The Buzz: Coaches, Kings, Lost Boys and Wanderers {MotH Original}

{Originally published in Man of the Hour Magazine on December 14th, 2014}

Well, friends, we’ve got less than a month left until the bitter end, in more ways than one. Not only does this divide, chaotic year called 2014 come to an end, but so does my time here at the publication. Just two more Buzz columns, then a final countdown, and its fare thee well, oh my honey, fare thee well. So we’re gonna round out this run with some top of the line stuff, taking a look at one of the year’s best films (and also the year’s 3rd Biblical film misfire). We’ll take a look at NBC’s second live musical, talk about the fate of Star Trek and have a short film take us into the future. Sam... I'm glad you're with me, cause it’s time for this week’s Buzz.

Movies: It makes sense that the man who made Moneyball and Capote would combine both sports and murder to give us not only the best work of his career, but the best work from each of its three main actors.Foxcatcher is a haunting meditation on fame, the lust for glory and the crushing quest for respect in the eyes of others. The true story of John Du Pont’s obsession with wrestling and the two young men caught in his web of wealthy madness, the film lets story take a back seat to somber character study, allowing the viewer to uncomfortably drift and stew in the dark, dank world of the Foxcatcher Estates, the sprawling Xanadu-esque property of the Du Pont family, including John and his cold, bitter mother, on whom he depends for affection and approval so greatly as to almost be the dark mirror image of Buster Bluth.

Haunting, stoic and almost inhuman, Steve Carrell’s performance as Du Pont is one for the ages, leaving the viewer unsettled for hours after the credits role, and his interplay with Channing Tatum as an Olympian living both in squalor and in the shadow of his well-adjusted brother is more spine-chillingly disquieting than any comic book villain brought to the screen. Its grim, midnight blue visual tone and simplistic cinematography help craft this almost Lovecraftian environ into which Ruffalo’s character is unwillingly dragged by his brother at the behest of the egomaniacal Du Pont, and its Ruffalo’s ever-charming demeanor that feels so incongruous with all the rest of Du Pont’s world that a sense of dread lingers like thick smoke in the air of the movie house, circling like vultures waiting for the brilliantly anti-climactic climax, the undignified final act of the mad king of the chemical empire that you anticipate from the first frame of the film (its a fairly well-known true story, after all) and yet still cringe when it occurs and hope perhaps that a miracle may occur. Its stirring, disturbing, and perfectly played, a masterwork of stagnant dread and mingling egos, forever entangled in that bastion of masculine identity known as sport.

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Here’s a statement that can’t in any way piss anyone off: Exodus is easily the best book of the Old Testament. The story of Moses, one of the oldest in history, has been adapted countless times (and been good about twice). Now, Ridley Scott, whose last good movie seems like it came out around the time of Moses, has decided to tackle the tale of the Jews escaping Egypt. After a sub-par Son of God (the movie, not the Christian religious figure) and an abysmal Noah, this miscast misfire feels all the more irritating in its self-importance. Better just stick to The Ten Commandments.

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TV: Well, we all tuned in for a disaster and were treated with…a pleasant if mildly cloying piece of unironic, unabashed wholesomeness? What is this, NBC? We all gathered around the TV, the good ol’ fashioned husband, wife and 2.5 kids to cynically tweet our hatred for anything sweet and sincere. We are all bound and determined to destroy all the gentle with snide, post-modern Letterman-esque sneers and jeers, and you give us this? A singing, dancing gleeful affair, a cast out countless cheeks bereft of tongues placed in them? Well, what are we supposed to do? Have fun? Have non-self-concious, unironic fun? Why, no one has done that since the olden times, in those pre-painfully-hip days of yore. While Christopher Walken did his best to SNL it up with staggered delivery and missed cues, Peter Pan Live proved un-hate-watchable, and indeed simply…watchable. Even mildly enjoyable. Perfect? Far from it, but while its still not safe to admit you enjoyed it on social media, for fear the mustached, 7th year towards a Bachelors in Theatre or Philosophy coffee shop hipsters will tear you down, anyone who ever wanted to have unabashed fun on TV can hit up their DVRs for this strangely entertaining program.

