could have been great Director: Jordan Peele Writer: Jordan Peele Cinematographer: Mike Gioulakis Producer: Jason Blum, Ian Cooper, Sean McKittrick, and Jordan Peele by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... The family separates, taking off in different directions as the male figure walks toward Gabriel who runs back inside, attempting to block the door as the two doppelgänger children find other ways into the house. Quickly we realize this this is the Wilson family’s doppelgänger; with a Red, her alleged husband Abraham, and their alleged children Umbrae and Pluto (all played by the same characters, which is actually surprising, as I would have sworn they weren’t; demonstrating the great skill of Peele and his cast). In an intense moment, as the eight characters sit around a fire, we hear Red speak as though being choked to death, revealing in cryptic fashion something about their origin, but all I remember is the cringey line about being Americans; which just felt so heavy and on the nose, that I was surprised “Still Processing”” didn’t at least poke fun at it, instead electing to praise it, and for reasons that, by necessity, also fell right on the nose and therefore cheapened a significant moment; one interpretation being that while the Wilson’s might have found success in life, the doppelgängers remain nearly invisible; the hosts recalling a beautiful W.B. Dubois quote about African Americans having to live in with two identities - that of Black America’s attempt to integrate itself within a White Culture while preserving and living the realities of what it means to be black in America. I don’t think “American” was the wrong word choice, so much as that a more cryptic idea about duality or identity could have worked to enforce this idea. The Wilson’s escape by boat, heading to their friends Kitty and Josh who are introduced inside a very expensive and ugly modern smart home. They have two daughters who’re also glued to their phones, and when Kitty thinks she hears a noise outside, demanding and soon shouting at Josh check it out, he gets up from his chair and we learn that they’re in fact only renting the monstrosity of the place; providing a subtle nod toward our expectations of ethnic stereotypes in cinema. For whatever reason I just assumed they were owners and I think it was this assumption that speaks volumes for even the most benign biases. Outside Josh discovers a family of four white people; all played by the same characters, who proceed to butcher the family in one of the most creative deaths I’ve seen in awhile; taking inspiration from one of my favorite recent home invasion films, The Strangers (2008) and specifically its use of "Mama Tried", with Peele instead making creative use of Amazon Alexa to initiate NWA’s Fuck the Police and provide a murder sequence score that we’ve rarely see in - again - the predominantly white sub-genre of home invasion films. The Wilson’s later arrive, finding their neighbor’s dead and turning on the television to provide that classic scene that every film replicates from Night of the Living Dead (1968), in which the characters gather around the television to see exactly what had been happening. They learn that throughout the world, there has been an uprising of people who are killing their above-Earth doppelgängers, then joining hands in some great link that’s meant to span across most of the globe. This of course doesn’t make sense, but the film has been so expertly executed and so finely crafted that while suspicious of how they could make sense of it all, I was confident that it’d make enough sense to pull if off. My confidence was all the more reinforced when the family attempts to take the Tyler’s car, with Zora demanding to drive and the dad cracking jokes, and while I wanted to think no character could possibly joke given what’s happening, they mostly bent just far enough to blend with the situation. Again, in “Still Processing”, the hosts mentioned the idea of having Gabriel be self-awarely playing the traditional role of the black character in predominantly white films - the person always cracking jokes and making light of the situation, serving to both comment on the situation and perhaps try and assist his kids in dealing with the situation; something the Scary Movie franchise satirized. They drive through the night and arrive back at the Santa Cruz boardwalk, finding Pluto standing in front of their old car which is engulfed in flames; with a small trail of gas heading in their direction. Pluto flicks a match, ready to light them up. Here was the first hiccup, as I couldn’t help but wonder 1) how a thin trail of gas would possibly endanger the Wilsons, as just because there’s something burning beneath my car doesn’t mean it's going to explode, or 2) how Jason then mimics the Pluto’s moves which somehow leads him to walk back into the flames and burn himself alive. At no point did I get the impression that these individuals are so easily controlled, let alone completely stupid, and I feared it was more in an effort to create a cinematic experience than abide by the story’s own logic. Thinking they’re officially out of the clear, Adelaide takes a walk back to the funhouse, entering, walking through to the back and down an escalator and suddenly discovering what looks to be an abandoned underground train station, where hundreds of bunny rabbits run in all directions. Knowing the answer was coming to a close, if not yet arrived, the alarms starting sounding off - there was no way this was getting tied up nicely. Adelaide then finds Red in a classroom, drawing on a board as dozens of open rabbit cages stand at the rear and we learn that the government had created the colony called the “Tethered” in order to control the public, but abandoned the experiment due to the dangers, and then trapped the people underground. As a result, they were left mimicking those they saw above them; namely, pretending they were on the Santa Cruz boardwalk and playing at the carnival. Logic exceeded high alert at this point, as again, having spent the whole film wondering what the hell was going on, with anticipation building all the more so with how expertly crafted the film was, I was left with an utter sense of disappointment. And for a film that was looking to be as good as Shyamalan's Signs (2002) or Unbreakable (2000); fell to dustbin of The Village (2004) and even flirted with The Happening (2008). We are expected to believe that a colony of people across the country were living in a bunch of underground tunnels; never escaping, yet somehow able to mimic the people at a theme park. Additionally, they were able to assemble themselves into perfect mirror images of families they had theoretically never met. And for at least thirty years (from the time young Adelaide encountered them), no one had ever seen them before; as in the case of the Santa Cruz boardwalk, no worker at the funhouse ever thought to go in the backroom and down an escalator where they would discover thousands of individuals. While the film carried out a strange dance sequence, the damage had