Movies
Far inferior to the original Nightmare but significantly better than its reputation as a lame-o, cash-in sequel. Freddy's Revenge lacks the nightmarish "are we awake or asleep" paranoia of the first as well as much of the Wes Craven-certified black humor, and the characters this time around are super boring. But there's a gore sensibility here that's paired really well with some dynamite practical effects (a late-film sequence involving Freddy emerging from some poor dude's body is a standout of both movies), and I'm a fan of the twist that it's not specifically Freddy but Freddy corrupting someone's dream persona that's the villain. Fun if not essential. Grade: B
This is sort of the cinematic distillation of "yeah, it's fine, I guess." The aggressively secular Judgement City has a few fun things to watch, particularly the sense of discovery early in the movie as Albert Brooks' character explores the purgatorial afterlife and all the weird conveniences that go with it: delicious food, convenient and theme-park-esque public transit. And I suppose the romance with Meryl Streep's character is cute enough. The movie falls into this peculiar space where there's not a whole lot "wrong" with it, but there's nothing all that exceptional either—the perks I just named are mildly pleasant at best. I've heard people talk highly of Albert Brooks's film output; maybe I'm just starting with the wrong movie. Grade: B-
A disaffected (and musically ambitious) young man feels disaffected and alone, and the only thing that can bring him out of his malaise is the presence of a woman to give his life meaning. But uh oh! There are three women in his life, all interested in him—WHICH ONE WILL HE CHOOSE?? Look, I realize I'm being a very bad sport here, but seriously, who cares? The protagonist is a total drip and kind of a douchebag in that sensitive-in-his-ennui way, and while I'm certain this is half the point (he's repeatedly called out by said women), that doesn't change the fact that his emotional journey has been so thoroughly played out in, like, half of all indie movies ever. I've just lost the patience for this sort of thing. Sorry. Grade: C
Focusing an a contrived scenario played deadly straight is sort of art film's bread-and-butter, and L'attesa (aka The Wait) is no exception: a grieving mother (Juliette Binoche) whose son has just left her (and likely died, though this is never completely confirmed) receives a surprise visit from her son's girlfriend whom she has, to this point, not known existed and must decide what to tell the girl about the whereabouts of her boyfriend. The parameters of the plot are all precisely minimalist and its edges hazy in just the right portions of ambiguity to give it the tease of artistry, and if Binoche weren't so fantastic here and the cinematography not so gorgeous and immaculately framed, I'd be tempted to call it just a bit too calibrated. Grade: B+
Music
When earlier this year Kendrick Lamar dropped this surprise compilations of purported leftovers from the To Pimp a Butterfly sessions, the expectation (at least from me) was that it would be somewhat of an odds-'n-sods B-sides collection. What we got, however, is very much the Amnesiac to TPaB's Kid A: the smaller, weirder sibling to last year's career-defining tour-de-force statement, more opaque, more textured and murky. To Pimp a Butterfly is Lamar's conversation with Tupac, and, following suit, untitled unmastered is every bit a conversation as well, although this time, Kendrick seems to be in conversation with himself. It's not just an album in first-person: it's one broadcasted from the echoing depths of Lamar's own psyche, and as such, it's a much more interior, oblique listen that trades concrete situations and social dialogue for impression and disorientation. If To Pimp a Butterfly was about the specifics of how Kendrick Lamar has dealt with fame, untitled unmastered is about showing what it feels like to have to have dealt with it: one's a thesis, the other's an experience. Both are brilliant. Grade: A-
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