6 Must-See Films:
1. Hansel and Gretel
2. Still Life
3. The Neighbor
4. DPA and OBI
5. Procession of Time
6. Pictures of You
6 You Can Skip:
1. Carousel
2. Harvest
3. Loaded
4. Collision
5. The Predator’s Prey
6. Loves Ugly Face
Best Film (Overall): Hansel and Gretel
Best Film (Thesis): The Neighbor
Best Film (Production Lab): Hansel and Gretel
Best Film (Advanced Filmmaking): Pictures Of You
Best Film (Intermediate): The Path To An Idea
Best Documentary: DPA and OBI
Best Director: Michael Staffieri; Hansel and Gretel
Best Original Screenplay: Carrie Ferrante, Pictures Of You
Best Adapted Screenplay: Emily Mayo & Michael Staffieri; Hansel and Gretel
Best Cinematography: Sean Costello; Hansel and Gretel
Best Editing: Dan Rodenhesier; The Neighbor
Best Production Design: Jessica Wallin; Hansel and Gretel
Best Sound: Kenny Melo; Still Life
Best Actress: Maria Arenlind; Hansel and Gretel
Best Actor: Adam Barnett; Still Life
Best Supporting Actress: Ava Kelley; Hansel and Gretel
Best Supporting Actor: {Tie} Konstantin Soukhovetski & Josef Urban; Hansel and Gretel
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The oft-asked for review of the 201 Post student film festival
From my old blog:
Disclaimer: I wrote these reviews for my own sake, and as there have been some interested parties, I have posted them here on my personal blog. Participants in the film festival are more than welcome to read these, but it should be warned across the board that I am not kind and complimentary in all my opinions. This is Read At Your Own Risk material, and are simply critiques of the film, and should in no way be perceived as personal attacks or insults at the individuals behind them.
It is my conviction that if we have any hope of breaking into an industry as competitive and vicious as the film industry, than we had ought to do our best to be as honest with each other as possible. It is unfair to any creative individual to coddle them and say "Good job" if that's not how we truly feel. Roger Ebert doesn't give out A's for effort, and we owe each other the same courtesy.
There is always a courage that comes with presenting something one has put their heart and soul into. Bearing one's creative products before a mass audience is an act which requires some level of bravery, and that bravery should be commended. However, that bravery stems from the fact that one bears their soul in the knowledge and awareness that their creative wok may be subject to ridicule and criticism. Take out the possibility of said ridicule or criticism, and you remove the bravery. And in removing criticism from a learning environment such as film school, you abolish any possibility of improvement. So it is with this sentiment in mind that I encourage those open to critiquing, no matter how harsh, to read on.
Apology: It should be noted that I unfortunately did not see “Amongst The Mortals”, as I suffered near heatstroke from my idiot decision to wear a tuxedo. My sincerest apologies to all involved in the film for it being excluded from this piece, and would love the opportunity to see the film. Also, I am aware I worked on some of these films, but I am approaching them from an objective perspective, I assure you.
Indie Scene (Documentary); 16 min.
Danny Famiglietti, Tyrone Holguin, Sandy Sonera Jr., Nick Allen
“A thought-provoking documentary on the independent music scene, this film examines three different groups: two rock bands, one who has found moderate success and one who has not, and a rap duo. While the film succeeds in providing an air of tragedy in the story of the struggling band, and an air of nostalgia in examining the “success” of Marcy’s Playground (“Sex And Candy”), the film flounders whenever it returns to the rap duo. This is a shame, as I personally would have been fascinated to see the different worlds of the underground rock and rap scenes.
Instead, we’re provided with snippets of two guys just…chilling, mostly. The film feels like a real documentary, interspersed with the filmmaker’s friends slipping themselves into the piece. Overall, Indie Scene is an interesting documentary, which is one third VH1: Behind The Music, one third Anvil: The Story of Anvil, and one third guys playing around. A well-put-together documentary that suffers only from a lack of understanding which of their subjects were worth the attention. Worth a watch if the subject interests you.”
The Predator’s Prey (Advanced); 7 min.
Nugent Cantelino, Mike Weinstein, Jess Frederickson, Robert LaRosa
“Having taken in The Predator’s Prey twice, I start to notice the positives. For example, conceptually, the piece is intriguing. A mentally handicapped man (played quite well by John Christopher Morton) falls into the web of a Chris Hanson-gone-mad. Tragically, the film derails past the concept. The film reveals the protagonist Steve’s disability so early on that The Predator’s Prey becomes The Predictable Plot. During it’s screening, the audience actually laughed at some of the more absurd lines. The tragedy of the film lies not in the plot, but certainly in the misplacement of blame the audience is sure to mentally commit. Michael Weinstein’s dialogue itself is not very laughable, and under better circumstances could have resulted in compelling drama. Unfortunately, the film was almost entirely horribly miscast. Overacting to such a degree as to make Japanese Kabuki seem reserved, glaring mistakes such as extras looking at the camera, an inexplicable choice of ending and odd shot choices make the film a clusterfuck of confusion.
This is not to say the film itself is poorly shot. Jess Fredrickson, the film’s cinematographer, has often experimented in unique shots. These kinds of experiments served well in Josh Paige’s intermediate film last year, but in The Predator’s Prey, they fall short. An attempt to film a P.O.V. of a computer screen may earn the admiration of Werner Herzog, but it clearly earned the ire of the audience. Frederickson’s more straight-forward shooting remains one of the film’s few highlights, however.
The Predator’s Prey was clearly far from a doomed film. It comes from a group of talented individuals, and had an intriguing concept. Yet, through a series of poor decisions, the film falters out the starting gate and fumbles all the way from start to finish.”
Serial Lover (Intermediate); 2 min.
Whitney Henry Inniss
“A cutesy short about a disloyal lover. In 2 minutes, Inniss manages to entertain, but in a fleeting manner, as is the trap of most “cute” short films.”
Carousel (Production Lab); 6 min.
Tom Kiernan, Jason Hess, Kenny Yu, Abe Bello, Sean Brogan, Len Domingo
“If Jess Fredrickson was the Capt. Sully who saved The Predator’s Prey from total crash and burn status, then the team behind Carousel were the flight crew on the Hindenberg. The film is a chaotic centrifuge of themes, lines, and events that are so non-linear as to be mind-boggling. There is little to no area in which this film even remotely succeeds. I would apologize to the team behind the film, but from what I hear, compared to their own opinions on the piece, my above statements read like praise.”
The Neighbor (Thesis); 12 min.
Dan Rodenhesier
“So maybe The Neighbor doesn’t tackle any drastically sweeping social issues. Maybe it doesn’t have any guns, any sex, and swearing or bloodshed of any kind. None of that matters, quite frankly, as The Neighbor succeeds in one area more than any other film, and that is in making the viewer simply feel good. This light-hearted film about two brothers fighting over the new girl next door shows that Dan Rodenhesier isn’t your typical film school idiot, aspiring to be just like {fill in hip, violent filmmaker}. Instead, he just wants to connect with the audience on a gut level. And he does so from joyous start to finish. The Neighbor is a great short film that can be viewed and enjoyed by everyone, young and old, and it is the humble hope of this reviewer that it is.”
Please Silence Your Cell Phone (Documentary); 6 min.
Jess Frederickson, Dani Teman
“In a festival with documentaries on the subjects of independent music and illegal street racing, the topic of texting doesn’t seem terribly important or worth caring about. Unfortunately, if you’re looking for a film to make the case that the topic of texting is worth your attention, this flick sure as hell ain’t it. From the amateurish voice-overs to the asinine animations of bouncing cell-phones to the immensely awkward man-on-the-street style interviews, Please Silence Your Cell Phone seems to forget what it’s purpose is. Indeed, there’s no clear cut subject to the documentary beyond “Cell Phones: People Use Them”. The documentary’s ending is a poorly shot speech made directly into the camera telling you to turn off your cell phones, to not use texting as a replacement for humans interaction, etc. and it feels as if the filmmakers simply went “Aw, crap, that’s what this was supposed to be about? Crap, just tack a speech on at the end.” By the end of the film, you’re no more informed than you were before it started, and the only thing you’ve gained is a nostalgia for those old MTV PSA’s from the early 90’s where a black screen with a question written on it would cut to banal statements from people you couldn’t care less about.
I’ll not mention the several audience members so bored they were actually texting during the film, but rest assured the irony was not lost on me.”
Nocturne In C# Minor (Advanced); 9 min.
Jae Kim, Mike Natale, Nick Young, Kwesi Bynoe
“Michael Natale has repeatedly spoken of his admiration of Woody Allen. Well, he has come one step closer to become his idol, as both their first attempts at drama, Allen’s 1978 Interiors and last night’s Nocturne In C# Minor, were less than stellar. The film suffers from a similar flaw as The Predator’s Prey. Both had concepts which lost it’s magic. Though it wasn’t a series of mistakes that hurt Nocturne In C# Minor. Rather, you can almost feel that the film, through countless rewrites and re-imaginings, lost it’s soul. Nick Young tries to use certain angles and lighting to make up for the verbose characters, and Jae Kim can almost be seen trying to pull the project together with his bear hands. It’s clear Kim, Natale, and Young have a workable synergy, and there’s certainly potential in their work. They simply seem so focused on pleasing everyone that they lost sight of the emotional honesty. The piece seems tailor made to please some professor, or some single individual, and it suffers greatly from that. Perhaps this trio could craft something spectacular in the future. It’s clear a lot of work went into the film, and if they can put in an equal level of heartfelt, rather than reluctant, passion to match the hard work, then it’s very likely they’ll give us all something worth watching.”
Heart Of Darkness (Intermediate); 2 min.
Chris Suchy
“Quite frankly, no one is sure what happened in this film. A story was told, but why tell it? What was the point? Your guess is as good as mine in this bizarre two minute piece.”
Hansel and Gretel (Production Lab); 17 min.
Michael Staffieri, Emily Mayo, Jessica Wallin, Sean Costello, Patrick Mackey
“In a pre-Staffieri world, the name pairing “Hansel and Gretel” brought one a feeling of nostalgia, of childhood wonderment. However, for the past year at C.W. Post, that title has evoked such intimidation, envy, and anticipation that last night’s virtually packed screening room was a mass of seemingly choreographed bouncing knees as the night approached the “big moment”.
Every year, one film develops such a massive buzz as to become the unofficial main act of the end-of-the-year film festival. Last year, that film was Gia McKenna’s In The Name Of Cinema. This year, it was Hansel and Gretel, and that’s not the only distinction these two films share. Both also stand as strong reminders that with a truly gifted group of creative minds, lack of resources or budget are not shackles but merely hurdles, which, if properly overcome, can result in brilliant films.
From the moment the projector starts, you forget you’re at a college. I sincerely believe that you could place this film in any festival and it would be right at home. Mayo and Staffieri’s screenplay puts a fresh twist on the almost haggard Holocaust film, by focusing less on the time period, and more on the people. The flashback sequences between the protagonist and her husband are not driven by the circumstances but by the emotions, the inner workings of the characters themselves, a tricky thing for even Hollywood writers to achieve. There is not a line out of place, and at no point does the film drift into the dangerous turf of cliché or insincerely ‘heart-warming’. Instead, you get a film where Gretel’s knee getting bandaged has you as engaged as the gun shot. The story is so well crafted that handed to even the most novice team, the film could be good. Yet, the film’s exceptional nature has as much to do with what you see as what you hear.
Visually, the film is an absolute delight. Sean Costello’s cinematography is gorgeous, but not so much to take away from the film itself. At no point does it become the typical film school visual short, with all the bells and whistles and no substance. All the angles, the lighting, the entire optical language of the film works in tandem with the script to create multi-sensory storytelling. Of course, we cannot talk about the visuals of the film without acknowledging the exceptional production design of Jessica Wallin. Every frame of that film should stand as a testament to the blood, sweat, and tears that surely went into every detail of that film. From that hand-built set (built atop the garish blue room all film majors have burned into their memories), to the period-perfect costumes, to even the most miniscule detail (the windows, the shelving, the radio, everything completely historically accurate to my knowledge), that will to most go unnoticed, simply to create the ambiance. One can almost imagine, ten years from now, film students refusing to believe that there was ever a production designer who put so much effort into a class project. So, congratulations, Ms. Wallin, you’ve joined the rank of urban legend.
