Categories
Film

‘Barbenheimer’: What’s at Stake

The day we’ve all known has been coming is finally almost upon us. This Friday, July 21st, the moviegoing world will be offered two choices – one about the start of the end of the world as we know it, and the other about impending mortality. One is about how we have come to live in the world of fear we know today, the other about the finite time we’re given on Earth. One is backed by one of the most exclusive studio deals ever made, and the other has a marketing campaign that reached far beyond the boundaries of print and advertising.

Two viral promotional endeavors. Two vastly different demographics. The two biggest movies of the year. Yes, we’re talking about Barbie and Oppenheimer. Two films that couldn’t be more disparate will forever be held in the same sentence and breath as each other, resuscitating what moviegoing has long missed: an epic, clashing summer blockbuster event.

But the phenomenon forebodes an eerie quality to it as well, as if this may be one of the last big summer cinematic events we’ll see for quite some time. As fun as these two movies clashing appear to be, that’s exactly what’s at stake: summer movie events of such sizes have become few and far between in recent years. Will one film draw success from the other? Can one steal the other’s limelight? Could that lead to one of these films being the last of their kind? Depending on the successes of either of these films, this weekend may very well determine the future of summer movies as we know it.

Where the two films will have their first standoff is with demographics. The target demographics for each of these films is nearly night and day: one for the youth, one for the historians. One for the dads, and one for the daughters. The demographics are so opposite that the public has even branded this historical cinematic event with its own name: “Barbenheimer.”

Without a doubt, there will be crossover, but the numbers will be interesting to see, and just might set a precedent for whichever film does the better business. What might the gross of each film say about the other’s core demographic? And what might that say about similar films in the future? One film’s success might cause the other to become radioactive.

But what’s also at stake is the state of originality in cinematic films. One has to look at where both of these films are coming from to assess their own uniqueness with another. Oppenheimer is a deeply controversial historical figure who’s been mythologized, bad-mouthed, and exiled – a deeply flawed human being that changed the course of history, directed by one of the most singular, cinematic filmmakers of our time. In addition to a deal with Universal at which Nolan requested to have a 90 to 120 day exclusive theatrical window for the film, Oppenheimer also employed IMAX to develop a black-and-white film stock that had never existed before.

Barbie, on the other hand, has its puppet strings controlled by a much larger corporation, Mattel, another addition to Warner Bros’ IP canon. Now that’s not to say Barbie will fall into contrived corporate pitfalls, but one can’t help but feel that the film contains the fingerprints of higher-up executives from a toy company. Like Space Jam 2, or The Flash, one can sense that it’s a film made by a committee. Who is to say that, if one film performs better than the other, then corporate American interests will become more important than cinematic originality in favor of featuring more safe-bet intellectual properties?

Fan-made “Barbenheimer” poster

However, despite their differences, these two films have more in common than they appear. On paper, we merely see two differing clienteles as if they’re black and white. Yet, both have seeped into the crevices of contemporary American culture on multiple levels: countless memes around the event have circulated the internet, a myriad of fan-made “Barbenheimer” t-shirts and posters have been printed, and both promotional campaigns have stretched into the furthest depths of everyday life where even the most non-movie fans are acutely aware of the phenomenon.

And on a figurative level, the symbolism of “Barbenheimer” goes even further. Both films represent the two extreme sides of American capitalist manufacturing: the nuclear bomb and the Barbie doll – two of USA’s most coveted and prized symbols, both representing two different facets of what it means to be American. Inciting a conversation that goes beyond the stories these films tell on screen, such analytical depths have caused both films to fall into an intangible dance with each other, spurring an organic, viral groundswell of a box-office clash.

Even though both are predicted to gross enough at the box office to make their way well into the green for what could be a near-$200 million dollar weekend, this writer can’t help but feel that “Barbenheimer” is akin to the stars aligning. The two most popular, most anticipated movies of the year coming out not just in the same summer, but the same day? Ones that evoke stakes? Create talking points? Incite pivotal moments that can shift an industry? It feels like movie weekends like this don’t come around that often anymore. Gone are the summer movie seasons like 2008 which introduced us to Iron Man, The Dark Knight, Tropic Thunder, Pineapple Express and many others within mere weeks of each other; movie seasons that gave us options.

Maybe we’ve been so starved of events like this that the rip-roar around these two films premiering on the same day was inevitable. Counter-programming is nothing new when it comes to summer releases, and contrasts as bold as “Barbenheimer” used to be commonplace. So it was an audacious move, genius even, by the studios to program the two most talked about films of the year back-to-back.

What’s truly at stake here is the last desperate fart of a dying summer movie corpse. The last sliver of “summer movie season” as we know it. With the oncoming of day–and–date releases and shorter theatrical windows, the summer movie season has become somewhat of a façade, something similar to how American radio stations try to decide the “song of the summer.” Such events seem futile nowadays. Except “Barbenheimer.” “Barbenheimer” has the chance to resuscitate the worth of seeing a film in a cinema. It has the potential to get the greater public talking about film critically again beyond the internet phenomenon. It has the chance to bring cinematic events back onto the world stage and prove once again that moviegoing is still a subject of contemporary culture – it exists not only as a private obsession, but also a communal experience.

Categories
Film

2023 Oscar Predictions: Who Will Win

This awards season has given a pretty firm indicator as to who will take the big prize, albite a few categories. To date, Everything Everywhere All At Once has taken the DGA, the PGA, the WGA, and SAG Awards. If it takes best picture (and our 2023 Oscar predictions say it will), it’ll be among No Country for Old Men, American Beauty, Slumdog Millionaire, and Argo to have also done so.

Other categories, as our 2023 Oscar predictions suggest, are not as certain: the supporting actress category has been ebbing and flowing between Angela Bassett (who took home the Golden Globe and Critics Choice Awards), Kerry Condon (who took home the BAFTA), and Jamie Lee Curtis (who took home the SAG). And the lead actress category, just as uncertain – while Cate Blanchett took the Golden Globe and the BAFTA, Michelle Yeoh took the Critics Choice and the SAG, the first time this race has done so since 1998.

Meanwhile, the adapted screenplay race is also split, as Sarah Polley’s Women Talking took home the WGA and the prestigious USC Scripter Awards, all while All Quiet on the Western Front was absent from those categories but managed to take home the BAFTA.

And so, while the outlets every year say, “Oh this is the most unpredictable awards season yet,” this year has been a little more transparent, but the uncertain categories are still ones to watch for surprises. Here are our 2023 Oscar predictions:

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2023 Oscar Predictions

BEST PICTURE

All Quiet on the Western Front 
Avatar: The Way of Water 
The Banshees of Inisherin 
Elvi
s
Everything Everywhere All At Once
The Fabelmans
Tár
Top Gun: Maverick

Triangle of Sadness
Women Talking

BEST DIRECTOR

The Banshees of Inisherin — Martin McDonagh
Everything Everywhere All at Once — Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert
The Fabelmans — Steven Spielberg
Tár — Todd Field
Triangle of Sadness — Ruben Östlund

BEST ACTOR

Austin Butler in Elvis
Colin Farrell in The Banshees of Inisherin
Brendan Fraser in The Whale
Paul Mescal in Aftersun
Bill Nighy in Living

BEST ACTRESS

Cate Blanchett in Tár
Ana de Armas in Blonde
Andrea Riseborough in To Leslie
Michelle Williams in The Fabelmans
Michelle Yeoh in Everything Everywhere All at Once

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Brendan Gleeson in The Banshees of Inisherin
Brian Tyree Henry in Causeway
Judd Hirsch in The Fabelmans
Barry Keoghan in The Banshees of Inisherin
Ke Huy Quan in Everything Everywhere All at Once

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Angela Bassett in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever
Hong Chau in The Whale
Kerry Condon in The Banshees of Inisherin
Jamie Lee Curtis in Everything Everywhere All at Once
Stephanie Hsu in Everything Everywhere All at Once

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

The Banshees of Inisherin — Written by Martin McDonagh
Everything Everywhere All at Once — Written by Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert
The Fabelmans — Written by Steven Spielberg & Tony Kushner
Tár — Written by Todd Field
Triangle of Sadness — Written by Ruben Östlund

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

All Quiet on the Western Front — Screenplay by Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson & Ian Stokell
Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery — Written by Rian Johnson
Living — Written by Kazuo Ishiguro
Top Gun: Maverick — Screenplay by Ehren Kruger and Eric Warren Singer and Christopher McQuarrie; Story by Peter Craig and Justin Marks
Women Talking — Screenplay by Sarah Polley

BEST INTERNATIONAL FEATURE

All Quiet on the Western Front — Germany
Argentina, 1985 — Argentina
Close — Belgium
EO — Poland
The Quiet Girl — Ireland