been done. For as much as I could accept that some U.S. Government humanoid creation could have natural hunting and killing abilities, I could not accept that they’d never escape, or that they somehow communicated with each other across the country and world, or that no one would have ever discovered them. A friend asked what I would liked to see, to which I responded that such a question shook the film’s entire foundation. Again, most scary movies operate under a simple suspension of disbelief - there is something weird going on and we don’t know what, or there is a supernatural killer on the loose and we’re following the characters who battle against it. In Rosemary’s Baby (1968) we learn that it’s witchcraft, in Halloween (1978) and The Thing (1982) we root for for the main character to destroy the monster, in Scream (1996) we want to know who the killer is, in The Exorcist (1973) we want to know how to triumph over an actual product of Satan, in The Shining (1980), we want to see if the family can escape the haunted hotel. Similar to my thoughts on What Lies Beneath (2000), Zemeckis’ Hitchcock/horror film hybrid, next to Identity (2003), is one of the most disappointing third acts of a movie compared to what precedes it. The problem is that what starts out in reality, then drifts into the supernatural, failing to ever reconcile the two worlds. There is the fun of not knowing what’s going on, expertly crafted and gluing you to the screen, and then reconciling that with some horror/psycho-thriller answer that just doesn’t provide the answer you’re looking for. Us is more a Hitchcockian thriller in structure than a horror film, and therefore it’s about answers; what Shyamalan and Hitchcock had accomplished with their best work. In the conversations I’ve had, I’m left with people telling me that it’s just something I have to accept. Yet for a film who’s entire purpose is geared toward both a cinematic experience and the satisfaction of an answer, I’m not sure how people can accept the latter. Us is a good film, and I’m sure I’ll turn back to it a few times in the future; hoping I missed something. Maybe I’ll even be able to accept the premise, but like most films that fail to provide a sufficient answer, I think it’s going to remain a film for those who simply want the journey, no matter where it leads. There’s enough in this film to unpack for years, and if anything, it makes me excited for what Peele comes up with next, hoping that with the same level of craft, he can tie it all up to make everyone happy. BELOW: Great scene Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Great opening Director: Jordan Peele Writer: Jordan Peele Cinematographer: Mike Gioulakis Producer: Jason Blum, Ian Cooper, Sean McKittrick, and Jordan Peele by Jon Cvack Upon walking out of the theater, the three people I went with all agreed that what started out as a truly fantastic horror film crashed and burned by the final act; failing to deliver the twist or answer that we’ve been waiting for. Barr’s summary of the Mueller Report was released the next day and I made a joke on Facebook over being unsure what was more disappointing - the Report’s conclusion or the end of Us; causing me to get messages both from Trump sympathizers wondering why I was disappointed and fans of Peele’s ending wondering what issue I had. One friend in particular said that the film was about trauma, and that story’s central character Adelaine had actually been sexually assaulted and was dealing with the psychological consequences of that event. It was a perspective I didn’t pick up, and per the beauty of art, is an interpretation I could get. My problems with the “It was a dream/fantasy/delusion/hallucination” aside, even if such a thing was Peele’s intention, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m being expected to believe that for at least the last 30 years, there’s been an entire colony of revolutionaries living beneath the earth, specifically one of California’s most famous cities, who are preparing to rise up and kill the humans up top by finding what’s close enough to their doppelgängers. The same friend mentioned that as I didn’t expect to know where Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees came from, I shouldn’t need to know why or how these people rose up from the underworld. Slasher films are not operating by the same structure as a film such as Us, or any psychological suspense/horror/thriller. Their premise is simple - teenage victims, often led by a virginal female character, are attacked by a crazed, seemingly indestructible killer. The entire plot is following the heroine’s friends get killed one by one until her final battle with the killer; it’s not some grand philosophical exercise. I have seen reviews comparing Jordan Peele to Hitchcock, which is accurate, if combined with Rod Sterling; especially as, unrelated to this film’s release, I had been revisiting many of Hitchcock’s film. Most notably, The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956) and Saboteur (1942). Both of these films operate within Hitchcock's Wrongfully Accused plot, in which the central character is unwillingly drawn into a sinister act. In Saboteur, an aircraft factory worker is blamed for an act of terrorism; forced to escape from the authorities in order to prove his innocence. In The Man Who Knew Too Much, while visiting Morocco with his family, Dr. Benjamin Mckenna finds himself involved in the assassination of a foreign statesmen. In both films, the primary question is what’s going on and why. We then slowly piece together the elements, until they finally assemble in act three, often leading to the hero entering into a grand battle to save either himself or his family. To this day I remember watching the preview for James Mangold’s Identity (2003) in my friend’s parent’s basement. We went to the theater on the day of its release. I recall the moment when Jake Busey’s ex-con character escapes the motel to then run through the fields into a ravine and up the other side to find himself staring at the motel he just escaped. It had all been a masterful film up until that point, though it was the first moment I wondered how they could possibly explain this illogic. For those unfamiliar, by the standards of how great the rest of the movie is, Identity is arguably the most disappointing conclusion in modern film history; in which the entire story is the psychotic fantasy of a schizophrenic man on death row. This is my problem with movies that allow for psychological fantasy and why I don’t like most surrealistic cinema (i.e., Jodorowsky or Bunuel). As mentioned in my thoughts on these films, the problem is that both genres allow you to get away with anything; either it’s accommodating some plausible symbolism, or if not, it’s just a dream/expression and doesn’t need to make sense. It allows for storytellers to both have their cake and eat it too; abide by logic when convenient, abandon the logic when it’s unhelpful. On the New York Time’s culture podcast “Still Processing”, the two hosts mention how once the family is attacked by