Of course, the film would be a pretty nothing without the truly gifted performances to match the lines. Michael Staffieri has outdone himself with the ensemble he’s assembled, and his directing pulls out such brilliant turns as Konstantin Soukhovetski as the vile S.S. officer, Josef Urban as the foolishly noble husband, and of course, the star of the entire evening, Maria Arenlind, who’s performance deserves a paragraph of praise all it’s own (All three of these actors sheer physical appearance, it should be noted, gave almost every viewer severe body image issues). Though the true testament to Staffieri’s skill is in the performances of the children. Simply look at the terror in Gretel’s face as she crouches under the table, hearing the news of her mother’s murder, and you’ll understand why I picked that little girl as the night’s Best Supporting Actress.
So Hansel and Gretel is on all accounts a success. Even it’s unfinished sound couldn’t rob it of it’s well deserved glory, as the house seemed to empty after seeing the film they came for. Much like In The Name Of Cinema‘s crew, the H&G team encourage us all to up our game by showing what can be done with passion and talent. Like them or not, you gotta admit, last night, they kicked our collective ass.”
Loves Ugly Face (Intermediate); 2 min.
Caitlin Montclaire
“Now, look, any film would have looked bad following Hansel and Gretel, but that’s no excuse for sloppy storytelling. Whoever scheduled these films together made a mistake, and made this silly stabbing story look worse by comparison alone. Sure, there’s nothing special about this film, and it’s another gore-nographic shlockfest like we get every year, but maybe I would have liked it more had I not just been blown away.”
Pictures of You (Advanced); 5 min.
Josh Paige, Jason Hess, Carrie Ferrante, Marc Riou, Nick Young, Dani Teman
“In and amongst all the Advanced Filmmaking projects trying to tackle huge social issues like war, addiction, child predators, and whatever the fuck the point of Loaded was (we’ll get to that later), it is a little film about a girl in a bad relationship that comes out on top. The only film to shoot in Post and not look ridiculous (excluding films that shot in the studio), the film is a sweet, endearing story that’s sure to make you go “Aw…” by the final hand holding shot. As per usual, Marc Riou’s cinematography perfectly accentuates the meaning behind the lines, and the film only suffers from weak male actors. With vibrant color and not an ounce of pretension, Pictures of You does what all the other Advanced films screened last night tried to do and failed. It made you feel something. So it’s not a dark, meditative masterpiece. It’s not trying to be, and that’s why it shines.”
DPA and OBI (Documentary); 13 min.
Thomas Piazza, Kenneth Melo, Brian DiLorenzo, Nick Young, Jay Manly
“By far the best documentary all night, this close examination of illegal street racing is as quality as it’s going to get from a Post documentary. It’s pulse pounding, it’s exciting, and it’s informative. Yeah, it does both entertain and inform. Sure, you find out the world of street racing isn’t as glamorous as The Fast & The Furious, but you realize it’s real, and these intrepid camera men immersed themselves into this world. As you watch the camera swing, you realize they really are being chased by police. These documentarians pull you into a story you don’t ever want to leave, and craft an enthralling piece that is without a doubt worth your attention.”
Still Life (Production Lab); 16 min.
Martha McCann, Rob Vogt, Justin Toulon, Courtney Taylor, Kenneth Melo, Len Domingo, Kwasi Asante Tanner
“In the course of viewing Still Life, I found myself feeling deeply sad for Rob Vogt, Martha McCann, and particularly lead actress Piper Blouin. All seem to understand the subtle decay that occurs within an individual in those moments of interpersonal collapse too well for it to be purely fictive. It’s quietly dazzling how gently and delicately Vogt’s script handles this fragile subject of an alcoholic parent. So many times, the subject has been tackled, and very rarely does it work without stumbling into the terrain of the melodrama. Vogt seems careful never to let any scene get cliché, and McCann successfully fought the temptation any of us would get to create the “big” scene.
Through a combination of Vogt’s cinematography and McCann’s directing, scenes set in the sweeping landscapes of Manhattan have the same uncomfortable claustrophobia as the seat-shifting-ly awkward train car scenes, all done to maximum effect to create an unsettling aura not only inside the world of the film but in the audience as well. Every head in the house is thinking “Something’s off here”, but no one can piece together quite what until the end.
Yes, it’s almost a mystery story for the first half of the film, trying to discern exactly why this girl harbors such disdain for her father. Not enough compliment can be given to the performance of Adam Barnett, who seems to have a natural understanding of what level of likeability is right for the scene. It’s rare in student films to see an actor dig so deeply into the role, but Barnett seems so perfectly desperate for his daughter’s smile that we in the audience want to grab ahold of her and tell her to lighten up. That whatever he did, it’s not that bad.
Then he starts to drink, and the filmmaker’s high-wire act begins. It would be so easy to at any moment slip into comic lush flick, or Lifetime movie awfulness. Instead, McCann guides each scene’s subtle serenity to the forefront, making everything believable. The almost tender moment where the daughter discusses the factors that determine good photography never gets tender, in the sense that it never evokes an emotion that wouldn’t be felt observing an actual father-daughter conversation.
In the same vein, anyone disappointed that the alleyway altercation didn’t have more shouting, more crying, more gusto, has clearly never been in that situation. Barnett’s delivery of his inebriatedly angry lines is so pitch perfect you can smell the booze off of his whiskers. Piper fights back tears, just enough to let us know there’s a pain inside, but a pain she’s used to. There’s no need for either to display their soul, nor for there to be any confrontation. No one ever shares their feelings, no one ever lets on what kind of cross they bear. In moments like when Piper leaves the train car as her father faintly sleeps in his seat, I cannot help but recall one of my favorite songs, Peter Allen’s “Don’t Cry Out Loud”, a song he wrote about how no one really speaks about the scars inside. McCann and Vogt use that idea, but traded in the song’s awful 80’s music for a heart-wrenchingly realistic portrait of the typical decay of the American family.”
Cold Feet (Class Unknown); 5 min.
Thomas Waters
“An odd little film about a guy running. The twist at the end is chuckle-worthy, but both Waters’ films of the night seem crafted more around locations than solid stories.”
The Path To An Idea (Intermediate); 3 min.
Adam Kampfer
“This little film had something intriguing about it. It wasn’t mind-blowing or guffawing funny, but I get a sense about whoever made this. Kampfer seems to have an ear for dialogue that reminds me of a clean Kevin Smith, back when Kevin Smith wrote real dialogue. I’d keep an eye open for this kid.”
Mother (Advanced); 5 min.
Alan Holloway, Chris DeMonte, Jeremiah Wenutu, Tyler Tremblay
“Mother, as a whole, is a basically bland film, as almost all this year’s Advanced films seem to be. It’s another watered down concept that seems intriguing, this time the idea being addiction to Robitussin. Rather than get a compelling story, we get a bland little short about a kid robbing a store. Again, the film seems crafted to please someone in particular, and suffers for it. Also, the shaky camera may or may not have been intentional, but it’s almost painful at times. The film suffers not from lack of quality, but from bland forgetability.”
Procession Of Time (Thesis); 16 min.
Courtney Taylor
“Procession Of Time is, in essence, an Americanization of the theme of the German film Lola Rennt, though a lot less…German. Utilizing computer animation, green screens, and a captivating non-linear storytelling style, Courtney Taylor crafts a very compelling tale about the idea of the infinite possibilities in the web of time, and how even the most minor actions can lead to major events (points go to Taylor for casting himself as one of the characters who commits one of those “minor events”). The only risk the film takes is that if you’re drawn in from the beginning, the climax is shocking. If you’re not, the climax, and indeed the entire film seems melodramatic. I am happy to report, though, that I was one of the many who was, in fact, drawn in from start to finish.”
Mistaken Identity (Class Unknown); 3 min.
Whitney Henry Inniss
“Another cutely comic film, this one with a little more staying power, though the ending sound clip takes it to an absurd place I’d have preferred it didn’t go.”
Aria (Thesis); 13 min.
Kenneth Melo
“In the beginning, Aria is an interesting, well shot film with characters that intrigue you. You start to feel just as if you’re watching a Quentin Tarantino film, and that’s exactly where this film suffers. From the female protagonist predatorily surveying a highway to close-ups of feet, this film is a perfect Tarantino homage. Tragically, that’s all it is. Once the abnormally large gun comes out, and the man manages to tie himself up in a manner from which he can’t escape (I’m confused as to the physics of that, personally), the film goes into a crazy place it shouldn’t have. I’m not trying to say Aria isn’t an enjoyable film. It very much is. It just lacks compositional originality, a thing I’m sure we’re all very guilty of from time to time. Look up Aria if you like Tarantino, and I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy yourself, up until they quite literally pull out the big gun. See, that’s the problem with guns in student films. A lot more people think they can do it tastefully than actually can.”
Collision (Summer Project); 11 min.
Robert LaRosa, Marc Riou
“The message of Collision is basically “Why do bad things happen to good people?” and that is the exact sentiment I felt when looking at all the good people in the audience viewing this film. This bizarre, revenge-fantasy/PSA against drunk driving starts out reasonable, if a little absurdly obscene with a conversation between two guys who seem to swear a ridiculously large amount. Then for some weird coincidence, one of the friends goes all deer-in-the-headlights in front of a drunk driver AS HE’S TALKING ABOUT DRUNK DRIVERS. What happens next is…well…
The film suffers most from writer/director Robert LaRosa casting himself as the lead, a decision that causes the film to become even more John Waters-esque twisted. LaRosa decides to take revenge on the man who killed his friend, using a baseball bat, which leads to him later driving a soccer mom minivan with a Taxi Driver-esque monologue.
The film is bizarre, absurd, melodramatic, and at it’s worst almost un-watch-able. LaRosa could benefit from doing like other film makers in his class, such as John Waters, Ralph Bakshi, Tim Burton, and even Federico Fellini, and that is embracing the bizarreness of his films, and cranking it up to 11. Then you’ll have a film I’ll enjoy. Until then, this foray into “serious” films just isn’t lighting my fire, dig?”
Loaded (Advanced); 6 min.
Jason Hess, Josh Paige, Marc Riou
“This film was chaotic, and just a waste of time. I cannot help but think of the line from Billy Madison (which provided more intellectual stimulation than Loaded) “Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it”.
This film took an actually quality actress and underused her in place of a guy saying fuck a lot (Do a shot every time he says it and you’ll be plastered a minute in) and shots of a muscular guy running with a gun in the completely obvious halls of Kahn, a building we’re all so familiar with that it becomes laughable. Loaded is the kind of movie we all made as kids with a camcorder and our friends when we were 14. Lots of guns and running and trying to look cool, and little to no plot. You could have maybe redeemed it a little by letting Ms. Ferrante utter a line or two rather than just cry taped up next to the typical “crazy guy” Why is he mad at said Senator? Who gives a crap, they have guns! Look how cool! Guns! Fuck! Guns! Running!
This film proved to actually be more insufferable than Collision. At least Collision tried to have a point. This film was just bland machismo. I realize there were probably people who thought it was “really good”. That not all movies need to make you think. Well, if films like this have more of a future than films like Still Life or Hansel and Gretel or Pictures Of You, then do me a favor and do to me what they did to Ms. Ferrante at the end of the film.
In it‘s defense, for what it is, it‘s well made. There are no glaring errors in the filming process. For those looking for virtually plot-less action, I would recommend it. I just don‘t know too many people looking for that.”
Change Of Heart (Thesis); 6 min.
Esley Tate
“I cannot begin to grasp what the point of this film was. Don’t have babies? Maybe I’m just being nitpicky. It wasn’t poorly shot or poorly acted. It was just…forgettable. And when you’re in a late night slot like this, you can’t afford to be forgettable. You either gotta be great or awful, which leads to our next one…”
Harvest (Class Unknown); 25 min.
Len Domingo, Daniel Famiglietti, Tom Kiernan
“Even the film maker himself didn’t seem to care about the film when he presented it. What we get is an overly long, ever cliché story of Death personified, this time falling in love with a woman. The use of the 1812 Overture, the flashbacks, the Frankenstein theme, the entire piece failed to entertain or inspire, and instead just left us waiting for the end, or maybe the sweet release that this “death“ refused to give.
See what I just did there? I kept things brief. There‘s an art to that. Not pointing fingers or anything.”
A Dog Day (Intermediate); 3 min.
Thomas Waters
“As I said before about these films, they seem more built around location than story, especially in this pointless story about a doggy down a well. Enjoyable? Yes. But mainly for it’s convenient locale.”
Apartment, NY (Class Unknown); 2 min.
Shimo Takuya
“It’s a real shame this film didn’t run. It looked interesting.”
So there end the reviews of the 2010 C.W. Post Underclassmen film festival. Once again, this was intended as healthy criticism, and was not meant to make anyone cry. I welcome all disagreements and commentary (beyond "You suck") and encourage a healthy dialogue, as that is the only way we are going to improve.