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 
Marcel the Shell With Shoes On 
Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 
The Sea Beast 
Turning Red 

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

All That Breathes 
All the Beauty and the Bloodshed 
Fire of Love 
A House Made of Splinters 
Navalny 

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

All Quiet on the Western Front — Volker Bertelmann
Babylon — Justin Hurwitz
The Banshees of Inisherin — Carter Burwell
Everything Everywhere All at Once — Son Lux
The Fabelmans — John Williams

BEST ORIGINAL SONG

“Applause” from Tell It Like a Woman
“Hold My Hand” from Top Gun: Maverick
“Lift Me Up” from Black Panther: Wakanda Forever
“Naatu Naatu” from RRR
“This Is a Life” from Everything Everywhere All at Once

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

All Quiet on the Western Front — James Friend
Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths — Darius Khondji
Elvis — Mandy Walker
Empire of Light — Roger Deakins
Tár — Florian Hoffmeister

BEST EDITING

The Banshees of Inisherin — Mikkel E.G. Nielsen
Elvis — Matt Villa and Jonathan Redmond
Everything Everywhere All at Once — Paul Rogers
Tár — Monika Willi
Top Gun: Maverick — Eddie Hamilton

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

Babylon — Mary Zophres
Black Panther: Wakanda Forever — Ruth Carter
Elvis — Catherine Martin
Everything Everywhere All at Once — Shirley Kurata
Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris — Jenny Beavan

BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN

All Quiet on the Western Front — Production Design: Christian M. Goldbeck; Set Decoration: Ernestine Hipper
Avatar: The Way of Water — Production Design: Dylan Cole and Ben Procter; Set Decoration: Vanessa Cole
Babylon — Production Design: Florencia Martin; Set Decoration: Anthony Carlino
Elvis — Production Design: Catherine Martin and Karen Murphy; Set Decoration: Bev Dunn
The Fabelmans — Production Design: Rick Carter; Set Decoration: Karen O’Hara

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING

All Quiet on the Western Front — Heike Merker and Linda Eisenhamerová
The Batman — Naomi Donne, Mike Marino and Mike Fontaine
Black Panther: Wakanda Forever — Camille Friend and Joel Harlow
Elvis — Mark Coulier, Jason Baird and Aldo Signoretti
The Whale — Adrien Morot, Judy Chin and Anne Marie Bradley

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

All Quiet on the Western Front — Frank Petzold, Viktor Müller, Markus Frank and Kamil Jafar
Avatar: The Way of Water — Joe Letteri, Richard Baneham, Eric Saindon and Daniel Barrett
The Batman — Dan Lemmon, Russell Earl, Anders Langlands and Dominic Tuohy
Black Panther: Wakanda Forever — Geoffrey Baumann, Craig Hammack, R. Christopher White and Dan Sudick
Top Gun: Maverick — Ryan Tudhope, Seth Hill, Bryan Litson and Scott R. Fisher

BEST SOUND

All Quiet on the Western Front — Viktor Prásil, Frank Kruse, Markus Stemler, Lars Ginzel and Stefan Korte
Avatar: The Way of Water — Julian Howarth, Gwendolyn Yates Whittle, Dick Bernstein, Christopher Boyes, Gary Summers and Michael Hedges
The Batman — Stuart Wilson, William Files, Douglas Murray and Andy Nelson
Elvis — David Lee, Wayne Pashley, Andy Nelson and Michael Keller
Top Gun: Maverick — Mark Weingarten, James H. Mather, Al Nelson, Chris Burdon and Mark Taylor

BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT

“An Irish Goodbye” — Tom Berkeley and Ross White
“Ivalu” — Anders Walter and Rebecca Pruzan
“Le Pupille” — Alice Rohrwacher and Alfonso Cuarón
“Night Ride” — Eirik Tveiten and Gaute Lid Larssen
“The Red Suitcase” — Cyrus Neshvad

BEST ANIMATED SHORT

“The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse” — Charlie Mackesy and Matthew Freud
“The Flying Sailor” — Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby
“Ice Merchants” — João Gonzalez and Bruno Caetano
“My Year of Dicks” — Sara Gunnarsdóttir and Pamela Ribon
“An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It” — Lachlan Pendragon

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT

“The Elephant Whisperers” — Kartiki Gonsalves and Guneet Monga
“Haulout” — Evgenia Arbugaeva and Maxim Arbugaev
“How Do You Measure a Year?” — Jay Rosenblatt
“The Martha Mitchell Effect” — Anne Alvergue and Beth Levison
“Stranger at the Gate” — Joshua Seftel and Conall Jones

Featured image: Shutterstock/LanKS

Categories
Music

The 10 Best Albums of 2022

We’ve witnessed the hard downfall of music titans, the rise of others, all bringing into focus one single, important question: can we separate art from the artists? Depends on who you are. Sometimes it’s doable. Sometimes it’s downright unforgivable. 2022 made us ask ourselves a lot of these questions, all while incorporating the act of questioning the artist into the music itself. This year, reggaton reigned supreme, lo-fi indie-rock suddenly became not so lo-fi, and electronic dance found ways to borrow and re-invent itself. Artists not only challenged themselves, but challenged audiences in how they thought about and perceived them, the result being the most modern approach to music production we’ve seen this millennium. Here are the 10 best albums of 2022.

10. KING HANNAH – I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me

Earlier this year, Liverpool duo King Hannah took to the stage at LA’s Moroccan Lounge. The air was incendiary, the crowd positive, and the sound unique. After ripping through their opener “Well-Made Woman,” vocalist Hannah Merrick quivered, “Wow, hi, sorry we’re nervous, we weren’t expecting so many people.” The house lights came on, to which there was only about 15 people in the audience.

There was something genuine about that show. It felt like the perfect live representation for the album’s intimate, delicate soundscape. Part Portishead, part PJ Harvey, part trip-hop, part acid jazz, I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me is a solitary album that takes you to a place as it uses its tools wisely. Unapologetic in its approach, the album title speaks for itself: it’s another way of saying, “You all don’t have to agree on me, but I’m gonna do my thing.” And when they conjure up that feeling like a kindle of fire, in performance, with everywhere to spread, they could be one of the greatest duos in the world.

9. BLACK COUNTRY, NEW ROAD – Ants From Up There

Georgia Ellery has had quite the busy year. Aside from fronting her other band Jockstrap, she also had a hand in Black Country, New Road’s sophomore (and rumored to be last) album, Ants From Up There. And on her main instrument no less, the violin. But it’s hard to pin down what’s really at the heart of this record. It flourishes with lush instrumentals that seem to drift and sway all around you until you feel like you’re in the middle of an instrumental cyclone. But that’s perhaps the best part of this record – you don’t mind getting lost in it. In fact, it implores you to get lost in it. Soon enough, woodwinds sound like brass, strings get mistaken for percussion, and keys take the place of vocal melodies. It’s a very complex, post-rock record: you can practically feel how much time was spent on it in the intricacies of its layers. But the best way to listen to it? Pick a song from random, loop the album, and just let everything wash over you.

8. HORSEGIRL – Versions of Modern Performance

Chicago’s Horsegirl made an impressive run up to their debut album, Versions of Modern Performance, via a good amount of international airplay. Having established a growing audience overseas, one could easily mistake them as British (even we could’ve sworn they were British). Low-end, clean electric guitars, lyrics that seem far more mature than they could reach, it’s like something straight out of Interpol. Chicago never really got their “post-punk” band in the early 2000s, no band that truly rang with the heart of the city. But that changed with this record, although 20 years after the phenomenon. They sing of young romance, quarter-life existential dread, making a resonance with a city attachment that hasn’t been felt since Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. And for the first time in a long time, the streets of Chicago felt romantic again.

7. STEVE LACY – Gemini Rights

Lacy has made quite the trajectory over the last ten years since his time in The Internet, going from working with Vampire Weekend and Kali Uchis to his now seminal three album run. But Gemini Rights shows more of a maturity while still keeping a foot in his youthful radiance. There’s not a single minute on Gemini Rights that doesn’t allude to fate. Do you ever wonder what it takes, all the little moments that have to happen at exactly the right time, for two people to fall in love? The mission makes it feel nearly impossible, and Gemini Rights paints this phenomenon on a celestial backdrop. It really does feel like outer beings are in command of us outside of our control. Why do the circumstances have to happen in such way? It feels as if we have to relinquish our fate to something of a higher power. But when it does, it really feels as if stars are aligning (“But I could be your girlfriend/’Till retrograde is done.”) But Gemini Rights restores our faith in self-trust. No one’s going to tell us everything will turn out just as we planned, but we just have to trust ourselves that it’ll all turn out alright. Because it always does.