the four other individuals, we’re immediately wondering what’s going on and how it all connects. That’s exactly right, and yet even after praising the film and providing an interesting comparison to Toni Morrison’s Beloved (1987), they never bothered to answer how millions of people were living beneath the Earth; only an escalator ride away from discovery, who finally decided to revolt and find perfect mirror images of themselves. I raised the same point to my friend who tried to explain that this in no way mattered. Another friend I debated said the same thing; ultimately not even caring about how these individuals got to where they were, asking me to abide by comic book movie logic - a whole other topic of conversation, but let’s just say I more aligned with Bill Maher’s "New Rule" on the matter. It’s not that comic’s are empty of morals or truth, it’s just that by the very nature of admitting comics are more than just about superheroes, then there should be a natural curiosity to study and look to additional and more challenging films or books which abandon the spectacle in favor of deeper assessments. Sure enough, while writing this, upon my first review search, I found the NYT’s opinion piece titled “Jordan Peele’s ‘Us’ is a New Kind of Superhero Movie”. I find some vindication; at the end of the day, what I find to be a frustrating lack of reason is something comic book fans just wouldn't care about. It’s easy to buy broad premises. They’re willing to accept the fantasy because the film for them is not about reason, it’s about the experience and meaning of what’s going on. And again, when it comes to art, I can’t argue with that. Us begins with one of the best horror intros I can recall seeing in the last decade. A young Adelaide Thomas (Madison Curry) and her mom and dad soon head down to the Santa Cruz boardwalk; the dad more interested in the games than his child or wife; soon completely distracted by Whac a Mole while his wife goes to the bathroom and the daughter walks away alone, as though called for. She heads down onto the beach and finds a funhouse, heading deeper and deeper within, until she finally comes across her doppelgänger who then reaches out to grab her. To note, it was during this sequence that it sounded like hundreds of footsteps were racing all over the place in the theater and I’m still not sure if this was part of the sound design, or the ten young punk teens who jumped into the front row thirty minutes after the movie started, having snuck into the theater. If I was mistaken, I can say that during a horrific scene, a dozen footsteps seeming to run in all directions behind me was one of the most disorienting theater experiences of my life. The film then cuts forward and we meet an older Adelaine Wilson (Lupita Nyong'o), her husband and Howard graduate Gabriel (Winston Duke), their iPhone-addicted daughter Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and their mask-wearing and weird son Jason (Evan Alex). They’re an upper middle class black family with a lakehouse on the outskirts of Santa Cruz (ethnicity being important here). The dad is your average father - goofy, a bit aloof, and determined that the whole family has as much fun - by his definition - as possible. Hours after arriving, he heads off to buy a rundown boat, cruising it up to the docks and showing it off to his family who couldn’t care less. Recently I’ve both been talking to friends and admiring how a perfect story leaves nothing superfluous. In the ideal film, every single moment, nearly every single shot and line, is relevant to the story and drives it forward; allowing the viewer to connect the details. I’d argue any popular cinematic masterpiece works under this principle - people enjoy an engaging and fairly challenging puzzle. Too many tangents and people have no reason to pay attention. Too abstract and people can’t follow the story. The best Hitchcock and Spielberg films are the paragons of this ability. Although a simpler example, such a fact is demonstrated when Gabriel is in the boat and the motor goes out, requiring him to have to slap it back into operation. Later, when he’s attacked, a thrilling sequence will carry out as the motor’s shorted out while he’s fighting for his life. The family later heads to the beach and we meet the Wilson’s neighbors Kitty and Josh Tyler (Elisabeth Moss; Tim Heidecker). Having not been back since her funhouse trauma, Adelaine is anxious about the visit. Kitty attempts to make small talk and offers Adelaine a drink, which she rejects in favor of water so she could keep a better eye on the kids. Jason wanders off and soon finds a creepy man dressed in a red jumpsuit with blood dripping from his hand. When Zora returns without her brother, Adelaine loses it, shouting his name and running around frantically to find him. He soon returns but doesn’t tell his mother about the man with the bloody hand. They return home and get ready for bed when the power shuts off and a family of four is outside their house. Gabriel exits to try and get them to leave, returns to grab a baseball bat, and begins what “Still Processing” referred to as the Black Man Act. This is difficult to describe and I think demonstrates a larger issue we’re facing; as in in order to describe exactly what this means would require what sound like stereotypes but are points that the two black hosts omake, which is that this prescription contributes to the commentary on being black in America; which in order to fully express intimidation, Gabriel attempted to like an “angry black man” hoping it’d scare off the most likely white family who were harassing them. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: Can always win me over with a scary fun house Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The 00s will forever be remembered for these weird lecture-style docs Director: Alex Gibney Story b: Lawrence Wright Producer: Alison Ellwood, Alex Gibney, Alexandra Johnes, and Kendall McCarthy by Jon Cvack It’s been sixteen years since the invasion of Iraq and it seems like an increasingly bipartisan consensus that the war was an absolute disaster, both in intelligence and justification and execution and resolve. The war arguably led to the rise of ISIS, who in a vacuum created when we left, allowed Islamist Extremists to push in an even more radical direction. A consequence that has continued to this day, as Trump celebrates defeating the last ISIS stronghold in Syria; though months prior, the New York Times says their membership has now reached over 75,000, and they’re positioned throughout the middle east. A question I enjoy asking people is when they felt like they were a part of history. Most say September 11 and yet I feel like I was too young to fully grasp the ramifications of that day, and the way in which history would forever change from then on out. It was when the war in Iraq was becoming increasingly disastrous that I read Richard Clarke’s Against All Enemies (2004). Clarke was a security and terrorism advisor to presidents George H.W. Bush, Clinton, and George W. Bush; in which for the