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News: Bad news for fans of the rebooted Star Trek, but good news for fans of actual Star Trek, came this week when it was announced that the writer of the 2009 Star Trek, and the follow-up Star Trek: Into Darknesswould not be directing the third installment as originally intended. Of course, ST:ID met with mixed reception and even more furious fan opinions, but just remember that  according to Orci himself via Twitter, Star Trek: Into Darkness “…has infinetly more social commentary than Raiders in every Universe, and I say that with Harrison Ford being a friend.”

While Star Trek Next Generation alum Jonathan Frakes is now vying for the coveted position of trying to make the Skyfall to the Quantum of Solace that was Into Darkness, the former director, and author of prestigious films like Cowboys vs. Aliens, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 and Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen will likely continue to exclaim his theories that 9/11 was an inside job (and that those who don’t believe him are “coincidence theorists” like the class act gentleman that he is.

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Short Film: With the gloriously optimistic voice of astrophysical icon Carl Sagan, Waderers is a visually stunning look at the new frontiers envisioned by the hopeful when Kennedy first spoke of space travel, and when Kirk and co. took us there in the Enterprise. These childlike chimera, these far star-gazing fata morgana skate across the screen in Wanderers to entice the viewer to once again long for what, as many scientist posit, is an inevitable fate of mankind if we wish to survive beyond the lifespan of our drifting cosmic rock. If Interstellar made you long for more visions of the cosmic unknown, Wanderers should tide you over until such time as humanity realizes the importance of observing the great vastness of space.

The Buzz: Nixon's Theory of Playground Independence {MotH Original}

{Originally published in Man of the Hour Magazine on December 8th, 2014}

Well folks, turkey day and Black Friday held us up a bit, but the Buzz is back and refreshed from the break. What better way to celebrate this black friday week than a film about black holes? We also take a look at a new Youtube series about our nation’s strangest president, examine the Independent Spirit nominees, and review a new short film. So punch another notch in your belt after leftovers so you can strap in to this week’s buzz.

Movies: There’s been a lot of talk about who will take home the Best Actor trophy this year. That talk ends the minute The Theory of Everything begins to spin in its (sadly digital) projector. This exceptional biopic following the courtship and struggles of Stephen and Jane Hawking from their first meeting through his struggles with ALS and their inevitable divorce, Eddie Redmayne gives the kind of powerhouse performance seen but once in a decade or so. The film itself is delicately handled, taking a subject that could have easily been the Oscar bait its trailer-only viewing critics deride it as, and instead handling it with both passion and compassion, every shot and scene crafted with care to make the best film they can rather than simply try and take home gold (I described it to a friend as A Beautiful Mind that tried to be a memorable movie). It’s one of the must-sees of the awards season, and a powerful piece of work.

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Want something a more upbeat? Well, the last guy to play Stephen Hawking, Benedict Cumberbatch, is back on the big screen twice this year. And while the kids certainly own’t go crazy for his drama The Imitation Game, they’ll likely love the colorful adventures of the memorable mob of monochrome critters who delighted us in the otherwise average Madagascar films. The penguins are back, plotting another…something. It’s not overly clear, but the fact is everyone loves watching animals do people things, and its hard to be hard on a film where Benedict Cumberbatch plays a cartoon wolf surrounded by penguins (an animal he evidently can’t say the name of).

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TV: As the intro to this surprisingly brilliant Youtube original miniseries explains, Richard Nixon, in some fit of delusion or paranoia, requested that his office and phones be wired to record his every interaction. Of course, those records, and the attempts to destroy them, are what lead to Nixon’s downfall during the tumultuous Watergate scandal. Now, some 40 years later, the transcripts of those tapes are being mined for comedy gold as Simpsons’ alum Harry Shearer takes on the mysterious and complex former leader of the free world, reenacting the actual conversations from the tapes. Without changing a word, Shearer and co. manage to heighten the awkwardness and thereby the hilarity of these absurd, almost unbelievable conversations which took place behind the closed doors of the Oval Office, and depict a strange, unsettling man who one sat within it.

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News: This week saw the announcement of the Independent Spirit Awards, an awards show meaning to honor the best of independent films, whilst shunning those major studio pictures with the glitz, glamour, and massive amounts of money (even though that line betwixt is continually getting blurred). One of the earliest awards shows to announce their nominees, they’re also one of the latest to air, giving their statues just a day before the Academy gives out the Oscar, and these days, its to the same people. Last year, 12 Years a Slavetook home both awards shows’ Best Picture trophies, as did The Artist in 2011. Of course, the year in between saw the Oscar go to Warner Bros. Argo, while the Indie Sprit went to “is it really an indie if its chock full of major stars and has an A-list director” film Silver Linings Playbook, whose lead actress Jennifer Lawrence took home Best Actress at both awards shows that year.