Disclaimer: I wrote these reviews for my own sake, and as there have been some interested parties, I have posted them here on my personal blog. Participants in the film festival are more than welcome to read these, but it should be warned across the board that I am not kind and complimentary in all my opinions. This is Read At Your Own Risk material, and are simply critiques of the film, and should in no way be perceived as personal attacks or insults at the individuals behind them.
It is my conviction that if we have any hope of breaking into an industry as competitive and vicious as the film industry, than we had ought to do our best to be as honest with each other as possible. It is unfair to any creative individual to coddle them and say "Good job" if that's not how we truly feel. Roger Ebert doesn't give out A's for effort, and we owe each other the same courtesy.
There is always a courage that comes with presenting something one has put their heart and soul into. Bearing one's creative products before a mass audience is an act which requires some level of bravery, and that bravery should be commended. However, that bravery stems from the fact that one bears their soul in the knowledge and awareness that their creative wok may be subject to ridicule and criticism. Take out the possibility of said ridicule or criticism, and you remove the bravery. And in removing criticism from a learning environment such as film school, you abolish any possibility of improvement. So it is with this sentiment in mind that I encourage those open to critiquing, no matter how harsh, to read on.
Apology: It should be noted that I unfortunately did not see “Amongst The Mortals”, as I suffered near heatstroke from my idiot decision to wear a tuxedo. My sincerest apologies to all involved in the film for it being excluded from this piece, and would love the opportunity to see the film. Also, I am aware I worked on some of these films, but I am approaching them from an objective perspective, I assure you.
Indie Scene (Documentary); 16 min.
Danny Famiglietti, Tyrone Holguin, Sandy Sonera Jr., Nick Allen
“A thought-provoking documentary on the independent music scene, this film examines three different groups: two rock bands, one who has found moderate success and one who has not, and a rap duo. While the film succeeds in providing an air of tragedy in the story of the struggling band, and an air of nostalgia in examining the “success” of Marcy’s Playground (“Sex And Candy”), the film flounders whenever it returns to the rap duo. This is a shame, as I personally would have been fascinated to see the different worlds of the underground rock and rap scenes.
Instead, we’re provided with snippets of two guys just…chilling, mostly. The film feels like a real documentary, interspersed with the filmmaker’s friends slipping themselves into the piece. Overall, Indie Scene is an interesting documentary, which is one third VH1: Behind The Music, one third Anvil: The Story of Anvil, and one third guys playing around. A well-put-together documentary that suffers only from a lack of understanding which of their subjects were worth the attention. Worth a watch if the subject interests you.”
The Predator’s Prey (Advanced); 7 min.
Nugent Cantelino, Mike Weinstein, Jess Frederickson, Robert LaRosa
“Having taken in The Predator’s Prey twice, I start to notice the positives. For example, conceptually, the piece is intriguing. A mentally handicapped man (played quite well by John Christopher Morton) falls into the web of a Chris Hanson-gone-mad. Tragically, the film derails past the concept. The film reveals the protagonist Steve’s disability so early on that The Predator’s Prey becomes The Predictable Plot. During it’s screening, the audience actually laughed at some of the more absurd lines. The tragedy of the film lies not in the plot, but certainly in the misplacement of blame the audience is sure to mentally commit. Michael Weinstein’s dialogue itself is not very laughable, and under better circumstances could have resulted in compelling drama. Unfortunately, the film was almost entirely horribly miscast. Overacting to such a degree as to make Japanese Kabuki seem reserved, glaring mistakes such as extras looking at the camera, an inexplicable choice of ending and odd shot choices make the film a clusterfuck of confusion.
This is not to say the film itself is poorly shot. Jess Fredrickson, the film’s cinematographer, has often experimented in unique shots. These kinds of experiments served well in Josh Paige’s intermediate film last year, but in The Predator’s Prey, they fall short. An attempt to film a P.O.V. of a computer screen may earn the admiration of Werner Herzog, but it clearly earned the ire of the audience. Frederickson’s more straight-forward shooting remains one of the film’s few highlights, however.
The Predator’s Prey was clearly far from a doomed film. It comes from a group of talented individuals, and had an intriguing concept. Yet, through a series of poor decisions, the film falters out the starting gate and fumbles all the way from start to finish.”
Serial Lover (Intermediate); 2 min.
Whitney Henry Inniss
“A cutesy short about a disloyal lover. In 2 minutes, Inniss manages to entertain, but in a fleeting manner, as is the trap of most “cute” short films.”
Carousel (Production Lab); 6 min.
Tom Kiernan, Jason Hess, Kenny Yu, Abe Bello, Sean Brogan, Len Domingo
“If Jess Fredrickson was the Capt. Sully who saved The Predator’s Prey from total crash and burn status, then the team behind Carousel were the flight crew on the Hindenberg. The film is a chaotic centrifuge of themes, lines, and events that are so non-linear as to be mind-boggling. There is little to no area in which this film even remotely succeeds. I would apologize to the team behind the film, but from what I hear, compared to their own opinions on the piece, my above statements read like praise.”
The Neighbor (Thesis); 12 min.
Dan Rodenhesier
“So maybe The Neighbor doesn’t tackle any drastically sweeping social issues. Maybe it doesn’t have any guns, any sex, and swearing or bloodshed of any kind. None of that matters, quite frankly, as The Neighbor succeeds in one area more than any other film, and that is in making the viewer simply feel good. This light-hearted film about two brothers fighting over the new girl next door shows that Dan Rodenhesier isn’t your typical film school idiot, aspiring to be just like {fill in hip, violent filmmaker}. Instead, he just wants to connect with the audience on a gut level. And he does so from joyous start to finish. The Neighbor is a great short film that can be viewed and enjoyed by everyone, young and old, and it is the humble hope of this reviewer that it is.”
Please Silence Your Cell Phone (Documentary); 6 min.
Jess Frederickson, Dani Teman
“In a festival with documentaries on the subjects of independent music and illegal street racing, the topic of texting doesn’t seem terribly important or worth caring about. Unfortunately, if you’re looking for a film to make the case that the topic of texting is worth your attention, this flick sure as hell ain’t it. From the amateurish voice-overs to the asinine animations of bouncing cell-phones to the immensely awkward man-on-the-street style interviews, Please Silence Your Cell Phone seems to forget what it’s purpose is. Indeed, there’s no clear cut subject to the documentary beyond “Cell Phones: People Use Them”. The documentary’s ending is a poorly shot speech made directly into the camera telling you to turn off your cell phones, to not use texting as a replacement for humans interaction, etc. and it feels as if the filmmakers simply went “Aw, crap, that’s what this was supposed to be about? Crap, just tack a speech on at the end.” By the end of the film, you’re no more informed than you were before it started, and the only thing you’ve gained is a nostalgia for those old MTV PSA’s from the early 90’s where a black screen with a question written on it would cut to banal statements from people you couldn’t care less about.
I’ll not mention the several audience members so bored they were actually texting during the film, but rest assured the irony was not lost on me.”
Nocturne In C# Minor (Advanced); 9 min.
Jae Kim, Mike Natale, Nick Young, Kwesi Bynoe
“Michael Natale has repeatedly spoken of his admiration of Woody Allen. Well, he has come one step closer to become his idol, as both their first attempts at drama, Allen’s 1978 Interiors and last night’s Nocturne In C# Minor, were less than stellar. The film suffers from a similar flaw as The Predator’s Prey. Both had concepts which lost it’s magic. Though it wasn’t a series of mistakes that hurt Nocturne In C# Minor. Rather, you can almost feel that the film, through countless rewrites and re-imaginings, lost it’s soul. Nick Young tries to use certain angles and lighting to make up for the verbose characters, and Jae Kim can almost be seen trying to pull the project together with his bear hands. It’s clear Kim, Natale, and Young have a workable synergy, and there’s certainly potential in their work. They simply seem so focused on pleasing everyone that they lost sight of the emotional honesty. The piece seems tailor made to please some professor, or some single individual, and it suffers greatly from that. Perhaps this trio could craft something spectacular in the future. It’s clear a lot of work went into the film, and if they can put in an equal level of heartfelt, rather than reluctant, passion to match the hard work, then it’s very likely they’ll give us all something worth watching.”
Heart Of Darkness (Intermediate); 2 min.
Chris Suchy
“Quite frankly, no one is sure what happened in this film. A story was told, but why tell it? What was the point? Your guess is as good as mine in this bizarre two minute piece.”
Hansel and Gretel (Production Lab); 17 min.
Michael Staffieri, Emily Mayo, Jessica Wallin, Sean Costello, Patrick Mackey
“In a pre-Staffieri world, the name pairing “Hansel and Gretel” brought one a feeling of nostalgia, of childhood wonderment. However, for the past year at C.W. Post, that title has evoked such intimidation, envy, and anticipation that last night’s virtually packed screening room was a mass of seemingly choreographed bouncing knees as the night approached the “big moment”.
Every year, one film develops such a massive buzz as to become the unofficial main act of the end-of-the-year film festival. Last year, that film was Gia McKenna’s In The Name Of Cinema. This year, it was Hansel and Gretel, and that’s not the only distinction these two films share. Both also stand as strong reminders that with a truly gifted group of creative minds, lack of resources or budget are not shackles but merely hurdles, which, if properly overcome, can result in brilliant films.
From the moment the projector starts, you forget you’re at a college. I sincerely believe that you could place this film in any festival and it would be right at home. Mayo and Staffieri’s screenplay puts a fresh twist on the almost haggard Holocaust film, by focusing less on the time period, and more on the people. The flashback sequences between the protagonist and her husband are not driven by the circumstances but by the emotions, the inner workings of the characters themselves, a tricky thing for even Hollywood writers to achieve. There is not a line out of place, and at no point does the film drift into the dangerous turf of cliché or insincerely ‘heart-warming’. Instead, you get a film where Gretel’s knee getting bandaged has you as engaged as the gun shot. The story is so well crafted that handed to even the most novice team, the film could be good. Yet, the film’s exceptional nature has as much to do with what you see as what you hear.
Visually, the film is an absolute delight. Sean Costello’s cinematography is gorgeous, but not so much to take away from the film itself. At no point does it become the typical film school visual short, with all the bells and whistles and no substance. All the angles, the lighting, the entire optical language of the film works in tandem with the script to create multi-sensory storytelling. Of course, we cannot talk about the visuals of the film without acknowledging the exceptional production design of Jessica Wallin. Every frame of that film should stand as a testament to the blood, sweat, and tears that surely went into every detail of that film. From that hand-built set (built atop the garish blue room all film majors have burned into their memories), to the period-perfect costumes, to even the most miniscule detail (the windows, the shelving, the radio, everything completely historically accurate to my knowledge), that will to most go unnoticed, simply to create the ambiance. One can almost imagine, ten years from now, film students refusing to believe that there was ever a production designer who put so much effort into a class project. So, congratulations, Ms. Wallin, you’ve joined the rank of urban legend.
Of course, the film would be a pretty nothing without the truly gifted performances to match the lines. Michael Staffieri has outdone himself with the ensemble he’s assembled, and his directing pulls out such brilliant turns as Konstantin Soukhovetski as the vile S.S. officer, Josef Urban as the foolishly noble husband, and of course, the star of the entire evening, Maria Arenlind, who’s performance deserves a paragraph of praise all it’s own (All three of these actors sheer physical appearance, it should be noted, gave almost every viewer severe body image issues). Though the true testament to Staffieri’s skill is in the performances of the children. Simply look at the terror in Gretel’s face as she crouches under the table, hearing the news of her mother’s murder, and you’ll understand why I picked that little girl as the night’s Best Supporting Actress.
So Hansel and Gretel is on all accounts a success. Even it’s unfinished sound couldn’t rob it of it’s well deserved glory, as the house seemed to empty after seeing the film they came for. Much like In The Name Of Cinema‘s crew, the H&G team encourage us all to up our game by showing what can be done with passion and talent. Like them or not, you gotta admit, last night, they kicked our collective ass.”
Loves Ugly Face (Intermediate); 2 min.
Caitlin Montclaire
“Now, look, any film would have looked bad following Hansel and Gretel, but that’s no excuse for sloppy storytelling. Whoever scheduled these films together made a mistake, and made this silly stabbing story look worse by comparison alone. Sure, there’s nothing special about this film, and it’s another gore-nographic shlockfest like we get every year, but maybe I would have liked it more had I not just been blown away.”
Pictures of You (Advanced); 5 min.