latter, he explains how although he expressed his concern with the rise of radical Islamist factions to senior members of Bush’s cabinet, they often ignored the warnings. The far left would perceive this as conspiracy; culminating in the infamous video of Condoleezza Rice explaining how she was warned about Al Qaeda flying planes into American skyscrapers just months before the attack. I recommend the read for anyone interested in the complete failure of American intelligence in the years leading up to 9/11. Lawrence Wright’s book The Looming Tower (2006) was recently adapted for Amazon, and while that series falls way short of the book, both explore the rise of Islamist Extremists; the ways in which radical members of religion targeted impressionable young men with adventure, martyrdom, and an infinite afterlife filled filled with rivers of milk, cream, and 72 virgins. As the middle east further divided between the Sunni, Shia, and Kurdish factions, the fractured politics reached a breaking point. Specifically, as America aligned itself with Saudi Arabia and it’s Sunni monarchy, Bin Laden and other radicals saw a western perversion of their culture and society. I had no idea that Lawrence Wright wrote The Siege (1998), which is arguably the most prescient ever made; produced about four years prior to 9/11. I had seen the movie with my cousins, though being only thirteen years old, failed to grasp the ideas it explored. Thinking back on the film, it makes perfect sense that Lawrence Wright would be the one to come up with such a plausible idea. My Trip to Al Qaeda is essentially a produced version of Lawrence Wright’s one man play by the same name. The first image is a bit off putting - the best selling author being made up backstage before his big show, discussing all of the death and destruction he had seen; that is, while most of the people he talked to are worried for their lives back in the middle east, he’s safe and sound in America, ostensibly profiting from their openness. The bad taste lasted for about the first third of the film, until he gets deeper into the show and shows us how complex and seemingly irreversible the problem is; involving conflicts going back thousands of years with the myopic American Republicans failing to have any evacuation plan once they dethroned Saddam Hussein, or how it could create a power vacuum leaving to even further radicalization and destabilization. What we find is a man that’s deeply frustrated over how right he was, knowing that the problem will continue on for what’s looking to be an entire generation. After 9/11 most people knew that the course of history was forever changed. Nearly twenty years later, and it seems as though everything wrong with America’s role in the middle east goes back to that day and the events leading up to it. Trump’s conservatism is at least a partial rebuke to Bush’s neoconservatism; as if there’s one thing I’ll give the man it’s castigating his predecessor for getting involved with the war in Iraq. However, there are faint war drums beating against Iran, and I can only hope Trump doesn’t take another play from Tyrant 101 and get us involved in another endless war, forcing us to once again topple their government as tensions between Iran and Saudi Arabia intensify. I’m not entirely sure what the point of Wright’s play was - whether to inform audiences that might be less familiar with his books and writings, or to act as a catharsis for what I can only imagine is a deeply frustrating endeavor that’s getting worse and worse. What I was left with was less about the details of what he discussed and more the eeriness in hoping - though not at all confident - that we might have learned our lesson about oversimplifying complex problems. Writing this just weeks after the New Zealand attacks, I can’t help but see the parallels between radical Islam and radical White Nationalists; both functioning as deeply religious and conservative factions that hope to return to the world to an earlier time; often when women, minorities, and members of the LGBT community were either oppressed or assaulted. In the same way Al-Qeada recruited impressionable young men through social media, we’re learning that White Supremacists are digging through web forums and gaming networks; hoping to find marginalized youth desperate for a sense of community; exploiting this need toward their own mission of destruction. I’d like to think that we might have learned a bit about how to deal with this problem, and yet I’m already seeing the hypocrisy run strong on both sides. While Conservatives are willing to ban Muslims they don’t want intelligence organizations snooping around questionable white nationalist groups due to civil rights violations. While Liberals are willing to expand these investigations, they want to avoid snooping into questionable Islamist organizations also due to a violation of civil rights. And so it goes, with both sides thinking that they’re on the righteous path while the other abuses its power, and it seems as though nothing gets done to solve the problem of radicalization, or why people would be attracted to it in the first place. As Wright suggests, there seems to be no end in sight. BELOW: Wright discusses his play Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  I've seen him in more films that I can remember, but Lucas Hedges completely faded into his character Director: Jonah Hill Writer: Jonah Hill Cinematographer: Christopher Blauvelt Producer: Scott Rudin, Eli Bush, Ken Kao, Jonah Hill, Lila Yacoub, and Mikey Alfred byJon Cvack On Howard Stern’s radio show, Jonah Hill discussed how he met with Martin Scorsese in preparation for the movie, as it’s one of his favorite directors that he of course worked on developing one Hill’s greatest roles in Wolf of Wall Street (2013). Having worked with Bennett Miller in Moneyball, the Coens Brothers on Hail, Caesar! (2016) and appearing, at times, starring in most of Judd Apatow’s most popular films, Hill said that Scorsese remains the greatest director he ever worked with and the filmmaker he most admires. Stern asked why and Hill mentioned Scorsese’s incredible talent in to solve problems with lightning speed; which for those unfamiliar with directing, is one of the primary positions of a director - things aren’t how you envision them, Murphy’s Law operates at full force, and with so many people and a lot of money riding on your shoulders, it’s being able to handle that pressure while also delivering an excellent final product. Scorsese met with Jonah Hill for over four hours in order to discuss Hill’s directorial debut; breaking down the characters, talking about an approach to shooting the story, and essentially offering a master class that leaves you wishing that Hill might have recorded the conversation. From the get go, Mid90s looks like a film from the era. According to IMDb trivia, the projectionist thought that they were screening an uncovered film from the 90s, as between the lighting, super 16mm format, and 4:3 ratio, it embodies the era’s essence. The film takes place in Los Angeles, focused primarily