Author: Alexander De Koning

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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.

Categories
Music

The Best Albums of 2021

2021 had no shortage of musical events – another Kanye/Drake face-off, a new Adele record, and an ABBA reunion to boot. We even saw the return of live music, something we seemed to lose sleep over if we’d never heard the likes of again. And like the film world, music is forever evolving, which the pandemic seems to have expedited. But the music of 2021 tended to focus on the small and intimate. There weren’t any grand gestures or complex concept albums (save for Donda), but a resounding sigh of relief that the music world is cobbling itself back together after being knocked down. Here are the best albums of 2021.

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10. GOJIRA – FORTITUDE

Perhaps the best and most “accessible” metal band working today, Gojira has been putting out solid records for the past two decades, finally achieving mainstream relevancy with Fortitude, their seventh studio album. It doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel – no math-metal breakdowns, odd time signatures, or noodling riffs that are tricked for self-importance. What we have here is straight-forward, undiluted metal, one not only for the mosh pits, but for the curious minded. Featuring perhaps the most anthemic metal chant to come out in the past 10 years, the more Fortitude is listened to, the more visceral it becomes.

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9. VIAGRA BOYS – WELFARE JAZZ

Sweden’s Viagra Boys spent the better part of the last two years making a name for themselves in the alternative punk world, and they seemed to have delivered: Welfare Jazz is an exploratory movement in art punk, mixed in with saxophone and synthesizers as components for improvisation. In fact, if their chord structures were just a little more complex, some of these songs could be mistaken for jazz. Despite having their guitarist Benjamin Vallé pass away this year, they’ve managed to trudge on with their best record yet while refusing to repeat themselves.

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8. IDLES – CRAWLER

On Crawler, IDLES take a note from Pantera’s Far Beyond Driven, or even something to the effect of Code Orange. It’s a more inverted punk approach as opposed to what we’re used to hearing from the Bristol band: half-time jams, off-beat rhythms, and counter intuitive structures. It’s a band testing the limits of what they’re capable of, subverting expectations of what punk can sound like.

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7. PARQUET COURTS – SYMPATHY FOR LIFE

Cutting in with the best dance/art punk of the year is Denton, Texas’ Parquet Courts. The Brooklyn-based band has been kicking around the festival and public radio circuits for years now, but it wasn’t until Sympathy for Life where they achieved real mainstream attention, gaining praise from Iggy Pop and Mark Reilly along the way. It’s also an evolution in their sound. In Sympathy for Life, they’re not afraid to slow things down and try different musical palettes their fans aren’t accustomed to. Taking notes from Franz Ferdinand and Talking Heads, if I had to point to one bad that’s pushing dance rock to its fullest, its Parquet Courts.

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6. ARLO PARKS – COLLAPSED IN SUNBEAMS

This year’s Mercury Prize winner ultimately became the self-help guide to 2021. Listening to these songs as a whole collection sounds as if they are working in service for someone else. Who could she be singing to? A friend? A foe? A heartbroken lover? Collapsed in Sunbeams actually feels like sunshine – light, clean electric guitars, E-piano hooks, gentle delivery of lyrics that don’t speak in the definitive – it’s an SSRI of an album if there ever was one, or like Vitamin D that soaks beneath your veins.

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5. LITTLE SIMZ – SOMETIMES I MIGHT BE INTROVERT

It’s true that we all live two lives: the one we choose to share with other people, and the one in our heads. Introvert straddles these two points of perception: the interior and subjective is characterized by pleasing, joyous orchestral pieces, and the objective with the gritty grime setting of South London. And sometimes the two meet in the middle, albeit rarely. But it’s a special occasion that occurs – proof that there is a way to bring your true thoughts out. London rapper Little Simz does this with delicate detail, where daydream-like instrumentals come into contact with the grit of living in South London. But the interiority is a stark magnifying glass: we spend our lives inside ourselves so much that it’s true when people say “we are born alone and we die alone, everyone else is just a bonus.”

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4. LOW – HEY WHAT

Low’s electronic a cappella reaches new depths with Hey What. It’s an album that doesn’t sound like an “album” in conventional terms. It’s more as if they start and stop whenever they please. The songs play like comets coming in and out of our orbit, and with a set piece like “Days Like These,” the harmonized vocals continually become more distorted, as if they’re a distress signal drifting farther and farther away. It’s a haunting record, no doubt, but one that shows proof of musical evolution by transmitting emotion through electronics.