Josh Paige, Jason Hess, Carrie Ferrante, Marc Riou, Nick Young, Dani Teman
“In and amongst all the Advanced Filmmaking projects trying to tackle huge social issues like war, addiction, child predators, and whatever the fuck the point of Loaded was (we’ll get to that later), it is a little film about a girl in a bad relationship that comes out on top. The only film to shoot in Post and not look ridiculous (excluding films that shot in the studio), the film is a sweet, endearing story that’s sure to make you go “Aw…” by the final hand holding shot. As per usual, Marc Riou’s cinematography perfectly accentuates the meaning behind the lines, and the film only suffers from weak male actors. With vibrant color and not an ounce of pretension, Pictures of You does what all the other Advanced films screened last night tried to do and failed. It made you feel something. So it’s not a dark, meditative masterpiece. It’s not trying to be, and that’s why it shines.”
DPA and OBI (Documentary); 13 min.
Thomas Piazza, Kenneth Melo, Brian DiLorenzo, Nick Young, Jay Manly
“By far the best documentary all night, this close examination of illegal street racing is as quality as it’s going to get from a Post documentary. It’s pulse pounding, it’s exciting, and it’s informative. Yeah, it does both entertain and inform. Sure, you find out the world of street racing isn’t as glamorous as The Fast & The Furious, but you realize it’s real, and these intrepid camera men immersed themselves into this world. As you watch the camera swing, you realize they really are being chased by police. These documentarians pull you into a story you don’t ever want to leave, and craft an enthralling piece that is without a doubt worth your attention.”
Still Life (Production Lab); 16 min.
Martha McCann, Rob Vogt, Justin Toulon, Courtney Taylor, Kenneth Melo, Len Domingo, Kwasi Asante Tanner
“In the course of viewing Still Life, I found myself feeling deeply sad for Rob Vogt, Martha McCann, and particularly lead actress Piper Blouin. All seem to understand the subtle decay that occurs within an individual in those moments of interpersonal collapse too well for it to be purely fictive. It’s quietly dazzling how gently and delicately Vogt’s script handles this fragile subject of an alcoholic parent. So many times, the subject has been tackled, and very rarely does it work without stumbling into the terrain of the melodrama. Vogt seems careful never to let any scene get cliché, and McCann successfully fought the temptation any of us would get to create the “big” scene.
Through a combination of Vogt’s cinematography and McCann’s directing, scenes set in the sweeping landscapes of Manhattan have the same uncomfortable claustrophobia as the seat-shifting-ly awkward train car scenes, all done to maximum effect to create an unsettling aura not only inside the world of the film but in the audience as well. Every head in the house is thinking “Something’s off here”, but no one can piece together quite what until the end.
Yes, it’s almost a mystery story for the first half of the film, trying to discern exactly why this girl harbors such disdain for her father. Not enough compliment can be given to the performance of Adam Barnett, who seems to have a natural understanding of what level of likeability is right for the scene. It’s rare in student films to see an actor dig so deeply into the role, but Barnett seems so perfectly desperate for his daughter’s smile that we in the audience want to grab ahold of her and tell her to lighten up. That whatever he did, it’s not that bad.
Then he starts to drink, and the filmmaker’s high-wire act begins. It would be so easy to at any moment slip into comic lush flick, or Lifetime movie awfulness. Instead, McCann guides each scene’s subtle serenity to the forefront, making everything believable. The almost tender moment where the daughter discusses the factors that determine good photography never gets tender, in the sense that it never evokes an emotion that wouldn’t be felt observing an actual father-daughter conversation.
In the same vein, anyone disappointed that the alleyway altercation didn’t have more shouting, more crying, more gusto, has clearly never been in that situation. Barnett’s delivery of his inebriatedly angry lines is so pitch perfect you can smell the booze off of his whiskers. Piper fights back tears, just enough to let us know there’s a pain inside, but a pain she’s used to. There’s no need for either to display their soul, nor for there to be any confrontation. No one ever shares their feelings, no one ever lets on what kind of cross they bear. In moments like when Piper leaves the train car as her father faintly sleeps in his seat, I cannot help but recall one of my favorite songs, Peter Allen’s “Don’t Cry Out Loud”, a song he wrote about how no one really speaks about the scars inside. McCann and Vogt use that idea, but traded in the song’s awful 80’s music for a heart-wrenchingly realistic portrait of the typical decay of the American family.”
Cold Feet (Class Unknown); 5 min.
Thomas Waters
“An odd little film about a guy running. The twist at the end is chuckle-worthy, but both Waters’ films of the night seem crafted more around locations than solid stories.”
The Path To An Idea (Intermediate); 3 min.
Adam Kampfer
“This little film had something intriguing about it. It wasn’t mind-blowing or guffawing funny, but I get a sense about whoever made this. Kampfer seems to have an ear for dialogue that reminds me of a clean Kevin Smith, back when Kevin Smith wrote real dialogue. I’d keep an eye open for this kid.”
Mother (Advanced); 5 min.
Alan Holloway, Chris DeMonte, Jeremiah Wenutu, Tyler Tremblay
“Mother, as a whole, is a basically bland film, as almost all this year’s Advanced films seem to be. It’s another watered down concept that seems intriguing, this time the idea being addiction to Robitussin. Rather than get a compelling story, we get a bland little short about a kid robbing a store. Again, the film seems crafted to please someone in particular, and suffers for it. Also, the shaky camera may or may not have been intentional, but it’s almost painful at times. The film suffers not from lack of quality, but from bland forgetability.”
Procession Of Time (Thesis); 16 min.
Courtney Taylor
“Procession Of Time is, in essence, an Americanization of the theme of the German film Lola Rennt, though a lot less…German. Utilizing computer animation, green screens, and a captivating non-linear storytelling style, Courtney Taylor crafts a very compelling tale about the idea of the infinite possibilities in the web of time, and how even the most minor actions can lead to major events (points go to Taylor for casting himself as one of the characters who commits one of those “minor events”). The only risk the film takes is that if you’re drawn in from the beginning, the climax is shocking. If you’re not, the climax, and indeed the entire film seems melodramatic. I am happy to report, though, that I was one of the many who was, in fact, drawn in from start to finish.”
Mistaken Identity (Class Unknown); 3 min.
Whitney Henry Inniss
“Another cutely comic film, this one with a little more staying power, though the ending sound clip takes it to an absurd place I’d have preferred it didn’t go.”
Aria (Thesis); 13 min.
Kenneth Melo
“In the beginning, Aria is an interesting, well shot film with characters that intrigue you. You start to feel just as if you’re watching a Quentin Tarantino film, and that’s exactly where this film suffers. From the female protagonist predatorily surveying a highway to close-ups of feet, this film is a perfect Tarantino homage. Tragically, that’s all it is. Once the abnormally large gun comes out, and the man manages to tie himself up in a manner from which he can’t escape (I’m confused as to the physics of that, personally), the film goes into a crazy place it shouldn’t have. I’m not trying to say Aria isn’t an enjoyable film. It very much is. It just lacks compositional originality, a thing I’m sure we’re all very guilty of from time to time. Look up Aria if you like Tarantino, and I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy yourself, up until they quite literally pull out the big gun. See, that’s the problem with guns in student films. A lot more people think they can do it tastefully than actually can.”
Collision (Summer Project); 11 min.
Robert LaRosa, Marc Riou
“The message of Collision is basically “Why do bad things happen to good people?” and that is the exact sentiment I felt when looking at all the good people in the audience viewing this film. This bizarre, revenge-fantasy/PSA against drunk driving starts out reasonable, if a little absurdly obscene with a conversation between two guys who seem to swear a ridiculously large amount. Then for some weird coincidence, one of the friends goes all deer-in-the-headlights in front of a drunk driver AS HE’S TALKING ABOUT DRUNK DRIVERS. What happens next is…well…
The film suffers most from writer/director Robert LaRosa casting himself as the lead, a decision that causes the film to become even more John Waters-esque twisted. LaRosa decides to take revenge on the man who killed his friend, using a baseball bat, which leads to him later driving a soccer mom minivan with a Taxi Driver-esque monologue.
The film is bizarre, absurd, melodramatic, and at it’s worst almost un-watch-able. LaRosa could benefit from doing like other film makers in his class, such as John Waters, Ralph Bakshi, Tim Burton, and even Federico Fellini, and that is embracing the bizarreness of his films, and cranking it up to 11. Then you’ll have a film I’ll enjoy. Until then, this foray into “serious” films just isn’t lighting my fire, dig?”
Loaded (Advanced); 6 min.
Jason Hess, Josh Paige, Marc Riou
“This film was chaotic, and just a waste of time. I cannot help but think of the line from Billy Madison (which provided more intellectual stimulation than Loaded) “Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it”.
This film took an actually quality actress and underused her in place of a guy saying fuck a lot (Do a shot every time he says it and you’ll be plastered a minute in) and shots of a muscular guy running with a gun in the completely obvious halls of Kahn, a building we’re all so familiar with that it becomes laughable. Loaded is the kind of movie we all made as kids with a camcorder and our friends when we were 14. Lots of guns and running and trying to look cool, and little to no plot. You could have maybe redeemed it a little by letting Ms. Ferrante utter a line or two rather than just cry taped up next to the typical “crazy guy” Why is he mad at said Senator? Who gives a crap, they have guns! Look how cool! Guns! Fuck! Guns! Running!
This film proved to actually be more insufferable than Collision. At least Collision tried to have a point. This film was just bland machismo. I realize there were probably people who thought it was “really good”. That not all movies need to make you think. Well, if films like this have more of a future than films like Still Life or Hansel and Gretel or Pictures Of You, then do me a favor and do to me what they did to Ms. Ferrante at the end of the film.
In it‘s defense, for what it is, it‘s well made. There are no glaring errors in the filming process. For those looking for virtually plot-less action, I would recommend it. I just don‘t know too many people looking for that.”
Change Of Heart (Thesis); 6 min.
Esley Tate
“I cannot begin to grasp what the point of this film was. Don’t have babies? Maybe I’m just being nitpicky. It wasn’t poorly shot or poorly acted. It was just…forgettable. And when you’re in a late night slot like this, you can’t afford to be forgettable. You either gotta be great or awful, which leads to our next one…”
Harvest (Class Unknown); 25 min.
Len Domingo, Daniel Famiglietti, Tom Kiernan
“Even the film maker himself didn’t seem to care about the film when he presented it. What we get is an overly long, ever cliché story of Death personified, this time falling in love with a woman. The use of the 1812 Overture, the flashbacks, the Frankenstein theme, the entire piece failed to entertain or inspire, and instead just left us waiting for the end, or maybe the sweet release that this “death“ refused to give.
See what I just did there? I kept things brief. There‘s an art to that. Not pointing fingers or anything.”
A Dog Day (Intermediate); 3 min.
Thomas Waters
“As I said before about these films, they seem more built around location than story, especially in this pointless story about a doggy down a well. Enjoyable? Yes. But mainly for it’s convenient locale.”
Apartment, NY (Class Unknown); 2 min.
Shimo Takuya
“It’s a real shame this film didn’t run. It looked interesting.”
So there end the reviews of the 2010 C.W. Post Underclassmen film festival. Once again, this was intended as healthy criticism, and was not meant to make anyone cry. I welcome all disagreements and commentary (beyond "You suck") and encourage a healthy dialogue, as that is the only way we are going to improve.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Excerpts from "The 2011 Bonaroo Preview"
{In March 2011, I along with some of my cohorts at my old college magazine/newspaper component Loomings wrote about the upcoming Bonaroo line-up with two sections: Those You Would Know & Those You Should Know. I've included only my own pieces.}
Those You Would Know
Eminem
Do I need to say anything? Come on, he’s Eminem, the highest selling artist of the decade, a man who changed the face of rap music, and made it so that every middle schooler and their mom knew “The FCC won’t let me be.” The first rapper to ever win an Oscar (suck it, Will Smith) Eminem came back stronger than ever with the release of the Grammy nominated Recovery. Now back at the top of his game, a rare chance to see the master at work cannot be missed.
Songs to listen to:
“Lose Yourself”, “Stan”, “Love The Way You Lie”
Songs to listen to:
“Lose Yourself”, “Stan”, “Love The Way You Lie”
Those You Should Know
Mumford & Sons
One album out, and the boys of Mumford& Sons are on top of the world. Millions of fans, Grammy nominations and a chance to play with the legendary Bob Dylan ain’t too shabby. Mumford & Sons isn’t just the most fun band name to say since Toad the Wet Sprocket, it’s also the best folk rock band playing today. There’ not a single track on their debut Sigh No More that isn’t absolute brilliance, and if their newly announced train car tour is any indication, these boys just keep getting better.