on a 13-year old boy named Stevie (Sunny Suljic) who lives with his orange juice-loving brother Ian (Lucas Hedges in a possible Swingers (1996) throwback) and his single mom who seems to have an endless string of men staying over throughout the week. Like any big brother, Ian likes to beat up Stevie, enforcing a strict policy of Stevie never entering his room. In one of the earliest scenes, Stevie ignores the rule, looking through his CD collection, writing down the artists, touching Ian’s cool clothes and shoes, perusing the skating and music magazines neatly stacked on the nightstand. While out with his mom, he sees some kids skateboarding outside a skate shop, busting each other’s balls, harassing the people passing by; looking like they’re having the time of their lives. Stevie heads home and finds Ian’s old 80s skateboard, bargaining with him and then taking it back to the shop where he hangs out awkwardly, watching as the three friends banter about girls, parents, etc. They’re comprised of two true life skateboarders who given incredible performances - Ray (Na-Kel Smith) and “Fuck Shit” (Olan Prenatt). Ray’s skill is getting some eyeballs from some sponsored talent while Olan Prenatt has been redirecting his passion from skating and into booze and weed. The third leg of their trio is Ruben (Gio Galicia ) is one of the film’s best constructed characters; serving as the most recent addition into the group, quiet and grossly insecure, excited for Stevie to join so he can have someone to boss around, and jealous when Fuck Shit and Ray take a liking to the guy. Trying desperately to look cool, Ruben smokes, and soon gives Stevie his first cigarette; to which Stevie says “thanks” and Ruben shuns him for being a “faggot” as only gay people ever say thanks. Stevie earns his place when the three are on a rooftop at a school, filming a video of Ray and Fuck Shit hopping over the gap, at risk of falling below. As Stevie has just learned to ollie, he attempts to go for the gold, heading down without enough speed, failing to make the jump and falling upon a lunch table below and knocking himself out. They take him back to the skate shop where Ray gives Stevie his old board. Stevie thanks Ray, and quickly apologizes, forgetting that he shouldn't say such a thing. Ray asks why he apologizes, criticizing the idea that giving thanks is in any way a bad thing. Soon Stevie joins them at a small house party, where he moves on from cigarettes to beer and weed, soon meeting a girl about five years older than him who he has sex with. From there the four start taking pills and drinking during the day, finding the best spots to session where dozens of skaters gather around, popping off tricks, hanging out, drinking, smoking until the cops come to break it all up. When Stevie comes home wasted one evening, Ian confronts him and so begins another fight, though this time Stevie gains the upper hand, belittling Ian for having no friends. It wakes their mom, who tells Stevie he can no longer hang with the others. Stevie explodes, disobeying her and heads off to the skate shop where he finds Ray who explains that things might be bad, but they’re worse for most everyone else - Fourth Grade is the poorest person he knows, Ruben’s mom is drug addict, Fuck Shit is falling victim to drugs and alcohol, and Ray himself had lost his brother in a car accident. Later, they host a party in the back of the skate shop, where a couple of professionals approach Ray. A fucked up and jealous Fuck Shit then comes up to sabotage Ray’s chances, and just moments later Stevie and Ray go at it. With everyone drunk and high and pissed, Fuck Shit still wants to party; offering to drive to the next place. Knowing the only way to clear the air up is to keep the party going, Ray encourages them all to get in and in a fairly brilliant car crash scene, a drunk Fuck Shit gets into an accident, landing Stevie in the hospital. His mom arrives at the hospital to find all of them asleep; there for their friend. I had no idea what to expect from this film, other than feeling a bit envious as I’ve had a similar idea for a movie about a bunch of kids from my hometown who started a BMX riding crew. It was composed of some of the funniest people I’ve ever met; the kind that no one could outwit or bullshit or ball bust; possessing the fiercest of Chicago sarcasm. One member in particular I idolized in a way that would probably sound weird other than to compare it directly to Stevie and Ray. He was a guy who was quiet and weird and completely respected because he was the very best; who’d fall hard and eat complete shit and get up without a sound, and most often a joke. There’s something about coming of age stories and the way it puts the author’s heart on their sleeve which prevents most from ever achieving greatness. Mid90s is a good coming of age story, but there’s something that feels a bit too unfamiliar. Lucas Hedges plays the most honest character; completing fading into the role to the point where I forgot I was even watching him rather than another non-pro actor. His tough facade hiding his pain and frustration, and without ever seeing him beyond his family, we slowly piece together where he stands in the world. He’s a dork in beyond the home; what some might call a poser trying to find his place. On the other hand, there’s a convenience with Stevie that seems a bit too much influenced by Harmony Korine and Larry Clark. The clearest example being Kids* (1995). I don’t doubt that people like Stevie have existed, as I imagine I know a few kids growing up that probably did what he did. And it’s not that Sunny Suljic is bad, as the performance is incredible. It’s that the character feels too simple; it’s too easy to figure out why he does what he does. He lives at home with a mom who sleeps around and is in need of companionship. I was left wondering who Stevie was before this, as being a lone kid with no friends who idolized his brother just didn’t match what he became. A common story growing up is having a best friend and soon moving on. I’ve had a few moments in which one friend led to another, where either I changed or they did and soon the relationship faded out. Mentioning my own experience seems unfair, but I’m not sure where Stevie was before we meet him; as though it was more about getting to his moral corruption as fast as possible; which as a result played a bit too celebratory - he gets cool friends who now has his back, a new skateboard from his hero, loses his virginity to an older hot girl, smokes cigarettes and weed and drinks while skating throughout Los Angeles. The concluding lesson wasn’t about watching how far you go with your own mortality, but rather how good friends are hard to find. Then again, if I saw this film as a kid, maybe that’s exactly what would make it attractive; it wouldn’t be proselytizing a particular view, but rather celebrating the complete and utter carefree spirit of youth. Then again, for a directorial debut, it's impressive. * Coincidentally, just a few years ago he made a French film called The Smell of Us (2014) which is, “The