6. HAAi – Baby, We’re Ascending

Australia’s HAAi quickly came up in the electronic dance scene this year, not only because of her collaboration with Jon Hopkins, but due to her unique blend of eclectic electronic music. Drum ‘n Bass, jungle house, and UK garage all surface on this record, amongst others, lending to a seamless sonic journey through a record that doesn’t quite end where it begins, a natural flow of what feels like bouncing around a multi-room club like London’s Printworks or Manchester’s Warehouse Project. But she finds the elements of each genre that complement each other. It’s an education through the history of electronic music in what feels like a brisk 60 minutes, and we should all be signing up for the course.

5. JOCKSTRAP – I Love You Jennifer B.

As the linear expanse of original music production continues, as we embrace new technologies, new techniques to express ourselves, we begin to leave behind new methods as well. Then, this pool of old tech will eventually come back into fashion. What begins to happen, is that we start to contextualize it: not see it as “old” or “new,” but instead see them as tool sets, different muscles to lean on, and use the “old” as an instrument itself.

I don’t think Georgia Ellery and Taylor Skye knew what they were cooking up when they started jamming at London’s Guildhall School of Music. Ellery, a violin player, and Skye, a synth geek, were only using the tools they had available to them, but stood far away enough from the source material to arrange their placements where they saw fit. I Love You Jennifer B. has these, too. With an influence from Tori Amos and Joni Mitchell just as much as Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, the album takes elements of these varying sources and arranges them to live together peacefully. Theoretical musicians will be studying this album for years to come, which already feels like an ancient relic.

For an album that sounds so much like the future, it maintains a foothold in the traditional. Ellery’s lyrics elevate these stylistic grooves to actual formulaic songs, baring such elements that one can dare call them a singer/songwriter’s. But it’s not. This is electronic music used emotionally; the last brace of human touch before surrendering to an electronic world.

4. ROSALíA – Motomami

In all its glitch-poppiness, Motomami works best when you think of it in its different modes of apparition. In its chopped-and-screwed state, it feels like there could be many versions of each song on the album. Just like how one could argue the best version of a movie is all the dailies strung together, one could argue the same with this record with its varied takes in full strung together. But its choppiness is where it finds its rhythm. I honestly could not tell you what she’s singing or spitting about, but her aggressive delivery lets me know that it’s coming from a place. But within it, she paints a disjointed portrait of herself, asking us to put the pieces together. Motomami feels like such a futuristic modern art piece that some people won’t be able to relate to or interpret it (even for us it had to be an acquired taste). Some will be frustrated with it, or perhaps, she’s just building the foundation for something new.

3. ALVVAYS – Blue Rev

This album conjures up many images: the dissolve of a relationship, the smell of your first car, wind in your hair, the last summer before college. Alvvays has been on a steady rise the past eight years making their way around the college radio circuit early on, but nothing could have foreshadowed the sonic depth they would arrive at on Blue Rev. Its sound harks back to how a good an alt-rock band sounded like in the 90s – lots of guitars, lots of distortion, an analog shimmer, mixed in a way that doesn’t sound like mud nor does it sound like it can be achieved in any other fashion. Like the colored layers of technicolor film, the chemical reactions seep into each other to create a Kodachrome look for the ears: pastel, mosaic, light-trails across a screen that fade all too quickly but last long enough so we can cherish them, creating one of the best rock records of 2022.

2. WET LEG – Wet Leg

Wet Leg’s Wet Leg feels like a fever dream, a desperate longing to be somebody else: the perfectly flawed, unapologetic version of oneself. Hailing from the Isle of Wight, Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers took the rock scene by storm in 2022, easily becoming the most consistently talked about band ever since their first singles released earlier this year. Cheeky mumbled verses, epic guitar licks, undeniable charm, and British humor all fed into their rise regardless if you could relate to them or not (we didn’t even know what a chaise longue was until this year). But everyone should be able to relate to them, because Wet Leg is about becoming the best version of yourself you always wanted to be. And aside from all that, it’s just a phenomenal rock record from start to finish, each song better than the last.

1. BEYONCE – Renaissance

We could list the contributions made by the many collaborators on this album: Honey Dijon, Mike Dean, Giorgio Moroder… we could go into the specifics of the technological aspects or the complexities of these tunes. But more importantly, this album is a history lesson in dance music, a retribution in taking back your happiness and finding a way to fall back in love with yourself, time and time again. The weekend this record came out, one could hear it on just about every dance floor in every club in their city, a calling card to rally the troops and go into a zone where all time stops, biology ceases to age our bodies, no matter how brief (“Ass getting bigger…”). That’s what a dance floor can do to you, and if this record is playing – a seamless, constant 120 BPM – it feels as if everyone is the same age, all of our bodies in a race against time. This record doesn’t just use dance music as a genre, but as a vessel, an outlet to transport one’s mind into an ageless body, that thing we find ourselves to be so uncomfortable in most of the time that we forget how to love our flaws. It’s an opportunity to lose all inhibitions. We spend so much time trying to find a fictionalized version of ourselves within us, that we forget the key to finding our real selves has been on the dance floor all along. Go find it.

Categories
Film

The 10 Best Movies of 2022

Avatar 2 grosses a billion dollars in two weeks, Top Gun: Maverick resuscitates the summer blockbuster, Glass Onion spends a week in theaters after Netflix spent nearly half a billion dollars on it, the Will Smith Oscar slap heard around the world, and, maybe, the first best film of this new decade. A lot happened in the world of film this year. Were we disappointed in how Black Adam took up 90% of screens across the country? Of course. But were we disappointed in how Twitter gaslit Sony into re-releasing Morbius theatrically only to lose more money? Not one bit. 2022 has been another indication of a shifting of the tide, a balancing act where headlines boasted “10.8 billion hours streamed” instead of “33 million dollars in its first week.” It’s nothing new, but we think that these outlets of exhibition are becoming less of a “do or die” situation, and more of a marketing tool that plays into the theatrical experience as a whole. Maybe in 2023, they’ll be two sides of a coin that can’t exist without the other. Here are the 10 best movies of 2022.

10. BONES AND ALL

Premiering two films this year as the man who never seems to stop working, Luca Guadagnino reunites with Timothée Chalamet for a different kind of romance film. Reminiscent of Terrence Malick’s Badlands, Bones and All lends itself best in its outlaw-ish-ness, starring up and comer ­­­Taylor Russell as a drifter with innate cannibalistic tendencies who’s constantly on the run, forced to repress her true desires. Featuring probably Nine Inch Nails’ most romantic, gentle score yet, Bones and All blurs the line between being madly in love and having no choice but to squander, which, at its heart, is about stripping away identity; tearing away all the politics on the surface to fall in love with someone’s dirtiest flaws, bones and all.

9. EO

How does one make a movie about a donkey? And how does one make it interesting? EO defies all expectations. One would think it’d be a sweet animal film, but the result is a surrealist exploration of how the animal kingdom is truly at the mercy of humans. Following a stray donkey named Eo as it makes its way across Europe, the film’s POV constantly switches. From Eo’s perspective, we see the dangers of the world seeped in red in a very impressionistic way: drone shots, strobe lights, lasers, heavy synth score, all told in a 1.33:1 aspect ratio. It’s a story of an animal seeking agency, while seeing the beauty and evils of a world for the first time, urging the viewer to rethink about how humans interact with other ecosystems.

8. BANSHEES OF INISHERIN

Is there any director that’s more of an “actor’s” director (besides PTA, of course) than Martin McDonagh? For twenty years now he’s been writing esoteric, imperfect, genuine characters for the actor, trusting them enough to direct themselves from the page. Banshees is perhaps the pinnacle of his approach. Centered around a stagnant farmer, Padraic (Colin Farrell), who is content with his abysmal life and feels no need to pursue higher reaches, the film follows him as one by one, the ones closest to him chose to leave his life. The dry-wit and dark humor shine through here more so than his previous films, but the main theme here is loneliness. Plotted against a backdrop of a very small island, every character seems to be in the background of every scene, proving that every human needs another human to survive, to discover themselves vis-a-vie one another.

7. DECISION TO LEAVE

Part police procedural, part romance, Decision to Leave brings Park Chan Wook back to the international awards stage. When a police detective becomes romantically involved with a murder suspect who has a history of leaving her partners in the most auspicious ways, he soon becomes dead-set on making sure this murder is never solved. The film begs the question: how are we to maintain a relationship if what binds us together only lies in the unresolved past, constantly tethered to us? And what happens to us when that tie is mended? As futile as his goals are, the film builds to a deeply ironic, yet deeply tragic climax that only the keenest of audiences will be able to foreshadow, which only grows with more fascination as it sits with you.