Songs to listen to:
“Little Lion Man”, “Roll Away Your Stone”, “Winter Winds”
Songs to listen to:
“Little Lion Man”, “Roll Away Your Stone”, “Winter Winds”
Ryan Bingham
Say what you will about the Oscars, they’re great exposure for unnoticed geniuses in music. 2008 brought us Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, 2009 A.R. Rahman, and 2010 gave the world Ryan Bingham heart wrenchingly beautiful “The Weary Kind” from the movie Crazy Heart. The fact is, even if you’d never heard his fantastic debut self-release Wishbone Saloon, or the major label Mescalito, just hear Jeff Bridges growl out “The Weary Kind”, and you’ll need to see Bingham live. You’ll also wanna watch Tron.
Songs to listen to:
“The Weary Kind (Theme from Crazy Heart)”, “The Highway”, “Freight Train”
Songs to listen to:
“The Weary Kind (Theme from Crazy Heart)”, “The Highway”, “Freight Train”
Scissor Sisters
These are some wild musicians over in England that call themselves the Scissor Sisters. Their debut album featured a mix of Elton John-esque rock jams (“Take Your Mama“) and disco (yes, disco) dance tracks (their cover of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb”). They’re glamorous, wild and about as gay as good music gets, and that’s why they’re such a breath of fresh air.
Songs to listen to:
“Take Your Mama”, “Filthy/Gorgeous”, “Comfortably Numb”
Songs to listen to:
“Take Your Mama”, “Filthy/Gorgeous”, “Comfortably Numb”
An Unknown American Legend
{Originally appeared in the Post Bottom Line}
There are certain albums of music that are almost universally loved. They tend to be considered “perfect”, with every track working together, each song as good as the last, and an overall feelin of catharsis packaged within the lyrics that fills the soul at the end of the record. I’m sure we all have heard records like this, be it Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles or The Blueprint by Jay-Z, there’s something undeniably fluid and brilliant about these records.
In my lifetime, I’ve been fortunate enough to come across some of this type of album, these somewhat life-changing records that open your eyes to something you never saw before. I can remember vividly the first time I played Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, on my walkman, walking home from school, on a CD my 11th grade history teacher lent me. Similarly I smile as I recall the crackling hiss of the LP of Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music by Ray Charles, or the lilting voice of Jeff Buckley on Grace, or the powerful climax of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. Yet, most fondly, I remember the first time I ever heard Randy Newman’s Sail Away.
Before I could even understand the satire in the lyrics, I was drawn in by the melodies, the instrumentations, and the sincerity in the man’s unconventional voice. From the simplicity of “Simon Smith and the Amazing Dancing Bear” to the gospel-like beauty of “He Gives Us All His Love”, the album is compositionally flawless. Add onto that some of the sharpest political lyrics this side of Bob Dylan, and you have an incredible album.
It was due to this record that I became a quiet admirer of Randy Newman’s. Quiet being used to signify the lack of vocal appreciation I’ve given the man over the years. While in my heart I’d always considered Newman one of the 4 great American songwriters, alongside Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen and Paul Simon, I never felt I could say so. To dig Dylan was hip and cool, the kind of weird voiced singer-songwriter whose lyrics you’d analyze under the awning around the pool at the high school, smoking cigarettes as you thumbed through your books of Kerouac. Springsteen you could blare with your buddies off a stereo in the garage as you tried desperately to fix up Matt’s ‘78 Chevy Opala, convinced that fixing it up will get you laid, a concept you and your buddies seem to enjoy, constantly bringing it up as you high-five to the tune of “Badlands” (nobody realizing only the guy driving the car will reap the benefits). Paul Simon was the music of the Village, wandering MacDougal and Bedford with your iPod playing “The Boxer”, humming it as all who passed you by, whether 14 or 40, seemed to know what you were humming.
But Randy Newman, well, he’s not heard at high schools or garages or Washington Square. No, he’s just that guy from Toy Story. So I would listen in private to albums like Good Old Boys (with it’s brilliantly controversial “Rednecks”) and Little Criminals (off of which came the famous “Short People”) while people my age continued to ignore his work since he wasn’t “cool”. Well, ignore isn’t necessarily true. My friends all loved “Beehive State” by Mates of State, “Mama Told Me Not To Come” by Stereophonics, and Joe Cocker’s classic “You Can Leave Your Hat On”, they just never knew Randy Newman wrote those songs. Very few people do.
Now, I pontificate on the subject of Mr. Newman’s underrated nature, as well as my exceedingly great admiration for him, as a way to preface the following statement, in an effort to hep the reader understand the emotional charge with which one should read it:
I met Randy Newman.
Allow me to repeat, I met Randy Newman. In an attempt to be the upstanding journalist this school knows me to be (read: to write about more obscure popular culture our average reader has no knowledge of or interest in), when I heard that Randy Newman was coming to Tilles Center, I immediately ran and grabbed two tickets. My excitement could not be contained. I couldn’t believe I’d even gotten the tickets. The man has a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars. Three of his albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time (for perspective, that’s the same number of albums Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana and Eminem have on the list). Countless songs of his have been hits, both for himself and others, so I was certain the show would sell out instantly. In an effort to get even better coverage of what was sure to be considered the event of the year here at Tilles, I contacted someone about interviewing Mr. Newman before the show. While these plans fell through (Mr. Newman’s touring schedule was too busy to answer my e-mail questions), I was offered the opportunity to meet him after the show. Goodbye journalistic integrity, hello shivering fan-boy clutching an LP of Good Old Boys.
When the friend who was supposed to join me for the concert became busy that evening, I knew I would have no trouble finding a second ticket taker. After all, the man has a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars. Three of his albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. Countless songs of his have been hits, both for himself and others. Finding an interested party wouldn’t be difficult at all.
A half hour before the doors opened and still I was unaccompanied. At the last minute, an individual stepped in to take the second ticket, excited to go in order to hear “You Got A Friend in Me” from Toy Story, as that was the only song he knew. I was worried would not fair well at this concert, certain to be packed with fans as die-hard as myself. A solo performance from a man with a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars? Three of who’s albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time? Countless songs of his have been hits, both for himself and others? How could there not be a huge following for the man?
So there I sat, in a half filled concert hall, watching people walk to the bathroom mid-song, as an American master poured his heart and soul into every word of “I Miss You” and “Dixie Flyer”, telling humorous and beautiful stories, and even taking audience requests the few times they were made. Yet, the magic I felt that night seeing one of my favorite songwriters perform was dampened by the dark cloud lingering in the room, one Newman himself acknowledged many times. “I see some audience members came dressed as empty chairs” he remarked in between “”Sail Away” and “Political Science”. Closing out the show, he said “Thank you all for coming…” and in his trademark humor “…next time bring some fucking friends!”
While Newman laughed about the small crowd, I could quite put a word to my feelings. As I walked backstage, I was greeted rather abruptly by a road manager telling me I can’t go any further back, that the exits are the other way. I assured him I was heading backstage on purpose. “Oh, you’re Michael.” he said, as if not only was my arrival expected, but slightly anticipated. After being personally escorted to Mr. Newman’s dressing room by his road manager, I was brought into the room with the introduction of “the journalist”. Suddenly, the eyes in the room were upon me. I surveyed the area, petrified. I’m no journalist, I thought. Robert Christgau is a journalist. David Frick is a journalist. Hell, Hunter S. Thompson was a journalist. I’m just a guy who writes for a school newspaper in a section no one reads, whose biggest point of pride up until this point was running a three-week-long risqué comic strip without getting a single complaint letter. Now here I was, in the dressing room of a man with a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars, three of who’s albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time, and countless songs of his which have been hits, both for himself and others, identified as “the journalist”. I never felt more like that nervous kid in Almost Famous, except without my Penny Lane.
Yet, I became relieved to see the “dressing room” was the same small, white mirrored room I had recently shot my student film in, that the people backstage were no entourage, but rather what I can only assume were four wealthy people, for whom this was just something that seemed like it would be fun, an event of little or no consequence, conversing with Mr. Newman as if he were simply another average guy. Mr. Newman himself, I gathered from the joy in his eyes seeing my LP of Good Old Boys, was ecstatic to see that someone, anyone, remembered he was not.
We talked for fifteen minutes or so, discussing not just his body of work, but mine. He asked twice about my band, wished my luck on my film (even writing it on my LP) and being extremely grateful for my unreserved praise. Yet, as I stood in the room, meeting one of my idols, my elation gave way to the same feeling I had before heading backstage. I felt a strange compulsion to shout words that had yet to form in the haze of my mind, feeling as though if I spoke these words, the world would open up anew, and everything would be set right. It was not until after I parted ways with Mr. Newman, wandering down the steps of Tilles*, feeling the cold air strike my face, humming “Burn On” from Sail Away, that those words finally formed. I suddenly knew the feeling I got when I saw the empty seats, or when I struggled to find anyone interested in the extra ticket, or who even knew who Randy Newman was, in fact. So I stopped for a moment, held up my signed LP to the light, and as I ran my fingers along the words “I’m glad you like the music so much.” I looked back at the building, mumbling the words that were beyond me when I was backstage, hoping they’d still have some power. “You deserve so much more than the world is giving you these days.”
*let me not be misunderstood, Tilles Center is a wonderful venue, far better than some Manhattan venues I’ve attended shows at, and the university’s treatment of Mr. Newman was the best they could provide. I suppose a cannot expect them to house Mr. Newman in a penthouse for the few minutes before and after he plays.
There are certain albums of music that are almost universally loved. They tend to be considered “perfect”, with every track working together, each song as good as the last, and an overall feelin of catharsis packaged within the lyrics that fills the soul at the end of the record. I’m sure we all have heard records like this, be it Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles or The Blueprint by Jay-Z, there’s something undeniably fluid and brilliant about these records.
In my lifetime, I’ve been fortunate enough to come across some of this type of album, these somewhat life-changing records that open your eyes to something you never saw before. I can remember vividly the first time I played Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, on my walkman, walking home from school, on a CD my 11th grade history teacher lent me. Similarly I smile as I recall the crackling hiss of the LP of Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music by Ray Charles, or the lilting voice of Jeff Buckley on Grace, or the powerful climax of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. Yet, most fondly, I remember the first time I ever heard Randy Newman’s Sail Away.
Before I could even understand the satire in the lyrics, I was drawn in by the melodies, the instrumentations, and the sincerity in the man’s unconventional voice. From the simplicity of “Simon Smith and the Amazing Dancing Bear” to the gospel-like beauty of “He Gives Us All His Love”, the album is compositionally flawless. Add onto that some of the sharpest political lyrics this side of Bob Dylan, and you have an incredible album.
It was due to this record that I became a quiet admirer of Randy Newman’s. Quiet being used to signify the lack of vocal appreciation I’ve given the man over the years. While in my heart I’d always considered Newman one of the 4 great American songwriters, alongside Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen and Paul Simon, I never felt I could say so. To dig Dylan was hip and cool, the kind of weird voiced singer-songwriter whose lyrics you’d analyze under the awning around the pool at the high school, smoking cigarettes as you thumbed through your books of Kerouac. Springsteen you could blare with your buddies off a stereo in the garage as you tried desperately to fix up Matt’s ‘78 Chevy Opala, convinced that fixing it up will get you laid, a concept you and your buddies seem to enjoy, constantly bringing it up as you high-five to the tune of “Badlands” (nobody realizing only the guy driving the car will reap the benefits). Paul Simon was the music of the Village, wandering MacDougal and Bedford with your iPod playing “The Boxer”, humming it as all who passed you by, whether 14 or 40, seemed to know what you were humming.
But Randy Newman, well, he’s not heard at high schools or garages or Washington Square. No, he’s just that guy from Toy Story. So I would listen in private to albums like Good Old Boys (with it’s brilliantly controversial “Rednecks”) and Little Criminals (off of which came the famous “Short People”) while people my age continued to ignore his work since he wasn’t “cool”. Well, ignore isn’t necessarily true. My friends all loved “Beehive State” by Mates of State, “Mama Told Me Not To Come” by Stereophonics, and Joe Cocker’s classic “You Can Leave Your Hat On”, they just never knew Randy Newman wrote those songs. Very few people do.
Now, I pontificate on the subject of Mr. Newman’s underrated nature, as well as my exceedingly great admiration for him, as a way to preface the following statement, in an effort to hep the reader understand the emotional charge with which one should read it:
I met Randy Newman.