story centers around a group of self-destructive skateboarders in Paris”; he’s also has a made four films since Wassup Rockers (2005; another skateboard film, and the last I’ve seen). BELOW: Great story Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Close and Pryce creating what feels like a lifetime of history Director: Björn L. Runge Writer: Jane Anderson; based on The Wife by Meg Wolitzer Cinematographer: Ulf Brantås Producer: Rosalie Swedlin, Meta Louise Foldager, Piers Tempest, Piodor Gustafsson, and Claudia Bluemhube by Jon Cvack For some odd reason the Best Actress nominees always contain at least one obscure film that no one’s really seen - in 2013 it was Judi Dench in Philomena, in 2014 it was Julianne Moore in Still Alice (where she went on to win; though to this day, beyond my mother, I cannot name anyone I know personally who has seen this film), in 2016 it was Meryl Streep in Florence Foster Jenkins (which I didn’t even remember as a film, let alone a nominee) and Isabelle Huppert in Elle, and while last year seemed a bit more mainstream, this year followed the tradition, nominating Glenn Close in The Wife; though the film received some wings after Close went on to win the Golden Globe. It seemed like an interesting story, but abiding by awards protocol, I didn’t look up the synopsis before checking it out. The film opens in 1980 with an elderly married couple, Joseph (Jonathan Pryce) and Joan Castleman (Glenn Close) after Joe grabs a sugary late night snack before returning to bed, nervous for some news that awaits him. Finishing the bite of food, he leans over to Joan and starts rubbing her vagina in the hopes of getting a screw in before passing out again. The chemistry between the two is charming, as they both appear to love each other and limit their filters; providing the archetype of what you hope to have with a partner in old age. Thus, while weird and unromantic, Joe’s attempt at seduction isn’t entirely strange. Not yet. The next morning he receives a call, notified that he’s won the Nobel Prize in literature, and like a school boy, he jumps on the bed, singing, “I won the Nobel. I won the Nobel.” It’s this pronoun which will play an important role later on. Joan and Joseph have a small gathering the next day where the New York Times arrives, ready to put him on the front page of their culture section. They’re joined by their aspiring writer son David (Max Irons) who’ll accompany them at the awards and their pregnant daughter Susannah (Alix Wilton Regan) who can’t join them on the flight to Switzerland. Aboard the plane, Joe flirts a bit with the stewardess and is later approached by a sleazy writer Nathaniel Bone (Christian Slater) who hopes to write a biography on Joseph; far from the first time he’s asked for cooperation, and denied once again. They arrive to grand fanfare, as the cultural and intellectual elite fawn over Joseph and his work. He introduces his wife to the men, who ask if she writes and Joseph says no; fearing that it’d cause him great writer’s block. Things have grown increasingly salty between Joseph and Daniel as Daniel has written his first short story, which Joseph either hasn’t read or hasn’t enjoyed, and with limited input from the man he idolizes, Daniel grows increasingly frustrated and upset; managing his anger by smoking cigarettes, which provides the only criticism from his father. The story is intercut with a flashback to 1958 where a middle aged Joseph (Harry Lloyd) is a creative writing teacher at an unspecified Ivy League school, providing notes to his student Joan (Annie Starke) as he sits on his desk, hovering over her, crushing a walnut and offering her a piece, propositioning her in all but words. It soon leads to an affair which causes him to leave his wife Carol. Later, during a faculty party, one of the female alumni writers presents her latest book to the college and Joseph introduces her to Joan. The writer explains to her that she should stop writing as the male dominant publishing industry just doesn’t care about female writers and Joan will be doomed for a lifetime of disappointment. Back to present, Joseph goes through the formalities of rehearsals and meet and greets, with Joan always at his side, telling him when he has crumbs in his beard and when to take his pills. For reasons unknown, she asks Joseph to leave her out of the acceptance speech which shocks Joseph. The two argue and soon part ways, leaving Joseph all alone and soon flirting with a cute photographer a third of his age (at most). Joan heads out to a local bar where she meets Nathaniel who informs him that he has knowledge of Joan ghostwriting all of Joseph’s work; mostly supported by reading both Joseph’s early stories and her own, which bear an uncanny resemblance to Joseph’s popular work. We thus learn that due to male dominant profession, Joseph had been a hack writer, and that Joan, who had connections as an assistant at a publishing agency in need of their “own Jewish writer”. When Joseph turns in the first draft, Joan breaks the news that it’s not all that great, but that she can fix it, and if he’s willing, the two can act as collaborators. Returning back drunk and smelling of cigarettes, Joseph flips out, demanding to know where she was. Joan then finds a walnut which Joseph had autographed for the younger photographer after the two nearly kissed; accusing him of wanting to fuck another woman like he had done at least a few times prior; always forgiven in order to retain the relationship. Soon Daniel learns the news from Nathaniel and confronts his father, who denies the allegations, supported by Joan, all just minutes before they head off to the awards ceremony, where counter to Joan’s wishes, he mentions her specifically in his acceptance speech. She storms off and Joseph follows, and Joan finally unleashes the resentment she’s been holding in for the last four or so decades; getting back to the hotel room where she says she’s leaving him. Joseph then has a heart attack and dies. Not knowing anything about the film, there was a peculiar thrill to watch the information unravel. Having watched Glenn Close’s Golden Globes speech, I knew the film had something to do with a woman living in a man’s shadow. The only issue I had is why now, of all places, when both a random biographer and their son find out the truth, did Joan suddenly feel the need to leave him? I grasp the concept of a self-centered writer, obsessed with their work and the ego it could provide. Joan was a writer who simply wanted to communicate their art, and for a lifetime, has been fine with the arrangement the two had. The only frustration she seems to utter is that she was enraged when Joseph refused to say she also wrote to some of the press; preventing her from possibly having some of her own stuff looked at and published. And yet when you unravel the logic a bit, there seem to be a few contradictions; arguably deliberate by the writer, but which I think the film might have missed. Namely, why Joan couldn’t just ask Joseph to admit the truth; that the two have actually written all of the material