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3. AROOJ AFTAB – VULTURE PRINCE

Sometimes a song’s emotional emphasis lies in between the notes. Saudi-born, Booklyn-based Pakistani artist and Berklee College of Music professor Arooj Aftab has spent enough time teaching that she’s been able to carve out her own space in music theory. And thanks to a shoutout from Barrack Obama, she’s now becoming a part of everyday music lingo with a grammy nomination to boot. Perhaps the most transcendental album of the year, Vulture Prince leaves you in a meditation accompanied by sounds that don’t really belong on this earth, acting on a near-unconscious level.

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2. DRY CLEANING – NEW LONG LEG

On paper, Dry Cleaning shouldn’t work. A girl rambling on about the mundanities of life as if they were coming from her own consciousness? I don’t think so. But it works. There are no frills to New Long Leg, only that it’s a proper step toward a new type of rock music. Sure, it’s been done before: the rambling stream of consciousness, the post-punk instrumentation, the bass taking over as the lead instrument… they’re elements that have been recycled. But Dry Cleaning assigns their own definitions. They claim a space that’s theirs. They’re called “Dry Cleaning” for a reason: you get your attire back but in a new and improved way.

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1. JAPANESE BREAKFAST – JUBILEE

Following up her 2017 album Soft Sounds From Another Planet, Michelle Zauner seems to have taken it up a notch. I couldn’t really tell you what Jubilee is about, but more so of what it feels like: a shot for cathartic release. Soft vintage synths (an evolution from the plug-ins used previously) give way to flying horns, as if they’re waves washing ashore causing one to deep dive into anxious self-reflection. This album’s about desperately wanting to be happy, and the neurotic state that comes with questioning if you are so. But what is happiness? It’s just a moment before you want more happiness. We all wish it could be this prolonged feeling, but it’s good to confront that thought from time to time. That’s what Jubilee feels like. And by the end of it, you’ll swear you felt something intangible.

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Categories
Film

The Best Films of 2021

The last pandemic cinema had to face was the Spanish Flu which lasted from 1918 to 1920. The film industry was not what it is today, and 100 years later, it faces the same threat. But cinema has forever existed in a state of flux – the art of telling stories will never go away. And after a blistering 2020, 2021 had to once again reintroduce audiences to theaters. From Sundance to Cannes, and Zola to No Way Home, this year delivered films from PTA, Del Toro, Campion, Ducournau, Villeneuve, Baker, Coen, Wright, Anderson, Mills, Trier, Sciama, Scott, Wachowski, Lord & Miller, Spielberg, Verhoeven, Schrader, Hayes, Wheatley, Larraín, Weerasethakul, and Hamaguchi. So as we say every year: if you didn’t think it was a good year for films, than you didn’t see enough. Here are the best films of 2021.

10. LICORICE PIZZA

Occurring chronologically sometime between Inherent Vice and Boogie Nights, Licorice Pizza returns Paul Thomas Anderson to the San Fernando Valley in the middle of the oil crisis and a mayoral election. Once again assuming the role as cinematographer, Anderson captures the back-lit, sun-drenched aura of ‘70s Southern California as a backdrop to a relationship between a 15 year-old child actor and a 25 year-old career-less girl. The film’s sporadic set pieces stack on top of one another making for one of the year’s more memorable moviegoing experiences and ended up packing select theaters when they needed it most.

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9. SPENCER

A biopic on Princess Diana has been coming for some time now, and Pablo Lorrain’s portrait satisfied expectations. Focusing on Diana Spencer (Kristen Stewart) attending a family gathering following her husband’s tabloid-affair scandal, Spencer spends half the film in Diana’s face to portray the public’s suffocating view of her, and Lorrain treats her unraveling delicately. Featuring perhaps the best of Jonny Greenwood’s three (!!!) scores this year, Spencer not only subverts biopic expectations, but uses the empty purpose of the royal family as a vessel to do so.

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8. CODA

The most heartfelt and tear-jerkiest film this year, the Sundance-winning Coda is just as emotionally fulfilling as it sounds: the only hearing child of a deaf family decides to pursue a career in singing at her family’s consequence. Featuring killer performances from Emilia Jones and Troy Kotsur, the film’s simple elements function so well that it feels like a whole greater than the sum of its parts, and gives a whole new definition to how “the silence can be deafening.” The protagonist’s story at first seems like its doomed for failure, but the resolve is anything but. We haven’t seen a Sundance winner this fulfilling since Whiplash.