Allow me to repeat, I met Randy Newman. In an attempt to be the upstanding journalist this school knows me to be (read: to write about more obscure popular culture our average reader has no knowledge of or interest in), when I heard that Randy Newman was coming to Tilles Center, I immediately ran and grabbed two tickets. My excitement could not be contained. I couldn’t believe I’d even gotten the tickets. The man has a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars. Three of his albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time (for perspective, that’s the same number of albums Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana and Eminem have on the list). Countless songs of his have been hits, both for himself and others, so I was certain the show would sell out instantly. In an effort to get even better coverage of what was sure to be considered the event of the year here at Tilles, I contacted someone about interviewing Mr. Newman before the show. While these plans fell through (Mr. Newman’s touring schedule was too busy to answer my e-mail questions), I was offered the opportunity to meet him after the show. Goodbye journalistic integrity, hello shivering fan-boy clutching an LP of Good Old Boys.
When the friend who was supposed to join me for the concert became busy that evening, I knew I would have no trouble finding a second ticket taker. After all, the man has a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars. Three of his albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. Countless songs of his have been hits, both for himself and others. Finding an interested party wouldn’t be difficult at all.
A half hour before the doors opened and still I was unaccompanied. At the last minute, an individual stepped in to take the second ticket, excited to go in order to hear “You Got A Friend in Me” from Toy Story, as that was the only song he knew. I was worried would not fair well at this concert, certain to be packed with fans as die-hard as myself. A solo performance from a man with a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars? Three of who’s albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time? Countless songs of his have been hits, both for himself and others? How could there not be a huge following for the man?
So there I sat, in a half filled concert hall, watching people walk to the bathroom mid-song, as an American master poured his heart and soul into every word of “I Miss You” and “Dixie Flyer”, telling humorous and beautiful stories, and even taking audience requests the few times they were made. Yet, the magic I felt that night seeing one of my favorite songwriters perform was dampened by the dark cloud lingering in the room, one Newman himself acknowledged many times. “I see some audience members came dressed as empty chairs” he remarked in between “”Sail Away” and “Political Science”. Closing out the show, he said “Thank you all for coming…” and in his trademark humor “…next time bring some fucking friends!”
While Newman laughed about the small crowd, I could quite put a word to my feelings. As I walked backstage, I was greeted rather abruptly by a road manager telling me I can’t go any further back, that the exits are the other way. I assured him I was heading backstage on purpose. “Oh, you’re Michael.” he said, as if not only was my arrival expected, but slightly anticipated. After being personally escorted to Mr. Newman’s dressing room by his road manager, I was brought into the room with the introduction of “the journalist”. Suddenly, the eyes in the room were upon me. I surveyed the area, petrified. I’m no journalist, I thought. Robert Christgau is a journalist. David Frick is a journalist. Hell, Hunter S. Thompson was a journalist. I’m just a guy who writes for a school newspaper in a section no one reads, whose biggest point of pride up until this point was running a three-week-long risqué comic strip without getting a single complaint letter. Now here I was, in the dressing room of a man with a myriad of Grammys, three Emmy’s and two Oscars, three of who’s albums were selected to be on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time, and countless songs of his which have been hits, both for himself and others, identified as “the journalist”. I never felt more like that nervous kid in Almost Famous, except without my Penny Lane.
Yet, I became relieved to see the “dressing room” was the same small, white mirrored room I had recently shot my student film in, that the people backstage were no entourage, but rather what I can only assume were four wealthy people, for whom this was just something that seemed like it would be fun, an event of little or no consequence, conversing with Mr. Newman as if he were simply another average guy. Mr. Newman himself, I gathered from the joy in his eyes seeing my LP of Good Old Boys, was ecstatic to see that someone, anyone, remembered he was not.
We talked for fifteen minutes or so, discussing not just his body of work, but mine. He asked twice about my band, wished my luck on my film (even writing it on my LP) and being extremely grateful for my unreserved praise. Yet, as I stood in the room, meeting one of my idols, my elation gave way to the same feeling I had before heading backstage. I felt a strange compulsion to shout words that had yet to form in the haze of my mind, feeling as though if I spoke these words, the world would open up anew, and everything would be set right. It was not until after I parted ways with Mr. Newman, wandering down the steps of Tilles*, feeling the cold air strike my face, humming “Burn On” from Sail Away, that those words finally formed. I suddenly knew the feeling I got when I saw the empty seats, or when I struggled to find anyone interested in the extra ticket, or who even knew who Randy Newman was, in fact. So I stopped for a moment, held up my signed LP to the light, and as I ran my fingers along the words “I’m glad you like the music so much.” I looked back at the building, mumbling the words that were beyond me when I was backstage, hoping they’d still have some power. “You deserve so much more than the world is giving you these days.”
*let me not be misunderstood, Tilles Center is a wonderful venue, far better than some Manhattan venues I’ve attended shows at, and the university’s treatment of Mr. Newman was the best they could provide. I suppose a cannot expect them to house Mr. Newman in a penthouse for the few minutes before and after he plays.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Good and Bad of the Best Picture Nominees of 2011
{In February of 2011, my Loomings cohorts and I decided to take a look at the Best Picture nominees and offer both a positive and a negative take on them. I've included both sides of the discussion for films where I took part in the discussion (which excludes The Social Netowrk, which was covered by Carrie Ferrante and Tom Lorenzo). As can be the case in film journalism, you sometimes you gotta grit your teeth and lie by omission, hence I extolled the "virtues" of The King's Speech}
The King's Speech
P(ositive): The inspiring true story of King George overcoming his stutter, The King’s Speech is just the kind of uplifiting, beautiful, and classic film Hollywood needs today (just ask the Academy, who gave it Best Original Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Picture). With career defining performances from Colin Firth, Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush, and a breakthrough directorial job from Tom Hooper, The King’s Speech is well worth a viewing.- Mike Natale
N(egative): I know what you’re thinking. “British royalty again? I’ve seen this a million times and they always get nominated.” Well this one shakes it up because the king...has a stutter! Groundbreaking work here. That’s it. The king has a stutter and needs to fix it. If only my heart had a stutter so I didn’t have to sit through this over hyped Oscar bait movie because British royalty is definitive Oscar gold.- Tom Lorenzo
N(egative): I know what you’re thinking. “British royalty again? I’ve seen this a million times and they always get nominated.” Well this one shakes it up because the king...has a stutter! Groundbreaking work here. That’s it. The king has a stutter and needs to fix it. If only my heart had a stutter so I didn’t have to sit through this over hyped Oscar bait movie because British royalty is definitive Oscar gold.- Tom Lorenzo
Inception
P: Christopher Nolan’s Inception may not only be one of the best movies of the year, but just might be the man’s best work yet. Following the masterpieces that are Memento, The Prestige, Batman Begins and The Dark Knight how could you pass this up? With each film, Nolan breaks his boundaries and being backed up with his 8 year long script this psychologically mind-bending blockbuster will have you wanting to watch it again as soon as the movie ends.- Josh Paige
N: Seriously, we get it. Christopher Nolan's good. His leg humping fans, now on par with the Tarantino-lovers, will tell you how fantastic Inception was, even though it's a lot of complex plot all shoved into Ellen Paige's awkward and clunky dialogue. They'll persist that Leo DiCaprio and Joseph Gordon-Levitt gave Oscar calliber performances in their two-dimensional roles, and that the lack of chemistry between Marion Cotillard and Leo is "fantastic". I'm gonna go out on a limb and say...Dark Knight spillover- Mike Natale
N: Seriously, we get it. Christopher Nolan's good. His leg humping fans, now on par with the Tarantino-lovers, will tell you how fantastic Inception was, even though it's a lot of complex plot all shoved into Ellen Paige's awkward and clunky dialogue. They'll persist that Leo DiCaprio and Joseph Gordon-Levitt gave Oscar calliber performances in their two-dimensional roles, and that the lack of chemistry between Marion Cotillard and Leo is "fantastic". I'm gonna go out on a limb and say...Dark Knight spillover- Mike Natale
Winter's Bone
P: Can I level with you? I…I haven’t seen this film. No one on our staff has. Quite frankly, no one I’ve spoken to has. But if the Academy selected this film out of total obscurity to place in its nominees, it must have some merit, right?- Mike Natale
N: Um…Yeah, seriously, no one has anything good or bad to say about it, since nobody’s seen it. Just pretend we said insightful things. You’re not gonna go see it anyway.- Mike Natale
N: Um…Yeah, seriously, no one has anything good or bad to say about it, since nobody’s seen it. Just pretend we said insightful things. You’re not gonna go see it anyway.- Mike Natale
True Grit
P: Most people went in to this movie asking one question, “What made the Coen Brothers feel the need to remake an Academy Award winning movie?” Those questions were answered very quickly as we were given a strong story driven by a performance from young newcomer Hailee Stenfield as a no-nonsense girl devoted to seeing justice served for the death of her father. Jeff Bridges is back with the Coen’s as Rooster Cogburn, a US Marshall with a “shoot first and ask questions later” motto. Finishing up the trio is Matt Damon, who gives Bridges someone to playfully banter with throughout the film- Adam Kampfer
N: Setting: The room in which Oscar nominations are decided. "Ok, so Social Network, King's Speech, all modern classics. Thank goodness we're being objective this year. I'm glad we put aside our personal preferences and just nominated movies that deserved the recognition, and weren't just bland remakes with a few good performances." "Hey, did you hear the Coen Brothers made a new movie?" "Holy crap, let's over-rate the s**t out of it!" Seriously, no one would care about this if Joel and Ethan weren't attached- Mike Natale
N: Setting: The room in which Oscar nominations are decided. "Ok, so Social Network, King's Speech, all modern classics. Thank goodness we're being objective this year. I'm glad we put aside our personal preferences and just nominated movies that deserved the recognition, and weren't just bland remakes with a few good performances." "Hey, did you hear the Coen Brothers made a new movie?" "Holy crap, let's over-rate the s**t out of it!" Seriously, no one would care about this if Joel and Ethan weren't attached- Mike Natale
127 Hours
P: Danny Boyle’s 127 Hours is an inspirational story of survival depicting the true tale of how Aron Ralston literally hung on for his life for five days and resorted to the most extreme of measures in order to survive. While the majority of the film is only Ralston stuck in a canyon in Utah giving his last testimonies to his handi-cam, James Franco’s acting blended with realistically claustrophobic cinematography is what makes this motivational true story stand out this year.- Josh Paige
N: The entire movie of 127 Hours: “Oh, my arm's stuck….It’s still stuck…I’m gonna cut it off.” There. I just saved you $10.25.- Mike Natale
N: The entire movie of 127 Hours: “Oh, my arm's stuck….It’s still stuck…I’m gonna cut it off.” There. I just saved you $10.25.- Mike Natale
Black Swan
P: Darren Aronofsky's companion piece to The Wrestler is one of the most elegant, disturbing, striking and unique films in recent memory, pushing the boundaries of what the public is willing to pay for. Sure, the "indie" cinema has been making movies somewhat akin to this for a while, but finally, the viewing public cared. This is not Dogtooth or a Michael Haneke flick, sitting gleefully in its inaccessibility. Aronofsky invited the average audience into his dark vision, and created something beautiful and bleak.- Mike Natale
N: While Darren Aronofsky is one of the most unique filmmakers out there, Black Swan is not much more than a stale sexual “thriller” surrounding ballet. While Nina slips into madness, the film’s psychological illusions become nothing more than anything you’ve seen in previous films depicting insanity. It’s sad that a movie nominated for Oscars gets most of its hype from its girl-on-girl scene between Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis. Go ahead and spend the extra money just for that scene… You’ll be sorry you spent 108 minutes watching this overrated disappointment.- Josh Paige
N: While Darren Aronofsky is one of the most unique filmmakers out there, Black Swan is not much more than a stale sexual “thriller” surrounding ballet. While Nina slips into madness, the film’s psychological illusions become nothing more than anything you’ve seen in previous films depicting insanity. It’s sad that a movie nominated for Oscars gets most of its hype from its girl-on-girl scene between Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis. Go ahead and spend the extra money just for that scene… You’ll be sorry you spent 108 minutes watching this overrated disappointment.- Josh Paige
Toy Story 3
P: Toy Story wasn't a big part of my childhood, but the thing about Toy Story 3 is that, as I rapidly approach the kind of adulthood that becomes obsessed with the "real world", I find these characters going through what I am. They lose friends to separation, feel lonely and unneeded, and finally see what the real world really is. All this, and these characters are toys. Don't miss this film if you've ever been scared about what life may end up being, and if you want to be comforted by the fact that change isn't always a bad thing.- Carrie Ferrante