This year sees five films duking it out for Best Picture at the Independent Sprit Awards, even though its not so much a battle royale as a David v. Goliath with three guys on the side hoping to get a swing in. Critical darling and gargantuan cinematic achievement Boyhood is poised to snatch up the prize (as it seems poised to do even on Oscar night), while Birdman, with a win at (ironically) the Gotham film awards as the dark horse in the race. Rounding out the list of hopefuls are the romantic dramedy Love Is Strange, the race relations period piece Selma and the Sundance winner Whiplash.

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Short Film: A near silent film, Playground proves itself to be the type of film that can truly be whatever the viewer chooses to read it as. Whether its just a sweet and stellarly animated distraction, a story of how creativity and competition can forge friendships through childish play, or a parable about global conflict and escalation, Playground is the kind of near abstract imagery that sparks the imagination and fuels debate.

Headphones: Run Them Jewels Fast and Memrise

{Originally published in Man of the Hour Magazine on December 5th, 2014}

Hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving, ‘cause we here at Headphones are about to give you some more to be thankful for. We take a look at the most intense (and possibly best) album to drop this year, a new single from the new crowned prince of R&B, plus music videos of, well, varying degrees of quality. But let’s focus on the good here, fire up the iTunes and get ready to get your hands on the newest Headphones.

Album: Run The Jewels 2 by Run The Jewels

Routine readers of Man of the Hour may remember our coverage of New York Comic Con earlier this year, when Adult Swim invited our reporter onto a cruise which features entertainment from rap duo Run The Jewels, comprised of New York rapper El-P and Atlanta fishing expert and all around life guru Killer Mike. Recently, the team dropped their newest album, Run The Jewels 2, and didn’t charge fans to download this pack of killer tracks, before embarking on a tour to promote the record. Of course, a lot of attention was drawn to the team when Killer Mike gave an impassioned, off the cuff and fierce but measured response to the grand jury verdict in Ferguson, which hopefully more people might turn on to the best rap album since Kendrick finished up good kid in a M.A.A.D. city. Kicking off with a viciously spit intro by Killer Mike, the album launches into “Jeopardy”, an insanely, darkly intense opener where El-P’s angry white-boy bitterness truly shines. “Oh My Darling Don’t Cry”, a track we embedded from the Adult Swim cruise into our NYCC article (and whose stellar video we highlight below) whose crazy, hallucinogenic energy can’t be captured fully on record, no matter how hard they try, and the track benefits from a live performance (where El-P lets loose with full ferocity). “Blockbuster Night Part 1” charges in with a driving, angry beat that the countless garage-dwelling suburban “rappers” with ICP posters and lamentations of their middle class miseries wish they could handle, and El and Mike lyrically dances across it with grace.

“Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck)” heralds the return of the ever-intense political rap icon Zack De La Rocha, whose been sorely missed since Rage Against the Machine went MIA, and its good to see the man can still spit fire with the same fury as he did on “Killing In The Name” (now get back on the road with Morello, damn it, at least so he’ll quit making his own terrible protest songs). “All My Life” has some of the most interesting production on the record, and truly showcases Killer Mike’s brilliant flow. “Early” tells the harrowing story of Killer Mike’s arrest in front of his wife and kids, told from a first person view both defiant and repentant, and lead into “All Due Respect”, which sees Mike spitting even more fire on a fairly stripped down track compared to the rest of the album’s colossal beats. “Love Again”’s leisurely, funk-tinged beat create such a chill atmosphere you almost don’t notice you’re mellowing out to a song with a chorus of “dick in the mouth all day”, and special guest Gangsta Boo manages to balance out the fellatio-centric narrative. “Crown” functions as sort of a companion piece to “Early”s regretful reminiscence, packed with even more confessional, spiritual apology as Mike recounts in an Augustinian honesty his regret for the damage his drug dealing had done in a beautiful, near poetic lyrical flow. Then the album recharges with a new burst of furious energy and bitter angst in its closer, “Angel Duster”. Admittedly, the one weak track on the album is “Lie, Cheat, Steal” whose production is the only one that sounds close enough to what others have done to be reminiscent of those post-retirement Jay-Z albums we all bought but never really listen to. Even so, that doesn’t render the track insufferable but rather unmemorable, which is fine when sandwiched in between ten of the most exciting and inventive hip-hop tracks of the year. Run The Jewels 2 is hands down the best straightforward rap album of the year (at least if we count Broke With Expensive Taste as R&B, otherwise there’s some competition) and easily vies for the top spot overall.