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7. RED ROCKET

Where has Simon Rex been the last 18 years? Known primarily (at least until now) for his role as Uncle George in Scary Movie 3, Simon Rex has somehow managed to come out of the shadows to actually be a serious awards contender. Sean Baker’s latest is a portrait of middle America circa 2017, centered on a male porn star who comes home to Texas City, Texas in order to make a decent living, spurring any lies and embellishments to make him appear as “successful Hollywood.” With a loose spine to it, Red Rocket could certainly be “better” in terms of being a homogenic whole, but we wouldn’t love it as much even if it was so. Upon first viewing, Red Rocket may not amount to much, but you’ll think about how much you laughed and enjoyed yourself that you’ll feel compelled to return.

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6. MEMORIA

More meditative than narrative, Memoria does not work on a conscious level, but an unconscious one. The sound plays a character, even going so far as to create a symphonic piece comprised of car alarms. Tilda Swinton anchors this film as a supposed widow haunted by a deep, low, “booming” noise to which she can’t find the source of. I remember seeing several audience members doze off during the film (me included.) But, I feel if I told that to Apichatpong Weerasethakul, he wouldn’t be mad.

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5. TITANE

This year’s Palme d’or winner proved to be the wild ride it was hyped up to be. Julia Ducournau’s body horror thriller has little to no dull time (despite its stakes being more grounded in its second half than the first). Regardless, its assault on masculinity is one to be studied, because of how unapologetic its tone is. And boy is it a fun ride. Despite what one thinks it may “mean,” it brought back the insanely fun time we haven’t seen in a theater since, well, perhaps Good Time. But I hate to make comparisons, because Titane’s cinematic signature is one that stands on its own.

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4. PIG

Knocking Babette’s Feast off the top of the list as the ultimate movie about food, Pig doesn’t sound as appealing on paper: a perfectly casted Nic Cage as a truffle hunter going after his stolen pig. But that’s merely the surface of it. Because beneath it is a fascinating commentary on class and how we ultimately find and consume our food. The film effectively peels back its layers to reveal its bigger picture, going to show that, at the end of the day, we’re all eating the same food, but it’s how we consume it that separates us all.

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3. DRIVE MY CAR

There’s something intimate about a car ride with another person. We do it all the time, but we overlook how vulnerable we often become with one another. Perhaps the film with the longest prologue this year (the opening credits come in around the 50 minute mark), Drive My Car is all about internalization. A man finds his wife having an affair, but decides to do nothing about it. She then unexpectedly passes away, with his only solace being driving his car while rehearsing lines for a stage play he is directing. However, he develops an eye issue, forced to hire a driver. The conflict that’s been internalized is then forced to be externalized, and the silence and length that are at first tricked for self-importance, then becomes necessity, as Yusuke (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and Misaki (Toko Miura) find common ground in suppressing emotions. The ice is thawed, and these emotions are then relinquished on stage. It often feels you have no way to let go of these bottled feelings, until there’s a proper way for you to access them, like the intimacy of a compact vehicle.

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2. THE WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD

If you’ve struggled with regret for years, if you’ve constantly beat yourself up from something long ago, if you can’t seem to forgive yourself, then this film will empathize with you. The title says it all. It’s the feeling you have when you feel you’ve done something irreversible but had no choice, that feeling you get when it hurts you to hurt someone else. Many love stories are about the person who’s heartbroken, but this film is for the ones who had no choice but to walk away.

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1. A HERO

A Hero takes on the notion of preconceived identity. On parole from being jailed due to debt, Rahim (Amir Jadidi) embellishes a story about him returning a bag of gold coins to its rightful owner, which then snowballs. Stakes. Jeopardy. Tension. It’s all there. What follows is a spiraling, crippling doubt if a felon can redeem himself by doing a good deed, ending with a resounding sentiment: a good deed isn’t a badge of honor.

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Music

Meet Duster Lizzie: NorCal’s Hidden Gem

Eddie Hernandez, aka Duster Lizzie, has been gigging around Los Angeles and greater California for some time now. Having relocated to Camp Meeker, CA, he’s been solidifying his sound drawing inspiration from the nature and intimacy of Northern California, adding onto his already psychedelic, signature lo-fi vibe. He’s recently taken on a heavier electronic approach with his latest album, Spiritual Sequel, now available to stream, buy, and download on all streaming services. Check out the video for “Joke’s On You” below.