N: (From a Facebook post upon which comments informed me I had no soul) "I didn’t much care for Toy Story 3. It was just so f*****g bleak the whole time. There was barely any fun. It was sad, I cried, I just didn't...smile...often. Yes, it was sad, but the other two balanced sad with joy. This one was just way too dark. I couldn't in good conscience show it to a kid. I just...it was nice, a good end to the trilogy, but it was just a s**t ton of bleak. The creepy monkey, the baby, a lot of really sad s**t. It was made to affect people our age, not for kids. I just...I was affected by it; I just didn't much enjoy it."- Mike Natale
N: (From a Facebook post upon which comments informed me I had no soul) "I didn’t much care for Toy Story 3. It was just so f*****g bleak the whole time. There was barely any fun. It was sad, I cried, I just didn't...smile...often. Yes, it was sad, but the other two balanced sad with joy. This one was just way too dark. I couldn't in good conscience show it to a kid. I just...it was nice, a good end to the trilogy, but it was just a s**t ton of bleak. The creepy monkey, the baby, a lot of really sad s**t. It was made to affect people our age, not for kids. I just...I was affected by it; I just didn't much enjoy it."- Mike Natale
The Fighter
P: With the world going crazy for MMA, we have quickly forgotten about the great boxing stories that we have left to tell. The Fighter a film about the rise to champion of ‘Irish’ Mickey Ward is one of them. Led by emotional performances from Wahlberg, Adams, Leo and Bale who steals the most of the film as a crack addict hooked on his past. Director David O. Russel makes every scene hurt, even the ones where no punches fly.- Adam Kampfer
N: You know, I gotta say, I really loved The Fighter. The harrowing story of Jake Lamotta, told in stark black and white with a poetic visual style, The Fighter is…oh, wait, that’s Raging Bull. The Fighter’s the one about Stallone as a boxer from Philly, right? Wait, that’s Rocky? Oh, The Fighter is that one with Hillary Swank as…Million Dollar Baby, huh? You getting the point? It’s just another movie about a sport no one watches.- Mike Natale
N: You know, I gotta say, I really loved The Fighter. The harrowing story of Jake Lamotta, told in stark black and white with a poetic visual style, The Fighter is…oh, wait, that’s Raging Bull. The Fighter’s the one about Stallone as a boxer from Philly, right? Wait, that’s Rocky? Oh, The Fighter is that one with Hillary Swank as…Million Dollar Baby, huh? You getting the point? It’s just another movie about a sport no one watches.- Mike Natale
The Kids Are Alright
P: The most unique and heart-warming film of the year has tragically has been reduced to being dubbed "that lesbian movie". Well, the truth is it transcends the boundaries of gay or straight, and stands instead as the best family-themed comedy since Little Miss Sunshine.- Mike Natale
N: We get it, gays are interesting too. They’ve had some great movies about them. But that doesn’t mean every gay movie should be hailed as some masterpiece. By the rationale, every movie about Italians should be masterpieces. Because of The Godfather, Knockaround Guys should be iconic. Kids Are Alright is a nice little movie, but far better gay movies have come out and been snubbed. Like Batman and Robin. No love for B&R, no love for KAA in my opinion.- Tom Lorenzo
N: We get it, gays are interesting too. They’ve had some great movies about them. But that doesn’t mean every gay movie should be hailed as some masterpiece. By the rationale, every movie about Italians should be masterpieces. Because of The Godfather, Knockaround Guys should be iconic. Kids Are Alright is a nice little movie, but far better gay movies have come out and been snubbed. Like Batman and Robin. No love for B&R, no love for KAA in my opinion.- Tom Lorenzo
Monday, January 31, 2011
Best of the Decade: Etc. Issue
{Originally published in Loomings as a four part series, examining the decade in pop culture (since the counting of years started with 1 and not zero, the decade didn't truly end until 2011). Excluding articles I had no part in at all (and therefor it would be wrong to repost without permission), I'm posting here the complete issues, including introductions}
Honorable Mentions:
-SOCOM: US Navy Seals
-Dead Rising
-Star Wars: Knights of The Old Republic
-Gran Turismo
-Super Smash Bros
When Franzen, after years of absence, released his newest novel Freedom, it sparked a sense of nostalgia in the minds of the literary community, taking us back to 2001, fresh off of Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius, waiting for the next literary wunderkind. Well, when Franzen’s tome of the trials and tribulations of the Lambert family hit shelves, we knew we‘d found him. “The Correction, when it finally came, was not an overnight bursting of a bubble but a much more gentle let-down, a year-long leakage of value from key financial markets…”states Franzen, in reference to the economic decline facing the country after the economic boom of the 90’s, a fact that looms over the Lamberts like a dark cloud over the town of St. Jude. Franzen’s novel encapsulates a decade before that decade was even truly underway, and proves to be one of the best literary works in recent memory.
This post-apocalyptic Pulitzer Prize winner about a father and son journey has been lauded as one of the greatest novels of our age, and the critical tongue bath is entirely deserved. McCarthy masterpiece is endlessly engrossing, and does what great literature should: it sparks different interpretations, from my own deeming of it as a statement on the collapse of a patriarchy within a man’s head to George Monbiot saying it “…could be the most important environmental book ever”.
Originally at #9 on my list, after careful consideration, the first (and by a landslide best) of the late Stieg Larsson’s Millenium Trilogy lands at #3 for several reasons. The primary being it’s introduction of the best female figure in recent literature, Lisbeth Salander, but also it’s fascinating stand alone mystery story, and being the best written of the “must read” books this decade, a title typically bestowed on the likes of Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyers.
To describe Atonement as a novel about people during wartime is to miss the whole point. In fact, to describe Atonement at all is a crime. A rich novel as much on the nature of writing as on the fickle nature of humanity and guilt, it needs to be read to be appreciated. McEwan is at the top of his game, from his word choice to his creation of the heartbreakingly relatable Briony Tallis.
The conclusion to the game changing Harry Potter series is also the best. Rowling’s books chart the growth of a young boy from the onset of puberty (oh, and his entrance into Hogwarts. That too) to the inevitable entrance into and acceptance of manhood, and it is that maturity that shines the most in the final novel, with drama so strong and engrossing, Rowling herself outgrows the title of “great children’s author” to simply “great author”.
The wunderkind who brought us The Virgin Suicides (which would become a huge success cinematically for director Sophia Coppola) returned in 2002 with a triumphant novel of identity and Greek-American culture, penning a protagonist, Cal Stephanides, so engaging that some critics have called for dubbing Middlesex the Great American Novel. As you can tell by our list, we didn’t go that far, but we will admit it’s an absolute modern classic, and well worth the read.
The basis for The Social Network. 'Nuff said.
Where to start with Bill Simmons gargantuan basketball book? Well, certainly a lot of books about sports came out this decade. But Simmons doesn’t just spit out facts. He corrects mistakes he perceives, he laces the book with humor and insight, and at 736 pages, gives you all the info all but the most devout hoops fanatics would ever need. What shines through most in Simmons books, unlike so many sports books, is his sheer passion for the sport.
Azar Nafisi’s stirring memoir strikes at the heart. Here in America, one is a social pariah for owning Nabokov’s infamous novel of pedophilic fantasy. Imagine for a moment being part of a far more oppressive society an trying to read it. Though the memoir doesn’t just discuss Nabokov, no, far from it. Instead, we enter the lives of a women’s reading group in Tehran, and discover it’s just like Oprah’s book club, except with the ever impending fear of oppression.
Introduction
It been a hell of a decade for…stuff. Look, we covered movies in one issue, TV the next, music after that, and now we’re at the last of our decade retrospective series, the everything else. In this issues we’re gonna look at theatre, literature, videogames, basically the stuff that’s not popular enough to carry an issue on it’s own, I’m sad to say.
Theatre has continued struggling, with high ticket prices and a bad economy, plus overall lack of interest in theatre, delivering a crippling blow. A year that saw the loss of fabulous playwrights Harold Pinter, George Furth, Ira Levin, and Arthur Miller also saw the near death of plays themselves, as box office for non-musical theatre almost became non-existent. Unless a play had a celebrity of a tap dance this decade, they were usually limited engagements, and not always by choice. Spalding Grey, Natasha Richardson and Jerry Orbach also took their final bows this year.
Let’s move on, though, from the subject of the death of the spoken word to the death of the written one. There were some stellar novels that came out this decade. Unfortunately, most people were two busy reading The Secret, The Da Vinci Code and Twilight to bother with them. Literature’s largest blow was not any author’s death so much as the minimal caring the general public had for it. When Brando or Michael Jackson died, the public mourned (Hell, they’re still mourning Jackson. A year later). But when you look at the losses the literary world suffered, be it those who never got their full appreciation in their lifetime (Jim Carroll, Roberto Bolaño, Steig Larsson), those who etched their names into literary history forever (Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Norman Mailer, John Updike, J.D. Salinger, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Ken Kesey, Douglas Adams, Saul Bellow, Arthur C. Clarke, J.G. Ballard, Betty Friedan, Susan Sontag, Frank McCourt) or those who left us far too soon, with unfinished wok in their wake (Robert Jordan, Michael Crichton and two of my literary heroes, Hunter S. Thompson and David Foster Wallace); when you look at these many names I’ve listed, ask yourself, did the news ever even mention these names? What does it say for society when literary giants can pass into the mystic without a whimper, but Charlie Sheen assaults a porn star, and the media coverage is massive.
However, from the ashes of these two fading art forms, a new storytelling art took shape. Videogames became a new way to explore worlds of fantasy and new looks at reality, creating a fully immersive, totally interactive story in which players became the protagonist, faced their ups and downs, struggled with their struggles and so on.
We do have a great issue for you this week, with lists of the top 20 video games, theatre, and literature of the decade, our conclusion of our Subversive Pop Songs series, and a new Bobby the Pink comic.
Theatre has continued struggling, with high ticket prices and a bad economy, plus overall lack of interest in theatre, delivering a crippling blow. A year that saw the loss of fabulous playwrights Harold Pinter, George Furth, Ira Levin, and Arthur Miller also saw the near death of plays themselves, as box office for non-musical theatre almost became non-existent. Unless a play had a celebrity of a tap dance this decade, they were usually limited engagements, and not always by choice. Spalding Grey, Natasha Richardson and Jerry Orbach also took their final bows this year.
Let’s move on, though, from the subject of the death of the spoken word to the death of the written one. There were some stellar novels that came out this decade. Unfortunately, most people were two busy reading The Secret, The Da Vinci Code and Twilight to bother with them. Literature’s largest blow was not any author’s death so much as the minimal caring the general public had for it. When Brando or Michael Jackson died, the public mourned (Hell, they’re still mourning Jackson. A year later). But when you look at the losses the literary world suffered, be it those who never got their full appreciation in their lifetime (Jim Carroll, Roberto Bolaño, Steig Larsson), those who etched their names into literary history forever (Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Norman Mailer, John Updike, J.D. Salinger, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Ken Kesey, Douglas Adams, Saul Bellow, Arthur C. Clarke, J.G. Ballard, Betty Friedan, Susan Sontag, Frank McCourt) or those who left us far too soon, with unfinished wok in their wake (Robert Jordan, Michael Crichton and two of my literary heroes, Hunter S. Thompson and David Foster Wallace); when you look at these many names I’ve listed, ask yourself, did the news ever even mention these names? What does it say for society when literary giants can pass into the mystic without a whimper, but Charlie Sheen assaults a porn star, and the media coverage is massive.
However, from the ashes of these two fading art forms, a new storytelling art took shape. Videogames became a new way to explore worlds of fantasy and new looks at reality, creating a fully immersive, totally interactive story in which players became the protagonist, faced their ups and downs, struggled with their struggles and so on.
We do have a great issue for you this week, with lists of the top 20 video games, theatre, and literature of the decade, our conclusion of our Subversive Pop Songs series, and a new Bobby the Pink comic.
The 20 Best Video Games of the Decade
1) Rockstar Games (1998- )2) Call of Duty series (2003- )3) Madden series (1988- )4) Mass Effect series (2007- )5) World of Warcraft (2004- )6) Halo series (2001- )7) The Orange Box (2007)8) Bioshock (2008)9) Fallout 3 (2008)10) God of War series (2005-)11. Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (2006)12. Guitar Hero/Rock Band (2005- )13. Gears of War Series (2006- )14. Kingdom Hearts Series (2002- )15. Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of The Patriots (2008)16. Uncharted 2 (2009)17. Resident Evil 4 (2005)18. Batman: Arkham Asylum (2009)19. Left 4 Dead Series (2008)20. Dead Space (2008)
Honorable Mentions:
-SOCOM: US Navy Seals
-Dead Rising
-Star Wars: Knights of The Old Republic
-Gran Turismo
-Super Smash Bros
The 20 Best Books of the Decade
1) The Corrections by Jonathon Franzen (2001)
When Franzen, after years of absence, released his newest novel Freedom, it sparked a sense of nostalgia in the minds of the literary community, taking us back to 2001, fresh off of Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius, waiting for the next literary wunderkind. Well, when Franzen’s tome of the trials and tribulations of the Lambert family hit shelves, we knew we‘d found him. “The Correction, when it finally came, was not an overnight bursting of a bubble but a much more gentle let-down, a year-long leakage of value from key financial markets…”states Franzen, in reference to the economic decline facing the country after the economic boom of the 90’s, a fact that looms over the Lamberts like a dark cloud over the town of St. Jude. Franzen’s novel encapsulates a decade before that decade was even truly underway, and proves to be one of the best literary works in recent memory.