together; with Joan doing the bulk of the work while Joseph edited (or however it worked). At the end of the day, the work which has been so revered would continue to be, and with fans wanting more, what difference does it make where it came from; especially if it’s half of the lifetime partnership Joan and Joseph shared. At points in the film, particularly during the flashback, it seems like the two fully understand the relationship. It’s far from ideal and obviously offensive to Joan, but at least she could live the creative life that she wanted to. At one moment, upon learning of the first book being published, and countering the opening scene, they jump on the bed, shouting “We’re getting published. We’re getting published.” Though it’s never shown, it’s easy to surmise that Joseph got carried away with his fame; in which his own insecurities led him to cheat on Joan - perhaps out of raw desire, or as hinted at by Nathaniel and Joan’s conversation, to compensate for his own creative shortcomings. In a confusing scene given Glenn Close’s speech and the Bonus Feature interview, she said that Joan didn’t love Joseph, and that her final declaration when Joe was dying was simply based on his selfish manipulation; what else could she possibly say? Yet what I saw was far more nuanced. In one scene, during their final brawl as Joan is walking out, Joseph mentions how he had to be the one who cooked, cleaned, and raised the kids while Joan got to spend eight hours a day being creative. So often we see the flip of this scenario, in which the woman serves the man’s dream at the cost of her own well-being. And by doing so, the two have been able to have the mansion on the beach and travel the world. Thus, rather than fighting to change the system by announcing their arrangement and pointing out the injustice, Joan rather retains the secret, leaving him, and all her passion behind. It seems like the film seems to miss this part, as Joan later goes on to talk about having to preserve Joe’s pill schedule, his endless flirting and philandering, and keeping the crumbs out of his beard. But it doesn’t make Joe’s point any less valid. Joan has a right to be angry at the system, and yet the arrangement she had with the man she loved seemed to provide both people what they want (all infidelity aside). Both were driven by selfish intention; Joe for the writer’s life and Joan’s for the need to express herself forever on. Throughout the film, we learn that a writer needs to write in order to preserve their soul, or however the quote goes). I’m left wondering why all of a sudden Joan felt the need to leave him. On the one hand, she’s had too much, even though all he did was flirt with an early twenty year old girl who clearly had some issues, and then mentioned Joan in his acceptance speech. On the other, her work has achieved the praise she desired. She won the most coveted and highest award in literature, and only now is she feeling self-righteous enough to give it all away; all because some two-bit biographer might spill the beans and had already told her son what Daniel might he likely had known all along. In one scene, we hear as the children cry and beg to see their mother, as Joseph and the nanny are forced to shut the door, console them, and leave her alone. In the closing image, we see her open a blank page, empowered to write and possibly reveal all that transpired. There is no side to pick. Like any great story, the morals are complex and leave you thinking about it for hours. BELOW: Definitely deserved the statue Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of those films where I don't remember much Director: Steve McQueen Writer: Gillian Flynn and Steve McQueen; based Widows by Lynda La Plante Cinematographer: Sean Bobbitt Producer: Steve McQueen, Iain Canning, Emile Sherman, and Arnon Milchan by Jon Cvack It’s a movie like this that makes me grasp my Chicago roots. Before anyone raises the fact that writer Gillian Flynn lives in Chicago, she wasn’t born and raised there, and so I feel more comfortable saying that this movie feels like no one has any understanding of the City. I imagine most people from beyond Chicago might enjoy it, but as with any topic, when the storytellers fail on basic elements, it’s next to impossible to enjoy the story, as a cursory understanding combined with top class craftsmanship feels false. It’s for this reason that I feel like I can’t remove this fact from the story and provide an objective understanding. For those wondering what I mean, although this story takes place on the Southside, no one in the film has a Southside accent. This is one of the best and most unique accents in the country; a hybrid between Fargo and Sopranos-lite. Colin Farrell attempts one, but swings too far East to make it believable. If people don’t know what I’m talking about, watch the Blues Brothers, and yes, while not as extreme, most people on the Southside do talk like this. Beyond Farrell, no one else even attempts this accent, and it was a glaringly obvious problem from the first seconds. Secondly is how the city is captured, which makes it look far more glitzy than it actually is. The story utilizes the Fireside Bowl, which is essentially Chicago’s KBGB’s, both in its original allure and its latter and current ubiquitous Kohl’s t-shirt local tourist destination. Everyone who lives there knows what it is, but no one goes there because it’s mostly for people who don’t live in the city. It’s like if someone wanted to use the Whiskey GoGo in Hollywood as some shady bar. There were simply hundreds of other really cool places they could have used. It did an okay job at demonstrating gentrification, but completely downplayed how severe the problem is; in which entire black neighborhoods are being destroyed, while the suburbs expand up and the city expands down, squeezing the impoverished black population in both directions, leaving them nowhere else to go. I kept trying to consider the film as applied to some no name city and it definitely provided some great moments. Viola Davis steals the show and Daniel Kaluuya shows some terrifying range. Even Robert Duvall’s handful of scenes make the film worth watching alone. The heist is a bit fast for what’s the bread and butter for any film from the genre, but exciting enough. Individually all the parts work well, but it just felt dishonest. Even more surprising was that Richard Roeper thought it was the best film of 2018. BELOW: Burt Reynold's remake Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The perfect plan Director: Chris Smith Writer: Chris Smith Cinematographer: Jake Burghart, Cory Fraiman-Lott, Henry Zaballos Producer: Danny Gabai, Mick Purzycki, and Chris Smith by Jon Cvack This is the latest Netflix production to spread like wildfire, as it seemed like within only two weeks, over half the people I know had seen the film, having ranted about how bonkers the failed event was. For those unfamiliar with the story, Fyre was a multi-day island retreat music festival put on through a partnership between entertainer Ja-Rule and venture capitalist Billy