Monday, December 31, 2018

Favorite Movies of 2018

I've heard a lot of people talk about 2018 being a weak year for movies, but given the incredibly difficulty I had in trimming my original "favorite movies" list down to a mere 10, I have to say that I do not at all understand this sentiment.

In significant ways, 2018 may be the end of an era for me with film. My involvement with the Cinematary site and podcast has deepened; Knoxville's Public Cinema, my local source for recent foreign and avant-garde cinema, sadly seems to have gone into hibernation for the most part; the Central Cinema's magnificent opening has drawn me away from some new releases in the interest of revisiting (or experiencing for the first time) some classics; and, most majorly, my wife and I are just a few weeks away (at most!) from becoming first-time parents. Needless to say, my viewing habits will likely shift radically in 2019, and at the very least, I will not have time to watch the literally hundreds of films that I watched in 2018. Which is great! I don't begrudge any of those changes (well, except maybe the retreat of the Public Cinema, which makes me sad). It's all part of life's rich pageant, etc. But I guess what I'm saying is that maybe this year feels special for me because I won't experience movies in the same way ever again.

We all change, as does the world around us, and in a way, my top 10 this year is obsessed with change: the apocalyptic visions of First Reformed and Sorry to Bother You, the institutional pandemonium of The Death of Stalin and The Other Side of the Wind, the personal growth-regression cycles of Leave No Trace and Support the Girls, the industry-paradigm-shattering Into the Spider-Verse—these are all films that, to one degree or another, force their characters to come to grips with a universe that is rapidly shifting, often for the worse, sometimes delicately toward the better. Stasis is sort of a paradox of the human condition—our deepest desire, while also the least attainable. And, I mean, that's cinema, right? Twenty-four changes a second.

Anyway, enough pretentious twaddle. Here are my favorite movies, plus some. Let me know what you liked this year, too! That's the point of lists like this: to share. So please do.

Oh, and don't forget about my other year-end list, My Favorite Music of 2018!

Favorite Movies


1. First Reformed
In updating both Winter Light and Taxi Driver for the 2010s, Paul Schrader threw his career masterpiece at the razor's edge of 2018 existential terror. This film hasn't left my mind since I saw it, and its rendering of activism and even terrorism as functions of the parallel tensions of hope and despair has never ceased stinging—to say nothing of the profoundly searing way with which it makes us (me) confront the ramifications of grace. Essential to my spiritual formation in the way that very few movies are.

[Read original review]



2. Hereditary
Still the scariest thing I've seen in a theater all year—probably all decade. I am not at all kidding when I say I sweat through my t-shirt. I almost left the theater before the film ended. Even better, it's still the most unshakable treatise on family and mental illness I've seen, possibly ever. First Reformed became more of a foundation for my interior life this year, but make no mistake, Hereditary has wormed its way deep into my psyche.

[Read original review]




3. Support the Girls
Working food service sucks. But you know what doesn't suck? This movie. The warmest film I saw all year, for sure, and one of the best indie-film ensembles in a while. Rarely has the world of minimum-hourly-wage work been so carefully and compassionately evoked in a movie. It's funny, it's sad, it's cathartic, it's great. I think a lot of people slept on Support the Girls, but now that it's got a home release, here's your chance to catch up with it.

[Read original review]




4. Sorry to Bother You
I'm still waiting for the Equisapien Revolution to come and save us for our capitalist overlords. Because I don't know if you've noticed, but things are bleak, y'all. At least in the meantime, we have Boots Riley giving us some of the best satire in American cinema.

[Read original review]






5. Mission: Impossible - Fallout
This movie kind of makes me mad because it means that at the end of next year, I'll probably have to make room for two Mission: Impossible movies in my "Favorite Films of the Decade" list. I guess it's the price I pay for having experienced that helicopter scene.

[Read original review]






6. The Green Fog
People say that avant-garde cinema is impenetrable and no fun; I say, "But you can remake Vertigo with film clips of Michael Douglas talking to a younger, more naked version of himself."

[Read original review]







7. The Other Side of the Wind
Does a movie filmed in the '70s and edited in the mid-2010s count as a 2018 movie? I don't care. This frequently brilliant, often incomprehensible relic of Orson Welles's utter disdain for the Hollywood New Wave as well as for the old, corrupt studio system it replaced (Welles is nothing if not an equal-opportunity hater) is an experience from front to back, often funny, always bitter—visionary even forty years after its conception.

[Read original review]




8. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
All sorts of ebullient and ecstatic: drunk with the untapped possibilities of the animated medium and the whole wacky spectrum of comic-book history, Spider-Verse is the best superhero movie in quite some time and hopefully the beginning of a long and fruitful animated wing of Sony's Spider-Man properties.