6. THE FABELMANS

Of course it wouldn’t be award season without some sort of Spielberg effort in contest. It’s hard not to like The Fabelmans, Spielberg’s semi-autographical account of how he fell in love with filmmaking. Full of awards-bait and wit, The Fabelmans runs a tad 15 minutes longer than need be, but damn is it charming. Showcasing career defining performances from Michelle Williams, Paul Dano, and even David Lynch, the film dives into adolescent doubt, and highlights how one constantly reinvents their relationship with their craft.

5. TRIANGLE OF SADNESS

With probably the funniest set pieces this year, Triangle of Sadness sets up Ruben Östlund as perhaps the best satirist filmmaker working today, and boy does he love to see the proletariat suffer. Östlund’s humor here is a little more surface level than that of his previous work, more accessible. His critique on modern economic inequality makes for some of the most comedic sequences this year, as Triangle follows the upper echelon of the rich and wealthy on an exclusive yacht cruise whose crew is so dedicated, they’ll go to great lengths to satisfy their guests needs. What follows is perhaps the best compilation of comedic moments all wrapped into one film. Some will be frustrated by watching it, but if you’re a fan of the most awkward and uncomfortable scenes in film, you will LOVE this movie.

4. TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Having been indefinitely pushed due to the pandemic, Top Gun: Maverick finally made its way to theaters this year. While giving both domestic and worldwide box offices a jolt of resuscitation, it also brought back a moment of reminiscence with a big-budget summer blockbuster, the kind we haven’t seen since 2019. But aside from being a popcorn, eye-candy flick, it’s also a masterclass in writing for the screen. All one needs to watch is the opening sequence to know that we’re dealing with a flawed, but ambitious character. Gone are the days when you can still discern some glimmer of a human story within an inflated, overwhelming budget. But Top Gun: Maverick reintroduced the idea that a big-budget blockbuster can still be a critical darling as well.

3. EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE

If there was a common, overlying theme in film and TV this year, besides donkeys, it would be the multi-verse. Touched upon by Dr. Strange and Russian Doll, Everything Everywhere All At Once used the thematic element to touch upon people’s hearts. Whereas other films used it as a cinematic thrill and gimmick, EEAAO used it as a way to discover the best version of yourself. What first begins as a film about intolerance in our lead of Michelle Yeoh, the film uses the gimmick as a vessel to explore what your life could become, or could’ve been like. Coming off 2016’s Swiss Army Man, the DANIELS became the directors that shot straight to our hearts with a most endearing message, reminding us what we’re capable of when we keep an open mind.

2. AFTERSUN

It’s okay, you can cry. It’s okay to cry. But don’t let me be the one to convince you. Let this film do it instead. I won’t bore you with details; trying to tell you what this movie’s “about” will just sound like homework. I can tell you this though: this movie will mean a lot of things to many people. Just go on the film’s letterboxd page and scroll through the disparate reviews varying from a half star rating to “masterpiece.” I can’t exactly tell you what it means to me either, but I think I can approximate to you how I felt.

We will never truly know our parents. We will never be able to fully comprehend the fact that they were just like us at one time: an autonomous body free to do whatever they pleased, a human being with agency, far from the responsibility of parenthood, still discovering who they’re meant to be before caring for new life became their priority. They had dreams too once: goals, ambitions, heroes, struggles, other lovers…

So go ahead, it’s okay to cry. Because life is like sitting backwards on a moving train: you can only see what’s behind you, you can only see the past. I’m not going to be the one to tell you to see this movie, because frankly, I don’t care if you choose not to see it. This is a film that exists outside of itself. You’ll keep waiting for the “ta-da” moment, but it will never come, because the film is about the “thing” that already happened, a place you get stuck in, a pain you can’t erase.

So, what did this movie make me feel? The desire to become a better person in THIS present time, the time happening right before me. So, call your mothers, call your fathers, call your sisters, and reconcile while you can, because soon they’ll only be memories you sift through, and you’ll be left wondering why you never got to know them better.

1. TÁR

Imagine having directed only three films your entire career and all of them were A+ films – not only incredibly watchable, but films that leave you baffled by how they just tower over you, how they paint their protagonists as larger than life. In the ballsiest performance of the year, Cate Blanchett plays Lydia Tár, a well-esteemed classical composer who’s performed and achieved just about anything a composer could do in the classical world, who’s thrusted into a world of accusations by one of her former pupils. After having gone into the movie convinced Tár was a real person (thanks Twitter), this writer even left the theater still fully convinced Tár was a real person. It wasn’t until a week later when we discovered she actually isn’t. But y’know what? The film’s better that way. One could argue that Tár is the best biopic of the year, because it feels like and was shot like a biopic. Even the film’s first scene feels like an organic conversational interview that just seems so real, you believe Blanchett’s playing a real person. And that’s what the best kind of cinema can do: paint a vivid portrait of a deeply flawed, real character, and surround them with a cast in hopes they’ll be pushed to becoming a better person.

One could argue that this is a film centered around “cancel culture,” but that’s merely the venue the film takes place in. In this writer’s humble opinion, this film is about the past. And we’re not talking about history or historical events, but it’s about past-ness, the tense of being past, and it appears in the various interpretations of this film: references to the role Judaism and antisemitism played in the history of music, Gustav Mahler’s troubled history of manipulative behavior, the denazification of the classical music world, and above all, the buried history of the film’s lead. We fear the worst when we believe someone has a preconceived notion about us, convinced they see through our façade that we’ve worked so hard to build and perfect. A film disguised as a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, Tár is a film of bottomless intrigue. We’ve seen reviews that have dubbed it “the first ‘best’ film of this new decade,” but only time will be able to make that judgement. But here’s one takeaway that we’re dead-set on: like Darth Vader, like Daniel Plainview, like Hannibal Lecter, the character of Lydia Tár will forever haunt the history of cinema.

Categories
Music

How Nostalgia Filled the Music Festival Void in 2022

What’s the easiest way to make a buck? To cash in on people’s nostalgia of course. The live music industry was decimated from 2020 to 2021. So much so that, when festivals made their return this year, if it seemed like prices were multiplied 1.5 times, well, it’s because they were. The live music industry took such a hit in the last two years that it’s trying to quickly re-find its footing and push its finances back into the green. But doing so won’t come with originality or innovation.

The “nostalgia” festival circuit is nothing new to the industry, or at least not to Southern California, with a sleuth of revival festivals popping up just before the pandemic (see Cruel World Festival or Just Like Heaven). And given LA’s dearth of alternative music festivals, the city proved to be fertile breeding ground for Goldenvoice and Live Nation to recoup their finances from the past two years.

The first round of nostalgia festivals seemed to be spearheaded by This Ain’t No Picnic, Goldenvoice’s new alternative crown jewel based in Pasadena. With a lack of indie/alternative festivals in Southern California, after the fall of FYF Fest, a void for perhaps LA’s biggest genre scene was gapingly left open, leaving Goldenvoice (the predominant presence in SoCal, and owners of FYF) to craft a weekend festival that would perfectly fit the previous FYF audience. With a lineup featuring headliners Strokes and LCD Soundsystem, and a reunion from Le Tigre, they quickly picked up where they left off by curating a festival with the cornerstones of the genre.  

But perhaps the biggest and most recent nostalgia fest to take place isn’t in Southern California, but Las Vegas. The brand new When You Were Young festival boasted a lineup of bands that hit their peak in 2007: My Chemical Romance, All American Rejects, Paramore, Avril Lavigne, and AFI too name a few. What at first looked like a deliberate cash grab, turned out to be not just that, but a very lucrative cash grab. After selling out in mere hours, a second day was soon added. Then after that sold out, a THIRD day with the same lineup was added. It became so popular that, even before the first installment took place, When You Were Young already announced NEXT year’s lineup and dates (goes to show you how readily available all these acts were).

Other fests have basked in the nostalgia haze as well. Some examples include Smokin Grooves in downtown Los Angeles for classic soul/RnB, Palomino festival in Pasadena for old school country, and of course the hip-hop throwback showcase Rock the Bells. But it’s not just festivals, entire tours with nostalgia acts have been in the works. Summerland Festival reps itself as the “90s alternative rock tour,” featuring bands like Everclear (who founded the festival), Marcy Playground, and other semi-notable acts from the 90s alt-rock, one-hit-wonder craze.

When You Were Young – Courtesy of Jenn Five/Kerrang

The success of these festivals and tours goes to prove that, just like how there’s a sub-reddit for everything, there’s also a festival for every genre of music, and then sub-genre. Live entertainment groups are now cashing in on already built-in audiences: why take the risk in creating something new and fresh when you know what will already sell and be successful?