Single: “Memrise- Frank Ocean

Ever since Channel Orange exploded onto the scene with its early-Stevie-esque tones and brutally honest confessional lyrics (and was robbed of a Grammy by some English folk fellows), everyone waited eagerly for the next track from the outlying Odd Future member and new king of R&B. Turns out it was well worth the wait, as “Memrise” showcases Frank’s smooth vocals twanged with a new influence, sounding less likeSongs in the Key of Life and more Sign ‘O’ The Times, which is alright by us. It’s a brief track, but a brilliant taste of what’s to come. We eagerly anticipate the rest.

Music Video:

Electronic: “Love Again ft. Ali Tamposi”- Cedric Gervais

Routine readers now this writer loves him some black and white, and this video’s brilliant utilization of the contrasting tones makes it the most fun monochrome music video to view in quite some time.

Hip-Hop: “Oh My Darling (Don’t Cry)”- Run The Jewels

It seems a sin to use the cliche of calling a video “triply”, but that seems the only adequate adjective to describe this enthralling clip that plays like a James Bond credits sequence filtered through the lens of Spring Breakers.

Pop: “You Suck”- Abigail Breslin

Frequent Redditors will note that child actress and Oscar nominee Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine) recently took to an AMA seemingly spontaneously, but allusions were made to an album she was working on. Of course, the music “careers” of young Jamie Lynn-Sigler and Alyssa Milano jumped to mind, and we braced ourselves for the worst (the latter of whom, of course, went “Straight To The Top”. Well, we got it. Admittedly, we feel slightly guilty making our pick of the week such god awful pop dreck, but we’ve spent so much time singing the praises of Taylor Swift, we felt we needed to showcase why. Teen girl pop music so frequently falls into the category of whiny and cloying, made manifest in this one attempt at singing stardom, that for it to be done right, to be conveyed in such an infectiously catchy and emotionally honest fashion is all the more impressive. This is not to suggest actors shouldn’t try their hand at music. After all, Who can forget “Reach”, the music video starring Katherine Bigelow and directed by James Cameron for Bill Paxton’s band Martini Ranch, or…you know, about halfway through that sentence, we changed our minds. 

R&B: “Chasing Time”- Azealia Banks

Our last column had nothing but good things to say about Azealia’s debut album, and witnessing her video which pays tribute to so many before her, some with a glorious tongue pressed firmly in cheek, we’re settled now on the fact that Azealia Banks is just perfect.

Rock: “When Are We Waking Up?”- Mallory Knox

Even though this writer personally has a love-hate relationship with the band Mallory Knox (on the one hand, their music is bland, on the other hand they took their name from Natural Born Killers which deserves all the credit in the world), it can’t be denied the post-apocalyptic landscape, its rich visuals and stellar cinematography are a joy to watch.

Literature For Life: Memoirs {MotH Original}

{Originally appeared in Man of the Hour Magazine on November 26, 2014}

From our earliest recorded works, mankind has shown a fascination with the lives of others. A craving to know the stories of those who came before and those of our own time whom we revere, whether it be the objective chronicling of Herodotus or the fictionalized, fantastic tales of Achean heroes by Homer. Yet strangely, within the broad pantheon of chronicles, there is a small corner, off to the side and at times disregarded, in a strange predicament where we give far more regard to biographical works written by just about anyone who should like to than we do the person who had actually lived the life itself. Admittedly, autobiographies and memoirs are indeed the most subjective of any attempt to capture an individuals life in words, but they also have the most unique and fully informed vantage point, which gives them a fascinating perspective often under-appreciated.