[Read original review]





9. The Death of Stalin
The craven power struggle following Stalin's death made in the image of In the Loop. Western countries have a habit of outsourcing the violence of our political systems to hidden corners and faraway countries, so there's something especially striking about the way that this movie infuses the very English idioms of high-class political plotting with all the violence that usually gets diverted into inner cities and Middle-Eastern realms. Frequently hilarious, if you can muster laughs among all the creeping horror.

[Read original review]



10. Leave No Trace
For a film with very few spoken words, Debra Granik's first film in nearly a decade (since 2010's Winter's Bone) is a surprisingly striking dialogue: between generations, between personalities, between worldviews. We cannot trust the modern world; but also, we must.

[Read original review]






Appendix: Miscellaneous Movies Also Worth Noting

Documentary Corner Award: Minding the Gap—This was a strong year for documentaries of all stripes, from mainstream fare like Won't You Be My Neighbor? and Three Identical Strangers to more off-beat stuff like Shirkers. But the one that stuck with me the most was this gutting coming-of-age documentary about a bunch of skater punks growing up.

Foreign Film Corner: The Guilty—I didn't get a chance to see as much non-English-language cinema as I'd have liked this year, but I saw a few, most of them good. People are going nuts about Lucrecia Martel's Zama, which is very good, but I won't lie to y'all: I liked this mean little Danish thriller better. The whole thing takes place in an emergency call center; it's a deconstruction of the stiff-lipped, rogue male hero archetype. I mean, what more do you need?

Best Musical Sequence: The Ballad of Buster Scruggs—Move right on over, A Star Is Born! The opening segment of Joel and Ethan Coen's western anthology film, wherein Tim Blake Nelson's titular outlaw sings and shoots his way through a frontier town, is one of the best and funniest pieces of cinema sent our way this year. The rest of the movie is good, too, but this is on a whole other level.

Best Cinematography: Roma—Alfonso Cuarón's black-and-white evocation of 1970s Mexico City has basically no competition for this award. Say what you will about the plot and characters, but my eyeballs were practically singing the entire film.

Best Superhero Action: Incredibles 2—For a genre often premised on its promise of impossible action sequences, superhero movies don't always take advantage of the full spectrum of what having super-powered superhumans means for the crafting of an action sequence. Say what you will about the narrative flaws of Incredibles 2, but it absolutely doesn't skim on the inventive superhero action, each character's powers utilized to maximum creativity in choreography in every one of the setpieces. Take notes, Marvel!

Best Job Sneaking Some Supremely Weird Material into Mainstream Multiplex Entertainment: Annihilation—Alex Garland's follow-up to the great Ex Machina is a deeply flawed riff on Tarkovsky's Stalker, but between the "bear" scene and THAT ending, it's hard to be too irritated at the movie's shortcomings. Would that all our existential nightmares looked so visionary as this film's final fifteen minutes.

Best Homeschooling: Little Women—I've become weirdly obsessed with how well this movie captures the sensibilities of a certain corner of the homeschooling world. Help.

"It Would Be Nice If This Were Trend-Setting" Award: Game Night—A tightly scripted, visually interesting American studio comedy? What is this, 1945?

Worst Time at the Movies Award: Eighth Grade—I feel like people have undersold just how hard to watch this movie is. Don't get me wrong: it's a fantastic film. But you'll forgive me for not calling 94 minutes of being forcibly reminded of the worst time of my life and some of the deeply scarring insecurities I emerged from it with an enjoyable experience.

Best Villain: Black Panther—A hero is only ever as compelling as his villain, and Killmonger, the charismatic, Michael-B.-Jordan-played foil to the titular hero, is pulling double time in making this movie work. The MCU has been doing pretty well in its villain game recently, but even then, Killmonger is on a whole different level, wielding a pathos and a political edge stronger than any of the weapons brandished by Marvel's arsenal of fighters. Without this guy standing as counterweight, T'Challa and Wakanda as a whole barely register.

Best Scenery: Crazy Rich Asians—That's "mise en scène" for all us film dweeb losers. But anyway, I wasn't super hot on this movie as a whole, but I think my jaw was always just kind of hanging open at how incredible the movie's sets and locations were. Crazy and rich indeed.

Most Prophetic Movie for Me Personally (Probably): Tully—Remember Tully, everyone? No? Well, it was a good movie. People seem to have forgotten it, but it was good. Pretty good depiction of parenthood, too—or, at least, I presume so. I guess my wife and I will find out here in a couple of weeks when our first child is born.

Most Misleading Title: The Endless—It did end, after about two hours.

Least Misleading Title: Did You Wonder Who Fired the Gun?—Yeah I did, as a matter of fact.

"Is the Disney Ride Over Yet? I'm Ready to Get Off" Award: Solo: A Star Wars Story—A surprisingly crowded field this year. But I've got to give it to this boy, probably the most tired piece of filmmaking Disney has allowed into one of flagship cash-cow film brands in at least a few years, in addition to being a completely pointless and cynical cash-in on fandom nostalgia. Now if only these God-forsaken live-action remakes can tank as hard at the box office as this one; Aladdin, I'm counting on you.