But it also prompts the question, do people care if they come off as old? Out of place? Outdated? How far can age actually go? How far back into the past does one have to reach before they’re treading into an audience that won’t even show up and represent? Identity crises are nothing new, but don’t even those nostalgic fests and audiences have an expiration date? One can keep bringing back what used to be in fashion, but how much of the old is too much?

And it goes without saying, that even just relying on nostalgia acts isn’t a guarantee for success. 2022 has had a sleuth of mishaps and unfortunate events as festivals and tours tried to make their comeback this year. Live events are not just raising ticket prices, but are cutting corners in hiring inexperienced staff for cheap, resulting in logistical nightmares in running a festival: long queues, angry festival goers, and a desperate need for strong attendance have tainted many events. Spain’s Primavera is one of the main examples that succumbed to these mishaps this year. In bringing back the festival after a three year hiatus, Primavera not only hiked up ticket prices, but also oversold tickets in an attempt to make their money back from the previous two years, resulting in extreme bottlenecking with large crowds in tight spaces with low-paying staff.

But event logistics aren’t the only things making tours and festivals unreliable this year. In addition to artists still contracting COVID, one just simply can’t predict the laws of nature. Las Vegas’ When You Were Young festival had to cancel its first day due to extreme winds, while the long-awaited Rage Against the Machine reunion had to be cancelled after vocalist Zach de la Rocha tore his ACL just a few shows in.

Needless to say, this business model of banking on nostalgia is only a phase. People will only be able to take so much of the past that it’ll eventually dilute itself, until the point where audiences need something fresh. Festivals are now in a tug of war with themselves between banking on what is reliably successful, and what is new, cool and innovative. It’s one thing to be “cool,” but to be cool AND successful? That’s nearly impossible.

But are nostalgia festivals here to stay? As long as audiences like to remain in their comfort zones, absolutely. Nostalgia will always have an audience. But will that take away incentive to fund new, innovative festivals for growing audiences? Absolutely not. Perhaps the next generation of festival goers will be ones that actively challenge themselves, that go against habits like leaning on nostalgia as a crutch, and learn to embrace the constantly changing live music landscape.

Featured photos courtesy of Jenn Five/Kerrang

Categories
Film

Cinema in 2022 was the Year of the Donkey

Note: This article contains donkey spoilers

In 2015, the German newspaper Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung published an article on why humans are fascinated with what they called “animal films,” or, films focusing on animals as their subjects rather than humans. It came to the conclusion that the phenomenon was attributed to the fact that, for the first time in history, a species (humans) has the ability to not only study and reflect on themselves, but to also document and research other species.

The cinema of 2022 seems to have brought that phenomenon to a heightened experience, albeit centered around an animal not so commonly focused on or documented. The donkey (Equus Asinus) seems to have taken the animal spotlight this year, particularly in films pushing for awards attention. Films such as Triangle of Sadness, Banshees of Inisherin, and EO have not just casted donkeys into the limelight, but gave them actual narrative-centric, stakes-heavy roles, even going so far as to make them protagonists in their own right.

But why now? Why this particular animal in this particular year? Well, the first thing one thinks of when they hear the word “donkey” is humor. On top of that, what donkeys also offer, or at least in these particular films, is companionship, thus making the animal great for sidekick roles that add a levity of humor (Shrek, etc.) 2021 and 2022 have had their fair share of ironic humor and wit. Comedy has become so “real” now, that what we used to joke about has now become commonplace. That’s not to say that the humor has gone, but our jokes have now become more of a reality than we previously thought.

With that in mind, no other animal embodies the levity of ironic humor quite like the donkey. Think of a donkey’s purpose: it’s indifferent, lazy, and doesn’t have much of a role on a farm aside from scaring off predators and pulling carts. Its only thought is to survive to the next day. Throughout pop culture, even stretching as far back as fairy tales and fables, the donkey has been the laughing stock of farm animals, which sadly gives it its gloomy reputation (Town Musicians of Bremen, Winnie the Pooh). But it also makes the perfect representation of ironic humor in 2022.

Donkey
Banshees of Inisherin

A donkey doesn’t make an appearance in Triangle of Sadness until about two-thirds through the film. But when it does, it’s used as a plot device in perhaps the most ruthless casting of the animal this year. When the upper echelon yacht cruise full of the rich and wealthy is shipwrecked, the affluent passengers are placed on an equal playing field with the yacht’s crew when they don’t know how to care for themselves, flipping the film’s theme of inequality upside down. Starving for food, they come across a donkey, and, well, you could guess what happens next….

The animal is definitely used in a darker comedic sense here, but why not any other animal? Would it have had the same effect had another animal been spared? The donkey tends to be the lowest on the totem pole. They’re a species that always gets the short end of the stick. And when it’s slaughtered, it’s merely a representation of irony dying, the cascading caste system that has descended upon the yacht-goers after being marooned.

But pity humor isn’t the only trait the donkey inherited this year in cinema. The animal also took on the role of companionship, with Banshees of Inisherin going so far as to cast the animal in a supporting role as Pádraic Súilleabháin’s (Colin Farrell’s) sidekick. As everyone starts to leave Padraic’s life due to his toxic trait of being stagnant with his future he begins to become more and more attached to his donkey, the only familiar face that stays behind. Where Triangle sees the donkey as pity-less humor, Banshees breathes life into the animal by casting it through the lens of loyalty. However, as Padraic pushes the ones closest to him away, he also puts the last shred of his donkey’s loyalty at risk, which ultimately dies in the end as well.

But aside from Donkeys perishing in the spotlight, the year in film has also casted them as main characters. The Jury Prize winner at this year’s Cannes film festival, EO follows a donkey that goes astray as it makes its way across Europe. It starts at a circus, where we see our donkey set free by an animal rights group and drift from one owner to the next, oblivious as to what’s carrying him each way. Along the way, he influences the outcome of a soccer match, becomes the mascot for a small town’s celebration, and is even brought into the company of Isabelle Huppert. But the most important element of this film is the stark contrast to our other two previous examples. What this film does that the other two don’t is give our donkey agency, an attempt to overcome the limitations placed upon itself, much like the preconceived notions humans already have when they hear the word “donkey.” Whereas Triangle and Banshees showed the fate of a donkey through a human lens, EO takes the POV of the animal, with the result being a surrealist, stylistic vision showing ultimately how humans interact with the animal kingdom.

Donkeys don’t tend to hold a soft spot for many people. Humans have put them to many uses over the years, including entertainment purposes. And these films go to show that they truly are at the mercy of the humans around them. People tend to argue what the most dangerous animal in the world is, when they’re blind to the fact that humans who are the most dangerous. To return to the article in Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, in our fascination with animal films, in our ability to record and document other creatures, we in turn often forget the implications and consequences of such actions, unaware of the interruptions we cause in their ecosystems. The cinema of 2022 seems to have flipped this perspective through empathy. In showing these consequences from the POV of the animal kingdom, the year gave us a necessary view of how, in studying other species, we also inadvertently record their demise.

Categories
TV

How ‘Nicecore Television’ is Detrimental to the Medium of Scripted TV

Last May, The Guardian published an article on the rise of a kind of primetime television we haven’t seen before, a kind of television not driven by conflict like traditional TV, but one anchored by a levity of humor. It has come to be dubbed as “nicecore television,” that is, scripted television that aims to provide a charming touch of wit at the expense of pushing a show’s conflict forward. The article made some pretty valid points, but I believe nicecore television’s roots run deeper than the charm you seen on the screen. Shows such as Ted Lasso and Abbott Elementary tend to lean on these kneejerk humorous reactions as a crutch. But these aren’t just one-off jokes – these entire series are based off the need to rely on light-hearted humor in exchange for conflict driven episodic spaces.

But what does this mean for the future of serialized and episodic television and potentiality for series pick-ups? If these popular nicecore television shows aren’t driven by a central story engine, what does that signal to the longevity of other future series? In this day and age, incited by the pandemic, the business of TV has started shifting away from shows that have a consistent source of story energy in exchange for a more happy-go-lucky, wish-fulfilling TV series, which could very well be detrimental to the medium of scripted television. In light of next week’s Primetime Emmy Awards, we’d like to shed some light on these nicecore television shows and what they pose to the future of television writing.

The biggest example of nicecore television so far has been Ted Lasso, perhaps the first show in this new wave to sway away from a concentrated story engine. Apple’s first foray into TV signaled to viewers that the company was still finding its footing in the medium, but it was the height of the pandemic and the depths of quarantine that made Ted Lasso take off. It’s feel-good, un-American worldview provided the right feelings at the right time for viewers, as well as challenged the American viewer to watch a show about a world we weren’t accustomed to – international soccer – in a time where we desperately needed to go against our habits. It provided a rewarding light in a very dark time, pop-culture references we thought we’d forgotten, and sweet humor in the lead of Jason Sudeikis.