McFarland. The genesis of their relationship went back to when Billy McFarland wanted to book JaRule for a private event and discovered how hard it was. Eventually the two got in touch and decided to create a service that would allow [wealthy] people to hire entertainers for their events via website. Fyre is the name of that service and the festival was meant to showcase its purpose. In order to gain awareness, JaRule and McFarland hired ten of the world’s hottest models - both physically and on social media. They also hired a production crew, who quickly discovered that there was little vision behind the commercial other than to shoot supermodels in bikinis riding on jet skis and drinking on Yachts next to a beautiful deserted island. They hired a social media marketing company to find and pay other influencers to sell the idea; most using a solid burnt orange image as they pitched the event. From the early stages, the film raises an interesting question about transparency. I’ve worked alongside influencers long enough to understand their power. Most recently Jake Paul promoted a foreign website that allows user (mostly under 18 teenage men) to buy mysterious packages, not knowing what’s inside, on the gamble that it’ll be either worth what or less then they paid or more expensive; and if they don’t like what they receive, they can then sell it back for fractions of its value. I’m not sure what happened legally, but many people complained to YouTube that Paul was essentially promoting online gambling to a largely non-adult audience. What’s glaringly obvious to most adults is that Jake Paul is clearly hurting for sponsorships and willing to exploit his impressionable audience for personal profit. But for that impressionable audience, they very likely see a person they admire tell them how cool something is to buy. The film raises a similar question - at what point are influencers with tens of millions of followers responsible for informing those followers that they’re being paid to say or promote a particular thing? While it seems entirely obvious to me and others, I think we forget that many look to these individuals for what is worth attention or not. Saying that they’re attending a festival and getting others to buy tickets, all while they have no idea how or what the festival actually is, seems irresponsible. Then again, if they’re being paid up front to promote the event, why should they have expected it to go any less than perfect? With the event confirmed and thousands of tickets sold, McFarland hires a COO to manage the logistics, coordinating between the various event planners of which he has no experience doing - from those managing and paying for the bands; to those in charge of finding housing, assembling tents, organizing food and toilets; to those who have to assemble the stages and manage the social media. Nearly all of whom saw the looming disaster from the very beginning. Not that there was all that much time to prepare; requiring only months for what could have easily taken years to execute. Along the way, we watch as Murphy’s Law chugs full speed ahead. The original island, owned by Pablo Escobar, didn’t want their name known to the attendees, and therefore the agreement was rescinded. They eventually land on a Bahaman Island that is not at all abandoned, where the only place to station the hundreds of thousands of people is the early stages of a housing development. Worse, one of the island’s largest holidays takes place on the same weekend of the festival, further limiting accommodations. By this point, there’s a strange sadism that creeps in as you’re waiting to see how bad things will get for the attendees. The private planes and first class tickets are gone. A hard rain the previous night destroyed most of the tents and beds. Blink-182 and other artists have quit, and they still don’t know where they’re going to put most of the people. Fortunately, McFarland and Ja-Rule understood how serious the problem was and canceled the rest of the flights. Unfortunately, the hundreds or so early attendees were stuck with nothing but cheese sandwiches and limited water. It was this section that I was a bit dubious about how bad things were, as you can’t help but think that for at least some people, they probably made the most of it. What’s shown is terrible, but there was never violence, injury, or all that much anger per the likes Woodstock ‘99. Instead it’s annoyance - that they’re money was wasted, and what they were promised wasn’t delivered. Given the issues, it seems like this could have been far worse; as in people getting seriously hurt or even dying, given how incompetent the operation was. The fact that everyone survived should be appreciated. Ja-Rule would later go on camera to say that the festival “...wasn’t fraud, it was false advertising.” Since then while McFarland is now serving six years in prison, Ja-Rule has moved on; as of writing this, he’s announced that he wants to try a Fyre Festival 2.0. You wonder if a disaster festival in and of itself could be a festival; essentially the anti-Burning Man where people scrounge for toilet paper, tequila, and shelter. I would like to think this is just a sarcastic idea, and yet I have no idea. My friend said the film made him scared for our generation. Another friend shared pictures of people abandoning their cars and sleeping in mud during Woodstock ‘99. The difference between the two is that Woodstock assembled some of the greatest musicians in the world while the audience, without phones, got high and listened. Fyre Festival was about money and prestige; from the founders to the influencers to the attendees and bands - it never seemed like it was about something special, so much as something unique and exclusive. To attend Fyre would allow you to go say that you attended Fyre. It was Fyre’s disaster that’s now allowed people to talk about the experience. I remember when no one was on their phone at concerts. At a Mogwai show and during one of their more intricate song and light shows, everyone pulled out their cells. No matter where I looked there were bright screens obstructing my view. More and more need to share their every moment of existence. For some I’m sure there’s a buzz off showing people how great of a life you’re living; that is, the modern humble brag. For others, it’s about expressing how you feel through the image. I’m not sure what would have been captured at Fyre Festival, but for the same reasons I’ve never seen footage from Coachella or Burning Man, I’m sure it’s just not that interesting. It’s about being there, and the footage is an attempt to demonstrate your presence, in the process removing you from being within the moment. The Fyre Festival was like climate change; a correction for a self-obsession that has gone too far in one direction and the dangers of its radical pursuit. If the story accomplishes nothing else, hopefully some people keep the phones down for a bit longer. BELOW: Cuisine of the highest order Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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