"I Don't Really Have an Award, but You Guys Should Check This Movie Out" Award: A Simple Favor—Some of the most effortless, effervescent fun I had at the movies all year.

Scariest Dance Studio: Suspiria—Only barely edging out Madeline's Madeline. Hail 2018, year of the weirdly frightening avant-garde dance sequences!

Most Unexpected Satire: God's Not Dead: A Light in Darkness—This is not good; I repeat, not good. But it is bizarrely aggressive in the ways that it undermines its predecessors. A Light in Darkness : God's Not Dead 1 & 2 :: Verhoeven's Starship Troopers : Heinlein's Starship Troopers.

Biggest Surprise: A Star Is Born—Was confident that this was going to be incurably boring and stodgy. It turned out to be great.

Biggest Disappointment: Mandy—I'm still waiting for my Progressive Rock Fantasia, and I thought this might be the closest thing to it yet. Alas, what we got was not nearly so interesting. Even putting aside the metric of Progtasia hype, this is so tiringly terrestrial compared to Cosmatos's previous feature, Beyond the Black Rainbow.

Best Non-2018 Movie I Saw For the First Time in 2018: Phantom Thread—I feel like I'm cheating putting this movie here, given that I saw it not even a month into 2018 and the movie had a late-2017 release, and if I was giving a more conventional answer for this category, I guess I'd go with Jonathan Glazer's gorgeous, ominous Birth. But back to my actual answer: a breathtaking, genre-fluid study of rich character foils? A weirdly tender love story wrapped in a (by the end literally) mortal struggle for sexual power? A covert ghost story? A sumptuous Jonny Greenwood score? Poison mushrooms??? It honestly might finally be Paul Thomas Anderson besting There Will Be Blood, so how could this not be the best movie I saw all year?

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Favorite Music of 2018

I listened to a ton of jazz this year, much more so than in previous years. I think I'm becoming one of Those People, which is fine, but given how much my siblings and I made fun of my dad for listening to jazz when we were growing up, it seems just the teensiest bit like some cosmic prank. Maybe free will really is an illusion, and we are all genetically predetermined to eventually fall into the same patterns of musical tastes as our parents. If so, I dread the CCM and Jim Croce phrase that will one day awaken in me from my mother's share of the DNA.

In all seriousness, here are my favorite albums of the year. As I've done the past few years, I've linked to my original reviews of albums, in case you'd like to read my initial thoughts in my weekly reviews posts. And as always, I feel compelled to mention that it is physically impossible to have listened to every music release, and some genres especially (e.g. metal and hip-hop) got short shrift this year from me. So be sure to fill me in on what I missed! Or to tell me how wrong I am! Or to send help to rescue me from my jazz impulses!

Favorite Albums:

1. Let's Eat Grandma: I'm All Ears
Sometimes, it's not until I've lined up all the albums I've listened to in a year that I realize what my favorite is. It's not as if I've ever not loved I'm All Ears. It's great. But it's still something of a surprise to see it land here. But no matter. This is good music for goth indie kids, and great music for all-around nerds like yours truly.






2. Sleep: The Sciences
I'm really not much of a metal guy, and The Sciences was the only metal release I bought this year. But it owns. The tongue-in-cheek "marijuanaut" mythology, the heavy, heavy riffs—I dig it.
3. Laurie Anderson & Kronos Quartet: Landfall
Eerie, spacious, apocalyptic: pretty much everything you'd want from a collaboration between Laurie Anderson & Kronos Quartet. I've probably spent more time thinking about "Nothing Left But Their Names" than any other one composition all year.

[Read original review]






4. Szun Waves: New Hymn to Freedom
Astral jazz. I'm still not exactly sure how to describe it. I'ms till sure it owns.

[Read original review]








5. Noname: Room 25
I didn't listen to a ton of hip-hop this year, and my impression from people who do follow hip-hop more closely is that this was a bit of an off-year for the genre, Cardi B excepted (and I'm still pretty miffed that Cardi B's album never came out on CD, meaning I didn't really get to dive into it much). But Noname's album is really good! And if you're cheap, you can get it for free on her Bandcamp page!

[Read original review]



6. Father John Misty: God's Favorite Customer
I think this is the only 2018 album I gave an A grade on the blog. Grades are weird. I don't think any less of this album now, but somehow, an A doesn't feel right anymore (nor the #1 slot that would necessitate). But anyway, it's still very good. FJM pulling way back on the smirking and the social commentary and instead making a deeply personal record that sounds like the White Album but is a tight Revolver-esque single LP. Probably my favorite lyrics of the year, and certainly the one most likely to make me cry.

[Read original review]


7. R+R=Now: Collagically Speaking
Probably the best recent example of jazz's ongoing attempt to position itself within contemporary pop music discourse, fusing trap and R&B with a real jazz-head lineup of Robert Glasper, Christian Scott, and Terrace Martin.