However, these attributes also contribute to the show’s flaws. Yes, the character of Ted Lasso is the lead. Yes, he provides a joke or pop-culture reference every sentence. And yes, his character is meant for us to feel happy. However, it is not his story. He is not the show’s protagonist. Interestingly enough, it’s Rebecca Welton’s (Hannah Waddingham), the team owner’s story. She is the one who’s put into conflict, she is the one putting the team at risk and instigating stakes. But what makes this conflict thin is the glue that keeps her in this situation. Why does she keep Lasso as manager? If she’s putting the team’s investors at risk and remains reluctant to Lasso’s optimism, why doesn’t she just get rid of Lasso? One hint: biscuits. But the show’s longevity is not reliant on this thin conflict. Merely, the through-line is only there to make the series function as a narrative, as the show instead relies on the jokes and personality of Ted Lasso morale boosting his team to generate episodes.

But nicecore television is not just an Apple TV problem. Now, even network shows are starting to borrow this approach. Abbott Elementary has only aired one season, but one can tell from the first episode that it relies heavily on its lightheartedness for audience satisfaction, much like Ted Lasso. But unlike Lasso, it follows its protagonist as its lead – Janine Teagues (Quinta Brunson), an elementary school teacher who desperately wants to help the underprivileged students she teaches. However, like Lasso, it also has a problem with the “glue” that keeps Brunson’s character in conflict. There is no organic glue keeping her in the world she is in other than that she wants to help the children. It’s admirable, and certainly provides for a likeable protagonist, but there is no central flaw or world of conflict she’s thrusted into. But these are the elements necessary to spur a series’ permanency, as the show instead aims to focus on high-spirited comical aspects to satisfy a viewer’s expectation for comic relief. It aims for a setup/punch-line combo instead of choosing to elevate the series by pushing the conflict forward.

Ted Lasso (courtesy of Apple)

Even though this is a fairly new formula, it’s one that’s quickly being copied in exchange for fewer series orders from networks. By following a formula such as this, the thought of the show’s longevity is quickly ignored, thus not promoting the show’s core theme and its varying degrees. CBS and ABC have both drastically cut back their series orders this year, in addition to axing many already existing series. This year, ABC had only one pilot order along with only one comedy picked up to series, whereas CBS ordered only 4 series out of its nine pilots with zero of them being comedies, and NBC has ordered two series so far out of its five pilots.

It used to be that a show took pride in delving deep into its theme over a number of seasons, churning out however many episodic spaces that stemmed from its central conflict. If you look at past successful TV shows (or, arguably, shows that ran for at least five seasons), a series longevity was a testament to the originality of a show’s theme – it was its social commentary. Shows such as Roseanne and Married with Children were not just light, dinner-time entertainment, but a particular insight into American society told through an intimate medium, a medium that centers around a flawed protagonist changing over a period of time based on the people they are surrounded by. These shows had just the right elements for a show to properly function: stakes, glue, dimensionalities of characters, and conflict.

Frasier is a perfect example of how central conflict can spur longevity. The show begins with the theme of privacy and a simple premise: a stuck-up Harvard-educated psychiatrist is forced to take in his injured policeman father who is everything but. The pilot episode lays down the bare basic bones of how the series will operate. But the conflict externalized on screen gradually gets more intimate as the series progresses. Soon enough, it becomes not just about the privacy of Frasier’s space, but also the privacy of his mind. The show grows to center around ethical dilemmas, as Frasier Crane rejects not only the invasion of his privacy, but the ethical quandaries that come with it, fearing that he might be going against his values as a highly-respected psychiatrist.

It wasn’t until the success of Seinfeld when networks discovered that a show can be essentially about “nothing,” thus taking away a sitcom’s essential social element. It brought about a “loose-ness” to network television, introducing the idea that a TV sitcom didn’t need a central theme. Traverse this all the way back to today, where the same predicament occurs but in a slightly heightened experience. Not only does breaking a story’s theme lead to a lengthy series, it also reinforces the need for a revolving door writers’ staff. Keeping fresh voices moving in and out of the writers’ room is essential for creating a show’s durability. It introduces new voices to bring about new story beats at a certain point in a show’s narrative, not just to keep the show fresh, but to also HIRE MORE WRITERS. Hiring more writers is key in breaking story. It promotes writers from within and provides a diversity of voices to lend to the exploration of a show’s central theme and the many pockets within it.

Cut back to today, where networks are giving fewer series orders and premium cable and streaming services are ordering what are essentially long movies cut up into 10 episodes. This, in turn, changes the entire economic climate of how television is written: by not working with a central theme and story engine, a show does not produce longevity. When a show does not produce longevity, it fails to hire fresh voices and perspectives, thus leading to the changing TV writer climate we have today. Have we really had better quality television with 8-10 episodes every one to two years as opposed 22 episodes in one year?

I’m sure it goes without saying that a show doesn’t absolutely NEED to stick to its conflict, it can survive just fine from its charm that stems from its cheeriness. But that will only take a show so far. It used to be a testament that a show’s depth goes as far as its writers’ room does. The more diverse the writers’ room, the more specific the show’s niche becomes. Not only do these “nicecore television” shows change the landscape of modern television, they change the very DNA as to how television is made. Television is an intimate medium based on character relationships, and a writers’ room centered around a single story engine provides this intimacy. When we lose what the central idea of what a show’s about, we lose its social commentary, we lose its intimacy. Let’s just hope there will be future shows that take into account the next generation of TV writers.

Featured image courtesy of ABC

Categories
TV

How ‘Euphoria’ is this Generation’s ‘Twin Peaks’

Every generation has that one show. You have your Breaking Bad‘s, your Hill Street Blues‘, your I Love Lucy‘s… but every generation has that one show that operates on a different level. That’s not to say if it’s good or bad, but it definitely can’t be compared to anything. If you haven’t been under a rock, HBO’s Euphoria boasts penises, a heavy soundtrack, reckless drug use, and underage sex. It’s everything a parent wouldn’t want their child to be doing. But underneath all the debauchery are mysterious forces at work, something mythic – everyone trying to find their own form of satisfaction, or I guess, euphoria.

But it brings to mind another show that aired 30 years prior. Despite being a serialized primetime network drama, Twin Peaks also explored the darker side of a small town: both center on subjects in high school, yet they take vastly different directions – one’s a murder mystery, and the other a relationship drama. Both portray promiscuity with high schoolers and adults. Both involve some sort of drug use. The similarities on the surface are easy to point out, but let’s dive a little deeper.

The theme (and story engine) of Twin Peaks is truth – the truth of Laura Palmer’s death, and the truth that everyone in the town conceals. However, Euphoria’s characters are also in search of their own truths: what makes them tick, what gives them the ultimate satisfaction, what will bring them closer to what life is all about – happiness. But also, both shows portray their characters as doomed to fail in this search. It will always be a bottomless well – they’ll keep digging and digging for that stimulus of an answer, but they’ll never reach it, all while putting their well-being at risk. As for Twin Peaks’ case, the “truth” will always be some version of the truth, an interpreted truth, by one of the town’s inhabitants.

Twin Peaks

It’s needless to say both shows also sprung from singular auteur-ist visions. David Lynch and Sam Levinson both had artistic controls over their respective series, quite evident in Euphoria with its exuberant style: the lighting, the camera movements, the casting, the music – it’s incredible how HBO gave so much power to a young filmmaker, in its first two seasons no less. Every camera placement and backlight feels precisely and deliberately done, that it’s impossible to imagine Euphoria as a show that functions with the elements of a traditional drama series: a writers’ room, rotating directors, etc… some may argue that as a fault, but Euphoria wouldn’t be the show we love even if it did have those elements.

And for Twin Peaks, Lynch had what was fairly the equivalent in the 90s with a basic cable drama. From the theme song, to the tone and mood, Lynch’s fingerprints are all over every aspect of the series. But network primetime was a different place back in April 1990, and Peaks crashed the party like a goth at a debutante ball. However, when the show’s producers succumbed to network pressure and revealed Laura Palmer’s killer (sort of) in the seventh episode, the show’s viewership hemorrhaged. But it was no longer just a show about finding the murderer of a high school girl – it started to involve other dimensions, the birth of good and evil. Lynch took it in a wild, surreal direction, the style we usually associate him with. All of a sudden, Twin Peaks became some sort of puzzle, quickly growing out of the mold basic cable shows usually get stuck in becoming the show we know and love today.