It boggles the mind how few memoirs are regarded with as high esteem as works of fiction, particularly when roman a clef works like The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, The Bell Jar and On The Road are so constantly apotheosized and picked apart by scholars desperate to be literary archeologists excavating from within the texts flakes of the autobiographical (indeed, it would be interesting to see how many frustrated academics have postured and postulated upon the autobiographical elements of Huckleberry Finn within the past two years and how many have paid any mind to the actual recently published Autobiography of Mark Twain). Yet, when properly composed, the memoir/autobiography can be the most exciting and enlightening of its ilk, be it the divine Confessions of St. Augustine to the remarkably honest Autobiography of Malcolm X(highlighted in last month’s column). We won’t go so far as to suggest the four recently published celebrity memoirs achieve what the above mentioned have. Indeed, these celebrity books may not even stand the test of time, as certainly none contain anything so scandalous as to cause an uproar as some other works have this year. Yet, indeed, that’s their charm. In this stressful holiday season, no one really has time for a full reread of the works of Ernest Hemingway or Rememberance of Things Past. Instead, settle in for a simple read, a self-compiled chronicle of honesty and wit that may serve as the first wade into the water of your return to (or first journey into) the genre of the memoir.

41: A Portrait of My Father by George W. Bush Though not a memoir in the strictest sense, the perspective is hard to ignore in the former 43rd president’s account of the life of his father, the former 41st.

Yes Please by Amy Poehler The comedian and Parks & Recreation star has followed in the footsteps of her best friend and Bossypants author Tina Fey by compiling this equally funny collection of essays and anecdotes.

 

The Andy Cohen Diaries: A Deep Look At A Shallow Year by Andy Cohen Andy Cohen is the hyper, spritely embodiment of everyone’s one friend who indulges in and embraces trashy television, trashy culture and trashy people. If John Waters had a talk show and a bit less of an obsession with the scatalogical, it would look a great deal like Watch What Happens Live, and now its host has chosen to put to paper what you didn’t see on screen.

You Can’t Make This Up: Miracles, Memories, and the Perfect Marriage of Sports and Television by Al Michaels There’s no denying it, Al Michaels is a legend in the broadcast world. Whether you remember his voice from Monday Night Football, the literally earth-shaking 1989 World Series or asking if you believed in miracles, you know the man has countless stories to tell from inside some of the greatest moments in sports, and now he finally tells them.

The Buzz: I just want to say one word to you. Just one word. Are you listening? Birdman {MotH Original}

{Originally appeared in Man of the Hour Magazine on November 22, 2014}

Well, things are winding up as we get closer to Oscar season. Films like Foxcatcher, Imitation Game, andThe Theory of Everything (all strong contenders for the Best Actor awards) are on the horizon, so let’s kick this column off by examining what’s essentially the only lock in the category, a career-ecompassing piece of brilliance from Michael Keaton. From an Oscar hopeful we take a look at an Oscar winner hoping to sustain their charmingly brief narrative in feature length, NBC’s newest attempt to capture a cultural zeitgeist, a short documentary that attempts to paint the term “gentrification” in a positive light, and we mourn the terrible loss of an under appreciated legend.

Movies: Michael Keaton delivers a transcendent performance in this Oscar worthy trip down the rabbit hole as Regan Thomson, former star of the Birdman superhero franchise, tries to launch a Broadway production of Raymond Carver’s What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. Hiring his recovering addict daughter (Emma Stone) to handle gopher tasks to try and keep her on the right track as his own life spirals out of control, Keaton begins to halucinate, convinced his psychic powers have injured his castmate, forcing them to recast a prime role with Edward Norton’s Mike Shiner, a pompous stage actor (reportedly based on Phillip Seymour Hoffman) whose erratic behavior and backstage antics cause even more stress for Thompson and his stage manager Jake (Zach Galifinakis). Each performer within this inventive piece of cinema deserves Oscar recognition, as does its stellar cinematography (much like Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, the film flows as one singular shot, and its a marvel to behold). It captures the spirit of live theatre with a maddening authenticity, which both draws in those who understands the allure of “the boards” and very likely will alienate those who don’t. Its a strange, divisive film, but its one hell of a ride to take, so those willing to try something new would do well to give the film a chance.

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Two years ago, the 85th Academy Awards presented the Oscar for Best Live Action Short to writer/director Shawn Christensen’s Brooklyn-set drama Curfew (though many felt it should have gone to the German steampunk flick Dood Van Een Schaduw instead). The film was charming and hip diversion about a hopeless man and his inspiring niece, and evidently the success of the short brought Christensen to the conclusion he could “Sling Blade” his successful short into an equally successful feature. However, the endearing nature of the story’s brevity apparently doesn’t translate to a 90 minute run time, taking on a tone of morose and cloying sentimentality and cliches, as Before I Disappear stumbles into cinemas. Skip the full film, and instead seek out the short, and indeed, you’ll see both why people fell so in love with the original, and why it couldn’t work in a feature length format.