[Read original review]






8. Harriet Tubman: The Terror End of Beauty
This jazz trio is back, serving up more of their electric Miles-style fusion. This time around feels particularly indebted to John McLaughlin's work, suffused with squalling electric guitars fed through some rather cosmic pedal effects. Very cool stuff.








9. Helena Hauff: Qualm
I never got a chance to formally review this, but here it is: the rare electronica album to make it onto one of my year-end lists. This Hamburg-born, UK-based DJ still makes her brand of house music on analog machines, which I suppose could be regarded as something of a throwback. And, I mean, we're not in cutting-edge Arca territory or anything. But it's anything but resting on nostalgic laurels. This is exploratory music, setting its horizons wide. And even if it had been done before, just try telling me that "Hyper-Intelligent Genetically Enriched Cyborg" isn't great.



10. Thom Yorke: Suspiria: Music For The Luca Guadagnino Film
I'll be perfectly honest: this moody, ambient-leaning 81-minute OST is on this list almost entirely on the virtues of 6 songs and about 29 minutes of music: "Suspirium," "Has Ended," "Open Again," "Unmade," "Volk," and "Suspirium Finale." But WHAT VIRTUES. Almost definitely the best music of Thom Yorke's solo career.





Great 2018 Songs Not On These Albums:

Beach House: "Dive"—Beach House didn't exactly re-invent themselves this year, but they did manage to take their music in the most interesting direction (meaning, any direction at all) in years, chopping up their usual sounds into dance beats and odd structures and strange acoustics. "Dive" is the perfect execution of this new inspiration, beginning as what sounds like a spaced-out, Beach-House-y version of Belle & Sebastian's "Electronic Renaissance" before, at its midpoint, exploding like a turning kaleidoscope into an anthemic collision between shoegaze and Arcade Fire indie pomp. It's awesome.

Daughters: "Long Road, No Turns"—A venomously sarcastic explosion of a song reminiscent of the 1980s' No Wave, but lyrically, it's all 2018: "It may please your heart to see some shackled, wrists and throat naked as the day they were born, but no one's going to do that for you." Whether you read that politically or personally, the power of the lines is unshakable.

Ariana Grande: "thank u, next"Sweetener was a really good pop album, but nothing there comes within spitting distance of this non-album single, a track that stands alongside Beyoncé's "Irreplaceable," Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone," and Taylor Swift's "All Too Well" as one of the great breakup songs of the 21st century. In the grand tradition of the best breakup songs, it postures confidence and dismissal (that chorus, y'all) while being laced with crippling sadness. Skip the Mean Girls music video, though, because that's so uninspired baloney.

Jenny Hval: "The Long Sleep"—The centerpiece of Hval's excellent 2018 EP is a 10-minute, hypnotic ambient track. Hval remains one of the best at finding the cavernous unexplored spaced in indie rock, and this is a great exhibition of that.

Carly Rae Jepsen: "Party for One"—Quit teasing us, Carly; where's that new LP??

Janelle Monáe: "Pynk (feat. Grimes)"—Unfortunately, not a ton has stuck with me from Dirty Computer (a first for me and a Monáe album). The two exceptions are great exceptions indeed: the slinky Prince-esque banger "Make Me Feel" and this, the tender, soaring PC Music-ish pop gem. They're both good, but if I'm going to be only giving props to one, it's gotta be "Pynk." Maybe it was just the music video.

Preoccupations: "Espionage"—Preoccupations seems to have become one of those bands that everyone kind of agrees puts out good music but to whom nobody really gives the time of day. Maybe it's because they're a post-punk guitar-rock band, and 2018 just isn't the year for that. But it's too bad, because their music pretty much owns, especially "Espionage," which is propulsive and brooding in that specific combination that only post-punk can really evoke.

Pusha T: "What Would Meek Do (ft. Kanye West)"—Outside of the political ramifications (which are bad), one of the most unfortunate things about Kanye West's on-again/off-again MAGA embrace is that it overshadowed some of the actually really good work that came out of the Wyoming sessions. Pusha T's DAYTONA is front-to-back strong, but my favorite is, unsurprisingly, the one with the beat based off a Yes sample, because I am nothing if on-brand. Also, though I might be falling victim to the very same Kanye-based overshadowing that I just complained about, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that it's got what's probably Kanye's best, most thoughtful verse of the year, wherein he wonders if his MAGA stunts will protect him from racial profiling. Like... I dunno, y'all. It's good.

Robyn: "Missing U"—For me, Robyn continues to be mostly a singles artist, which is fine, because the singles are great. This one in particular. Crying in the club with the best of them.

Jeff Rosenstock: "USA"—A 7-minute punk-rock epic that ends with everyone shouting "Et tu, USA." It's kind of shameless, but it's also kind of great.