Both shows also grew their audience reach while on hiatus. It’s hard to believe, given that season 2 of Euphoria just aired, season 1 aired two and a half years ago. Most TV shows wouldn’t ever be able to sustain that kind of momentum, nonetheless during a pandemic. A show about high school kids who abuse privilege – what made that so special? Why was it still a talking point amongst TV enthusiasts despite a two-and-a-half-year absence? Likely, there’s a few particular reasons, or rather, a culmination of them all. Euphoria became popular right before the pandemic hit. It was the last cultural phenomenon that was a trending topic before our lives were changed. It’s also the last serialized drama series we can remember where we’re given a week to gossip, digest, and theorize on an episode before watching the next one, thanks to Twitter supplying it with a constant discourse outlet.

Euphoria

Twin Peaks, on the other hand, had 26 years before its return. But just like Euphoria, Peaks’ cult status only grew during its absence, speaking to a new generation and fanning the flames for the desire of a revival. And that’s just what happened. When Twin Peaks: The Return aired, it not only brought along its old built-in audience, but drew in a newer, younger crowd, and even behooved them to revisit earlier seasons. Also like Euphoria, Peaks’ popularity soared in its absence thanks to internet discourse. Its history and folklore only made the show more infectious with theories on what could’ve happened. It was a feedback loop that drew in younger audiences in a way its original audience couldn’t understand.

There are just as many arguments against this opinion than there are for it. One can just as accurately argue that these two shows couldn’t be any more different. But the starkest similarity is the zeitgeist around the two. They are two shows that challenge and require audience participation, and there’s very much a world that stems from and exists outside of them: us, the viewers. One could say that about any show, but these two are special. They conjure a community of specific kinds of people – outcasts, people in the in-between, people who don’t know how to necessarily describe themselves, but also a community that ultimately wants to challenge itself. I think that’s what these two shows will be remembered for most: the discourse and the compelling urge of the viewer to step out of their comfort zone.

Categories
Film

Here are our Final 2022 Oscar Predictions

For the first time ever, we’re flummoxed. Usually we know by now how these things go down. But for the first time since we’ve started Oscar predictions, we’re at a loss as to who the frontrunner is this awards season. This year has been an anomaly to say the least, more so than even last year’s award season which was the first in the COVID era. Since every curtain raiser awards show that usually points in the direction of where the Oscars will go has either been discredited (Golden Globes), or postponed till the last minute (Critics Choice), the usual Oscar predictions route has been up in the air, which is rather refreshing in a way. There is no solid frontrunner, no one has any idea as to how this will go.

The biggest disrupter of Oscar predictions in the past two weeks is CODA’s momentum gain over Power of the Dog. With its groundbreaking SAG and PGA awards, CODA seems to be edging its way over the western stateside, as opposed to Power’s BAFTA and Critics Choice win. But for the first time in probably ever, the two likely winners for best picture are not only from streaming services, but are also directed by women, which is a feat we should celebrate in itself.

Other categories tend to be up in the air as well. Best actress is one that hasn’t been solidified, although Jessica Chastain’s performance in the Eyes of Tammy Faye seems to be picking up steam from her SAG and Critics Choice wins. The screenplay categories are also up for grabs. Don’t Look Up’s original screenplay win at the WGA awards over Licorice Pizza seems to show the script some promise, but those awards excluded major Oscar nominees, and Belfast’s Critics Choice and Golden Globes win show that film still has potential. On the adapted front, it’s still fair game. CODA won the WGA award, but that excluded Power of the Dog and Drive My Car – two very strong contenders at the Oscars.

Needless to say, anyone’s Oscar predictions are just as valuable as everyone else’s. Don’t take one over the other. Because for the first time in a long time, we have an Oscars where it’s anybody’s game. Here are our 2022 Oscar predictions.

BEST PICTURE

Belfast
CODA
Don’t Look Up
Drive My Car
Dune
King Richard
Licorice Pizza
Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
West Side Story

BEST DIRECTOR
Paul Thomas Anderson (Licorice Pizza)
Kenneth Branagh (Belfast)
Jane Campion (The Power of the Dog)
Ryûsuke Hamaguchi (Drive My Car)
Steven Spielberg (West Side Story)

BEST ACTRESS
Jessica Chastain (The Eyes of Tammy Faye)
Olivia Colman (The Lost Daughter)
Penélope Cruz (Parallel Mothers)
Nicole Kidman (Being the Ricardos)
Kristen Stewart (Spencer)

BEST ACTOR
Javier Bardem (Being the Ricardos)
Benedict Cumberbatch (The Power of the Dog)
Andrew Garfield (Tick, Tick … Boom!)
Will Smith (King Richard)
Denzel Washington (The Tragedy of Macbeth)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Jessie Buckley (The Lost Daughter)
Ariana DeBose (West Side Story)
Judi Dench (Belfast)
Kirsten Dunst (The Power of the Dog)
Aunjanue Ellis (King Richard)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Ciarán Hinds (Belfast)
Troy Kotsur (CODA)
Jesse Plemons (The Power of the Dog)
J.K. Simmons (Being the Ricardos)
Kodi Smit-McPhee (The Power of the Dog)

BEST COSTUME DESIGN
Cruella (Jenny Beavan)
Cyrano (Massimo Cantini Parrini and Jacqueline Durran)
Dune (Jacqueline West and Robert Morgan)
Nightmare Alley (Luis Sequeira)
West Side Story (Paul Tazewell)

BEST SOUND
Belfast (Denise Yarde, Simon Chase, James Mather and Niv Adiri)
Dune (Mac Ruth, Mark Mangini, Theo Green, Doug Hemphill and Ron Bartlett)
No Time to Die (Simon Hayes, Oliver Tarney, James Harrison, Paul Massey and Mark Taylor)
The Power of the Dog (Richard Flynn, Robert Mackenzie and Tara Webb)
West Side Story (Tod A. Maitland, Gary Rydstrom, Brian Chumney, Andy Nelson and Shawn Murphy)

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE
Don’t Look Up (Nicholas Britell)
Dune (Hans Zimmer)
Encanto (Germaine Franco)
Parallel Mothers (Alberto Iglesias)
The Power of the Dog (Jonny Greenwood)

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
CODA (screenplay by Siân Heder)
Drive My Car (screenplay by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Takamasa
Oe)
Dune (screenplay by Jon Spaihts and Denis Villeneuve
and Eric Roth)
The Lost Daughter (written by Maggie Gyllenhaal)
The Power of the Dog (written by Jane Campion)

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Belfast (written by Kenneth Branagh)
Don’t Look Up (screenplay by Adam McKay; story by Adam McKay & David Sirota)
King Richard (written by Zach Baylin)
Licorice Pizza (written by Paul Thomas Anderson)
The Worst Person in the World (written by Eskil Vogt, Joachim Trier)

BEST ANIMATED SHORT
Affairs of the Art (Joanna Quinn and Les Mills)
Bestia (Hugo Covarrubias and Tevo Díaz)
Boxballet (Anton Dyakov)
Robin Robin (Dan Ojari and Mikey Please)
The Windshield Wiper (Alberto Mielgo and Leo Sanchez)

BEST LIVE-ACTION SHORT
Ala Kachuu — Take and Run (Maria Brendle and Nadine Lüchinger)
The Dress (Tadeusz Lysiak and Maciej Ślesicki)
The Long Goodbye (Aneil Karia and Riz Ahmed)
On My Mind (Martin Strange-Hansen and Kim Magnusson)
Please Hold (K.D. Dávila and Levin Menekse)

BEST FILM EDITING
Don’t Look Up (Hank Corwin)
Dune (Joe Walker)
King Richard (Pamela Martin)
The Power of the Dog (Peter Sciberras)
Tick, Tick … Boom! (Myron Kerstein and Andrew Weisblum)

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING
Coming 2 America (Mike Marino, Stacey Morris and Carla Farmer)
Cruella (Nadia Stacey, Naomi Donne and Julia Vernon)
Dune (Donald Mowat, Love Larson and Eva von Bahr)
The Eyes of Tammy Faye (Linda Dowds, Stephanie Ingram and Justin Raleigh)
House of Gucci (Göran Lundström, Anna Carin Lock and Frederic Aspiras)

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Encanto (Jared Bush, Byron Howard, Yvett Merino and Clark Spencer)
Flee (Jonas Poher Rasmussen, Monica Hellström, Signe Byrge Sørensen and Charlotte De La Gournerie)
Luca (Enrico Casarosa and Andrea Warren)
The Mitchells vs. the Machines (Mike Rianda, Phil Lord, Christopher Miller and Kurt Albrecht)
Raya and the Last Dragon (Don Hall, Carlos López Estrada, Osnat Shurer
and Peter Del Vecho)