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TV: It was late in the season to launch a new drama, but after one episode, its not hard to see why NBC pushed State of Affairs to such a late in the game release. Simply put: the show so tonally inconsistent, narratively over-complicated and stylistically bland. The only thing that comes out clear is the echo of some NBC exec 3 years ago saying “Get us a Homeland!” before that show itself imploded. Here we’re treated to an insufferable Katherine Heigel as CIA operative/Carrie Mathison knock off as she talks to a therapist, has supposedly funny banter with her co-workers and has casual sex (you know, because she’s messed up. Cause when Barney Stinson does it, its because he’s happy, but women, naturally never wanting sex, would only do so if she’s suffering on the inside) because her boyfriend died in Iraq, which she saw because they were on a mission together because that’s…how it works apparently? From the introductory flashbacks of tedium, the pilot drags on insufferably until the show collapses into its own self-importance and implodes like the failed knock-off it is, hopefully to be axed before the season ends, sparing us worse version of an already awful show.

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News: Born Mikhail Igor Peschkowsky in Berlin on November 6th, 1931, a young boy came to America with dreams to entertain. In time, he would help found the Second City in Chicago with Elaine May, whom he met at the University of Chicago. Together, he and May would record a comedy album which won them a Grammy in 1962 for Best Comedy Album, beating out the revered Jonathan Winters. From there, he would take to directing for the stage, winning two Tony Awards for direction (1964’s Barefoot in the Park and 1965’sLuv and The Odd Couple) before being invited to direct the cinematic adaptation of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. And while that film would show the promise of a burgeoning young director, his next would be his masterwork. Though he’d go on to make beloved films like Working Girl, The Birdcage and Silkwood, in only his second time behind the camera, he’d redefine cinema with the landmark, groundbreaking masterpieceThe Graduate, which came to define a decade, a point in human life, and for some the art form of cinema itself. That film would earn him an Oscar, a BAFTA and a Golden Globe. Though the film would lose Best Picture that year, and he never again took the Oscar stage, he took to so many more, winning 3 Drama Desk awards, 4 Emmys, 2 of which were for the HBO adaptation of Tony Kushner’s moving Angels in America, a Film Society of Lincoln Center Gala tribute in 1999, A Kennedy Center Honors in 2003, an American Film Institute Lifetime Achievement Award in 2010, and another 6 Tony Awards, his final being in 2012 for an astoundingly haunting revival of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman in his final stage role.

He would marry Patricia Scott in 1957, but they would divorce in 1960. Three years later he would try again with Margo Callas in a marriage that would survive eleven years and see the birth of his daughter Daisy. After another failed marriage which produced his children Max and Jenny, he would finally settle down with news anchor Diane Sawyer in 1988. Finally, in his apartment in Manhattan on November 19th, 2014, he would suffer a heart attack and die, and be mourned the world over by lovers of every medium his brilliant mind ever touched. Mourned, not as Mikhail Igor Peschkowsky, the little boy from Berlin, but as Mike Nichols, the man for whom “jack of all trades” is an unfit title, as it implies he is also a “master of none”, a fact every glittering trophy that likely adorned the mantle of that Manhattan apartment rightfully defied. Soon, the lights of Broadway shall dim in his honor, and no matter how brightly they shine again a moment later, those sacred stages, much like the silver screen, will forever feel a little dimmer now. Here’s to you, Mr. Nichols. Here’s to you.

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Short Film: Gentrification (Without The Negative) in Columbus, OH is the kind of film its tough to form an objective opinion on beyond “There’s nothing there”. The film has so little substance beyond talking heads explaining the basic idea of “moving into an abandoned neighborhood” that its bereft of any depth, and indeed any true purpose beyond the surface. Of course, that surface itself can be pretty grating as, without any real story to tell that couldn’t be told in one sentence of a news article, we the viewer endure several artists going on and on about the important thing they’re doing because look how cool and innovative they are, etc. Perhaps some viewers can find the short inspiring, but not nearly as much as the speakers within the short wish you to find it, leaving most of us clicking to another browser window amidst what unfortunately feels like douchey, middle-class self-aggrandizing suburbanites.