Sons of Kemet: "My Queen Is Harriet Tubman"—Probably the most energetic jazz release I heard this year was Your Queen Is a Reptile, a fusion of jazz, worldbeat, and black nationalism. Presumably with this song, they are talking about the abolitionist hero and not the jazz trio featured on the albums section of this list, but I'd accept either answer.

SOPHIE: "Immaterial"—I was thinking that SOPHIE's demented, bludgeoning pop(?) album, OIL OF EVERY PEARL'S UN-SIDES was going to make my top 10 albums, but then the CD release of the album was pushed back, and I didn't get a chance to dive in as deeply as I would have needed to justify that top-10 spot. But anyway, here's the album's catchiest, sunniest song, which I like a ton.

Spiritualized: "On the Sunshine"—Pretty much classic Spiritualized, if a tad less tortured (so, good for Jason Pierce). You've got Pierce's droning vocals, the swelling guitars, the eclipsing feedback, the wild brass. My thing exactly.

St. Vincent: "Fast Slow Disco"—Annie Clark's lone full-length release this year was a slow, acoustic re-imagining of last year's Masseduction tracks, but her best work this year is in the exact opposite direction: "Fast Slow Disco," a faster, poppier, dancier, better iteration of what was already one of Masseduction's standouts. Bonus points for the excellent music video.

Underworld & Iggy Pop: "Bells & Circles"—"Losing My Edge," but ragging on Baby Boomers. Iggy Pop gives a hilarious vocal performance as a ranting, great-uncle-like character who complains that nowadays "nobody wants you to be able to do the things that make you feel good," like smoking on airplanes and sexually harassing airplane stewardesses. The lyrics turn increasingly crazed and surreal as the driving Underworld beat becomes more and more sinister. Profoundly funny and disquieting at the same time.

U.S. Girls: "Time"—It was a great year for female-fronted indie rock, and if I hadn't been such a loser listening to so much jazz, more of it would have made it onto my album list. You can't do much better than this careening closer to U.S. Girl's In a Poem Unlimited.

Kamasi Washington: "Will You Sing"—Speaking of closing tracks, here's the finale to Kamasi Washington's epic Heaven and Earth. As Washington steps further away from the Coltrane-style hard bop he cut his teeth on and more toward ornate, symphonic jazz, he's sounding more and more like Ennio Morricone, and "Will You Sing" is Washington's very own "Ecstasy of Gold."

Kanye West: "Lift Yourself"—Maybe Kanye just did it for the memes. But I'm serious when I say that this is a legitimately great piece of avant-garde hip-hop. There's a playfulness on display here, and not just with the literal scat lyrics but with how the song plays with its structure and its central soul sample in a way that feels fresh and interesting and fun. Kanye is at the nexus of a lot of what is terrible about 2018, and his position there is almost entirely his own fault, which is both infuriating and dispiriting (and worrying, given his recent statements about his stance toward his medication). But I am at least grateful that he left us this before he completely jumped off the deep end.

Sunday, December 23, 2018

Mini Reviews for December 17-23, 2018

2018 catch-up time.

Movies

Mandy (2018)
I'm far from the first to observe that there is a prog half of this film and a metal half, and given that I have a whole section of my blog devoted to progressive rock, there's no surprise which half of this movie I prefer. That said, there's definitely a version of the movie's second half that I would enjoy very much: maybe it's all just for the memes, as some people have insinuated, but a movie in which Nicolas Cage gives a performance of loony Face/Off-style intensity while going on a cartoonishly violent rampage to kill lizard-people cultists sounds like a good time and a half to me. But here, being only half the movie, it feels somewhat cut off at the knees, and besides, juxtaposed with the far trippier, wilder first half of the movie, it feels like a disappointingly ordinary way to finish a film that opens with a bravura credits sequence set to King Crimson's "Starless." In fact, juxtaposed with director Panos Cosmatos's previous feature, Beyond the Black Rainbow, which remains one of the great cinematic sensory experiences of the 2010s, even the first half of the movie feels disappointingly ordinary. I dunno, maybe the secret to Black Rainbow was that it was impossible to track the plot; even when Mandy is going full Yes album, it's never that difficult to follow, and it just becomes clear that there's not a lot going on beyond the diluted psychedelia. Inspired in spots but unsatisfying overall. Grade: B-

Roma (2018)
As with most of Alfonso Cuarón's output, there's a sort of nagging feeling that this dude is just showing off with all the precisely choreographed long takes and immaculately blocked cinematography (this time filmed and edited not by his longtime collaborator Emmanuel Lubezki but by Cuarón himself—all the more reason to think he's simply flexing here). And the schematic screenplay, which somewhat contrivedly has grand character confessions and shocking revelations intersect at exactly the moments of highest cinematic sheen, bears this out. But honestly, I don't care one bit how artificial it feels when the results are this gorgeous. It's without a doubt the most visually stunning film I've seen all year, as well as the most pristinely constructed. And as much as the underwritten touches might undercut some of the character development, the cinematic style lifts it right back up again; those long takes tracking through crowded streets and violent tableaus become a sort of characterization of their own, crafting a grandly tragic emotional landscape nearly whole cloth from the film style alone, and as much as I can intellectually pick apart some of the decisions on paper, I didn't have much trouble getting swept up either. Grade: B+