2) The Road by Cormac McCarthy (2006)
This post-apocalyptic Pulitzer Prize winner about a father and son journey has been lauded as one of the greatest novels of our age, and the critical tongue bath is entirely deserved. McCarthy masterpiece is endlessly engrossing, and does what great literature should: it sparks different interpretations, from my own deeming of it as a statement on the collapse of a patriarchy within a man’s head to George Monbiot saying it “…could be the most important environmental book ever”.
3) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson (2005)
Originally at #9 on my list, after careful consideration, the first (and by a landslide best) of the late Stieg Larsson’s Millenium Trilogy lands at #3 for several reasons. The primary being it’s introduction of the best female figure in recent literature, Lisbeth Salander, but also it’s fascinating stand alone mystery story, and being the best written of the “must read” books this decade, a title typically bestowed on the likes of Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyers.
4) Atonement by Ian McEwan (2001)
To describe Atonement as a novel about people during wartime is to miss the whole point. In fact, to describe Atonement at all is a crime. A rich novel as much on the nature of writing as on the fickle nature of humanity and guilt, it needs to be read to be appreciated. McEwan is at the top of his game, from his word choice to his creation of the heartbreakingly relatable Briony Tallis.
5) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling (2007)
The conclusion to the game changing Harry Potter series is also the best. Rowling’s books chart the growth of a young boy from the onset of puberty (oh, and his entrance into Hogwarts. That too) to the inevitable entrance into and acceptance of manhood, and it is that maturity that shines the most in the final novel, with drama so strong and engrossing, Rowling herself outgrows the title of “great children’s author” to simply “great author”.
6) Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides (2002)
The wunderkind who brought us The Virgin Suicides (which would become a huge success cinematically for director Sophia Coppola) returned in 2002 with a triumphant novel of identity and Greek-American culture, penning a protagonist, Cal Stephanides, so engaging that some critics have called for dubbing Middlesex the Great American Novel. As you can tell by our list, we didn’t go that far, but we will admit it’s an absolute modern classic, and well worth the read.
7) The Accidental Billionaires by Ben Mezrich (2009)
The basis for The Social Network. 'Nuff said.
8) The Book of Basketball: The NBA According to the Sports Guy by Bill Simons (2009)
Where to start with Bill Simmons gargantuan basketball book? Well, certainly a lot of books about sports came out this decade. But Simmons doesn’t just spit out facts. He corrects mistakes he perceives, he laces the book with humor and insight, and at 736 pages, gives you all the info all but the most devout hoops fanatics would ever need. What shines through most in Simmons books, unlike so many sports books, is his sheer passion for the sport.
9) Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nifisi (2003)
Azar Nafisi’s stirring memoir strikes at the heart. Here in America, one is a social pariah for owning Nabokov’s infamous novel of pedophilic fantasy. Imagine for a moment being part of a far more oppressive society an trying to read it. Though the memoir doesn’t just discuss Nabokov, no, far from it. Instead, we enter the lives of a women’s reading group in Tehran, and discover it’s just like Oprah’s book club, except with the ever impending fear of oppression.
10) Animals in Translation by Temple Grandin (2005)
In a decade where autism finally got the attention and nation-wide concern it deserved, Temple Grandin and her 2005 book Animals in Translation stood tall as a testament to overcoming adversity, as a way to help people connect to loved ones with autism, and indeed as a reminder of how much we knew and how much more we had to learn.
And the rest...
11.) American Gods by Neil Gaiman (2001)
12.) Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald (2001)
13.) 2666 by Roberto Bolano (2004)
14.) Just Kids by Patti Smith (2010)
15.) The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time: A Novel by Mark Haddon (2003)
16.) The Lovely Bones by Alice Seibold (2002)
17.) The Kindly Ones by Jonahton Littell (2009)
18.) Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace (2005)
19.) The Universe in a Nutshell by Prof. Stephen Hawking (2002)
20.) I Hope The Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max (2006)
Honorable Mention:
-The Dark Tower’s Completion
-Augusten Burroughs, Chuck Klosterman, and Chuck Palahnuik’s careers.
-Stephanie Meyer’s skill at watering down Buffy and making young girls’ virginity anxieties into something bankable.
- Dan Brown’s ability to write predictable, bland books that sell like hotcakes. Bland, bland hotcakes.
12.) Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald (2001)
13.) 2666 by Roberto Bolano (2004)
14.) Just Kids by Patti Smith (2010)
15.) The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time: A Novel by Mark Haddon (2003)
16.) The Lovely Bones by Alice Seibold (2002)
17.) The Kindly Ones by Jonahton Littell (2009)
18.) Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace (2005)
19.) The Universe in a Nutshell by Prof. Stephen Hawking (2002)
20.) I Hope The Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max (2006)
Honorable Mention:
-The Dark Tower’s Completion
-Augusten Burroughs, Chuck Klosterman, and Chuck Palahnuik’s careers.
-Stephanie Meyer’s skill at watering down Buffy and making young girls’ virginity anxieties into something bankable.
- Dan Brown’s ability to write predictable, bland books that sell like hotcakes. Bland, bland hotcakes.
The 20 Best Plays/Musicals of the Decade
Editor's Note: In retrospect, I completely underestimated the brilliance of The Producers, having been soured by the dreadful film adaptation. If I could go back, I would perhaps have that top the list. Eh well.
1) Spring Awakening- Duncan Sheik/Steven Slater (2006)
Duncan Sheik’s brain-baby was deemed “the next Rent” by theatre critics, and indeed developed the biggest Broadway geek following I’d seen since Elphaba defied gravity. Spring Awakening is a rock opera re-imagining of an 1800’s German play about sexual repression in teenagers leading to pregnancy, abortion, gay teen suicide, and lots and lots of masturbation. I mean lots. There’s a whole song about it. But it’s the shows construct, and not just the sex (though it did allow me to see Glee’s Lea Michelle topless), that really changes the game. In an effort to conquer the problem of characters just randomly bursting into song, Sheik uses tracks like “Left Behind”, “Whispering” and the show-stopping unprintable title “Totally F****d” to act as the interior monologues for the tormented characters. Just look at “And Then There Were None” has Hamlet’s soliloquy set to a six-string. Oh, and fun fact: If you haven’t seen the show, it’s coming to Tilles this Spring (Ed. Note: Obviously, it came and went). Just saying.
2) The History Boys- Alan Bennett (2006)
Without a doubt, the best pro-male-on-male-student-teacher-sex play ever brought to the Broadway stage. Alan Bennett’s Tony award winning play is an emotionally engaging meditation on education, sexuality, and the grey area in between. With a cast including Richard Griffiths and Dominic Cooper, who both appeared in the brilliant film adaptation, The History Boys is a once in a lifetime play, and one I’m certainly proud came in my lifetime.
3) The Last Five Years- Jason Robert Brown (2003)
Stephen Sondheim, undoubtedly the most innovative musical composer of the 20th century, unveiled his last great show, Passions, in 1994. Grabbing the baton of innovation from him was Jason Robert Brown, who’s 1995 Songs From A New World showed signs of potential, potential that fully paid off in 2002, with The Last Five Years. Telling the story in both chronological and reverse chronological order, JRB crafts his answer to Sondhem’s Company, and revitalized creative stage storytelling.
4) Doubt: A Parable- John Patrick Shanley (2005)
While the only play higher up than Doubt is about child molestation in schools, this play tackles very different subject matter: possible child molestation in church. A striking example of tackling a contemporary issue and revealing the underlying eternal themes: jealousy, the struggle of tradition against progress, the venomous nature of rumor, and of course, the power of doubt. See it as our generation’s Crucible, if you like, but I prefer to see Sister Aloysius as our new Nurse Ratchett.
5) Wicked- Stephen Schwartz/Winnie Holzman (2003)
How…many…times…did some girl in high school audition with “Defying Gravity”? How many times did you hear the cutesy “Popular” screeched out by barely pubescent voices? The first musical to cash in on the incredible disposable income of tween girls and their parents, Wicked proved to be a fantastic stage spectacle from the mind that brought us Godspell and Pippin, and a touching story of friendship one would be soulless to describe as “girly”.
6) Next to Normal- Brian Yorkey/Tom Kitt (2009)
A musical following the life of a mother with bi-polar disorder as her condition gradually worsens and takes it’s toll on her family. A feel good night at the theatre this ain’t, but powerful? You aren’t gonna find anything more moving on the stage today. No superheroes fly around on strings, but from the opening notes of “Superboy and the Invisible Girl”, as Natalie sings about how her mother ignores her and continues to do things for Natalie’s brother, who has been dead 16 years, you realize this is a once in a lifetime show.
7)The Producers- Mel Brooks/Thomas Meehan (2001)
The record holder for most Tony awards for a single show, Mel Brooks’ first Broadway foray turned out to be a bigger success than the show within a show, Springtime for Hitler. Based off of Brooks’ supremely funny film of the same title, with an original cast including Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane, every muttered joke and over-the-top production number sells this show as the staple of Broadway we all hope it becomes.
8) Red- John Logan
John Logan takes what could probably be a simple story (famous painter Marc Rothko paints a red canvas for a hotel commission), and turns it into a gripping drama of old v. young, as Rothko’s assistant Ken dissects him throughout the play, tearing at everything any fan of Rothko’s work (myself included) ever believed in. On top of that, the play contains what is undoubtedly the greatest single line in theatre this decade. “There is only one thing I fear in life, my friend... One day the black will swallow the red.”
9) Avenue Q- Robert Lopez/Jeff Marx/Jeff Whitty (2003)
Foul mouthed puppets. Come on. Need I say more?
10) I Am My Own Wife- Doug Wright (2003)
Can I admit something? One man shows typically suck. They’re usually bawdy, self-indulgent, overly long crap pieces. So when I purchased my ticket to see Doug Wright’s one man show based on the life of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf, a transvestite who survived Nazi Germany, I had low expectations. Yet even if I had expected an instant classic, I would not have been prepared for the beauty, humor, and humanity I experienced.
And the rest...
11.) August: Osage County- Tracy Letts (2007)
12.) Urinetown- Mark Hollman/Greg Kotis (2001)
13.) The Pillowman- Martin McDonough (2003)
14.) God of Carnage- Yasmina Reza (2006)
15.) The Drowsy Chaperone- Bob Martin/Don McKellar (2006)
16.) In the Heights- Lin-Manuel Miranda/Quiara Alegría Hudes (2008)
17.) Take Me Out- Richard Greenberg (2003)
18.) The Goat: or, Who Is Sylvia?- Edward Albee (2002)
19.) The Coast of Utopia- Tom Stoppard (2002)
20.) Hairspray- Marc Shaiman/ Scott Wittman (2002)
Honorable Mention:
- Tony Kushner for following up his masterful modern classic, 1991’s Angels in America, with the dreadfully slow drudgery of Caroline, or Change (2004).
- Stephen Sondheim for despite releasing three blah shows this decade (one of which was just a re-titling of another), reclaiming his crown as the king of musical theatre by…releasing a book of old lyrics, as a big krup you to the world.
12.) Urinetown- Mark Hollman/Greg Kotis (2001)
13.) The Pillowman- Martin McDonough (2003)
14.) God of Carnage- Yasmina Reza (2006)
15.) The Drowsy Chaperone- Bob Martin/Don McKellar (2006)
16.) In the Heights- Lin-Manuel Miranda/Quiara Alegría Hudes (2008)
17.) Take Me Out- Richard Greenberg (2003)
18.) The Goat: or, Who Is Sylvia?- Edward Albee (2002)
19.) The Coast of Utopia- Tom Stoppard (2002)
20.) Hairspray- Marc Shaiman/ Scott Wittman (2002)
Honorable Mention:
- Tony Kushner for following up his masterful modern classic, 1991’s Angels in America, with the dreadfully slow drudgery of Caroline, or Change (2004).
- Stephen Sondheim for despite releasing three blah shows this decade (one of which was just a re-titling of another), reclaiming his crown as the king of musical theatre by…releasing a book of old lyrics, as a big krup you to the world.
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