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Ascension (Jessica Kingdon, Kira Simon-Kennedy and Nathan Truesdell)
Attica (Stanley Nelson and Traci A. Curry)
Flee (Jonas Poher Rasmussen, Monica Hellström, Signe Byrge Sorensen and Charlotte De La Gournerie)
Summer of Soul (Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, Joseph Patel, Robert Fyvolent and David Dinerstein)
Writing With Fire (Rintu Thomas and Sushmit Ghosh)

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT
Audible (Matt Ogens and Geoff McLean)
Lead Me Home (Pedro Kos and Jon Shenk)
The Queen of Basketball (Ben Proudfoot)
Three Songs for Benazir (Elizabeth Mirzaei and Gulistan Mirzaei)
When We Were Bullies (Jay Rosenblatt)

BEST ORIGINAL SONG
“Be Alive” — music and lyrics by DIXSON and Beyoncé Knowles-Carter (King Richard)
“Dos Oruguitas” — music and lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda (Encanto)
“Down to Joy” — music and lyrics by Van Morrison (Belfast)
“No Time to Die” — music and lyrics by Billie Eilish and Finneas O’Connell (No Time to Die)
“Somehow You Do” — music and lyrics by Diane Warren (Four Good Days)

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY
Dune (Greig Fraser)
Nightmare Alley (Dan Laustsen)
The Power of the Dog (Ari Wegner)
The Tragedy of Macbeth (Bruno Delbonnel)
West Side Story (Janusz Kaminski)

BEST INTERNATIONAL FEATURE
Drive My Car (Japan)
Flee (Denmark)
The Hand of God (Italy)
Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom (Bhutan)
The Worst Person in the World (Norway)

BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN
Dune (production design: Patrice Vermette; set decoration: Zsuzsanna Sipos)
Nightmare Alley (production design: Tamara Deverell; set decoration: Shane Vieau)
The Power of the Dog (production design: Grant Major; set decoration: Amber Richards)
The Tragedy of Macbeth (production design: Stefan Dechant; set decoration: Nancy Haigh)
West Side Story (production design: Adam Stockhausen; set decoration: Rena DeAngelo)

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS
Dune (Paul Lambert, Tristan Myles, Brian Connor and
Gerd Nefzer)

Free Guy
 (Swen Gillberg, Bryan Grill, Nikos Kalaitzidis and
Dan Sudick)
No Time to Die (Charlie Noble, Joel Green, Jonathan Fawkner and Chris Corbould)
Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (Christopher Townsend, Joe Farell, Sean Noel Walker and Dan Oliver)
Spider-Man: No Way Home (Kelly Port, Chris Waegner, Scott Edelstein and Dan Sudick)

Categories
Film

How This Year’s Oscar Nominees Revolve Around Subtlety

The Oscar nominees revealed just three weeks ago point in a direction where the Academy hasn’t really gone before. The films nominated aren’t necessarily box office darlings (not even Dune made it into the green stateside), nor are they franchises or revives (save for West Side Story). Rather, this year’s nominees revolve around subtlety to tell their stories, requiring viewers’ patience and their “dismissal” hat to be hung at the door. They aim to challenge the viewer, which is what any great film should do – test the boundaries of not only what you’re comfortable with, but also push the limits of your empathy. And perhaps this is why this year’s Oscar nominees are not necessarily quiet, but sensitive in their approach of telling their stories.

Let’s start with the first and biggest example: Drive My Car – Japan’s three-hour Oscar submission that’s an adaptation of Murakami whose opening credits don’t even appear until 50 minutes in – is this year’s Oscar favorite just behind The Power of the Dog. The film centers around a stage director (Hidetoshi Nishijima) who loses his wife and accuracy of vision and is forced to hire a driver (Tôko Miura) to transport him to and from rehearsal. At first tricked for self-importance, Drive My Car’s slow and quiet unraveling of its story of empathy thaws and rises to the surface during its lengthy run-time. Perhaps this is the function of the plot – it acts subtly and un-detectable, that its conflict only barely reveals itself. Their connection at first comes off stand-off-ish, but how the film employs the venue of a car for its subjects to be vulnerable with each other only aids the film’s empathy.

But the theme of empathy is not only a foreign affair: The Lost Daughter also maintains roots in its approach to intimate filmmaking. It’s another film whose conflict is not strictly overt, but requires patience and attention to figure out. It centers around a college professor (Olivia Colman) who’s apparently lost touch with her daughters and confronts her unsettling past when she encounters a new mother (Dakota Johnson) and her daughter. You assume her daughters are dead, or even worse, assume she’s at fault. But again, there’s only a very fine line of conflict in the film, most of which is worn and communicated via Colman’s performance. It is not one that is externalized, but internalized. The film’s story may as well have started before the beginning of the film, as that’s what’s implied: the thrusting of Colman’s character into a world she rejects is not necessarily shown, as the film forces the audience to be in Colman’s shoes in order to understand.

But perhaps the most likely film to win the top prize this year is The Power of the Dog, Jane Campion’s period piece western centering around a rugged cowboy (Benedict Cumberbatch) whose world is shaken up when his brother (Jesse Plemmons) brings home a new wife (Kirsten Dunst) and kid (Kodi Smit-Mcphee). The slow-burn conflict focuses on the empathy (or lack thereof) between Cumberbatch and Smit-McPhee. Clearly a homosexual, Smit-McPhee’s character serves to hit Cumberbatch’s vulnerable spots in the most cunning of ways, acting on his flaw of queer repression to change him over a period of time. He does so effectively, but again in such a minute way, externalized only through glances of the eyes and the softest of touches.

The inclusion of these films, and as frontrunners no less, seems to have Twitter scrambling to argue that the Academy is in fact “changing,” but maybe they’re rightfully so. Ever since 2017, the Academy has been inviting younger, more diverse members to join, and perhaps it’s only taken five years in order to see the result. The Academy has nominated “art” films before, but they’ve never been, for lack of better words, this quiet. Take a look back at the arthouse films nominated in the past twenty years. Crash was most definitely the surprise indie to win, but definitely wasn’t subtle in its message. Moonlight was definitely a step forward for the Academy, but that film was driven more by its externalization of empathy more so than subtlety. Roma was an exceptionally well-done film, but its ingenious indulgence of directorial choices and set pieces make it not very self-effacing.

 ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍ Drive My Car

This year’s Oscar nominees also fuel a fire to a debate that’s been resurfacing for a couple years – “why are movies so long nowadays?” With the inclusion of lengthy films such as Drive My Car (2 hours and 59 minutes), Nightmare Alley (2 hours and 30 minutes), and Licorice Pizza (2 hours and 13 minutes), the general public will likely begin to equate awards worthiness and critical acclaim with length. It’s almost as if a movie has to be long to get any awards recognition. But there are two sides to that argument.

The Academy tends to equate length with “seriousness,” indicating craft and skill. The shortest film to ever win best picture is Marty (1 hour and 31 minutes), but even that was an anomaly – it was a comedy, which tend to be shorter (and only four of which, arguably, have ever won best picture), with the average best picture nominee length from the past 20 years easily above the two-hour mark. But is that a necessary pre-requisite? Must a film be of a certain length to capture the attention of the academy?

The other side of the argument is that subtlety does often require patience, at least in terms of a feature length film. In order for a director to not be strictly overt and obvious in telling a story, the film almost needs to challenge the audience in that sense. It needs to bring about and require active viewership. Sure, it can be a film that actively tells you a story while the audience passively receives, but that’s exactly what it will be. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But a “smart” film, the kind that brings about a revelatory experience, requires an active audience. A film is more effective when both sides are actively participating, and the Oscar nominees this year embody that. It’s not to say so much that they are “long,” but they’re films of considerable length in order to accurately “challenge” an audience by asking for attentive viewership. One can argue that the Academy only nominates long films, but another can just as accurately say they nominate films that challenge us.

And when the length is rewarding, those are the ones that often stick with the viewer. The problem isn’t if a film is three hours. What matters is if it feels like three hours. If done effectively, if the writer has done their job, length is secondary. It’s when the narrative drifts out to sea that one starts to notice the length. Seven Samurai is three and a half hours long, but gets to and sticks with the conflict in the first minute.

But for all intents and purposes – yes, these movies are long. But they’re only long because they want to challenge you. It is the nature of filmmaking to actively challenge an audience, to force them outside of their comfort zone. It’s the sheer audacity to transcend what’s possible in film and push the limits of human empathy. Because subtlty drives this year’s Oscar nominees, then they just might be the next phase in film evolution to raise the art to a higher plane of existence.