The Green Fog (2018)
That something which, on paper, seems to amount to nothing more than an impressively-but-pointlessly difficult and theoretical archival project (recreating Hitchcock's Vertigo by stitching together footage from other films) actually adds up to a functional movie is sort of miraculous on its own. That it's not only one of the best movies of the year but also one of the funniest and also one of the most beautiful is nothing short of impossible. But here we are, with this amazing little impossible movie somehow existing and being great, having slipped in from another dimension or something. AND TO BOOT, it's got probably the best use of Michael Douglas in a decade, possibly in his whole career. Grade: A


Fahrenheit 11/9 (2018)
I don't know why Michael Moore didn't just make a full movie about the Flint water crisis, since that's far and away the best part of this scattered, shambling movie. Moore's populist fury for what has been done to his hometown remains his most compelling characteristic, and the 30 minutes that the film devotes to the whole sordid disaster is borderline great and alone probably justifies Moore's sharp turn toward actual agitprop in this film. However, the rest of the movie is this whirlwind of what feels like a survey of Daily Beast headlines from the past 2-3 years, unified under the really vague umbrellas of "Donald Trump" and "activism." Full of Moore's typical bluster and stuntery (hey, you lip-synced Adolf Hitler footage with audio of a Trump speech, you sure owned the MAGA crowd, don't know how they'll recover from that one), it's this heap of a film that just kind of flops around under its own many-tentacled weight, and it just plain doesn't work. It's viscerally upsetting because watching footage of the Stoneman Douglas shooting or Trump's threats toward protesters is viscerally upsetting just by virtue of those events having occurred at all. But as a coherent take on the modern American political landscape or even as the call to revolution that the finale so dearly wants to be, this is just ineffectual thunder. Grade: C

Food, Inc. (2008)
Normally, I would damn with faint praise by lumping this in with the rest of that tedious activistcore wave of documentaries from the mid-2000s. And... it's not like this isn't that (though it has good taste lacking in every other activist docs, in that it forgoes the obligatory ironic animated sequence). But this film's argumentation against industrial farming is particularly ruthless and cleared-eyed—impressively so. It also yields two legitimately great documentary moments. One involves a beef farmer cutting a hole in the side of a living cow and excitedly showing the camera how he can reach his hand into one of the cow's stomachs like it's the greatest thing since the microchip. The enthusiasm is infectious, both figuratively and literally (being part of a whole segment involving E. coli in meat). Errol Morris would be proud. The other, much more in-tune with the doc's overall rhetorical aims and almost without a doubt the most pointed and effective use of the film's take-no-prisoners posture, is when footage of immigrants being shoved into vans by immigration officials after raids of meat-packing plants plays over audio of an impassioned interview which tells us relentlessly that this is the real cost of our holiday hams and turkeys. It's the film's most bracing deployment of pathos, or at least it is for me eight months after a mass-scale version of that footage occurring just a county over from my house. Grade: B

Beverly Hills Cop (1984)
I mean, this is certifiably pro-cop in this really icky "ends justifying the means" way, to say nothing of the '80s trademark homophobia on display in a few key scenes (apparently the only thing more villainous than a vaguely Russian drug dealer is a vaguely Russian drug dealer who might be gay). But Eddie Murphy is extremely good in this movie—so good that he does a decent job of papering over some of the more objectionable qualities of his character. This is maybe the best Murphy performance that I've seen, and while that's not exactly saying much, given that I've seen only a handful of pre-Shrek Murphy roles, it is pretty stunning what he's doing here. Grade: C+


Vanishing Point (1971)
I'm of two minds regarding this film. Well, of many minds, actually. The film is complete and utter worship of the automobile, which my train-loving spirit objects to strongly, to say nothing of the mythologizing of the Ruggedly Individual American Male, which just sort of bores me. But also, as something of a 20th century folk tale, with all the kaleidoscopic cul-de-sacs and slippery meanings that come with the genre—I mean, is it a lionizing of the Ruggedly Individual American Male, what with that self-destructive ending and all? It's not as simple as it seems. But also, it falls handily into the fallacy of reducing the counterculture to a mere quest for Freedom, Maaaaan, wherein anti-authority sentiments are an end to themselves, which is the same kind of thinking that landed the movement at Altamont and later Ronald Reagan. So screw that. But also... maybe this movie is aware of that? But not enough to avoid casting its almost arbitrarily defiant (and of course white—they're always white, the salvific figures of these counterculture movies) protagonist as some sort of larger-than-life hero of the people? But also, the car goes vroom, and the rock music kicks, and the cinematography is brilliant. I dunno, man, I gotta lotta feelings here, and most of the time, I was feeling like I was having a good time. Grade: B

Television

Joe Pera Talks with You, Season 1 (2018)
I don't even know where this came from. Seemingly out of the clear blue sky (or, more likely, the cold, overcast sky of Michigan's Upper Peninsula) appears this beautiful little Adult Swim gem, featuring none of the aggressive weirdness that's characterized the Adult Swim brand, instead going for a quiet, contemplative wholesomeness that feels more in-line with, like, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood or The Joy of Painting—only infused with an idiosyncratic philosophic impulse and a deep well of melancholy that makes every one of its 11-minute episodes feel like something of a soft-spoken treatise on the human experience. I barely know how to describe it; what I'm saying here barely conveys the wonderfulness of Joe Pera Talks with You. When people talk about "Peak TV," they're usually referring to the explosion of ambitious content on streaming services, but honestly, this is the Peak TV I'm here for: these graceful little pockets of brilliance in the odd corners of the television landscape, both a piece of television tradition and curiously apart from it. Seriously, go watch this, folks. Grade: A

Books

The Slippery Slope by Lemony Snicket (2003)
The tenth book in A Series of Unfortunate Events is something of a transitional book. Being set on a relatively nondescript mountainside for its entirety, the novel lacks the inventiveness and little satirical microcosm societies that the best books in the series often develop; it's also something of an info-dump as far as the ongoing mysteries in the series go, which feels uncharacteristically inelegant for these books. But it's still that same wonderful wit as the other books, and Snicket's metafiction is both funny and interesting in the ways it's developed here. The payoff to all the ethical questions of the previous few books feels earned, too. Grade: B



Music

Noname - Room 25 (2018)
Chicago rapper's sophomore effort (or debut, if we're counting 2016's Telefone as a mixtape instead of an album, which... is confusing, but okay) is jazzy in production and quietly profound in its exploration of both the personal and the social. But let's take a moment just to appreciate how uproariously funny Room 25 is: "My pussy teaches 9th-grade English/My pussy wrote a thesis on colonialism" is maybe the funniest lyric in any music anywhere this year. Grade: A-

Sunday, December 16, 2018

Mini Reviews for December 10-16, 2018

It's 2018-catch-up time, y'all.

Movies

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
I'm not an avowed superhero movie hater, but I have been pretty frustrated at the Marvel corner of the genre's insistence on doubling down on some of the more irritating aspects of superhero comics (the convoluted interconnectivity of stories, the increasingly burdensome continuity, the reliance on "game changing" plots that just actually mask a commitment to the storytelling status quo) while ignoring some of the best elements (the visual splendor, the playful fluidity of characters and storytelling types allowed by decades of different writers piling storylines onto the same universe). Into the Spider-Verse reverses this to great effect, being not just the best-looking superhero movies of this year (of all time??) but also being the one superhero movie that truly capitalizes on the fact that, by golly, comics are weird as hell so let's just lean into that as hard as we can and see what happens. It's great. Visually, it's the rare polygonal, computer-animated feature that actually uses CG animation for every inch of possibility that the format is worth. The film's mixed-media, collage approach is some of the most formally radical animation I've ever seen in a mainstream American animated feature; it's closer to the work of Masaaki Yuasa than anything I can think of in North America, and the film's climax, which is basically a fight scene set within a complete abstraction of computer rendering, filled with free-floating polygons and digital noise, feels entirely without precedent. On a storytelling level, Into the Spider-Verse feels a lot like The Lego Batman Movie's approach to superhero mythology, diving right into the weirdest, most uncool corners of the superhero's past with gleeful abandon—it's one thing to make fun of the way the Amazing Spider-Man storylines have trended toward wallowing self-pity; it's an entirely different ballgame even to acknowledge the existence of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and that's the game Into the Spider-Verse is playing. Like Lego Batman, there are parts of this plot that feel like they're held together with string, and the movie is, frankly, overstuffed to the point of shortchanging far more characters than I'd like. But to its credit, it's also got much more serious things on its mind than Lego Batman, using this bizarre confluence of all the various Spider-Man bric-a-brac not just to tell a compelling story for the in-movie characters (Miles Morales's plot is legitimately moving in a way that gets at the real heart of Spider-Man like no other film since the second Sam Raimi Spider-Man film) but also to gently nudge its own fandom into realizing how absurd it is to gripe about the changing (and diversifying) superhero landscape when there are things like Spider-Ham and Spider-Man Noir rumbling out there in canonized past that so-called purists want to preserve; what the film does with Kingpin is as effective (and subtle) a take on white male internet rage as anything I've seen recently—take that, Ralph Breaks the Internet! Grade: A-

The Favourite (2018)
Watching this movie, I thought for sure it was using quasi-historical figures to make a parable about modern authoritarianism and the self-motivated sycophancy politics that springs up in its wings. But no, this movie is shockingly historical, at least more so than I realized when I was watching it—emotionally ill-adjusted tyrants and their aspiring puppet masters are just evergreen, I guess. But anyway: you could do a lot worse with adapting the Queen Anne/Sarah Churchill/Abigail Hill scenario for the screen than the razor-witted insult comedy fronting a deeply twisted sexual power game that The Favourite is: All About Eve for the 18th century, you could say. The three leads (Olivia Colman as the queen, Rachel Weisz as Sarah, Emma Stone as Abigail) are all tremendous, chewing over the screenplay's wicked turns of phrase with visible delight; the costumes and set design are exquisite; the camerawork, restless and often filtered through a fish-eye lens that serves the pervert the setting's ostensible "high class" even further than the characters themselves do, feels like a pointed subversion of Barry Lyndon, the inevitable (only?) 18th-century-set film to which this one will inevitably be compared; the film's disdain for the monarchy and aristocracy is never not great. This movie ticks a lot of my boxes, and if it's sadistic to say I had a great time with it, I think I at least had an engaging time with it, which is more than I can say for The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Grade: B+

Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle (2018)
The other heavily-CGI Jungle Book movie of recent years. Disney being Disney of course was able to muscle its way into a mainstream theatrical release, leaving this one to float around from medium to medium before landing on Netflix, and while I remember Disney touting the 2016 Favreau adaptation as something of a return to the darker tone of the original Kipling book, don't be fooled: Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle is far more in-tune with Kipling's sensibilities than anything Disney could muster. There are no songs, only the folk-myth power hierarchies and jungle battles that Kipling evoked of his beloved (if patronized) India. It's a strange and somewhat ethereal movie grounded only by its strikingly brutal PG violence, though there are some tonal and structural issues; people forget that Kipling's Jungle Book is essential a short story cycle, and Mowgli sometimes struggles to figure out how to stitch those stories together into a coherent film—the iconic monkey palace scene feels entirely expendable and disconnected from the larger thrust of the plot. If I were making this, I'd abandon the idea of a coherent plot altogether and just go full anthology film. But I didn't make the film, so here we are. More fascinatingly flawed than truly "good," but probably worth a watch anyway for those interested in the project of adapting Kipling to screen. Grade: B-

Shirkers (2018)
The opening minutes of Shirkers—a montage of abstract footage, often upside-down and/or reversed and/or in photonegative—promise a much more formally wild film than we ultimately get, which is both disappointing and something of a relief (I love me some avant-garde, but on a school night? In this economy?). What Shirkers actually is is something like a cross between a personal essay and a twisty docu-drama mystery not all that different from this year's Three Identical Strangers or 2009's Art of the Steal), in which Singapore-born filmmaker Sandi Tan recounts the very strange saga of how her debut feature was stolen by a French-New-Wave-obsessing con man. It's as much an autobiography as it is a mystery, and the best parts of the movie have nothing to do with the central yarn at all and have more to do with Tan's friends (who were involved with the making of her debut) reminiscing about their prickly relationship with Tan herself. Grade: B

The Meg (2018)
Everyone's least-favorite part of Titanic is the framing device where all the douchey treasure hunters are using the submersible to explore the ocean depths, but let me ask you this: what if we made a whole movie about that framing device? Not sold? Well, what if we added a gigantic prehistoric shark to the mix? Hm? HMM?? This is definitely a "They don't make 'em like they used to" type of movie, though I suppose your excitement about this particular film is based on how much you wish they still made dumb '90s action movies. I'm mostly ambivalent, but there is something charmingly quaint about it all. Grade: C+



The Voices (2014)
A strange little black comedy whose tonal slips effortlessly (and disorientingly) among actual horror, indie-dramedy quirk, animal reaction shots, and borderline-surreal gore humor. It doesn't cohere at all, but it's an interesting little experiment with a knock-out performance by an unsettling Ryan Reynolds (maybe not his BEST role, but certainly his most impressive). It also saves its most sublime surprise for the end, with the credits, "Directed by Marjane Satrapi." I guess I knew in theory that she did more than Persepolis, but I'll be damned if I could have guessed that her name was going to pop up here, of all places. Grade: B-



Music

Szun Waves - New Hymn to Freedom (2018)
Sorta this jazz-fusion/space-rock/ambient thing. You know, for as much as I listen to jazz, I still really don't have the vocabulary to describe it very well, and that goes doubly for some of the more fusion-y, unconventional stuff, of which New Hymn to Freedom definitely qualifies. Consisting of six entirely improvised compositions performed by a trio—Luke Abbott on synths, Laurence Pike on drums, Jack Wyllie on saxophone—it's a real journey, feeling like the intersection of Sun Ra and Aphex Twin and John Coltrane. In fact, the opening motif of "Constellation," the first track, feels like a synth version of Coltrane's "Acknowledgement" from A Love Supreme, and if you can imagine A Love Supreme as filtered through those influences and slowed down a bit, you'd have a pretty good idea of what to expect here. Whatever it is, I like it a lot. Grade: A-